From the Fertile Woods to the Valley Corridor, from The White City to Sorinburg, from the Gorgon River to the mountain pass at the eastern entrance, the land once ravaged by war and frozen by the harsh winter is rapidly recovering.

A warm breeze from the southern borders sweeps across the vast fields of the Sorin Region, shaking the green seedlings in the fields, and stirring the flags waving on the walls of Sorinburg, the blue and gold Cecil Clan emblem undulating in the wind.

A young officer in a black and blue coat walks briskly through the semi-open connecting corridor spanning between the walls and the fortress. He passes through a recently repaired passage, through the new main fortress arch, through the inner fortress corridor with its 234-year history, and finally taps lightly on the wooden door of the construction army command office.

Upon receiving a response, the young officer enters.

Margarita, dressed in knightly attire, her hair in a neat ponytail and possessing a spirited demeanor, is sitting behind her desk. She looks up at the officer appearing before her: "Do you have something to report?"

"Yes, Commander," the young officer snaps a crisp salute and says diligently, "We have received transmissions from The White City, Red Maple City, and the Fertile Woods that the second phase Magic Web Nexus devices have all been successfully activated. The eastern area network backbone is now established."

Margarita nods: "How is the Sorin Main Hub functioning?"

"The Sorin Main Hub is operating well, and all data aligns with expectations. Madam Beltira provided a very detailed observation report regarding the central Crystal Array, which has been approved by the expert team. The related materials will be organized for your review."

"Phew..." Margarita gently breathes out, "Our extensive efforts have not gone to waste... We’re one step closer to His Majesty’s national network plan."

"Aside from the already completed southern borders, it seems we are the fastest progressing region," the young subordinate says with a hint of pride, "We are building on ruins, which surprisingly is faster than other places—next is the western shore. Then the West and East. They’re saying the northern parts of the Dark Mountain Range are only now beginning preparations for the second phase..."

"That’s because the Empire allocated more than half of its engineering power and countless resources to us," Margarita glances at her subordinate, shaking her head, "And because the eastern shore is a reconstruction area, we can progress swiftly—the construction army establishes camp while advancing the Magic Web Nexus, complemented by the advantageous ’infrastructure’ of the Sorin Giant Tree, conditions that other regions don’t have."

"...You are very right."

"Let’s not dwell on that," Margarita waves her hand, "The backbone network is only the first step, and the simplest among them. It’s not difficult to connect major cities into a network; the challenge lies in connecting countless towns and even villages surrounding them, which must be completed as part of His Majesty’s plan.

"While waiting for the engineering progress in other regions, we have plenty to do. Prepare for a meeting tomorrow morning..."

The young subordinate departs, and Margarita takes a deep breath before she stands and leaves her desk, strolling over to the nearby floor-to-ceiling window.

The gradually revitalizing Sorinburg basks in the bright midday sun, with residents relocated here bustling for their livelihoods amid the progressively refurbished city districts.

A group of merchants from the Kant Region of the southern borders are unloading goods in the square beneath the fortress. They’ve brought the most popular sugar and spices here and plan to transport the local specialty "Sorin Tree Fruit" far away.

A cheerful melody resounds from another corner of the square: today, artists from the north have entered the city, and vibrantly dressed dancers are whirling on a makeshift stage. Two young people at the stage’s edge are busy creating mist and swirling snowflakes with the Magic Transmission Terminal, adding a touch of stunning effect to the originally simple stage and dance.

Even though Magic Web broadcasts and magical images from newspapers have emerged in this world, some traditional entertainments still have their space to survive, especially in relatively remote or uniquely conditioned areas where limited Magic Web facilities cannot cater to everyone’s needs. Bards and traveling entertainers remain popular as always.

And these people vibrant in the new era are also connecting and exploring this rapidly changing world in their own ways, adapting, learning, and striving to survive.

It’s getting busier here day by day.

The lady Knight from the Kant Region of the southern borders sighs lightly, yet can’t help but show a bit of a smile.

She grew up in a small place, a "Knight from the countryside," never imagining she’d stand here one day with her current status. The position of Leader of the Sorin Construction Corps is a rank her deceased father couldn’t have imagined—a stern old man who guarded the farm for the Kant Clan his whole life. Even as a knight, his knowledge might not even surpass that of an ordinary citizen in this era, but at this moment, Margarita suddenly recalls something her father once said:

"Margarita, this world doesn’t always have good things happen—often, there might be more bad things. But as long as the sun can rise again tomorrow, we might as well anticipate the future a bit more, just like the common folk expect next year’s harvest."

The lady knight gazes across the city, over the walls, and from the castle’s high vantage, the Transcendent vision allows her to see the green waves on the farmland outside the city, swaying with the wind.

The seeds jointly cultivated by the Druid Research Institute and Madam Beltira are thriving on this land. They have better survival rates, higher resistance to cold and wind, and are said to yield more—Margarita doesn’t understand farming, but she knows what those undulating waves represent: it’s a whole year of hope for the entire plain.

The Empire gathered resources from multiple parties to buy time for the reconstruction zone to hold out until the next harvest season, and the construction army along with the builders of each reconstruction camp did not waste this opportunity. With the aid of soil purification potions, the reconstruction zone has exceeded the initial spring farming plan—now summer has arrived, and hope is stirring in the wheat fields.

Soldiers patrol tirelessly between villages and towns, as Margarita orders sentries in every grain-producing area, armed soldiers and militia guarding those fields like dragons safeguarding treasure, ensuring nothing—be it the nearly eradicated bandits or beasts damaging fields—can touch a single grain.

Her father did the same when defending the Kant Clan farm—though some mocked him for potentially becoming a knight wielding a hay fork, her father never allowed any bandits or beasts to damage the farm he protected throughout his life.

"In the end, I still ’inherited the family business,’" the lady knight from Kant suddenly chuckles to herself, as the distant waves of the wheat field reflect in her eyes, "It should be a good harvest..."

...

There should be a good harvest this year.

A young administrative official with slightly tanned skin, robust limbs, and short brown hair crouched by the field, carefully pulling up a sheaf of wheat. He examined the health of the plant and then nodded slightly as he placed it into a specially made crystal glass tube.

A few others bustled around him, some collecting soil samples, some recording and analyzing data, and others using alchemical potions to conduct on-site tests on the land and crops.

"The situation looks good," the young official with brown hair said to the person beside him, "These seeds seem to be growing well."

"The II variety of wheat used in the Western District is reportedly not doing well—it hasn’t reached a terrible state yet, but it’s certainly not up to expectations," another administrative official shook his head. "Fortunately, all the new seed varieties other than the II variety have met expectations, so the production plan won’t be affected."

"The soil purification has been the most successful part; all purification plans have been completed ahead of schedule," the person responsible for collecting soil samples stood up, saying with a trace of emotion, "I never thought it would be the alchemy factories of St. Soniel that played the largest role, filling the gap of purification agents..."

"Back then, the aristocrats of the Old Capital pushed a ’new policy reform’ and built a lot of factories, but for various reasons, most were soon abandoned. Although the factories were abandoned, at least the equipment inside was good stuff bought from the southern borders, and with some adjustments, they could still be used—the pity is that some factory machines were dismantled during the war to forge weapons and fortify city defenses."

"It couldn’t be helped, Romlyn. At least in the matter of defending the Old Capital, we can’t blame those aristocrats who chose to stand their ground," the colleague collecting soil samples shook his head and then looked at the wheat sample in the hands of the young man with brown hair, "We’d better take the sample back to Minister Norris, he’s waiting."

Romlyn, the young administrative official, glanced at the transparent container in his hands, where the vibrant plant lay quietly, lush and green.

...

As a gentle breeze blew through the open window into the room, Norris slowly opened his eyes. He saw figures nearby, and a fresh scent of plants lingered in the room.

"It’s time to bloom..." the old man said softly, as if talking to himself, "So soon..."

The rustling sound of vines came from beside him. A cluster of moving flower vines reached the front of Norris’ bed. In the midst of flowers and vines, Beltira looked down at the elder on the bed, a tinge of helplessness flickering across her stiff face: "Now is not the time to worry about such things—resting well is your current task."

"Aren’t I resting?" Norris looked at the woman among the flower vines, a slight smile appearing on his wrinkled face, "I’ve never rested as much in my life as I have these past few days."

Beltira frowned at Norris, and a stronger breeze than before blew into the room, making the shell wind chime hanging by the window jingle.

A vine quickly and silently spread along the floor, wall, and windowsill, closing the window.

Norris glanced helplessly at Beltira: "The Druids say fresh air is good for me."

"Fresh air doesn’t mean a draft blowing twenty-four seven—and it depends on how strong that draft is," Beltira said coldly, "And do those Druids’ skills compare to mine? I picked up an oak staff before their grandfathers’ grandfathers were born."

Norris was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh—but perhaps he laughed too hard, as his laughter quickly turned into a fit of coughing.

The coughing was stopped by Beltira’s healing spell.

"Is it that funny?" the former Archbishop of the Oblivion Association, the former Pioneer Saintess, the former Princess Typhon frowned slightly, saying with a hint of displeasure.

"I just thought of His Majesty; he would say similar things," Norris said, taking a breath, his tone slow and somber, "I suddenly wonder if you people who have lived a long time all like to joke about age and seniority..."

"We’re just stating facts, though admittedly, those facts sound like jokes," Beltira said casually, "But rather than that, why not think about your own situation—so, will you accept my proposal? Although aging is one of the most irreversible laws of life, we do have methods, and I can refine the method I once used to make it less harmful, and among your younger juniors, I believe more than one would willingly donate a small part..."

"Madam Beltira, I know you mean well," Norris interrupted her, "But you know my answer.

"I can’t accept extending my life at the cost of others’ health.

"Though I know this is the result after you’ve refined an arcane technique as much as possible, we both know this level of refinement still isn’t in line with the Empire’s laws... even with volunteers.

"The Empire’s laws and order... they were bought at great cost, and I don’t want to see them damaged, especially not to set a precedent with myself.

"Because... I love all of this."