Chapter 274

Chapter 274: Fateful Encounters

Insufficient technical standards?

Emil froze for a moment, wondering if she’d misheard.

But when the word “cooperation” reached her ears, a cold glint of wariness flashed behind her glasses.

“Mr. Blade, what do you mean by ‘cooperation’?” Emil asked after a brief silence, her tone carefully neutral. “Funding, facilities, or personnel?”

“All those will be provided, but there’s more,” Midi replied bluntly. “I want to join you in exploring the ancient battlefield to salvage sky warships and demon warships.”

With others, Midi might’ve staged a good-cop-bad-cop routine with Victoria, mixing Dragon’s might with persuasion to test their resolve. But knowing Emil’s future as a legendary shipwright and her current mastery of alchemy, he cut straight to the point.

This “white snake” matched Victoria in intellect. Even if negotiations weren’t her strength, she’d see through any pretense quickly. Better to show sincerity upfront.

As predicted, the dark elf’s face paled.

“I don’t understand,” she stalled, her negotiation skills faltering.

“Let’s speak plainly.” Midi slid the anti-magnetic compass blueprint across the table. “Lady Victoria’s family replicated this technology centuries ago from sky warship wreckage. The ice-breaking tech I bought? Entirely alien to modern Skyship designs, yet clearly linked. You’ve been studying ancient wrecks, haven’t you?”

“Even if true, that only proves I possess wreckage,” Emil countered weakly.

“Impossible.” Midi shook his head with confidence. “If you’d found complete wrecks, why start with niche ice-breaking tech? You’d prioritize navigation or firepower enhancements.”

The unspoken conclusion hung heavy. Every listener grasped it; Emil’s resigned sigh confirmed defeat.

True salvage experts first study critical systems – navigation, weapons, armor. Ice-breakers come last. Yet Emil’s publication order reversed this logic. Only one explanation fit: she’d salvaged piecemeal over years, starting with ship bows before accessing better parts.

“Where else but the ancient battlefield allows repeated salvage?” Midi pressed. “You’ve been diving there all along.”

Cornered, Emil’s eyes widened behind her lenses. The black-haired human’s true aim crystallized – he’d never wanted her tech, only battlefield intelligence.

“You wanted the ancient battlefield’s location from the start!” Her voice shook. “My work means nothing to you! You think me a mere copycat!”

Three accusations flew, charged with an alchemist’s deepest fear – dismissal of their life’s work. For an emotional dark elf master, this cut deeper than any blade.

Midi stared, caught off-guard. His past-life memories held only respect for the genius who’d later guide adventurers through the Stormy Region. The thought of insulting her craft had never crossed his mind.

But now, facing the furious Emil, even with three mouths, Midi knew he couldn’t explain himself clearly.

"I know you’ve prepared many tricks to force information about the ancient battlefield from me," Emil said bitterly. "No wonder Mr. Blade threatened me immediately and staged that reckless charge into the reef area!"

The room’s atmosphere froze instantly. Even the quick-tongued Victoria stayed silent, too stunned to speak.

Midi raged inwardly – Must you be so paranoid, miss? Since when am I some Overlord-style bully?

Yet through his anger, he understood that further arguments would only worsen matters. This "White Snake" Emil needed to become his ally – the fastest way into the Stormy Region. He couldn’t risk offending her.

Even ignoring strategy, how could he threaten this defenseless woman hiding in Windstream? That wouldn’t be the Midi Asreks worthy of Fina and Alice’s affection.

But between his earlier show of force and Emil’s aggression, she’d labeled him a heartless demon. His only choice now was retreat.

He’d wait until she cooled down. Rising slowly, Midi caught Victoria’s eye.

The door slammed open. A lazy drawl came from behind: "Who dares bully Miss Emil? Stay as my test materials."

Midi’s frown deepened at the disturbingly familiar voice.

"Miss Emil, we’ll handle this," declared another voice – young yet commanding. Also familiar.

An illusion?

Turning, Midi saw two human adventurers.

One was a disheveled middle-aged mage in dusty robes, squinting carelessly with a dragon-eye staff. The other – a golden-haired prince with icy eyes, regal as a young lion.

His old rivals: "Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare" and Reinhardt, fourth prince of the Delos Empire.

Here? In the Sea of Clouds?

Even battle-hardened Midi gaped. Their shocked faces mirrored his own, Wiseman pointing trembling fingers.

"Midi Asreks! You?!" they roared together.

No words needed. Warrior instincts took over. Twin Swords flashed from their sheaths as Midi’s Demon Shadow Flash penetrated their defenses, blades at their throats.

But these imperial experts reacted instantly. Death’s aura swirled around Wiseman’s staff while Reinhardt crouched in lethal draw-stance – ready to strike even decapitated.

Before Emil and Victoria could rise, the three stood locked in deadly equilibrium – blades poised, magic crackling, a hair’s breadth from mutual destruction.