100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 559 - Half a Year

An entire half-year vanished in the blink of an eye.

During this period, the Middle Continent branch transformed into a force that the continent could no longer afford to overlook.

Initially, it was merely a whisper, a rumor.

Talk of a foreign entity constructing something intriguing sparked initial curiosity.

Subsequently, the whispers evolved.

It wasn't a mere fortress, nor a traditional sect, nor a bustling merchant city.

It encompassed all these and yet, was none of them exclusively.

•••

The development of the territory proceeded at a startling pace.

By the time six months had elapsed, the Middle branch was nearing its completion.

In one specific aspect, it surpassed even the original Lootwell territory, presenting a greater marvel.

While Lootwell’s primary territory possessed an elder significance, the Middle branch was intentionally designed for prominence and observation.

Consequently, the Middle Continent could not help but take notice.

The core issue, however, was the pervasive uncertainty regarding its ownership.

This ambiguity only intensified the situation.

Some speculated it belonged to the Liberators.

Others suggested it marked the Celestial Dominion’s renewed expansion.

A few believed an ancient, hidden faction had reawakened.

Some whispered it was an elaborate trap.

Others posited it was, in fact, a city.

The prevailing theory among a select few was that it was a weapon cunningly disguised as a city.

This final conjecture was not entirely unfounded.

Amidst the common factions, conjecture ran rampant.

However, among the truly paramount factions, this ignorance was short-lived.

Seers gazed into the future.

Diviners performed intricate calculations.

Fate-readers revered celestial bodies, charted star maps, offered rare crystals as sacrifices, spilled blood onto bronze plates, and murmured inquiries into mirrors that refused to reflect their faces.

Ultimately, a select number of them managed to glean crucial information.

Lootwell.

The name began to circulate within exclusive circles.

Initially, it held little significance for those who hadn't closely monitored the West Continent.

Then, the dispatches started arriving.

The West Continent had undergone a radical transformation.

Communication devices had become commonplace. Branches had proliferated across numerous regions. Guardian factions had emerged. Ancient powers had been revitalized through the exchange of Origin Core fragments for alliances. Smaller factions had gained mechanisms to report grievances. Merchants experienced swifter transit. Information flowed with unprecedented speed. The West had transformed into a more structured, interconnected, and significantly more challenging domain to oppress discreetly.

To certain powers within the Middle Continent, this transformation sounded like a beautiful development.

To others, it signaled impending danger.

And to a select few, it was utterly intolerable.

This sentiment stemmed from the fact that change is only inspiring to those poised to benefit from it.

For those who thrived on chaos and disorder, any form of change appeared as a direct adversary.

•••

The initial infiltrators arrived with utmost stealth.

They employed concealment arts, utilized shadow cloaks, adopted false identities, wore borrowed visages, and carried divination-shielded tokens.

Some entered via established trade routes.

Others traversed the skies.

A few attempted to infiltrate through subterranean pathways.

None achieved their objective.

The implemented barriers did not function like conventional defenses.

This was the primary discovery made by the infiltrators.

Or rather, it was the first lesson learned by the spies who managed to survive.

The outer ward meticulously assessed intent.

It cross-referenced movement patterns, identity verification, claimed authority, emotional signatures, spatial disturbances, token authenticity, and crucially, whether the approaching individual possessed any legitimate cause for their presence.

Some spies reached the boundary and inexplicably found themselves inexplicably wandering in circles for a duration of six hours.

Others touched a concealed ingress point only to awaken outside the territory, their storage rings systematically emptied of all tools suspected of illicit use, replaced instead with a courteously worded warning notice.

Still others had their concealment arts stripped away, exposed before the startled eyes of their own companions.

One particular infiltrator attempted to force passage using a forbidden bloodline escape technique.

The barrier effortlessly neutralized his bloodline response, artfully twisted his escape trajectory into a benign loop, and then unceremoniously deposited him, suspended upside down, within a containment field.

Upon the arrival of the security detail, Marina happened to be present.

She observed the dangling spy and inquired, "Could we perhaps keep him suspended like this for public display?"

Lucien, upon receiving the detailed report later, provided a succinct response:

[Negative.]

Marina promptly replied:

[What if it served as an educational exhibit?]

Lucien's response was equally brief:

[Still negative.]

Regrettably, this did not deter the security personnel from privately dubbing the incident "the educational hanging."

Lucien chose to feign ignorance of this designation.

His intention was for certain spies to return, carrying vital intelligence.

Warnings necessitated credible witnesses.

Consequently, the initial contingent of apprehended infiltrators was allowed to depart alive.

Each bore an identical message:

[This territory is not yet open for visitors. Guests shall be received at an appropriate juncture. Infiltrators will not be.]

This communication should have sufficed.

However, as anticipated, it proved inadequate.

Certain factions lacked the capacity to learn without experiencing direct repercussions.

The subsequent incursion arrived with heightened intensity.

This time, they were not mere spies.

They were testers.

Individuals at the half-step Eternal realm disguised as itinerant inspectors. Master formation breakers from antiquity. Assassins bearing beast bloodlines. A diviner whose eyes had been surgically replaced with living star beetles. A pair of brothers specializing in the remote sabotage of construction foundations.

The Middle branch absorbed them all.

They vanished from their designated operational zones without a trace.

Following this event, the meddling factions fell into a period of silence.

Their quietude was not born of comprehension.

Instead, it stemmed from a newfound, profound uncertainty.

Uncertainty often dawns as wisdom for those who once possessed excessive confidence.

The reputation of the Middle branch was already blooming brightly even before its gates officially opened. The major factions then started to re-evaluate their prior estimations. Even the smaller factions began to pay close attention, while neutral powers started to inquire whether they should dispatch envoys immediately, lest they be left behind. Simultaneously, those powers that had previously tested the branch began to feign an extreme ignorance, as if they had never been involved. Lucien found this particular development rather amusing.

•••

Subsequently, friendly factions made their appearance. These were the more astute ones. Several factions, possessing powerful clairvoyants and diviners, had perceived enough to grasp a single, undeniable truth: Lootwell was irrevocably coming. Regardless of whether the Middle Continent welcomed it, resisted it, misunderstood it, or plotted against it, Lootwell's arrival was inevitable. Therefore, they chose the most appropriate course of action – they arrived bearing gifts. Lucien acknowledged the visits. However, he did not personally receive them; he delegated that duty to Clara. Clara welcomed the envoys at the sole proper entrance currently accessible to outsiders: the grand central chapel, or rather, the chapel that was still unfinished but already possessed an overwhelming presence. By that point, even in its incomplete state, it resembled a palace that had decided religion, administration, moral discipline, and public service were merely different wings of the same colossal structure. Lucien observed from a distance via a discreet projection. When the initial group of envoys entered, he nearly chuckled at the looks on their faces. They had arrived with their politeness in order, but they were utterly unprepared for the profound shock awaiting them. Their gazes lifted, then lifted further, before finally freezing upon the colossal floating city suspended above. An elder from a clairvoyant faction stared upwards for such an extended period that his disciple had to clear his throat politely. The elder then whispered, "The vision did not adequately convey the sheer scale." Another envoy directed his gaze toward the academy district, where training grounds spanned a diverse array of terrains. Then, his eyes moved to the healing complex, where Celestial workers were raising living crystal structures beside the flowing river. Finally, his attention landed on the chapel itself. Withdrawing his gaze, he lowered his head, his voice barely a murmur, "This was constructed in mere months?" Clara offered a gentle smile. "Mostly." That understated response offered them little comfort. Lucien stifled a laugh.

...

As the envoys ventured deeper, each step imprinted a distinct, valuable, albeit unpleasant, lesson upon them. The very air hummed with densely packed, yet impeccably controlled and pure energy. The workers moved with an impressive, unified discipline. The construction arrays were not hastily erected, temporary constructs, but meticulously layered, sophisticated systems. The protective barriers watched silently, their presence unobtrusive rather than crude. The chapel exuded a divine aura, a power that caused even the most seasoned priests from foreign factions to unconsciously straighten their postures. By the time the envoys reached the reception hall prepared for them, their initial confidence had been thoroughly and irrevocably dismantled. They had come expecting to encounter a burgeoning power. Instead, they found themselves standing within the shadow of a titan that was still in the process of rising.

•••

Clara received them with a disarming, almost intimidating, grace. She exerted no pressure, which, paradoxically, made her far more effective. Her voice was soft, her answers to their questions clear and direct. She described Lootwell’s core principles without any hint of a sales pitch, her words carrying an inherent warmth. Only those intimately familiar with her could detect the unyielding steel beneath the surface. An envoy cautiously inquired, "Is Lootwell establishing itself on the Middle Continent primarily as a commercial entity?" Clara’s smile widened slightly. "In part." This cryptic answer immediately commanded everyone's undivided attention. She continued, "Trade serves as the most accessible gateway for strangers to approach one another without resorting to conflict. However, commerce alone is a superficial connection. Lootwell favors relationships built on mutual utility." Another envoy followed up, "And what does Lootwell deem as useful?" "Stability," Clara replied without hesitation. "Honest exchange. Regional development. Protection for the populace. Appropriate conduct from those in positions of authority. And cooperation against threats that are too formidable for solitary pride to overcome." The hall fell into a profound silence. Clara’s gaze swept calmly over each envoy. "We are not here to usurp your histories. Our purpose is to forge a future where your histories are not reduced to ashes simply because everyone hesitated too long to collaborate." That statement resonated deeply. Observing from afar, Lucien nodded slowly. "Well said." The envoys had arrived seeking connection, and Clara masterfully expedited that very process. She outlined the fundamental categories of alliances: trade partner, recognized supplier, regional collaborator, associate for restricted technologies, and candidate for future, deeper alliances. She made it unequivocally clear that greater privileges necessitated greater responsibilities. Furthermore, she emphasized that Lootwell would never tolerate allies who exploited its name to subjugate others. Several envoys nodded in agreement. This was precisely the desired outcome. A reputation was only truly valuable if it was solidified by lasting memory. By the conclusion of these meetings, the initial alliances with the Middle Continent factions began to take shape. They were not yet the deepest level of commitment; that would have been premature. However, trade and cooperation agreements were successfully ratified. Supplier channels were established. Observation rights were granted. And soul contracts, as was customary, were prepared, with all agreements ultimately being finalized through Lucien.

And as was typical, the majority of the envoys presumed Lucien was simply Lootwell’s representative.

When a single envoy bowed with deep respect, stating, "Kindly convey our sincerity to the lord of Lootwell," Vivian nearly choked on her own breath.

Lucien offered only a smile in return.

"I shall ensure he receives your sentiments."

Seran, who had been observing from a short distance, turned away, his body shaking with silent mirth.

• • •

Lucien made certain the envoys did not depart empty-handed.

Before the public grand opening, he presented them with communication devices of exceptionally high quality.

The envoys had previously encountered visions and reports detailing such devices.

However, holding them in their hands was an entirely different experience.

One elder, a practiced diviner, activated his newly acquired device. Upon seeing a clear message materialize from another chamber, he froze in astonishment.

"This is instantaneous?" he breathed.

Another envoy leaned towards his companion and whispered, "Should our rivals acquire these first, our regional response speed will be severely compromised."

• • •

Next, the attribute-granting items were introduced.

It was at this point that their carefully maintained composure began to falter.

Lucien had brought a limited supply of special cultivated crops from Aerolith.

The moment the envoys grasped the true nature of these items, the atmosphere within the room underwent a palpable shift.

An elder, who had remained remarkably composed throughout the tour of the floating city, leaned forward so rapidly his chair protested loudly.

The room instantly became exceedingly polite and alarmingly predatory.

Lucien watched with profound satisfaction as the envoys, who had initially entered with solemn diplomatic decorum, began to assess their options like famished merchants at a heavenly auction.

Clara intervened before the situation could devolve into severe embarrassment for anyone.

"The allocation will be conducted fairly," she stated gently. "Furthermore, future access will be contingent upon our continued cooperation."

This declaration served to restore a semblance of order.

Mostly.

• • •

Following this, the automatons were presented.

The envoys shed another layer of their professional restraint.

Automatons of public-grade quality were already well-known throughout the West.

However, the models Lucien showcased to these allied factions were demonstrably superior.

He had, in anticipation of this precise moment, prepared a sufficient quantity of them.

Enough to ensure their satisfaction.

Yet, not so much as to make them feel entirely at ease.

A sense of complete comfort would be detrimental to sustaining future demand.

By the conclusion of the private demonstration, the allied factions had successfully purchased communication devices, a limited quantity of the attribute-boosting items, one automaton apiece, several service agreements for repairs, and preliminary supplier contracts.

Additionally, they were extended invitations to the grand opening ceremony.

This final gesture pleased them more than Lucien had initially anticipated.

Or perhaps, it pleased them precisely as much as Eirene had foreseen.

"Status holds significant weight here," Eirene elucidated later, as she reviewed the outcomes of the meeting. "An invitation extended prior to the public opening signals to them that they are not merely customers. They are recognized as valued early associates."

Lucien nodded in agreement.

"And consequently, they will spread the word without any prompting."

"Indeed, they have already begun to do so."

Kael entered, carrying a substantial stack of reports and sporting a cheerful, entrepreneurial smile.

"Three of them have already dispatched messages to their respective home factions. Two described this branch as 'unreasonably exceeding all projections.' One referred to it as a future continental linchpin."

Lucien appeared genuinely impressed.

"That is a rather fitting phrase."

Kael affirmed with a nod.

"I found it quite effective as well."

Clara added calmly, "One envoy inquired whether he ought to prostrate himself before entering the chapel on his next visit."

Lucien stared at her, momentarily taken aback.

"And what was your response?"

"I advised him that sincerity holds greater importance than mere physical posture."

A sense of relief washed over Lucien.

Clara offered a subtle smile.

"However," she continued, "posture can indeed aid sincerity in becoming deeply ingrained within one's being."

Lucien closed his eyes, a knowing expression dawning on his face.

"Ah, there it is."

• • •

The allied factions departed, feeling exceptionally pleased.

More than merely pleased, in fact.

They left in a state of profound awe, newly empowered, and already envisioning themselves aligned with a force that others had lacked the courage or foresight to approach.

This perception was of paramount importance.

These individuals would undoubtedly share their experiences.

Initially with great caution.

Then, with progressively less restraint.

Their rivals would inevitably hear these accounts.

Neutral powers would develop intense curiosity.

Hostile factions would adopt a more circumspect stance.

Though the Middle branch had not yet officially opened its doors, its initial influence had already begun to permeate the continent's political landscape.

Later, Lucien stood on one of the unfinished terraces of the magnificent floating city, gazing down at the expanse of territory below.

Construction was nearing completion.

Soon, it would be unveiled to the public.

And once that occurred, the Middle Continent would no longer have the option to discuss Lootwell as mere hearsay, speculative projections, cautionary tales, or vaguely divined possibilities.

They would be compelled to confront the tangible reality of its presence.

Lucien's smile broadened.

The West had been the first to truly grasp its significance.

Now, the Middle Continent was beginning to comprehend.

Lootwell was not simply in the process of expanding its reach.

It was definitively arriving.