"Snap!"

Young Pierre opened his closed palm, revealing a mosquito flattened with blood. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Old Pierre, who was polishing shoes nearby, lifted his head: "What’s the matter?"

Young Pierre shook his head: "There are too many mosquitoes in Thousand River Valley, even in autumn."

"We are still navigating on the water, it’s normal to have mosquitoes," Old Pierre continued polishing shoes without lifting his head.

Interrupted from his focus, Young Pierre lost interest in reading and approached the ship’s railing.

With the recent autumn rain, the weather was gradually cooling, but the large mosquitoes in Thousand River Valley hadn’t completely died off.

He looked up, gazing at the azure-gray mountains surrounding him like an amphitheater, enveloping the steel-blue sky transitioning into gray-white.

On the mountain peaks, he could still see dozens of wooden windmill axles slowly turning.

The serpentine black lines from the slopes to the base comprised square nails, iron fixtures, sleepers, and wooden tracks for cargo transport.

Small square carts, cloaked in morning light and sparking, slowly glided down the mountain road.

Inside the carts were neatly stacked, backpack-sized, coiled spring boxes.

Though Young Pierre came from an ordinary citizen background and never attended university, he had taught himself a considerable amount of mechanical and engineering knowledge.

He even posed as an engineer from Falan New Bridge University without being discovered.

As one of the few responsible persons of the Saint Father’s Association in the windmill region, he had handled several spring boxes.

Yet to this day, he was still unable to decipher these spring boxes.

These backpack-sized spring boxes surprisingly required one horse to pull, and three horses to tighten.

Young Pierre’s face showed a complex expression of both yearning and fear: "Thousand River Valley is truly a magical place."

"Who wouldn’t agree?" Old Pierre, having finished polishing his shoes, walked over, gazing at the mountains surrounding Daze Village, "A dozen years ago, this was still a vast wild marshland."

On Nanze Lake, beastman fishermen rowed their boats singing fishing songs.

Not far from Lower Beize, farmers could be seen digging up marshland mud.

They were hunched over, using long-handled large wooden scoops, digging the fertile sludge and piling it onto the high ground beside.

On the shallow lake surface, there stood large and small square block fields like a chessboard.

Of course, in the middle of the square fields on both sides, there was a deep water canal exclusively for boats to pass through.

Beside the canal were two embankments higher than the fields, and a bridge opening within the embankment housed a wooden water gate.

On the azure river surface, from South Mangde County upstream, boats laden with wool yarn sailed one after another towards the distant Autumn Dusk Island.

Back then, Old Pierre followed the merchant caravans and roamed around, having visited Thousand River Valley, albeit the changes were too vast.

The towns were sparsely populated, with houses everywhere uninhabited.

They initially thought the population decline was due to war, but after visiting rural new towns, discovered most of the population had migrated to the countryside.

Compared to the overly harsh environment of the countryside, it was now far more open.

"Workshops..." Old Pierre murmured involuntarily.

The Holy Alliance really suppressed the guilds and established this system of workshops.

No wonder, no wonder craftsmen and masters from across the empire flocked to Thousand River Valley!

No guild oppression, no labor laws restrictions, no noble exploitation, no church heavy taxes...

For key industries supported by the Holy Alliance, not only were there low-interest or even interest-free loans, but there was also three to five years of tax exemption.

As a result, local workshop masters and guild merchants even had to implement Luca, raising wages; otherwise, they couldn’t retain the departing artisans and masters.

It’s almost foreseeable, after the windmill region, Thousand River Valley will become the next windmill region.

Even more prosperous than the current windmill region, because it has absurdly cheap energy source—peat.

Gazing at the murmuring waters below the railing, the son was still fervently excited, while the old father was filled with mixed emotions.

As the ferry approached Autumn Dusk Island’s newly opened dock, people lazily sitting inside the ferry began to rise.

They lined up several ranks and columns according to their identity and status, with the two highest standing at the front.

Returning from the windmill region, Cardinal Armand Richelieu.

And returning from Falan, the head of the Bureau of Holy Production, and the Saintess Bank president, Catherine.

In mid-September, at the dock bridges stained brown-black from lake water, Horn in clerical attire smiled to welcome them.

The ferry docked, and the first to jump off, striding swiftly, was Armand.

"Your Eminence!"

"Armand!"

The two simultaneously opened their arms and embraced fiercely.

Armand went to Windmill Ground just before the second Thousand River Valley War, and except for returning once after the victory parade, he remained there for the past four years.

To be precise, he was overseeing the entire Saint Father Association and Holy Path preaching.

"Boy, you’ve grown so fast." Looking at the almost six-foot Armand, Horn squeezed his shoulder fiercely, as if trying to push him back to five-foot-seven.

Armand laughed and said, "I was starving as a child in the monastery. It’s normal to grow taller after finally having enough to eat these years."

Horn held his arm, scrutinizing him up and down.

The once-awkward fourteen-year-old young monk was now twenty-three.

His body was noticeably sturdier, no longer resembling a bean sprout, and a stubble had appeared around his mouth.

Though stationed in Windmill Ground, the risks Armand faced were scarcely less than those in Thousand River Valley.

His main task was to develop the Saint Father Association along the Nao’an River banks and in various Lydia Falan towns.

In four years, he faced a much more complex situation than Horn here.

After all, Horn drove the Leia people away, and it was like painting on a blank canvas, especially since Thousand River Valley already had the Juanist Faction foundation.

But what Armand had to do was develop the Saint Father Association’s strength within the enemy stronghold.

He encountered numerous betrayals, assassinations, besiegements, and breakthroughs, yet the organization led by Armand survived and kept growing stronger.

Currently, across Leia and Falan towns, the bounty board lists the name "Richelieu," with just the clue alone worth hundreds of gold pounds.

"This time, you’ve done a great job," Horn said with profound admiration, "I just regret I have no titles to grant you; you’re already a cardinal."

Armand’s body visibly tensed: "You are jesting; I am not worthy of this cardinal position, relying solely on your esteemed recommendation.

We have more friends in Falan, thanks to the Holy Alliance’s food and supplies; right now, I don’t even deserve this cardinalship."

"That’s not correct; you earned this cardinalship yourself. Besides, Old Kosse entrusted you to me. If you are like this, I might worry he’ll blame me for not taking good care of you."

Knowing his casual remark made Armand anxious, Horn quickly sought to mend it.

Things aren’t like they used to be now; whatever he says, those around chew it over three times, regurgitate it, and chew three more times.

It’s a group attempting to "comprehend divine intent."

The Saint Father Association has indeed gained fame along the Nao’an River banks, especially on the north side in the Leia Region.

Armand’s battle strategy is different from Horn’s.

In the early days in Thousand River Valley, under various tensions, a power vacuum emerged.

Plus, the Red Maple Village was internally weak then, so Horn was able to leverage firearm superiority to achieve great with little, slowly snowballing from this breakthrough.

But it’s different on the Leia side; the church and lords strictly control rural management.

The Golden Plains have high yield, rich products, low living ceiling, but high floor, making an urgent need for uprising unlike Thousand River Valley.

Thus, Armand’s strategy was to organize guild aides, city poor, suburban migrants into the Brotherhood.

Helping each other to fight guilds, knights, city halls; when trouble arose, the Saint Father Association managed to send them to the Holy Alliance.

A large number of aides and artisans within the Holy Alliance joined through Armand’s Saint Father Association underground organization.

Along the Nao’an River banks, most county seats and main towns have Saint Father Association underground organizations, then various Brotherhoods under them.

Compared to the holy image that Horn represents, they naturally favor Armand more.

This is the reason for Armand’s anxiety.

Such great power, so many people, if Horn becomes suspicious at all, countless individuals will flock to deal with him.

The organization grew so large mainly due to the Holy Alliance’s provision of food, weapons, medicine, and Holy Favor Seeds.

Ultimately, it’s about growth without strengthening.

"Why haven’t I seen Lupher? Didn’t she always clamor about coming?"

"She is pregnant with the second and is resting back in Falan."

"Oh oh." Noticing the lingering gaze from Catherine behind, Horn didn’t dare continue on the topic.

"Catherine, long time no see."