Chapter 384: Great Collaboration
Kai Xiusu looked down at him, calm and unyielding.
"Let this be a one-time thing."
"The Envoy of the Wogin Church—remember, put away those petty tricks. I'm not some gullible HumanLordship."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Xiewen replied, still slightly flustered.
And with that, Kai Xiusu effortlessly seized control of the conversation, steering the future of this Collaboration with quiet authority.
"The Empire has already drafted a comprehensive Collaboration plan—sufficient to ensure mutual benefit for both sides."
Kai Xiusu spoke.
But he had long since lost interest in the Wogin Church’s Envoy. The greed-driven merchants were, frankly, utterly tedious.
The Red Dragon reclined once more onto the Iron Throne, lounging with effortless ease, and gave a subtle glance to Lanpu standing by his side.
Lanpu immediately understood. From within his robes, he pulled out a thick stack of proposals, then unfolded a parchment contract.
"The Empire and the Wogin Church shall engage in Collaboration on equal and friendly terms, guided by the principles of Honesty and Integrity, Mutual Benefit, and Common Development."
Xiewen listened with half an ear, sifting through the usual flowery rhetoric. His ears were practically worn raw from the endless repetition. But eventually, he caught the crux of it.
"The Empire possesses a vast surplus of goods available for sale. Meanwhile, the Wogin Church controls a network of temples spanning the entire Feiansuo Continent. Our strengths complement each other—this forms a solid foundation for Collaboration, with shared benefits."
"The Empire will partner with the Wogin Church to establish the Imperial Southern Continent Company. The Empire of Ashen will supply the goods; the Wogin Church will provide sales channels and trade transit hubs."
"In this Collaboration, the Wogin Church will receive a share of commission, while the Empire must maintain a dominant position."
Xiewen frowned slightly. "A Trade Collaboration company? You wish to sell goods to the South?"
"Yes," Lanpu replied with a nod.
But he saw the doubt flicker in Xiewen’s gaze. Though he refrained from showing it openly—after all, the Red Dragon was watching.
Xiewen’s suspicion was understandable.
Anzeta Great Wasteland was remote, barren, and long starved of magic. The South, by contrast, was rich, vibrant, and far more prosperous. How could goods from such a desolate land possibly sell in the South?
Lanpu tapped the ground lightly with his staff. A ripple of space shimmered, and from thin air, he produced an object.
Xiewen adjusted his spectacles, squinting in disbelief.
It was a woolen sweater—plain, unadorned, woven from ordinary wool thread. No enchantments. No intricate craftsmanship. Just a basic, everyday garment.
"An uncultured Anzeta savage treating such a trifle as a treasure?"
The Wogin believer sneered inwardly, though he buried the contempt deep, mindful of the Red Dragon’s presence.
Lanpu smiled.
"Guess its price."
"Twenty silver coins?"
Xiewen answered casually.
As a devout follower of Wogin, he knew the market value of every common good. He was confident.
Lanpu shook his head.
"Fifteen?"
"Ten?"
Xiewen finally dropped his arrogance. His eyes widened in shock.
Ten silver coins? That was already the wholesale price in major textile cities of the South. Nowhere on the Feiansuo Continent sold woolen sweaters for less—anything lower would mean a loss.
Lanpu simply raised one thick, five-fingered hand, and slowly shook it in the air.
"No... no way!" Xiewen gasped, stunned.
Lanpu remained calm.
"There’s nothing impossible here. The price of an Empire woolen sweater is five silver coins. And it can go even lower."
"Moreover, with current production capacity, and adequate raw materials, the Empire can manufacture seven million such sweaters annually. Once industrial infrastructure is fully established across the region, that number could increase tenfold—or more."
"How... how is this possible?" Xiewen asked, utterly bewildered.
He knew full well: the real bottleneck in sweater production wasn’t wool. It was skilled hands—master artisans who wove the threads. Even the most experienced weavers could only produce three or four sweaters per day at best.
So how could the Empire of Ashen produce so much at such a low cost?
Magic?
Impossible.
The cost of enchanting materials far exceeded hiring skilled labor. Even in the South, where magic was common and widely accepted, it still wasn’t practical for mass-producing everyday goods.
Yet the Empire managed it.
Did they enslave hundreds of thousands of artisans, forcing them to work day and night?
Xiewen’s mind conjured the thought—and even he found it absurd.
Lanpu casually tossed the woolen sweater onto the floor.
"You don’t need to know how we do it."
"You only need to assist us in selling these goods. Earn profits. That’s simple for your Church. It’s your specialty, isn’t it?"
"O-of course!" Xiewen’s eyes lit up with greed, as if he’d just glimpsed a mountain of gold.
The potential profit was staggering.
If the Empire’s goods truly sold at such a price, demand in the South would be overwhelming—people would scramble to buy them all.
And if, as Lanpu claimed, production capacity could reach such a scale, the flood of sweaters into the market would bankrupt every local wool workshop on the continent.
But the trade volume alone would generate millions in gold coins every year.
Even a fraction of that, slipped through his fingers, would make him immeasurably rich.
"Who is your overall director?" Lanpu’s voice cut through Xiewen’s fantasy.
"Me... I mean, sir, it’s me!" Xiewen stammered, voice trembling—not from fear, but from sheer excitement.
Lanpu waved a dismissive hand.
"No. I meant the overall director of the Wogin Church, not the head of this delegation. You’re not even qualified to sign a contract, let alone shape the future of this Collaboration."
"Your pardon, sir," Xiewen recovered, his mind suddenly clear.
He was only a messenger. He couldn’t decide such matters.
The Wogin Faith across the Feiansuo Continent operated as a unified system, led by a high-ranking figure known as the "Holy Coin."
The current Holy Coin, the goddess’s earthly representative, Tiona Ludewig, stood atop the Golden Tower—her cathedral overlooking the Free Trade Federation, where she worked tirelessly to strengthen the faith.
Lanpu’s grotesque face broke into a confident grin.
"Then go back and tell her—there’s a commercial contract here worth tens of millions of gold coins. Ask her… does she want to sign it?"
"Yes, sir!"
Xiewen suppressed his thrill, bowing deeply in reverence.
Such was the charisma of gold.
A great, infamous Collaboration was about to begin—one that would bring glory to free trade, and ruin to countless others.
After the Wogin delegation hurriedly departed, a brief exchange took place in the vast, empty palace.
"Lanpu. You know my demands."
"Of course, Master. These profit-hungry Wogin zealots cannot be trusted. Their greed will never be satisfied."
"We only need them for their influence in the South."
"Once the company has firmly established itself there, we’ll kick them out—replace every employee with our own subordinates."
"Excellent. You understand perfectly."
As the Ogre railed against the Wogin Church’s greed, he failed to realize—
he himself was the most greedy, the most miserly of all.
Not even a drop of soup would he spare for outsiders.
(End of Chapter)
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