The mine shutting down was only the first problem. Next came food, taxes, public morale, and over ten thousand mouths waiting to be fed. A collapsed mine could be dug out again, a broken road repaired, but once the people's hearts scattered, nothing could bring them back.
He recalled yesterday's conversation in the viscount's study. Viscount Heluos had sat in that large carved chair, his face waxy yellow, dark circles around his eyes, his fingers tapping incessantly against the desk like a beast trapped in a cage.
He had neither blamed Yimulei nor pressed him, merely said in an almost pleading tone, "Think of something."
Something.
Yimulei gave a bitter smile.
What could he possibly do?
He was no mage, no general, no powerful figure who could command the wind and rain. He was only a clerk, one who could keep accounts, write, and deal with people. In ordinary times, he could help the viscount handle administrative affairs, mediate disputes between merchants and miners, and keep all those tedious documents neatly organized.
But faced with a natural disaster, a food crisis spanning half the continent, and an isolated city surrounded by floodwaters, what could he do?
"Who's there?!"
A sharp shout from nearby broke Yimulei's train of thought.
He whipped his head around and saw a guard on lookout raise his spear in a certain direction, his body leaning slightly forward like a hunting dog ready to spring.
"No need to be nervous."
A young voice came from the direction the guard had called out toward, neither loud nor soft, carrying a steadiness that inexplicably put people at ease.
Yimulei narrowed his eyes. A thin figure was approaching through the morning mist. A dark robe, an iron sword at his waist, and a worn cloth pack on his back.
His pace was unhurried, as though he were taking a stroll, or deliberately controlling his stride so he would not appear too eager.
The guard quickly came to Yimulei's side and said quietly, "Sir, someone's here. Looks like a mage from his clothes. He says he wants to see you."
Yimulei's gaze settled on the approaching figure.
A mage?
In a place like this?
"Let him through."
"Yes, sir."
The guard jogged back, exchanged a few words with the young man, then stepped aside.
Nuoyaji approached with steady steps, swept his gaze over the ruins, and finally settled it on Yimulei.
He rapidly recalled his impressions of Yimulei from his previous life. A clerk of common birth, efficient, well regarded among the lower classes, and one of the few people under the viscount who actually got things done. Someone like him was pragmatic and disliked roundabout talk. When speaking to him, it was best to get straight to the point rather than beat around the bush.
"Sir Yimulei?" Nuoyaji gave a slight nod, polite but not servile.
"I am." Yimulei looked him up and down, his gaze lingering briefly between his robe and iron sword. "You're a mage?"
"A magic apprentice." Nuoyaji neither concealed it nor tried to inflate his status. Putting on airs before someone like this would only backfire. "I was passing through Luoweida, heard something had happened at the mine, and came to take a look."
Yimulei's brow shifted slightly, but he said nothing, simply watching Nuoyaji quietly and waiting for him to continue.
Nuoyaji was in no hurry to speak. He knew that in a situation like this, saying less was better than saying more. The right words earned points; the wrong ones lost them. He had already gone over what he wanted to say several times on the way here. All he needed to do now was say it.
"The mine collapsed, the miners are trapped, food can't get in, and food prices in the city are soaring."
Nuoyaji spoke evenly, as though describing something unrelated to him. "Your biggest headache right now probably isn't the mine itself, but the chain reaction caused by its shutdown. Unemployment, famine, public resentment, unrest-those are the things that truly kill."
The look in Yimulei's eyes changed.
It was neither shock nor wariness, but something subtler: the gravity of having his concerns laid bare.
He gave Nuoyaji another look. Seventeen or eighteen years old, an apprentice's robe, a chipped iron sword-none of that had changed. Yet those words did not sound like something a magic apprentice could say.
There was something in those words... how should he put it... something only a person who had truly struggled through officialdom, seen the world, and dealt with difficult situations could express.
"What's your name?" Yimulei asked.
"Nuoyaji."
"Nuoyaji." Yimulei repeated the name, turning it over in his mind and confirming he had never heard it before. "Where are you from?"
"Dawn City."
"Dawn City..." Yimulei nodded thoughtfully. "What brings you to Luoweida?"
Nuoyaji had expected this question. He could hardly say, "I'm a regressor. I know disaster is about to strike this city, so I rushed here to stop it."
Nor could he say, "I'm here to find an old mine tunnel so I can bring food in from outside"-at least, not before he had a clear grasp of Yimulei's attitude.
"Traveling," Nuoyaji said. "Magic apprentices need to broaden their knowledge in different places."
It was a perfectly reasonable answer. The empire did indeed have such a tradition. Before formally becoming mages, magic apprentices would often leave their mentors' workshops and travel, gaining experience and broadening their horizons. Though Yimulei was unfamiliar with the customs of mage circles, he had heard of this practice.
He did not pursue the matter, instead bringing the conversation back to the mine.
"What you just mentioned really are our most pressing problems." Yimulei's tone had softened somewhat, though he still maintained his distance. "But identifying problems alone is useless. Can you solve them?"
Nuoyaji did not answer immediately.
He turned to look at the mine entrance buried beneath the mudslide, then at the exhausted guards and mercenaries slumped on the ruins farther away, before bringing his gaze back to Yimulei's face.
"I have a route through an old mine tunnel," Nuoyaji said, his voice quiet but clear enough for Yimulei to hear every word. "Southeast of Luoweida, across two mountains, there's an abandoned mine tunnel.
"Its exit lies beyond the area affected by the storm, where the farmland hasn't been destroyed. If we can clear that route, we can bring food in from outside."
Yimulei's pupils contracted slightly.
An old mine tunnel?
He had worked in Luoweida for over a decade and knew the surrounding terrain and distribution of ore veins like the back of his hand. There were indeed some old mine shafts to the southeast, dug by the earliest miners. They had gradually been abandoned because of low-grade ore and high extraction costs, and no one had mentioned them in years.
But how could this person-a magic apprentice from Dawn City, visiting Luoweida for the first time-know about them?
"How do you know about that tunnel?" Yimulei asked.
"I heard about it." Nuoyaji's answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive.
"From whom?"
"An old miner."
Yimulei stared at him for several seconds, as though weighing the truth of that statement. Nuoyaji's expression did not change. He looked neither like he was lying nor like he was telling the truth, only inscrutably calm.
Yimulei did not press him.
At a time like this, pursuing an unimportant detail was pointless. What mattered was whether this person's words were true.
If that old mine tunnel really existed, if it really could open a route to the granaries outside the city, then the young man before him was Luoweida's lifeline.
"Can you find that tunnel?" Yimulei asked.
"It'll take time," Nuoyaji said. "But I can find it."
Yimulei remained silent for a long time.
The morning wind swept through the valley, making loose stones on the ruins roll slightly with faint scraping sounds.
A few guards in the distance noticed the unusual atmosphere here and exchanged a few hushed words, only to be quickly silenced by their captain's look.
"Sir."
Seeing that Yimulei remained silent, Nuoyaji spoke again. This time, his tone was more direct, less tentative and more certain.
"If the food problem isn't solved, Luoweida won't last the month. The mine can't resume operations anytime soon, and even if it does, the miners won't go underground without food.
"What you need most right now isn't to ask your superiors for instructions or wait for the viscount to decide. It's to find a solution as quickly as possible, then get the viscount to agree."
Yimulei's eyelid twitched.
The young man spoke less like someone reporting to a superior and more like someone discussing matters with an equal. Yimulei was unaccustomed to that tone, yet he could not say what was wrong with it.
"I know all that," Yimulei said. "But what makes you think that you, a magic apprentice just passing through, understand this city's predicament better than those of us who've spent over a decade in Luoweida?"
Nuoyaji looked at him, remained silent for a few breaths, then said something that sent a slight chill down Yimulei's back.
"Because I've seen the same predicament elsewhere."
Yimulei did not ask where. He merely reassessed the young man in his mind, then made a decision.
"Come back to the city with me," Yimulei said. "I'll take you to see the viscount."
Nuoyaji nodded without showing any surprise or excitement. He turned and glanced toward the guards and mercenaries in the distance, his gaze lingering briefly on the dark-skinned mercenary captain before withdrawing.
"Before that, I have a small request," Nuoyaji said.
"What request?"
"Have the search-and-rescue crews keep at it for another half day. Not digging aimlessly, but concentrating around the mine's ventilation shafts. The storm may have blocked the entrance, but it won't have completely sealed the ventilation shafts. If those miners are still alive, they're most likely waiting for rescue near them."
Yimulei froze for a moment.
He did not ask why Nuoyaji knew these things. He simply turned and waved to the mercenary captain.
"Get a few men to check the ventilation shafts."
The captain glanced at Yimulei, then at Nuoyaji. Without another word, he turned to make arrangements.
Far away, atop the city wall.
Black Owl stood behind a merlon, his black construct armor gleaming coldly in the morning light. Through his clone's eyes, King Ghidorah had watched the entire conversation beside the mine outside the city.
"He certainly looks the part."
He muttered inwardly, his golden slit pupils narrowing slightly, as though assessing a chess game just set before him.
Then he turned toward the street below the wall. A little girl with long white hair was crouching at its base, holding a steaming loaf of bread and taking small bites. Her red eyes occasionally darted up toward the wall, as though she were waiting for someone.
King Ghidorah controlled Black Owl, making him leap down from the wall and land beside Fuyila.
"Let's go," Black Owl said.
Fuyila looked up, her cheeks bulging, and gave a muffled "Mm." She stood and followed Black Owl away along the base of the wall.