Chapter Sixty-Four: The Grand Current

In a grand hall, Baird bowed slightly to Attis in respect, then departed. Only when he had left the hall far behind did he suddenly draw a deep breath, gazing back at the ordinary hall with lingering fear in his eyes.

“That feeling, more terrifying than the ancestral gods... Is he truly human?” He absentmindedly stroked his chest, feeling the sweat-soaked ceremonial attire, unsettled.

Just then, seeing him emerge, several guards approached from outside the door. “My lord, what happened?”

“Did he refuse our terms?” a burly middle-aged man asked, puzzled by Baird’s demeanor.

“No, he agreed,” Baird replied with a bitter smile.

“Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere to rest first. While we still have time, we should look around here,” he said, glancing at his companion.

The middle-aged man nodded.

Meanwhile, inside the hall, beside Attis, Bazel watched the departing figure and couldn’t help but ask, “Your Majesty, why agree to their terms?”

Attis looked at him in surprise, then smiled. “What benefit is there in refusing?”

Hearing this, Bazel hesitated, then dropped to one knee. “Though I don’t understand your reasoning, many of these nobles are their lords. If we detain these lords, the Barro Duchy will lose a significant portion of its leadership, drastically reducing the number of soldiers they can muster. With the five thousand lost previously, we could launch a direct attack on Barro. Even if we can’t take Barro City, we should be able to seize their outlying lands.”

Bazel bowed his head to the floor as he spoke.

Attis was surprised by his words. “So those with exceptional destinies truly have remarkable insight.”

“Bazel, rise!” he commanded, watching Bazel kneel before him.

“Your thoughts are good,” he said. “But for now, it’s too soon.” He shook his head.

Seeing Attis say this, Bazel’s eyes flickered with confusion, but he dared not speak further and silently withdrew.

Once Bazel had left, Attis turned his gaze northward with a sigh.

As Bazel observed, this victory over the Barro Duchy was indeed a golden opportunity, but given current circumstances, it seemed ill-timed.

Staring north, a faint ripple stirred in Attis’s heart, a subtle pull beckoning him.

For Attis, even conquering Barro would offer little immediate strength, while the threat from the south was deepening.

He sensed, as if by fate, that not far to the south, a pillar of heaven was rising, aligned with the stars, radiating power.

“I have a premonition: soon, I will meet the other side,” Attis murmured as he watched the two celestial pillars draw closer in the sky.

In his senses, the other’s destiny was shrouded in bloodshed and sin, rampaging through the entire northern region, nearly unifying the south.

Perhaps, in the grand design of fate, the other was destined to be the chosen child of the north, blessed by heaven’s fortune, set to unify the north and then march south.

In terms from a former life, this was the hidden dragon.

Feeling the immense boon of destiny upon the other’s fate, Attis pondered.

At this moment, the other had already swept through half the north, the tide of destiny surging forth. To resist now would be to oppose the prevailing trend—almost impossible.

Even as a reincarnated deity, Attis found the situation extremely challenging.

“The only way is to open the road north before the other fully unifies the south.”

In the far north, Attis had millions of followers. After decades of development, their strength had grown formidable.

If he could open the path before the other unified the south, merging his followers’ power and sweeping through the north, he could break the tide before it fully formed, or at worst, preserve himself.

“Brook Duchy…”

He gazed outside, his thoughts drifting ever further.

Days later, outside in the world, caravans moved in columns through the vast city of Cecil.

“These caravans seem to grow more numerous…” An elegant young man watched the scene with surprise.

“I thought the rebellion in the Duchy of Cecil would create opportunities, but it seems things have recovered swiftly,” he sighed, a hint of regret in his tone.

Behind him, several guards stood silently.

“Sir, it’s said the new king has recently purged the land of roving bandits and robber gangs, making the roads much safer. That’s why so many merchant caravans now pass through Cecil,” an elderly man explained quietly.

The youth nodded, following the crowd inside, blending in unnoticed.

Once in the city, his experience allowed him to instantly perceive the changes and differences.

On the streets, people walked with a serenity rarely seen in other cities. All around, priests in white robes quietly led people in prayer.

Compared to other cities, after Attis’s careful reorganization, Cecil was clean—no grime or bloodstains, much less the corpses or stench common elsewhere.

Between the shops, official stores and chapels operated, with people constantly coming and going.

“What is this?” The youth stared at shops with tree-shaped banners, momentarily lost.

“These are stores established by royal decree in every town, meant for the locals to trade necessities,” he was told.

Attis had set these up to balance prices.

Goods in these stores were backed by the royal treasury, allowing Attis to regulate prices to prevent essentials from becoming too expensive, and also set a minimum purchase price for locals’ goods, protecting them from predatory outside merchants.

The youth glanced at a large shop, then entered.

Inside, the décor was simple, with a natural fragrance.

He looked around, noting shelves filled with wheat, rice, and other crops for sale.

On another rack, various seeds were carefully displayed.

Seeing this, he was startled—unexpectedly so.

Never underestimate the importance of seeds; in this era, they were vital.

Due to the world’s difficulty in communication, crop varieties were usually scarce, and it was almost unheard of to see so many types of seeds.

Moreover, these seeds had all been carefully cultivated by priests of the god of nature using divine arts—plump, excellent seeds.

Suppressing his astonishment, the youth maintained a calm demeanor and asked a priest, “How are these seeds sold?”

The priest, busy, paused and smiled. “Seeds are distributed free; everyone need only show proof of identity to receive their allotted seeds.”

“Proof?” he asked, looking around.

Locals carried tree-shaped badges inscribed with their name and village information.

Seeing this, the youth nodded thoughtfully, asking no more, and had his guards purchase some wheat and grains.

To his surprise, the prices were neither cheap nor exorbitant—remarkable in an era of constant warfare.

Yet, there were limits to buying food. Outsiders paid slightly more than locals, but more importantly, there were quantity restrictions.

Each person could buy only enough grain for one month’s use, and for outsiders, the rules were even stricter.

Verification was handled by the badge, which carried a trace of the owner’s aura, automatically recorded at use.

Leaving the shop, the youth watched the city’s people moving about, his feelings complex.