Chapter 13839 Reconstruction

The red-robed chief priest remained silent, but nodded slightly, signaling the one-eyed old ghost to continue.

His fingers gently stroked the pages of the ancient book, as if he was looking for a solution from it.

"As long as those bastards in the royal family don't interfere, we are still capable of destroying Ling Xiao!"

A hint of ruthlessness flashed in the one-eyed old ghost's eyes, and he clenched his fists tightly, as if he was ready to fight Ling Xiao to the death.

The red-robed chief priest shook his head, frowning: "The royal family is now Ling Xiao's ally, so we can help each other. They will definitely lend a hand."

"The power of the royal family should not be underestimated. If we act rashly, we may end up being caught in a dilemma."

The one-eyed old ghost said confidently: "Then find other forces to contain the royal family. The Qin family, the Feather Clan, and the Water Clan are all good choices."

"The Qin family has always been eyeing the position of the royal family. As long as we promise them great benefits, they will definitely help us. There are also some conflicts between the Feather Clan and the Water Clan and the royal family. We can use these conflicts to make them restrain each other."

The red-robed head priest frowned even more tightly. He looked at the one-eyed old ghost coldly and said, "I say, one-eyed old ghost, our previous failure was because we underestimated Ling Xiao. Do we have to do it again?"

"Ling Xiao is a person with unfathomable depths. There may be an even more powerful force hidden behind him."

"We cannot make the same mistake again and must proceed with caution."

The one-eyed old ghost said firmly, "This is our only chance. If we want to get rid of Ling Xiao, this is the only way."

The red-robed chief priest pondered for a long time and said slowly, "I'll think about it again."

The one-eyed old ghost sighed, bowed slightly, and retreated.

The red-robed chief priest sat alone in the hall, his eyes deep, and it was unknown what he was thinking about.

……

The strong wind in the wilderness carried sand and gravel, like countless tiny arrows, whistling through the ruined city wall of Batian City.

The mottled talismans flickered on the surface of the city wall. They were the defensive patterns drawn by the empire's strong men with their own blood and essence. Every line silently told the story of the fierce battle that had once taken place.

Twelve black-armored warriors were patrolling in unison on the bluestone bricks that had not yet been fully repaired. The clanging sound of their armor startled a few gray sparrows that had built nests among the broken walls.

The fluttering sound of the gray sparrows' wings echoed in the empty city, making this city under reconstruction seem even more lonely and deserted.

The figures of the strong men shuttled over the ruins like meteors, and the powerful aura they emanated made the air around them tremble.

The white-haired old man's hair was flying. He waved his wide sleeves, and three thousand-pound basalt rocks were lifted up as if by an invisible giant hand, suspended in the air, and then accurately embedded in the gaps in the city wall.

The red-dressed girl's eyes were focused, and crystal clear ice blades condensed on her fingertips. With a slight wave, the broken beams were cut neatly.

These methods, which seem like miracles in the eyes of mortals, are just the most common processes in the reconstruction project for them.

However, when they looked at the criss-crossing ruins in the city, they could not hide the disappointment in their eyes.

The once luxurious aristocratic mansion, with its carved beams and painted rafters, is now left with only charred beams and pillars, standing alone in the wind.

The streets paved with glazed tiles had long been melted into winding glazed rivers by the flames of war. The vanished prosperity could not be easily recreated by Xuan Fa. It would require a long time and countless efforts.

The aristocratic mansions and prosperous shops that once lined the city were almost completely destroyed under the fierce attack of the Holy Temple.

The families that were lucky enough to survive moved away from this sad place in order to avoid the disaster that might come again.

Merchants also took away their belongings and fled this city that was no longer safe.

Today, only empty streets and cracked bluestone pavement remain, as if silently accusing the cruelty of war.

Only the warriors of the Tyrant Empire patrol and stand guard in an orderly manner every day. Their firm steps and upright posture add a bit of popularity to this empty city and guard the remaining hope on this land.

In this context, the Jinqian Gang became an organization specialized in trade in the Tyrant Empire, and took on the heavy responsibility of rebuilding material transportation and construction.

When dusk falls, the ebony convoy of the Money Gang will gather outside the city and then file in.

The luminous pearls inlaid on the shaft of the carriage emitted a soft and bright light, illuminating the road surface.

The middle-aged man in the lead jumped out of the car, with a tired but resolute look on his face. He waved his badge at the guard at the city gate and said in a loud voice, "The third batch of Western Region Cloud Pattern Stone has arrived. Please inform the manager."

The wheels slowly rolled over the cracked bluestone slabs, making a teeth-grinding squeak, as if the city was groaning in the pain of reconstruction.

The craftsmen under the Jinqian Gang worked day and night, skillfully operating various tools to help repair the severely damaged areas.

Without their full support, the reconstruction of Batian City would be delayed by at least half.

That afternoon, the scorching sun shone on the earth. Jin Ruoxi was wearing a plain long dress, the hem of which fluttered gently in the wind.

She stepped on the broken tiles on the ground and walked carefully into the meeting hall under construction of the Tyrant Empire.

The beams and pillars inside the hall have not been fully completed, and the makeshift ceiling is shaky in the wind, barely blocking out the sunlight.

The sunlight shines through the gaps, casting mottled shadows on the ground.

Jin Ruoxi found a relatively flat stone bench and sat down. She waited quietly, with a hint of nervousness and anticipation in her eyes, wondering what kind of changes the upcoming meeting would bring to the future of this city.

The sound of footsteps and the unique crisp sound of the black iron boot buckles intertwined, just like the rhythm of the heavy war drums on an ancient battlefield, coming from far away, and each step seemed to step on people's hearts.

Ji Mingkong was wearing a black robe with dark gold patterns on it that were faintly visible in the flickering light and shadow in the hall. It swayed gently with her steady and slightly anxious steps, like a flowing vast galaxy.

She raised her hand and casually adjusted the dragon-shaped jade hairpin on her temples. This crown, which was carefully carved from ten-thousand-year-old cold jade by the empire's most powerful men with great effort, exuded a cool luster under the twilight, symbolizing the supreme power that overlooks all living beings.

However, at this moment, along with her slightly hurried movements, the halo reflected by the hairpin faintly revealed a hint of uneasiness.

Ji Mingkong strode into the hall, his eyes like a sharp eagle instantly sweeping towards Jin Ruoxi.

Jin Ruoxi was seen sitting elegantly on a stone bench, with tiny spots of light on her skirt swaying gently with the breeze blowing in from the window lattice, like lively starlight.

Seeing this, Ji Mingkong couldn't help but frown slightly, and a trace of guilt flashed across his face.

She nodded slightly and apologized sincerely: "Miss Ruoxi, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. There was an urgent movement in the northwest city just now, and I was busy with many military and political affairs. This delayed me for some time. I hope you will forgive me." (End of this chapter)