The oil lamp's flame flickered gently in the night breeze, casting each face alternately into light and shadow. Seven or eight miners fixed their eyes on Nuoyaji, with doubt, wariness, and a trace of something... impossible to put into words.
It was not trust, at least not yet. But at least it was no longer hostility. In Luoweida after the storm, that was already a decent start.
Nuoyaji did not rush to speak.
He simply sat quietly on the hard wooden chair, his hands resting naturally on his knees, his calm gaze passing over every face present. The young leader, Dezi, sat at the head of the table, his brow slightly furrowed, his index finger tapping lightly against the tabletop with a dull, monotonous rhythm.
The bushy-bearded miner leaned against the wall with his arms folded and his chin raised slightly, looking as though he were saying, "Let's see what clever nonsense you've got, kid."
Fuke sat in the farthest corner, his head lowered, his fingers unconsciously picking at a frayed thread on his cuff, not daring to look at anyone. Some of the other miners rubbed their hands, some picked at their nails, and some stole glances at the iron sword at Nuoyaji's waist and his apprentice's robe with its worn edges.
These people were not soldiers, strategists, or anything resembling ambitious schemers. They were merely a group of miners driven into a corner by life, pushed by hunger and fear into sitting before this battered wooden table. They did not know what they were doing, or even what they were hoping for.
They knew only that doing nothing meant starving to death; doing something might mean dying even sooner. But at least, if they did something, they could live as human beings once before they died.
Nuoyaji understood that feeling very well.
He had seen far too many people like them in his previous life.
"Your name is Dezi?" Nuoyaji spoke first, his tone casual, as though striking up a conversation with someone at the next table in a teahouse rather than facing a group of restless miners in a dark room where conspiracies were being hatched.
Dezi stopped tapping the table and nodded slightly, his gaze appraising. He was in no hurry to ask where Nuoyaji had come from or to declare his position. He merely watched him quietly with those bright eyes, like a young leopard studying a stranger who had entered its territory from the shadows.
"Did you go to school?"
Dezi's gaze shifted slightly. He neither denied nor admitted it. But his silence was an answer in itself.
Nuoyaji smiled faintly, a smile so slight that a breeze might have scattered it.
"I could tell from the way you speak. You speak logically and use terms like 'the situation' and 'root causes,' unlike them-not that there's anything wrong with them, but they think differently from you." Nuoyaji tilted his head to glance at the bearded miner, who snorted but did not argue.
"I know a teacher in the inner city. You could call him a friend." Dezi finally spoke, his voice quiet but clear and firm. "I studied reading, writing, and arithmetic with him for a few years. Not many people in this city know those things."
"Is there a magic academy in the inner city?" Nuoyaji asked.
Dezi shook his head. "No. It's just an ordinary academy. They teach literacy, arithmetic, history, and occasionally some imperial decrees."
Nuoyaji nodded, already having a clear picture. He had guessed the answer long ago; he had merely needed to confirm it.
Luoweida was a mining city that relied on mining, smelting, and transport. It had no need for mages or knights, or even many class holders. Its fighting strength was weaker than he had expected.
He had known in his previous life that the city's defenses consisted of only a few dozen guards under its lord, Heross, along with the militia patrolling the city gates. As for true class holders-those who wielded magic or battle aura and could fight ten men at once-he feared they could be counted on two hands in all of Luoweida. Their numbers might not even reach double digits.
That was why the miners in his previous life had easily stormed the viscount's residence. Not because they were particularly strong, but because the enemies they faced were simply too weak.
A few dozen guards who normally did nothing but collect taxes, stand watch, and bully commoners were no match at all for several thousand miners driven wild by hunger. The moment the gates of the viscount's residence were smashed open, those guards ran faster than anyone.
Some did not even run. They simply dropped their weapons, crouched beside the walls, and raised their hands in surrender. They were only working for pay, too. A few silver coins were not worth throwing away their lives.
But the problem was that defeating the viscount was easy. Defeating the man behind him was hard.
That grand duke's army was not something these miners could handle.
His gaze settled on Dezi's face, his tone steady. "You don't need to attack the viscount."
The bearded miner frowned and opened his mouth to argue.
Nuoyaji gave him no chance, continuing at an unhurried pace, yet with a certainty that left no room for interruption. "Of course you can defeat him. I'm stating a fact, not flattering you.
"You know better than I do how weak this city's defenses are. A few dozen guards and a few hundred militia won't be able to stop you if fighting really breaks out."
The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly. Several miners exchanged glances, an indefinable look flashing in their eyes. It was not pride, but something more like having an unspoken secret exposed.
Nuoyaji changed tack. "But then what? Have you thought about what happens after you defeat the viscount?"
Silence.
Utter silence.
Even the oil lamp's flame seemed to freeze at that moment.
No one answered. The bearded miner opened his mouth, then closed it again. Fuke raised his head, his eyes blank. Even Dezi fell silent. It was not that he had never considered the question, but that he dared not consider it. Because he knew the answer, and that answer frightened him.
"The grand duke's army will come." Nuoyaji said it for them, his voice quiet, yet like a stone striking still water and sending ripples spreading outward. "Perhaps you've never seen the grand duke's army. I have."
He did not say he had seen it "in his previous life," only that he had "seen it." That was enough. No one asked where or when. In this context, "seen it" was enough.
"Black armor, covering them from head to toe. Not the kind of iron plate armor you see at the city gates, but real magic-steel battle armor, with defensive magic patterns embedded in its inner layer. Blades can't cut through it, and arrows can't pierce it. When they advance, their steps are in unison, their shields like a wall, their spears like a forest. Standing before them, you feel that they aren't people, but an iron wall moving toward you."
Nuoyaji's voice was level, as level as if he were reading a passage that had nothing to do with him. Yet precisely because it was so level, every word carried a weight that made it hard to breathe.
"And the most frightening part isn't the heavily armored infantry. It's the grand duke's personal guard. There aren't many of them, but every one is a true class holder. Their weapons aren't ordinary swords and sabers. They're magic weapons.
"A black spear thrown from fifty paces away leaves not a blade of grass alive within a ten-meter radius. No flames, no explosion, just a flash of white light, and then everything falls still. You won't even know how you died."
Dezi's finger stopped tapping.
Not a single person in the room spoke.
Nuoyaji did not continue describing those horrifying scenes. He knew it was enough. Any more would be too much. He needed to frighten them, but he could not let them despair. Fear was a double-edged sword: used well, it could bring people to their senses; used poorly, it could break them.
He paused for a few breaths, letting those images settle in everyone's minds, then changed his tone, adopting a patience that made people instinctively want to listen, like a teacher telling his students a story they had never heard before.
"I'm not here to persuade you to give up. Quite the opposite. I'm here to tell you there's a better path."
Dezi's gaze finally shifted. He looked at Nuoyaji, some of the scrutiny in his eyes replaced by an indescribable complexity. He had seen mages, in the imperial capital and in the inner city, those arrogant fellows in their splendid robes. But the man before him was different.
This man did not seem like a mage, but more like... Dezi himself was not sure what. He was clearly only seventeen or eighteen, yet his eyes were as world-weary as those of an old man who had traveled ten thousand miles and met countless people. That feeling made Dezi deeply uncomfortable, yet inexplicably... reassured.
Nuoyaji continued, his pace steady, as though stating something perfectly ordinary. "Your greatest enemy right now isn't the viscount or the grand duke. It's hunger."
At those words, everyone fell silent. It was not a stunned silence, but the silence of having someone put their hidden worries into words, like having a bandage gently peeled off a wound: painful, but real.
"Grain prices are rising, the supply routes have been cut off, and the food stored in the city won't last long. Even if you storm the viscount's residence right now, chop off Heross's head, and kick it around like a ball, you won't conjure up a single grain of food. And the grand duke's army won't give you time to find any. They'll arrive on the seventh day after the unrest begins-that's the fastest marching speed. From the grand duke's territory to Luoweida, heavily armored infantry marching at full speed take exactly seven days."
Nuoyaji paused, his gaze sweeping over every face. "Seven days from now, you'll either be too hungry to lift a blade or be trampled into pulp beneath the grand duke's iron hooves. Either way, the ending is the same."
The corner of Dezi's eye twitched slightly. Nuoyaji noticed. It was not fear, but anger at having been so accurately calculated. This man did not like being seen through.
"So what do you need?" Dezi asked, his voice a little lower than before, but still steady. At last, he no longer treated Nuoyaji as an ordinary passerby, but as an opponent who needed to be taken seriously.
"A transport route." Nuoyaji did not beat around the bush, going straight to the heart of the matter. "A route to the granaries outside the city that hasn't been completely destroyed. As long as food can get in, Luoweida can hold on. If it holds on, no one will rebel. Without a rebellion, the grand duke's army has no reason to come. Without the grand duke's army, you can stay alive."
"Easy for you to say." The bearded miner could not help interrupting, his rough voice thick with distrust, though he spoke much more quietly than before, most of his bluster already gone. "There's water everywhere outside now, and the roads are cut off. Even if there's food, we can't bring it in. Besides, where are you going to get food? Does your family own a granary?"
Nuoyaji did not argue, merely asking calmly in return, "Before the storm, where was Luoweida's largest granary?"
The bearded miner froze, failing to follow.
Dezi answered for Nuoyaji, his brow tightly furrowed. "Stone Drum Town to the north. There's an imperial reserve granary there, with enough supplies to feed all of Luoweida for three months."
"But the roads are cut off now. Even if there's food, we can't bring it in. No one can say for sure whether that granary survived the storm intact," Dezi added, staring at Nuoyaji as though waiting for a reasonable explanation.
Nuoyaji nodded. He did not deny Dezi's doubts, instead following his words. "You're right, so I'm not counting on the imperial granary."
He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice, as though sharing a secret known only to the few of them. "Southeast of Luoweida, across two mountains, there's an abandoned old mine passage. A... friend told me about it. Its exit lies beyond the area affected by the storm, and the farmland there wasn't destroyed. As long as we can open up that route, food can be brought in from outside by a roundabout way."
The room fell silent again.
Everyone looked at Nuoyaji with different expressions. Some were shocked, some doubtful, some had eyes shining as though they had seen hope, and some frowned as though considering whether the route was feasible.
Dezi was the first to react.
His brow furrowed even more tightly, not with doubt, but with incomprehension. He could not understand how this man knew about an old mine passage that even the local miners did not know existed. He was not a local, not even someone from this city-state. He was merely a magic apprentice passing through. How could he know these things?
Nuoyaji did not explain.
What he needed was not for Dezi to understand, but for Dezi to believe-or at least to feel that he was worth taking a gamble on.
"Why do you want to help us?" Dezi finally asked the question everyone wanted to ask. His voice was quiet and his tone was not aggressive. It was just a simple question, yet it made the air throughout the room go still.
The oil lamp's flame leaped, and the shadows on the walls swayed with it.