Shield of the Rose

Inside the dimly lit room…

A lamp flickered fitfully, illuminating a pile of naked bodies on the bed. These women lay crisscrossed, stacked one over another, all sleeping deeply because they were far too exhausted—tired to the point where they couldn’t lift a single finger.

A lingering, alluring groan echoed inside the room, originating from a gorgeous, petite woman.

This petite woman sat limp atop Richie, swaying as if she might collapse at any second despite Richie holding her waist with his hands. Her legs hung equally limp. This petite woman was Ksenia, the most beautiful among all of Richie’s women.

Beautiful women always received special care. Sometimes such care was doting favor, but other times it proved an overwhelming burden!

Whenever he came here, at least six or seven times out of ten, Richie would spend the entire night embedded inside this woman, pouring vast quantities of semen into her body. Previously it was injected into her vagina; now it was shot directly inside her uterus. Richie’s genitalia were fully inserted into Ksenia, even both testicles submerged within the vagina, and the glans penetrating into the uterus. The result of such intense sex was that the woman he bedded would lie in bed for several days afterward! The more favored the woman, the longer she lay in bed. Ksenia always lay in bed the longest; during this period, Richie visited quite frequently, leaving her unable to step off the bed for nearly a month, her vagina and anus remaining swollen and red.

Compared to this mother, her daughter Ginny fared much better. She was also a target of Richie’s special care, but the care she received was of a different kind: Richie rarely fucked her with ruthless intensity, stopping at a moderate point every time, allowing her to get out of bed the next day.

This wasn’t because Richie disliked Ginny. Among this group of women, this little demon Ginny’s favor could definitely rank fourth, behind Ksenia, Emily, and Ingrid.

Ksenia was favored for her beauty and gentle nature, being Richie’s most cherished “pet.” Ginny, Emily, and Ingrid were favored for their abilities; the three of them were in charge of the laboratory.

Among them, Emily’s reputation was grander than the other two as the nominal head of the laboratory, frequently meeting with great figures like Espol and Lady Shar. Thus she ranked behind Ksenia, but in terms of true favor, her mother Ingrid ranked higher, because Ingrid possessed superb sexual techniques—among ordinary women, she alone could truly bring intense stimulation to Richie.

A hand gently reached behind Ksenia’s buttocks, caressing that magnetic tail.

Ksenia’s already numb body suddenly shivered; she struggled weakly twice, and her vagina involuntarily throbbed.

That tail had originally been crafted for female knights. Richie had remade one and brought it here to test, immediately discovering its effect was even better than when used on female knights.

This item wasn’t merely used to enhance pleasure; it could also squeeze out every single drop of yin energy within a woman’s body. A body drained dry was like parched earth—pour just a little water, and it would absorb it entirely.

What Richie poured was naturally not water; he poured semen and battle aura. The former nourished a woman’s body, while the latter altered her constitution.

The best proof was that they could endure much longer during sex. Richie touched Ksenia’s buttocks, then pressed the muscles around her vagina. Though these areas hadn’t grown rock-hard like female knights, they were noticeably far more elastic than before.

He kneaded firmly, initially just kneading, which gradually turned into squeezing. The two soft, snow-white buttocks were like soft clay under his hands, shifting into different shapes, their color gradually turning peach-pink.

Richie wasn’t just indulging his hands; along with his squeezing, a portion of the muscle was torn by the subtle dark force in his hands.

The women who made love with him would lie in bed for several days, one reason being muscle soreness. The most uncomfortable day was the third day; often turning over or urinating would make them sore for half a day, let alone getting out of bed to walk around.

However, after the discomfort passed, the benefits were by no means small. Once the muscles healed under the nourishment of battle aura, they became stronger and more elastic. Back when these women were trained as bitch-dogs, they suffered inhumane devastation, and the aphrodisiac drugs injected into them also damaged their bodies, making their physical strength and endurance far weaker than ordinary people. But through this period of “repair,” their strength and endurance had restored to normal levels, and his goal was to raise them another two to three times.

He didn’t know when the war situation would deteriorate again; perhaps he would have to flee for his life when the time came. Possessing greater strength and endurance than ordinary people would be of absolute benefit for escaping.

Richie’s hands moved downward to her thighs, rubbing and kneading Ksenia’s thighs in the same manner.

Every time, he would rub the muscles of the women’s waists, abdomens, buttocks, and thighs—these were the places that needed reinforcement.

Of course, he wasn’t acting purely out of goodwill. Reinforcing the muscles in these places also brought benefits to sex, enabling him to feel much better.

Following his rubbing, the petite woman deeply impaled by him gradually knitted her brows. The places being rubbed felt itchy, swollen, and numb afterward, but the rubbing possessed an aphrodisiac effect at the moment. Ksenia was already on the verge of orgasm, merely half-dead because she was drained of strength. Now spurred by external force, she felt as if tens of thousands of ants were crawling inside her internal organs—so itchy, an itch that tore at her heart and soul, an itch that drove one mad.

Suddenly, this petite woman’s body went rigid. She felt her anus get shocked as if hit by electricity; after this electrical current rushed into her body, it instantly split into two routes—one route surged into her spinal cord via the tailbone, extending straight upward, while the other climbed past the perineum and drilled into her vagina.

Almost in an instant, the petite woman’s vision went black, knowing nothing else except overwhelming, intense pleasure.

This pleasure was vastly stronger than any orgasm she had ever experienced before. In the most intense moments previously, she felt as if half her body was in heaven and half in hell; but this time, she felt as if her body was torn into tens of thousands of pieces, every piece thrown into a hell furnace to turn into ash, and then sprinkled into the river of heaven to soak.

Even more terrifying, when having orgasms before, time felt very slow, but this time, she felt as if time had come to a complete standstill.

After an unknown duration, a low roar came from inside the room.

The sound came from Richie; at that very instant, he too reached the peak. He stood up on tiptoes, his body standing pin-straight, as thick streams of semen continuously poured into the petite woman’s uterus.

Ksenia hung limp; she didn’t even have the strength to utter a groan anymore. What was meant by “limp as mud”—she was absolute living proof right now.

This woman was cherished by Richie to the point where he couldn’t bear to put her down, becoming his most favored “pet.” Aside from her beauty, another reason was her “softness”—not only possessing a body of soft flesh, but being soft as if boneless.

Though thoroughly drained of strength, Richie still didn’t let her go. He continued holding her tightly, his bottom still deeply inserted.

Glancing at the women lying crisscrossed on the bed, Richie’s heart swelled with boundless feelings of conquest.

He casually pulled open the room door.

Outside was a large room, usually used as a living room, where slightly more important items were also placed.

The curtains in the room were drawn, so there was no need to worry about people outside seeing the lush scenery within. Holding Ksenia, Richie walked out with slow steps. In a corner of the room stood a magitech armor. If the new armor he designed previously—recognized by Great Craftsmen like Espol and Lady Shar—gave people the first impression of beauty, then the armor before his eyes gave no such feeling; anyone who saw it would consider it ugly.

It was indeed ugly. This armor was not large, not even counting as a light armor—it was an ultra-light armor. Its height was only slightly taller than a human, the upper body and arms identical in length to a human’s, with only the lower limbs slightly longer.

The reason it was called ugly was that as a whole, it resembled a shuttle, with no visible shoulders on the upper body and no waist in the middle.

The ugliest part was the helmet. The helmet of this armor was very large, resembling ancient nomadic warriors’ round-bell helmets with conical neck-guards, its lower edge aligning flush with the shoulders.

Richie himself felt this thing was ugly, but there was no choice—this armor simply had no extra space, and that thick head-section happened to accommodate the auditory receiver and high-magnification observation scope.

Furthermore, its operational space was primarily in the sky; lacking shoulders and being entirely streamlined, resistance could be reduced to a minimum.

Executing “Wind-Control Art” could indeed make air resistance very small, but maintaining the state of “Wind-Control Art” consumed battle aura.

Only Heavenly Knights didn’t need to worry about battle aura consumption, having reached a stage where battle aura gathered and dispersed at will. But before becoming a Heavenly Knight, any knight carefully budgeted their use of battle aura. Most offensive techniques were instantaneous bursts, consuming battle aura in an instant; though defensive techniques continuously consumed battle aura, massive outputs of battle aura occurred only at the instant of withstanding attacks.

Over the past few days, he had tested the consumption of “Wind-Control Art.” If used continuously, with his current total battle aura, he could maintain flight for ninety minutes at most.

If he wanted to fly far, he could only copy hawks: flying for a bit, then gliding for a bit.

He had also thought about flying by flapping wings like birds, which would certainly be far more sustainable. But after testing, he discovered flying was by no means as simple as flapping wings—there were definitely many secrets within it.

The mystery of a bird’s wing structure alone could not be explained by any scholar, let alone the specific manner in which birds flapped their wings. To figure out how birds flapped their wings, he even borrowed a recording device to record birds in flight. In the end, he found that birds flapped their wings in extremely complex ways that he simply couldn’t simulate; simple wing-flapping not only failed to achieve flight, but caused the body to fall instead.

Walking over to the armor, Richie reached out and touched it.

One could never tell from the exterior, but this thing was made of leather. Inside was supported by a skeleton of hollow steel tubes, with a few steel plates lining the inner front chest—those steel plates were the sole armor of this suit.

Calling this thing a magitech armor was indeed somewhat questionable. In terms of defense, it probably couldn’t even match ordinary training armors, and in terms of combat power, it could only be considered mediocre.

Placing his hand gently on the chest position of the armor, a series of light clicks sounded as the front chest plate slid down. This armor was simply too small, so it could only use this entry method.

Holding Ksenia tightly, Richie stepped inside.

The petite woman’s body was soft as cotton, but with the front baffle to lean against, there was no need to worry about her falling over.

Richie inserted both hands into the arm sleeves of the armor.

The arm sleeves were just the right length, moving with extreme flexibility, completely unlike ordinary armors where the forearms were manipulated via extension mechanisms.

A extremely fine humming sound came from behind—the noise emitted by the power core. Because the armor plating of this suit was too poor, the power core didn’t dare be placed in the front like other armors, and could only be moved to the back.

Looking at this petite woman lying against the front baffle fast asleep, Richie gently kneaded her smooth and plump buttocks twice, then lifted the tail inserted inside her anus. There was a metal orb at the tip of the tail.

On the lower right side of the front baffle was a small hole; he embedded the metal orb inside.

Ksenia, who was originally thoroughly exhausted and unable to move even a finger, actually squirmed twice. The soft flesh on her breasts, buttocks, and inner thighs all quivered involuntarily, and her vagina and anus contracted uncontrollably.

Richie checked Ksenia’s pulse; the weak yet orderly beats put his mind at ease.

Ignoring the petite woman for now, Richie put on his helmet, and everything around him underwent a transformation.

The visual system was turned off, so before his eyes was pitch darkness, but his other perceptions became exceptionally keen.

This room wasn’t large. He could perceive changes in any corner of the room, and he could equally clearly sense every subtle change in the woman impaled by him, even the flow of blood beneath her skin being crystal clear.

Injecting a strand of battle aura slowly into Ksenia’s body, under his deliberate control, this strand of battle aura proceeded along the path of “Wind-Control Art.”

Battle aura leaked away rapidly; an ordinary person’s body was unsuitable for constructing battle aura circulations. It was like muddy ground—just as a ditch was plowed, it would soon be silted up again.

However, in Richie’s eyes, this was a good thing.

For a knight, once a battle aura circulation was constructed, that path existed forever; even if they didn’t continue cultivating in the future, it would still consume battle aura. This was why most knights only dared cultivate a limited few techniques.

Ordinary people didn’t have such worries; even if battle aura circulations were forcibly opened with external help, it was only temporary, returning to normal after a night’s sleep.

In his view, if these two characteristics could be combined into one, it would be perfect.

Precisely because of this characteristic in ordinary people, they were most suitable for verifying the effectiveness of techniques.

During this period, he had been constantly improving “Wind-Control Art.” Battle aura circulations fell into two types: one was “Technique,” which was merely the application of battle aura; the other was “Core Technique.” Back when “Wind-Control Art” first took shape, he felt it might be a “Core Technique” because it was simply too similar to the technique prepared for heavy-armored defenders. Afterward, facts proved his guess was correct.

A “Core Technique” could be continuously refined to perfection; many of the top-tier techniques held by prominent families had undergone centuries or even a millennium of modifications.

When “Wind-Control Art” first took shape, it could only count as a low-grade technique: cultivating it did not yield fast growth in battle aura, and aside from improving physical flexibility and speed, enhancements in other areas were extremely limited.

Through this period of exploration and improvement, it could now count as a high-grade technique.

The battle aura entering Ksenia’s body gradually formed a complex circulation. There were a dozen nodes within the entire circulation, performing light, rhythmic pulsations.

A new node was gradually forming—this was the result of Richie pondering all night yesterday.

If this node was successfully constructed, it could link three other nodes into one entity.

The room had originally been sealed, with no wind, but as the node grew clearer and clearer, a vortex of wind began to swirl around Ksenia’s body.

Suddenly, Richie felt the battle aura inside his body surge out wildly!

The chaotic battle aura ran amok inside Ksenia’s body. After that newly generated node formed, it instantly established a shortcut, and massive battle aura formed a miniature loop among several nearby nodes through this node.

Richie was startled; he hurriedly stopped. If Ksenia were a knight, this level of battle aura turmoil would certainly cost her life; fortunately, she was an ordinary person, and as Richie stopped, the chaotic battle aura lost its supply and rapidly dissipated.

This was the advantage of ordinary people—a colander-like body couldn’t accumulate battle aura, so there was no danger.

This failure left Richie somewhat depressed, though fortunately he was prepared for failure beforehand. If this scheme didn’t work, he had another scheme.

Richie injected a stream of battle aura into Ksenia’s body once more; opening the battle aura circulation was much easier this time.

A knock on the door made Richie stop his exploration, though he didn’t hurry to open the door. From the sound of the knocking, he could tell it was Highgate.

Withdrawing his genitalia from Ksenia’s body, he laid her on the bed to sleep alongside the other women.

After finishing all this, he walked toward the bathroom.

A quarter of an hour later, Richie, having showered and changed into his combat suit, emerged carrying that ultra-light armor.

After stepping out, he locked the door behind him. He didn’t want anyone barging in; his women were all sleeping deeply, and whatever others did to them, they wouldn’t know.

“Is this your new work?” Highgate looked at that armor, his brows furrowed tightly. “It’s really ugly.”

He always spoke without holding back.

“Give me a hand, lift it up.” Richie was never polite with this guy either. Before Highgate could move, the driver responsible for driving jumped down; as a subordinate, he naturally couldn’t let his officer do heavy lifting.

The armor was very light, made of lightweight materials, weighing less than two hundred kilograms; it didn’t need two people to lift at all. With a knight’s strength, one person could handle it onto the vehicle.

Getting onto the vehicle, Highgate kept shaking his head looking at that armor along the way.

“I didn’t realize you were so stubborn. This thing really has no utility,” Highgate sighed.

“Just treat it as my personal hobby. Besides, how do you know it’s useless?” Richie gave a sneaky smile, without revealing the truth.

The vehicle quickly left the city, coming to a halt an hour later in a hilly region.

Choosing the best among bad options, this counted as the most complex terrain area in the suburbs of Peines.

To increase the terrain’s complexity, temporary obstacles had been set up, such as a soil platform tens of meters high and a rather deep pit.

Several armors were leaping up and down—these were all training items designed by Richie.

“Should I call them all over?” Highgate asked.

Thinking for a moment, Richie felt he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

In fact, when he was initially assigned as this squad captain, he had indeed been excited for a while, but over time, he felt he wasn’t leadership material; whenever he needed to issue orders, he always felt somewhat at a loss.

“Just have Harney come over alone,” Richie sighed.

Harney effectively acted as his proxy now, taking charge of all daily training subjects.

“Why don’t you try overcoming your weakness? No one is born to be a leader. Serving as a squad captain for a while, you’ll certainly learn how to command subordinates,” Highgate advised from the side.

“There will be plenty of opportunities later. I know you hope to assemble an assault corps as soon as possible, and these are the seeds of that assault corps; I don’t plan to use them for experiments. Let Harney handle the training instead of me—I just need to be responsible for formulating the training plan.”

Richie didn’t intend to be polite with Highgate, but besides this reason, he had an even more important rationale—he lacked time.

Successive battles had taught him one truth: in the world of knights, the most important thing was always strength.

Although the ability to command a squad was also a form of strength, taking that path required time. Furthermore, the more subordinates one had, the greater the responsibility one had to bear; in Unit 105, no one was more exhausted than Captain Gali.

Therefore, he didn’t intend to take that path for now, preferring to spend most of his time elevating his own strength.

Without knowing what method Highgate used to notify Harney, an armor was seen running out from the squad currently training, heading toward them.

“Sir, what are your instructions?” Walking up close, the armor first saluted, then asked loudly.

“How is the training going?” Highgate asked first.

“Everything is normal; we’ve already begun the second phase of training,” Harney hurriedly answered.

“Any problems?” Highgate didn’t waste words, asking directly about key points.

Harney hesitated for a moment and said: “From existing experience, two Recon Knights seem a bit insufficient. Many of the first-phase training items can barely meet the requirements.”

“I’ll transfer two more Recon Knights over,” Highgate agreed without hesitation. To him, transferring knights over was an absolute breeze, even if it meant transferring two Ace Knights.

Harney looked even more conflicted: “If there are too many Recon Knights, I wonder if the squad’s combat power will be affected?”

Highgate glanced at Richie.

Richie shrugged. Unit 105 only had Nora as a formal Recon Knight, plus himself as a part-time Recon Knight. However, Nora’s strength was by no means comparable to ordinary Recon Knights. At the Novice Knight stage, a Recon Knight’s cultivation speed was no slower than other knights, but after becoming a formal knight, their cultivation speed dropped drastically; most Recon Knights remained at early-stage knight level even when cultivating into their fifties or sixties. Back when he first joined the unit, Nora was roughly at that realm.

One’s realm determined one’s strength, which applied equally to Recon Knights. So during that first action, Nora and the enemy’s Recon Knight discovered each other almost simultaneously.

However, ever since Nora joined the joint-cultivation team, the growth of her strength had been astonishingly fast; prior to that raid action, Nora had already reached a bottleneck stage.

One Nora could match four Recon Knights, not to mention her combat power was by no means weak.

Richie understood this point, and Highgate understood it equally well, so he could only stare helplessly.

“If it really doesn’t work, should I lower some training requirements?” Richie asked.

“No!”

“Definitely not!”

Harney and Highgate shouted simultaneously.

Richie spread his hands. Since that was the case, he had no way either. A Recon Knight of Nora’s strength wasn’t easy to find—their numbers were definitely fewer than Honorary Knights.

Highgate scratched his head, taking a long time before saying helplessly: “We can only try various methods. I’ll draw another dozen people to assemble a separate squad, assigning three Recon Knights inside to see if it’s slightly better, and finally have the two squads compete to see which combination is more suitable.”

“Will they also cultivate Heavenly Hearing?” Richie turned and asked.

“Depends on whether they’re willing,” Highgate put on an unconcerned attitude.

Richie secretly pouted. Members of the Youth Army had all been brainwashed, viewing knightly honor and mission as more important than life itself; a hundred percent of them would voluntarily cultivate this technique.

“You really are relentless at ‘ruining’ people!” Richie said softly. He felt somewhat stuck on a tiger’s back; he didn’t dare tell Highgate that he had initially thrown out this technique just to make others value him.

Now seeing another squad about to be added, that brought the number close to thirty people. These weren’t ordinary knights—they were just foot soldiers in the Youth Army, but in their respective knight corps, most were captain-level figures.

Ruining the future of so many captains at once was by no means a light crime.

Richie felt he seemed to have no way out; now he could only bite the bullet and press forward.

Training continued, and Highgate stood atop a hill, staring intently at the training below. This squad harbored his infinite hopes.

During the first phase of the war, his corps had fought decently well, but he still realized how terrifying the Alliance was—especially the new combat tactics now mastered by the Alliance, which gave him immense headaches.

Future warfare would certainly showcase the mobility and assault power of magitech armors; face-to-face battles between knights standing in formation like before would certainly become fewer and fewer.

The first phase of the war still retained many traces of former combat methods, but he believed that in subsequent battles, these old traces would become fewer and fewer.

What distressed him was a lack of time. He raised his head resentfully to look at the sky above, where the guy carrying all his hopes was currently having a blast in the sky.

Richie was indeed having a blast. The first time he soared in the sky was relying on his own strength, and back then, “Wind-Control Art” wasn’t as perfected as it was now.

At this moment, soaring into the blue sky once more, though what propelled him forward remained “Wind-Control Art,” the power released through the armor’s amplification had at least a tenfold gap compared to the original version he used back then.

Last time, the air vortex was merely tight against his body like a thin shirt. This time, the air vortex wrapped around the armor like a thick padded coat; the wind surging past the armor instantly turned into a whirlwind that rolled behind him, propelling the armor forward.

Not only was the propulsive force far stronger, but the pair of wings behind his back were also far sturdier than the previous hang glider.

Its shape was neither a simple triangle nor complex bat wings, but a narrow, elongated ellipse. The size of this pair of glider wings was far larger than any glider wings previously mounted on armors; to facilitate carrying, they had to be folded up when stowed away normally.

However, at this moment, he somewhat regretted this design, because every dive or roll always produced a “creak-creak” sound from the folding joints. Although the hinges and pins were all made of steel, Richie still wasn’t entirely comfortable.

He had fallen from the sky once—that was a near-death experience, and he didn’t want another high-altitude drop.

“It seems glider wings and armor still need to be separated,” Richie muttered to himself, already redesigning a new armor in his mind.

The one he was wearing right now was originally an experimental prototype used to verify feasibility.

Precisely because it was an experimental prototype, he hadn’t considered exterior appearance at all, designing it purely in the simplest manner possible.

After flying a dozen circles continuously, the sounds from the folding joints grew louder and louder. Richie didn’t dare perform any more stunts; he relaxed his body, soaring quietly in the sky like a real bird.

Although he couldn’t perform stunts, Richie still had things to do: he turned on the observation scope on his helmet.

When this armor was designed, many specialized Recon Knight devices were built in, making it exceedingly close to a reconnaissance armor. Under the forty-five-times magnification of the observation scope, ground scenery was pulled right before his eyes.

Everything was so clear; he could even see the footprints left by the knights currently training.

Turning his head, his gaze shifted toward the city.

Peines, which originally looked like a mosaic puzzle, finally revealed its familiar appearance under the observation scope. Richie first looked at his home. His home was very small and unremarkable, blocked on both sides by houses, allowing only the top floor to be seen—that was her room, but currently there was no one inside.

The observation scope shifted slightly, and Richie saw the shop outside. The shop entrance still appeared exceptionally bustling, with knights constantly coming and going.

Looking further to the side, carriages and pedestrians moved in an endless stream; only when looking down from the sky could one truly feel the prosperity and clamor of this city.

Peines had many houses and even more people; after looking for a long time, Richie felt somewhat dizzy. He turned the observation scope, sweeping toward the suburbs. The suburbs had fewer people, but military vehicles traveled back and forth along the main road—eight out of ten vehicles were military trucks.

Switching direction, Richie flew toward his unit’s station; that area was an absolute restricted zone.

After flying for just a few minutes, he saw those solitary barracks.

Richie pushed the magnification to the maximum.

First to be seen were several sparrows hopping around on the roof of the barracks. Moving his line of sight slightly downward, through the windows, the inside of the rooms could actually be seen; it was currently empty, feeling somewhat gloomy.

Sweeping a glance at the edge of the station, sentry posts still had soldiers standing guard. The station was completely empty, with no secrets inside, yet security remained so tight.

Seeing this sight, Richie didn’t dare approach any further, hurriedly switching directions once more.

Just as he turned slightly toward the east, he suddenly saw several black dots in the sky far away.

He lowered his head to search along the ground; the first place he looked for was that hill where he encountered the college students last time. Sure enough, human figures moved about on the slope.

Richie pulled the lens closer. To his surprise, those playing with hang gliders this time were actually not that group of college students.

This group of unfamiliar people dressed far better than those college students. There were about twenty or thirty people, both men and women, with females appearing slightly more numerous. However, these women clearly didn’t intend to enjoy the fun of gliding; they were all wearing heavy fur coats and wide-brimmed soft hats adorned with decorations, some even clutching hand-warmers. The men mostly wore hunting outfits, looking quite energetic.

A bonfire burned on the hill slope, over which a goose was currently roasting; two servants turned a handle to keep the goose rotating continuously. Surrounding the bonfire was a ring of folding lounge chairs, with picnic baskets placed by the feet of the chairs.

Several pairs of men and women sat on the lounge chairs, eating food while chatting.

This was a group of wealthy people, ten to one because the heavy snow earlier had trapped them at home for too long, so taking advantage of the clearing weather as ice and snow melted, they came out to relax.

If it were that group of college students, he would have been interested in heading over to play, but toward this group of wealthy people, Richie felt not an ounce of interest.

Just as he planned to shift his gaze away, a hang glider landed.

Richie suddenly felt that hang glider looked somewhat familiar; he pulled the lens closer once more.

Sure enough, two people were suspended underneath the hang glider: one was that short-haired female student who had taken him into the sky back then, and beside her was a man in his thirties.

This man had just unbuckled the harness clips and ran over to the others to talk boastfully. He appeared so triumphant, gesturing exaggeratedly with both hands, apparently recounting the scene in the sky just now.

Richie had roughly guessed what was going on.

Taking others into the sky to fly was clearly an occupation for that short-haired female student; no wonder her skills were so proficient when taking him into the sky back then.

Richie looked up again; those hang gliders still soaring in the sky all had two people suspended underneath.

It seemed this adventurous game was quite popular in Peines; otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many hang-gliding experts specializing in taking people into the sky for fun.

Richie really wanted to go over to catch up, but not at this time. He shared no common topics with those wealthy people. Landing on the ground, Richie casually detached the recording device—this recording device was something he bought with his own money.

Seeing Highgate looking full of dissatisfaction, Richie hurriedly tossed the recording device over: “Say nothing; look for yourself.”

Highgate’s reaction wasn’t slow, catching the recording device in one grab. He had originally intended to complain to Richie, but now he was thoroughly confused instead.

That vehicle contained equipment for viewing recordings; Highgate naturally wouldn’t watch from beginning to end, skipping segments from time to time, stopping to watch slowly only at places of interest.

Initially, Highgate skipped large segments, but when the footage turned to downtown Peines, Highgate seemed to sense something.

However, he wasn’t particularly surprised; using hang gliders for airborne reconnaissance was an idea he had also harbored, even conducting a series of experiments.

He had already seen similar recorded footage several times.

When the footage turned to Unit 105’s mysterious station, Highgate’s heart finally stirred—even he had never been to that place.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” After loading that armor onto the vehicle and securing it, Richie walked over.

“So-so. I’ve done similar attempts before.” Highgate didn’t intend to admit defeat, but he still intended to ease the atmosphere somewhat: “I didn’t expect you to show me that armor design for this purpose. That armor’s combat capability is indeed mediocre, but using it for Recon Knights is quite suitable.”

Richie could tell Highgate’s words were somewhat insincere.

He didn’t care; when he developed that design initially, he hadn’t thought of the flight function at all. Highgate couldn’t be blamed for lacking vision when he looked down on it initially.

“Can you help me get an official leave? I can only stay in Peines right now, unable to go anywhere,” Richie said.

Highgate scratched his head; this matter was a bit troublesome. Richie was transferred back to Peines as a wounded soldier; getting him out of the hospital was easy enough, but letting him wander around everywhere was somewhat troublesome.

“Give me a reason—don’t say you feel bored and want to walk around,” Highgate put on a rare serious expression.

“I want to test this gadget.” Richie pointed to that armor: “If my calculations aren’t mistaken, as long as it’s not head-wind, it can fly for about two hundred kilometers; if the wind direction is suitable, perhaps even farther.”

Highgate’s eyes lit up; he had already caught the underlying meaning in Richie’s words.

“This isn’t gliding, but flight where direction can be freely controlled?” Highgate grew somewhat excited; he understood all too well the value of being able to fly freely in the sky: “How did you accomplish it?”

“My luck was good; I created another technique of my own.” Richie spoke very casually, as if creating a technique was as easy as buying a cabbage.

Highgate felt like vomiting blood. He had already investigated everything about Richie thoroughly, and what shocked him most was that most of the techniques Richie cultivated were self-created; he never expected him to churn out another such practical self-created technique now.

Suddenly he thought of something, rubbing his chin.

“It seems the storage room at Knight Headquarters really is a treasure trove. Now I regret it somewhat; I should have spent some time sorting it out back then,” Highgate muttered to himself.

“The technique I created this time has nothing to do with those booklets,” Richie hurriedly argued.

Highgate looked at Richie suspiciously, taking a long time to spit out a sentence: “A few days ago, I also spent time flipping through things there. Do you know what I found?”

“What did you find?” Richie’s heart pounded wildly; he had a bad premonition.

“I found a dozen booklets! Much of the content inside was related to armor design. Since it was laymen’s designs after all, they were all somewhat whimsical, but I must admit there were also many inspiring points.” Highgate grinned at Richie, that smile seemingly saying: I’ve seen through you.

Now it was Richie’s turn to scratch his head. Naturally, he couldn’t admit it, but whether he admitted it or not mattered little to Highgate; since this guy already knew the bottom line, he certainly had a countermeasure waiting for him.

“Then you design a suit of armor too, or create a technique yourself,” Richie kicked the ball back.

Highgate didn’t take the cue. Knowing Richie’s bottom line was one thing; being able to do as Richie did was another matter entirely.

Although he knew those booklets were treasures, using that treasure trove wasn’t easy. That was both a treasure and a poison pool; if handled poorly, before creating a technique, one might end up ruining oneself instead.

Besides that, his heart felt somewhat lost. Before reading those records, he had originally intended to show his cards to Richie, wanting this kid to spend more effort on training the assault squad.

But now he couldn’t say it out loud, because this kid had already proven with facts that he wasn’t fooling around—not putting effort into training was to manufacture this armor, and if this armor could truly fly two hundred kilometers at a time as he claimed, its value was far higher than training an assault squad.

Tell this kid not to design so many good things?

That was clearly foolish.

After thinking for a long time, Highgate finally sorted out a line of thought. He simply couldn’t keep up with this kid’s rhythm, so he might as well pull several more people in, letting each person specialize in one area: training the assault squad would simply be managed by Harney, but a dedicated person should be found for “Heavenly Hearing,” another person assigned for this new armor, and another person assigned for the technique that allowed people to fly in the sky…

Highgate felt his head swelling up; he rolled his eyes at Richie. To be honest, his interest in the structure of this kid’s brain grew stronger and stronger; if given the chance, he definitely wanted to slice it open to take a look.

“Can you transcribe a copy of that self-created technique for me?” Highgate pondered what price to trade with; he had never suffered a loss when being with Richie, nor had he ever gained an advantage.

To Highgate’s surprise, Richie answered very promptly this time: “No problem, but I can’t guarantee this works for everyone…”

Highgate wasn’t surprised; this was completely within expectations. A technique cultivated by one knight might not be suitable for another, and newly created techniques harbored such issues even more.

However, he didn’t plan to give up; members of the Youth Army possessed a spirit of self-sacrifice, so finding a batch of volunteers was extremely easy. The sole problem was that for any technique to show effects, the time required was very long—at least three to five years, or even decades.

Highgate swept another glance at Richie; he knew this kid had a method to make others master a brand new technique within a short time.

The problem was that method wasn’t suitable for promotion.

Although Youth Army members possessed a spirit of sacrifice, that referred to sacrificing life; if he asked female knights to sacrifice their bodies, he would probably be gang-beaten as soon as the words left his mouth.

Furthermore, such words couldn’t be spoken out loud either; merely harboring the thought made Highgate feel as if he was no different from a pimp.

Yet he felt somewhat unwilling to accept it; since Richie could turn the members of Unit 105 into Ace Knights within a short time, he could certainly elevate more female knights to Ace level as well.

Highgate’s mind was in turmoil: if Ace Knights could be batch-manufactured, acting as a pimp once seemed worth it too.

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