Yes, Madam Prime Minister

This woman is too strange, too problematic.

Ronan didn't express his opinion, but instead brought up another matter, "Chief, because your three sons all betrayed us, they didn't bring out anything from the plan that could attract our interest in the ruins. Now, I want to see what it is that makes the people who planned this conspiracy so sure that we will definitely be interested in exploring those ruins."

Chapter 214 An old acquaintance, he's got energy again; we still need to rely on his coattails.

Chief Ankara nodded to Ronan, then turned and went to another closed room on the second floor, opened a locked iron box in the corner, and took out a small wooden box.

Returning with the small wooden box, the chief invited the three of them to follow him to a place.

Midway through, Chief Ankara even went to teach the old shaman Musouchi.

Ronan and his two companions followed.

After walking for a while, Chief Ankara led Ronan and the other two to his private shooting range. Nowadays, no indigenous tribe that is still alive does not use firearms. Low-ranking soldiers use outdated old weapons that have been phased out, while high-ranking warriors and the chief's guards can use second-hand ones. As for the chief himself, he can of course use the best guns because he has gold.

As for wheat fields, cornfields, vineyards, and cattle and sheep on pastures, although the output value per unit seems high, they don't actually bring in much income.

Because both large livestock and agricultural tools, as well as agricultural technology, were brought about by colonization.

The colonists would only take the benefits from the indigenous people for free, and would never let the indigenous people take benefits from them for free. In fact, most of the harvest from these farms and pastures had to be contributed to the colonists. Sometimes, when the harvest was bad, the indigenous tribes had to buy food from the colonists.

Resist? Resist and we'll kill.

Moreover, this is only because the number of immigrants is small now. If there are more immigrants in the future, they will definitely start killing them and then come to take over the already developed farmland and pastures.

Never try to gauge the colonizers' bottom line, because colonizers have no bottom line.

However, chiefs of large tribes like the Ankara chief can still make money because they are essentially "compradors." They profit by exploiting and oppressing slaves to reduce the production costs of agriculture and animal husbandry, while selling grain, counterfeit goods, and production tools to ordinary people within the tribe at high prices.

Therefore, his private firing range is very large, even larger than the military firing range Ronan passed by before. It even has a place for testing artillery. Even though the indigenous people could not buy artillery, it did not stop the chief from going to such lengths.

At this moment, Chief Ankara opened the wooden box and took out a small cube that looked like a stone or a piece of metal.

Sebastian was curious, and although Faith had an annoyed expression on her face, her eyes were also fixed on him.

Only Ronan showed a fleeting look of shock, then feigned curiosity.

This block is a miniature version of the small blocks found in Gardener Tyr's Garden.

Chief Ankara handed the cube to the hunched-over, aged-looking old shaman Musouchi. Musouchi held the cube, pointing one side at a target a hundred meters away. A straight beam of white light shot out, shattering the target into pieces.

It is clear that its rate of fire, accuracy, and power all surpass existing firearms.

Only Ronan knew that this thing was not on the same level as a musket at all.

The small cube in Chief Ankara's hand is actually less powerful than the large cube Ronan had seen, and it doesn't possess any intelligence of its own, but humans can use it.

"Is this thing easy to use? How many times can one be used? How many do you have left?" Sebastian asked in quick succession.

Chief Ankara replied, “It’s convenient, but only those with magic power can use it. It seems that as long as you can replenish your magic power, you can use it indefinitely. I only have seven, but the ruins haven’t been really excavated yet, so there may be more inside.”

Sebastian smiled helplessly. "No wonder the people who set this up were so sure we'd take the bait." This thing is incredibly valuable. If we could figure out its principles and mass-produce it, it would be enough to usher in a whole new era for warfare worldwide.

"Personally, I think we can follow the chief's suggestion and set off for the ruins in a week. What do you think?"

Ronan said.

He could fly at full speed for a week and return to the governor's mansion in four days, then fly back with Dinia in three days.

If it were just assassins, he wouldn't need Dinia; he, Elena, and Noah would be more than enough. But there's an even bigger mastermind behind the mastermind, and this bigger mastermind might be connected to that organization. Ronan had to be cautious and play it safe, so he brought Dinia, a valuable asset, along.

“I think it’s a good idea,” said the taciturn Faith, the first to speak up in support of Ronan.

"Then let's do it this way." Sebastian agreed; he also needed time to make arrangements and plans.

"Okay." The chief readily agreed. Although a week was a bit long, as long as things went according to plan, that would be enough.

When the time comes, he and Ronan's three groups will take care of the ambushing assassins. After Ronan's three groups return, it will inevitably cause internal strife among the three colonial groups. Then he will take this opportunity to concentrate his forces and march westward to defeat and annex the tribe that has been confronting him.

They eventually became a large tribe that occupied the west.

With the decision made, Ronan and his two companions left the shooting range, returned to the banquet hall, and went home with their respective people.

The chief also bid farewell to the old wizard and rushed to where Wayara was staying. Ever since the first secret messenger came and asked him to assassinate that group of Weylanders, he had been in a state of anxiety, feeling uneasy all the time. He felt like he was getting a year older every day. These days, he even lost the energy to eat meat, let alone do *that* kind of thing. When Ronan arrived yesterday, he could barely hold a knife and fork and was trembling as he walked.

But now, he feels young again and full of energy.

I must go tell Wayara the good news right away, and maybe even fire a couple more shots while I'm at it.

Everyone had left, leaving only the chief's three sons, who looked at each other awkwardly. They had all wanted to be dutiful sons, but now it seemed that it was none of their business.

"Boss, now the three of us brothers are the clowns," the second brother said, forcing an extremely unsightly smile. "What do you think that old man will do next?"

“We all betrayed each other, which means we didn’t do anything,” the leader said.

“That makes sense, eldest brother is absolutely right,” the third brother echoed.

The second brother asked again, "Big brother, what do you think we should do next?"

The eldest brother laughed, "Second brother, you know me, I'm only good at hunting, I'm not good at anything else, and you're asking me?"

"What do you think, third brother?" the second brother asked the third brother.

"Second brother, you know that besides speaking a little foreign language, I'm not good at anything," the third brother said, trying to deflect the question.

No one wants to reveal their inner thoughts.

And just like that, the three brothers parted ways after only a few words.

On the other side, after Ronan returned to his residence, he first told Elena and Noah about the situation. Of course, this did not include Ronan's own guesses and deductions, let alone his understanding of the chief's little square.

After explaining the situation, Ronan began to arrange the next steps.

Elena, Noah, and the five students continued to stay at the hotel. The five students tried not to go out, and Elena and Noah kept one of them at the hotel for safety. Ronan's food was delivered directly to the hotel.

Ronan planned to leave the Twin Bears tribe under cover of night and rush to the governor's mansion to bring Dinia over. Of course, he couldn't say that he was trying to curry favor with the powerful. This was called being cautious and steady, you know?

Noah realized things weren't that simple, but he didn't care. "When we go to the ruins, don't forget me, sir."

"Row."

Chapter 215 Old Friend, Immortality, Gaze

Just as Ronan was setting off back to the Governor's Palace, at the Lison Manor in the northern part of Cardina City, where the Governor's Palace was located.

The old man, Lison Nantes, dressed in a robe, reclined in a rocking chair, sipping his bedtime wine and reminiscing about how he had just manipulated both of Chip's mother and sister at the same time.

Suddenly, a vortex appeared in the room, and then a man walked out of the vortex.

"Long time no see, old friend," the man greeted.

The older man, Lison, downed his glass of red wine in one gulp, sat up, and said, "You still prefer to intrude into other people's private space in this impolite way."

“If you master this magic, you’ll get used to moving this way too,” the man said, using magic to summon a chair in front of him and sitting down without any hesitation. “Aren’t you tired of those raising simulation games yet?”

Lison chuckled, "Ha, isn't the greatest pleasure in life to play with others? If you get tired of that, then there's no fun in living at all."

The man didn't want the conversation to go off-topic, so he said, "Let's not talk about that anymore. I came to express my gratitude."

“No need. I only provided some intelligence support to your people,” Lison said, indicating that it was unnecessary. “Besides, you’re the kind of person who only knows how to say thank you verbally; it’s meaningless.”

“Then I’ll offer a more substantial gift today, but before that, let me ask you a question: do you know my great-grandfather Lawrence’s nickname?” the man asked.

Lison stood up. "Tyrant?"

“The one when he was younger,” the man said.

“Sage,” Lison replied.

“That’s right, sage,” the man replied. “At just over twenty years old, he has already reached the pinnacle of magical research. There are only a handful of people throughout history who can compare to him. If he hadn’t become king, he might have been the greatest in history.”

"Maybe," Lison replied dismissively.

The man then asked another question, "Do you know the basic principles of magic?"

Lison did not answer, and the man answered himself, "The foundation of magic is the magic matrix, or the soul. Long ago, people already knew that magic is not stored and operated by a certain organ in the body. Magic can be said to be inside our body, or it can be said to be outside our body."

"And since magic is controlled by our consciousness, it can be concluded that the magic body is not only the foundation for carrying magic, but it can also contain consciousness. In a sense, those primitive religions stumbled upon the fact that consciousness does indeed reside in the soul, or at least, it can reside in consciousness."

"Through in-depth research on the magic foundation, Lawrence discovered a possibility. Guess what it is?"

The man suddenly stopped talking, leaving the older man, Lison, to guess.

Lison yawned, looking somewhat bored. "You really are a boring person. If I were to guess alone, I would have a hard time guessing, but now that you've asked me to guess, is there even a need to guess? The answer is simple: immortality."

He knew very well that the man in front of him had been pursuing immortality. Since he had asked the question, there was no need to guess. The possibility that Lawrence had discovered back then was the possibility of immortality.

"My great-grandfather failed, but he also succeeded. He failed because he couldn't successfully transfer his soul before he died, which caused irreversible damage to his body. As a result, he didn't live past fifty, and it even affected his descendants. My grandfather died young, and my father succeeded to the throne as a child. After learning this truth from my grandfather, he was afraid that he wouldn't live long either, so he desperately conducted research. However, this kind of research couldn't involve too many people; he had to rely mainly on himself."

“My father, your late king, was truly mediocre. Not only did he fail to make any progress, but he also caused the three of us brothers to be born with illnesses.”

“But my great-grandfather actually succeeded. He had already found a way to separate his soul from his body and transfer it, but the great Father did not give him enough time.”

“Godfather didn’t give me much time either, but I can stand on the shoulders of my great-grandfather, this giant.”

"I finally succeeded."

"Unfortunately, after the soul is transferred, the body will still reject it, leading to rapid aging, and the soul itself will also be damaged."

"Fortunately, I am very lucky. I have the ancient scrolls in the royal collection, my great-grandfather's research, and my continuous efforts over the years. I have finally found a way to achieve true immortality."

“We need three things in total. I already have one, one is in the ruins, and there is one that I can’t go get right now.”

The man paused at this point.

Lison retorted, "Then is it really necessary for you to go through all this trouble? Why not just go to the ruins and take what you want?"

"My physical body is decaying and my soul is weakening. Death is counting down beside me. If I want to get that thing, I can only come up with a plan that is so complicated that it is bound to go wrong. My personal target is Sister Faith from the Church of Saints. Her body has achieved immortality in another sense. However, her puppet-like body will make her bestiality and humanity drift further and further away from her. That is not what I want. I am just preparing to use her as a temporary body."

The older man, Lison, didn't show any particular interest. "You came to see me just to say this?"

The man walked over, picked up the wine bottle, and poured himself half a glass of red wine. “Lison, I’m just a mortal, and I only intend to be a mortal. Otherwise, why would I be afraid of losing my animality and humanity? Mortals are afraid of loneliness, and I’m no exception. So I will eventually need to share with others and I will eventually need friends.”

“You have many followers,” Lison said with a hint of sarcasm.

The man sneered and retorted, "Would you allow your servants to sit on equal footing with you?"

Lison laughed loudly, "Hahaha, sorry, I will. I admit that I'm not a very normal person, I'm a freak, but there is still a difference between me and someone like you who can abandon parents, brothers, children, friends, and lovers."

The man didn't mind his old friend's words. "But you also want to live on, don't you? The longer you live, the more you feel like you haven't lived enough. If you live long enough, you'll always get back what you've lost one day."

“I admit I also want to live on, but, my friend, the beautiful memories that have died in my mind can never be brought back.”

"Sometimes you're too pessimistic," the man said with a sigh. "Let time be the judge."

Lison laughed. "Ha, you talk as if you've already achieved immortality."

“I may not succeed, but I never fail. You know me; I always have a backup plan.” With that, the man disappeared from Lison’s sight with a confident smile.

Lison sighed and looked at the bookshelf in the distance, where he had found books for his puppy Chip.

Although he knew that the child would most likely stay in that tribe and nothing would happen to him, he still had a slight worry.

Leeson turned back to look out the window. "Good luck, Chip."

His gaze seemed to extend infinitely, reaching all the way to the Twin Bears tribe under the night sky.

At that moment, Faith was also looking out the window, thinking about the arc that had recently streaked across the sky.

"The man beside the saintess, can you bring any surprises?"

Chapter 216 Think, Come, Go

Inside the governor's luxurious mansion, Dinia, who had just finished another banquet, sat on a recliner with a glass of wine in her hand, gazing at the stars and moon through the window.

Why "again"? Because everyone in the Governor's Office truly adored her, the new Governor.

As is well known, the natives have a very harsh attitude towards the colonies. Even officials who hold office there are exploited. As for other immigrants, they are like soybeans in the eyes of the natives, to be squeezed dry.

Therefore, no official in the colony was immune to corruption; without it, they could not maintain their privileged lifestyle.

The former governor was an even bigger corrupt official. Not only was he corrupt, but he was also unscrupulous and directly embezzled money from his subordinates.

How can officials survive? If officials don't survive, how can the colonies prosper?

In other words, the officials in the Governor's Office had little money and lacked connections; otherwise, they would have definitely pooled their resources to buy this scourge an official position and send him away.

Dinya is different. She's been here for days, doing nothing and not caring about anything. She herself isn't greedy, but she hasn't stopped others from being greedy.

It's true what they say: when the governor arrives, the city of Cardina is at peace; when the governor arrives, justice prevails.

Dinia was the governor's official lord, so how could they not dote on her? Wouldn't they treat her to the best of everything? The colonies might not be good at much else, but when it came to food and drink, they could really afford to lavish it.

Of course, they didn't know that Dinya had no desire to be the magistrate of these damned bureaucrats. She was so annoyed that she wanted to kill them all.

At this moment, Dinya's legs, clad in flesh-colored pantyhose, were crossed and stretched straight out. Her left heel rested on a low stool, and her right foot was on top of her left. The weather was already a bit stuffy, and her skirt was lifted high, revealing half of her thighs. The flesh-colored pantyhose shimmered like matte silk in the moonlight. Dinya, in her agitation, drank too quickly and spilled the wine on her pantyhose.

Instantly, the liquid soaked a patch of flesh-colored stockings, making the stockings even more transparent and giving them a glossy sheen.