System: "..."

Good. That fiercely personal growth belongs to our host, no doubt.

"So, why did you push me to attend the continental joint conference the other day?"

Nana Shi finishes Nesting Phoenix's latest research report. She lifts her gaze to the black-clad man beside the System, voice calm, mood chilled like morning frost. "You know I just woke up. I’m in no mood for some brain-dead, nutritionless meeting."

"Ah, normally I wouldn’t send you, Nana. But this year’s different. While you were inside Nesting Phoenix’s spirit realm, the continent brewed some fun storms."

"Like what?"

"Someone wants to borrow our tech and reshuffle the continental powers." The man in black says danger with a cute tone, like sugar on a blade.

"Mm… that is interesting. But it doesn’t touch me." Nana’s eyes drift away, face a still pond, no ripple of interest.

"Right, if it’s only that, you won’t care." As the ruler of Chronos City, she fears no tide. Unless the Ice Emperor from the Northland leaves seclusion and marches south, even if every nation allied together, Nana could still drive them back like fallen leaves.

"But if I said the conference has news on treating Nesting Phoenix?"

"Are you serious?"

Ink-dark pupils flash with rare cold. Her mood tightens like a drawn bowstring. "You know I hate being used. Even if you’ve helped me many times."

"I swear on my surname. I’m serious." He raises his right hand with a spring-breeze smile. "Can you trust me now, Nana?"

"..." Nana says nothing. Her gaze lowers. The killing chill she’d let slip folds back like a blade sheathing.

"I’ll stay one day." The conference runs seven. "If I don’t get the answer I want, you better have a reason sharp enough to cut."

"No problem." The man in black nudges the System forward, like pushing a kitten toward a storm. "System will go with you in my stead. Don’t worry. I upgraded her with a lot of good stuff. She shouldn’t drag you down like before."

System: "..." What do you mean ‘shouldn’t’? Master, you’re scaring me here!

Nana is sparing with words. No objection. Silence equals consent, a nod like a shadow.

News that Chronos City’s infamous woman will attend the joint conference hits like a thunderclap.

Ever since she seized power, she’s skipped it every year. Excuses drifted like lazy clouds: the road’s too long, the weather’s too cold.

Other leaders knew she was dodging. They kept their faces away from her fist, wise as reeds that bend before the wind.

Chronos City being the continent’s public enemy was common knowledge back in Moragus’s era. That bell still tolls.

Under Nana, the hostility only grew. Back when Moragus ruled, she plundered national treasuries with absurd reasons, like a fox quoting poetry to raid the coop.

From heavy weapons to daily soap, nothing survived her sweep. A bandit queen without bottom, a storm that strips bark and bone.

Where she passed, inventories left not even a needle or thread. Shelves were bare as winter branches.

Moragus once aimed to unify the continent by war. Yet the hate he earned was not half of what Nana alone accrued. Ridiculous as a fish trying to climb a tree.

Following Nana home, the System reads all this online and lifts its gaze forty-five degrees, like a lone gull watching a cold sky. Sigh.

A scum host isn’t made in a day. These poor souls met our master in the wrong era.

The joint conference is set for seven days later, in a small northern city named Aitixi, still some distance from the Northland. Snow breath close, iron breath nearer.

The continent now has six major powers. Besides the newly risen Pan Mountain Empire and center-squatting Chronos City, there’s the Shengyang Kingdom in the east, the Azure Wind Sanctum in the south, the Xuanyang Ancient Pool in the west, and the Northland up north, cold as a blade.

These are the ones with grand names. Many small and developing states cluster like sparrows around oaks, offering tribute to big nations for resources, a trade of grain for shelter.

Recently, the rising Zuo Chamber nobility chose the Pan Mountain Empire, trading crystal mines for technology and other growth, a pact like ink on silk.

Nana never cared for such weeds and vines. She wants only one fruit: news that can heal Nesting Phoenix.

Seven days later, the sky above Aitixi churns like a river of iron. Military airships arrive one after another, hulls gleaming like scales under a weak sun.

Badges of many nations streak across the air. Airships loop and hover above Aitixi like migrating geese, the scene roaring grand and crowded.

"Patriarch Qi, we’ve reached Aitixi."

On the Pan Mountain Empire’s flagship, which slides into the mooring port like a red carp into a pond, an elder leans in and whispers to the young man resting in his seat.

The youth wears red like a burning maple leaf. Even in a nap, he radiates a pressure like storm air before lightning.

He doesn’t answer. His left arm lifts on the chair’s handle, a small command for silence, a fan closing.

The elder turns to leave. Suddenly, the entire airship jolts, violent as a wave slamming a cliff.

"What happened?" The youth’s eyes open. His mood flares like flint, ink-black pupils rimmed with killing chill.

"Report, Patriarch. It seems our airship got rammed." Sweat beads the elder’s brow like dew. His voice wobbles, problem stuck like a fishbone.

"Oh? Someone dares ram the Pan Mountain Empire’s ship?" Surprise flickers, then sinks into shadow like sun behind cloud.

"No matter. If they provoke us first, we respond in kind. Pass the order. Ram that ship down."

"But… Patriarch… the one that hit us is the woman from Chronos City…" The elder’s face creases with worry, an old tree under snow.

Before he finishes, the ship shudders again, harder, as if the sky itself kicked it.

"She’s courting death!"

The red-clad youth braces, ready to erupt. Then a huge shadow glides past the window, slow and vast like a mountain drifting.

It blots the sun, an airborne heavy fortress free to roam the sky. The hull is night-black, no ornament, only gun turrets cold as icicles.

It looks like a black beast with steel bones, a predator crossing the clouds.

As it slides into the port, Aitixi’s inner city loses the sun’s reflection. Day dims to iron dusk.

"It’s that woman from the Shi clan!"

The youth’s pupils contract. Rage pops like oil. Is she insane?

You come to a conference, and you bring a war fortress fit to crack a continent?

Are you here to attend the joint conference, or to declare war on it?

"Make way for her." He forces the words through clenched teeth, each syllable a chipped blade. Murder hums under his skin.

Even he won’t be rash enough to collide with that class of warship. Chronos City’s airborne fortress isn’t a joke. One mistake, and his side’s wiped like chalk. She gets a scratch.

Several national security ships suffer the same slight. Men spill out, anger churning like storm surf, ready to demand answers.

Then they learn it’s that woman from Chronos City.

Yes.

They reach a rare consensus, like wolves pausing at a cliff.

Smart men don’t take the hit in front of them.

Which leaves Aitixi’s staff to suffer like grass under hooves.

The guard detail stares at Nana’s fortress falling from the sky like a thunderhead. Their hearts ache like bitten tongues.

No surprise. Wherever she appears, trouble sprouts like thistles.

"Ah… Your Majesty Nana Shi, your battleship might be a bit… large. Our small port can’t bear it." An elder coordinating the conference approaches, face cracking with the strain, yet forced to smile like winter sun. "Could you shift it a little, make room for the other nations’ ships?"

"Hm? Make room?" Nana glances back at her fortress, which jams the port like a cork in a bottle. Her tone is lazy as a cat. "Eh, that thing’s a pain to pilot. I could teach you how to run it. You move it."

She brought only the System this time. No soldiers. Piloting the fortress again? She’d rather not. It’s cumbersome as a millstone.

"..." Are you speaking human? Who besides your Chronos City people can fly that monster?

You won’t move it—who among us can?

"Heh… Your Majesty, you’ll kill this old man. Outside your own crew, who could possibly pilot it?"

"But I don’t want to pilot it right now. Flying solo is a pain." Nana says it without a flicker of shame—calm lake, smooth stone.

"..." Then why bring it here?

Just to make our lives miserable?!

The elder nearly forgets to breathe, rage knotting like a rope around his ribs.