Chapter 589

Chapter 589: Thunder and Silver Wheels (Part One)

On the southern side of the Western Continent lies the Calm Moon Strait.

Under the sun in the sky, the sea appears a light green. From afar, it seems deep blue.

After leaving the city of Vergha and the nation of Rourna at the edge of the continent, sailing south leads to the vast ocean. The sea vessel sails southward for a thousand miles before encountering the nearest large island, the colorful Bicolor Island in the Southern Archipelago.

This stretch of sea between the colorful Bicolor Island and the continent is the Calm Moon Strait.

But now, the Calm Moon Strait is far from peaceful. Large ships with billowing sails cut through the waves, rising and falling continuously amidst the surging tides. Water splashes occasionally onto the deck, drenching everything.

Boom—boom—

Distantly, several low, muffled explosions could be heard, followed by enormous waves higher than the ship’s bow splashing around the surrounding vessels.

Following the source of the explosions, at the horizon, a fleet of iron-black ships opened fire from kilometers away. Forty cannons along each ship’s hull fired in succession, sending cannonballs arcing toward them, smashing through wooden hulls, breaking into splinters, and then exploding violently, sending flames and debris flying.

Water gushed into the breaches, forming small whirlpools around. Struggling sailors grabbed anything they could find—planks, metal bars, broken masts—to stay afloat.

Before they could escape the danger, another round of bombardment struck, causing many to vanish in the explosions and waves.

The scene below was clear as the seabirds flew overhead, stretching and lifting the view.

To the north was an ironclad fleet of 30 black warships, each nearly a hundred meters long with a displacement of about 9,000 tons. Each ship had three towering masts, and forty square cannons protruded from the sides, spitting out flames and launching cannonballs that shattered the sky.

South of the sea were smaller fleets of sailboats, roughly a hundred in total. Their sturdy wooden hulls were painted with waterproof black and white paint, each no more than 60 meters long and with a maximum displacement of 5,000 tons. They had several tall cross masts, their white sails fully unfurled, with three rows of densely packed cannons lining the sides, firing back.

Unfortunately, although the sailboat fleet had numerous cannons, their caliber was much smaller compared to the enemy, resulting in weaker firepower and shorter range.

The two sides engaged in continuous naval battles, with cannonfire rising and falling, creating towering water sprays. Sailboats in the fleet were hit, bursting into flames, and even sinking. However, the northern ironclad fleet remained unscathed, its armor deflecting the impacts, protecting the ship’s interior.

In the flagship of the sailboat fleet:

“General Fifeord, our fleet can’t hold on much longer! Several ships have signaled to withdraw.”

A messenger in a white uniform rushed into the room, urgently reporting.

Since the Frost Alliance declared war on Clancia, they had dispatched several ironclad fleets to blockade the Calm Moon Strait, patrolling in shifts. The Redberry Kingdom, due to previous aid, was also involved, with many merchant and passenger ships being detained, causing significant losses to the trade-dependent Southern Archipelago.

Subsequently, to retaliate and protest, the Southern Archipelago mobilized many large ships, forming a joint fleet to break through the northern strait blockade.

If today’s battle failed and many ships sank, it could be imagined that the Southern Archipelago would be under the Frost Alliance’s blockade for a long time.

General Fifeord frowned, his gray brows furrowing as he looked out at the undulating sea. “Have the Divine Wings not arrived yet? With their help, defeating this ironclad fleet wouldn’t be difficult.”

“General, we sent signals two hours ago. They should have arrived by now,” replied his adjutant, a look of worry on his face.

General Fifeord took a deep breath and sternly said, “Signal for withdrawal. We’ll retreat cautiously.”

“Yes, General!” The messenger ran out of the room, and signal flags rose on the masts as the fleet began to turn.

—

A hundred miles away from the battlefield, dark clouds loomed in the sky. Occasionally, fiery red streams of magic burst from the clouds. Iron-gray airships darted through the sky, appearing and disappearing, attacking the giant-winged divine birds flying within the clouds.

These divine birds’ eyes were bloodshot, losing their former clarity. Their backs were occupied by mages who struggled to keep them from plummeting into the sea.

The nearly 200 airships flying up and down through the clouds would not miss such an opportunity. Over 3,000 mages on board joined forces to create golden energy grids, trapping the frenzied divine birds.

Once trapped, dense cannonfire rained down from the airships, turning the giant birds into bloody chunks scattered across the sea.

“Hahaha, how delightful to see these beasts turned into roasted pieces,” a man in black-red uniform holding a wine glass remarked, admiring the view outside the window.

His attire seemed a blend of a mage’s robe and military uniform, combining elegance and precision.

“But, this is all thanks to your efforts, Abel.” The man turned, his mustache curling slightly with a smile.

“Honored, Lord Hunter.” A young man bowed deeply, then straightened up. He wore a black uniform with a white silk scarf, exuding a refined aura.

“I know about your request,” Hunter walked a few steps and sat on a plush chair, extending his hand for a servant to refill his glass.

“After taking Hopeland, I will vouch for you, restoring the glory of the Tisiphone family and sharing one-third of the wealth of the Carites and Helis families with you.”

“Thank you, Lord Hunter. The Tisiphone family is honored to serve as your loyal followers,” Abel expressed gratitude again.

Though he knew this might be an empty promise, once Hopeland was taken, he might not receive any of the Carites and Helis family’s wealth.

But what did it matter? As long as he clung to this major figure in the military of the Frost Alliance, the Tisiphone family’s revival was only a matter of time.

Unlike his reckless brothers, Abel, the last surviving legitimate heir of the Tisiphone family, understood the insignificance of personal strength. Cunning and intellect were far superior to brute force.

His brothers’ failures lay in over-relying on advanced technology and extraordinary power while abandoning their initial plans. This world was ultimately dominated by people and relationships.

After the Hopeland incident, he had hidden himself, lying low in the Southern Archipelago for years until he finally mastered some weaknesses of the divine birds. Now, he had reconnected with a network of old contacts and reached out to key figures in the Frost Rose alliance.

As long as the Frost Alliance emerged victorious, the Tisiphone family would surely rise again under his leadership.

He believed this firmly.

Outside the airship’s window, divine birds fell one by one amidst various restrictions and attacks, feathers and blood raining down.

—

Three days later, in the Redberry Parliament and the Redberry United Kingdom Parliament.

A spacious hall stood halfway up a mountain, surrounded by tall columns adorned with vines, leaves of varying shades of green.

Outside the hall, one side flowed with mountain springs, while the other offered an unobstructed view of the bustling island architecture below.

In the center of the wall of the parliament hall was a gold crescent moon, with tendrils of vines winding around it, adorned with several crimson berries, symbolizing the united kingdom.

Inside the hall sat many high-ranking officials of the kingdom, half in various mage robes and the other half in luxurious garments made of gold-threaded silk.

“I believe we should accept the Frost Alliance’s peace proposal at this moment,” a middle-aged man in elegant attire stood up to speak. He was somewhat plump, giving him a portly appearance.

After the recent annihilation of the Divine Wing forces, the Frost Alliance had once again proposed peace, hoping the Redberry Kingdom would exit the conflict and remain neutral. In return, the Frost Alliance promised to cease blockading their merchant ships and routes and stop interfering with their trade.

Many nobles were swayed by this offer, as their titles and powers were inherited from the Redberry Duchy. Unlike the Redberry Parliament, which migrated south, these nobles cared little about the situation across the sea and preferred to enjoy a stable and prosperous life, benefiting from being a crucial trading hub.

“This isn’t a good proposal; they might be tricking us,” a mage representative on the podium shook his head. His face was decorated with vibrant blue eye shadow, and feathers were tucked into his hair.

“Tricking us? How else could they trick us? We’ve lost our Divine Wing forces, and our naval power can’t match theirs,” a noble representative spoke.

Days earlier, the Divine Wing forces were ambushed by a fleet of airships hidden in the clouds. The airships released a special gas that caused the Divine Wing birds to go berserk, leading to heavy casualties at sea, with only a few managing to escape.

Now, the Redberry Kingdom’s aerial support had significantly declined, gradually losing control of the seas.

“We still have our Chimera combat groups and the aerial dominion—the Sky Tyrant Gargoyles. We can summon the Gray Mountain Leviathan and even awaken ancient sea beasts from the Meteor Reef,” the mage representative responded.

“Why give up so easily?” asked a noble representative who had been silent.

“It’s not worth it! There’s nothing to gain.”

“I don’t know what grudges the mages have, but for the entire Redberry Kingdom, continuing the fight won’t benefit us.”

“What if Clancia wins? They won’t give us any additional territory. Moreover, a remote territory requires maintaining troops and protection, which is costly and yields little benefit.”

“If we continue to confront the Frost Alliance, we’ll be caught in endless arms races, consuming much manpower and resources, affecting trade and economic growth.”

“So why should we fight for Clancia just because that Starlight Witch is pretty? It’s absurd!” the noble representative argued vehemently.

After his speech, murmurs filled the hall, many beginning to agree with him.

“It seems there’s no benefit in this stalemate.”

“Exactly, those mages are too fixated on past grievances.”

“I’d rather stay home and make money. Why provoke the Frost Alliance?”

Hearing this, the middle-aged noble who had spoken earlier couldn’t help but smile smugly.

“May I say something?” A gentle voice interrupted as everyone discussed.

Everyone turned to the podium, where a kind-faced man had appeared.

“Prince Urielvis?” The voice below was filled with surprise.

“It’s really him. How did he end up here… at such an ordinary meeting?” The voice paused briefly in disbelief before finishing.

Urielvis, the Judge of Thunder in the Magic Sequence 9, is a living legend who ascended to Sequence 9 over 80 years ago. He is one of the superpower figures behind the Redberry Parliament. Rarely seen in public and not involved in affairs, no one in the parliament could command him.

At the pinnacle of the Ivar World, the existence of a Superhuman Sequence 9 is a mystery to most. No country or organization can command them, and they seldom concern themselves with mortal interests and conflicts, pursuing their own goals. Thus, Urielvis’s appearance stunned everyone.

Such giants and figures were thought to be out of the world’s affairs, yet here he was, at the parliament meeting.

Seeing the hall gradually quiet down, the great figure began speaking slowly.

“I believe we should stand with Clancia, resisting the expansion of the Frost Alliance.”

“Don’t rush to reject. Let me share my thoughts.”

“If we let the Frost Alliance unify the western coast, we will lose the choice in trade and be controlled and suppressed by them.”

“The continent is rich in resources and people. They might choose not to trade with us, but we need many things from the continent. If they completely control the coastal ports, we will be at their mercy and may have to concede more benefits under various threats.”

“At the same time, as fellow mages, if their teachings and views spread across the continent, we in the Southern Archipelago will become a minority in an increasingly hostile public opinion environment, facing obstacles in every aspect.”

“Even though we may have to pay a price to support Clancia now, it is worthwhile.”

“When a new order is established on the continent, we can secure some rights and positions. And if the Frost Alliance’s mages are defeated, it will be the perfect time for us to re-enter the mainland, bringing a steady flow of trade and economic opportunities.”

“Therefore, we cannot accept the Frost Alliance’s peace proposal!”

With these words from the behind-the-scenes figure of the Redberry mage faction, the wind changed in the hall. Many noble representatives began reconsidering the future implications of their choices.

On the mage side, as a Magic Sequence 9 existence, he embodied the will of the Redberry mages. Many mage representatives fully supported his proposal.

Afterwards, discussions resumed.

“Then, let’s begin the voting,” the host on the high platform announced after the discussion ended.

“Please raise your hands if you agree with Prince Urielvis.”

As the words fell, arms lifted in the hall, perfectly aligned, representing the Redberry Kingdom’s previously indecisive will finally uniting.

“Very well, let’s proceed to the next round of conscription and support proposals.”

(End of Chapter)