章 34: Chapter 34 The Clash of Worldly Artifacts
"That's right."
A general rose to his feet, his voice brimming with confidence. "With Your Majesty's might, you are truly invincible. What kind of 'God's Kingdom'? Hah! Nothing but a laughable farce. A hollow tale, not worth a moment of our concern."
His tone carried nothing but disdain, as if he were brushing off dust from his sleeves. Legends of gods and mystical powers were the prattle of fools—fabrications born from fear and ignorance.
"To me, this so-called Primordial God is no more than a ghost story spun by Tang's lord." Another officer smirked, folding his arms across his chest. "Its purpose? To strike fear into weaker nations, paralyze them before battle, and claim victory without unsheathing a single blade."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "It is not the first time a ruler has used such tricks. Gods, legends, divine protection—such stories have long been tools to bind the hearts of the people and bolster their trust."
The murmurs around the hall grew louder. Indeed, many kingdoms had once woven myths to maintain order and security, instilling an unshakable belief that divine favor shielded their lands. Tang Guo, with its overwhelming might, seemed no different.
"No, no." A voice cut through the room, softer yet resolute. "It may not be a mere rumor. Have you considered this power might belong to a World Prop?"
The crowd turned toward the speaker, a scholar with keen eyes that gleamed beneath bushy brows. "Think of the Thor's Hammer in our possession. To the unknowing, would it not seem as though Your Majesty commands the heavens themselves? A mortal wielding thunder and lightning—what else could they call it but divine?"
The mention of the Thor's Hammer brought a solemn silence.
"To outsiders, the Lord of Thunder Country is Thor reborn, ruler of storms and supreme wielder of lightning." The scholar's tone was calm, but his words weighed heavy. "The same must be true of Tang Guo. Their so-called Primordial God may simply be another World Prop, one that wields the power of frost."
The hall buzzed with renewed discussion.
"The power of frost..." A counselor, lost in thought, frowned deeply. "From our spies' reports, this so-called ancient god froze dozens of cities. Entire metropolises entombed in ice, unmelted for an entire year. What could wield such terrifying might?"
No one answered.
"The explanation is clear." Another counselor finally spoke, his voice grave. "It must be an ice-attribute World Prop. Its power—while perhaps not as mighty as Your Majesty's Thor's Hammer—can still defy comprehension. Freezing an entire city in an instant is no trivial matter."
"That's right!"
The general who spoke earlier slammed his fist on the table, his expression hardened by dread. "If Tang Guo truly possesses such a World Prop, we cannot underestimate its threat. That power could freeze an army of millions where they stand. Numbers would mean nothing."
At this, a shudder rippled through the hall. The generals and counselors, seasoned as they were, could not deny it—such power was beyond human comprehension. World Props. Artifacts capable of turning empires into ash and rewriting the rules of war.
The Lord of Thunder Country sat silently, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his jade throne. His gaze darkened, a storm brewing within his eyes.
"The power of World Props..." he muttered. "It seems Tang Guo must indeed be watched with utmost vigilance."
It was a truth understood by all under heaven—World Props could only be matched by other World Props. Such was the common sense of this world. Yet, their might did not guarantee absolute invincibility.
At times, World Props countered one another, locked in a strange cycle of mutual growth and restraint. A seemingly unstoppable force could encounter its immovable match, and what was once dominance could turn to disaster.
Even for the Thor's Hammer, a weapon that commanded thunder and lightning, there was no guarantee it could not be restrained by some unfathomable relic of ice, fire, or shadow. No king dared let arrogance dull their caution—one misstep and even the greatest ruler could capsize in still waters.
Thus, secrecy was paramount. The power of a World Prop could not be laid bare to the world. Once its abilities were known, the wielder became vulnerable, their strength a target for schemes and countermeasures. Knowledge was as sharp as any blade; if leaked, it could turn glory into ruin.
"Your Majesty, I propose we test Tang's strength first," a general declared, his voice calm but tinged with steel. "Let us probe the abilities of their World Prop. Once we uncover its secrets, Your Majesty can strike. One move to shatter the heavens and send Tang's lord to his grave."
His words carried both reverence and ruthlessness—a strategist's mind wrapped in a warrior's heart. Against a foe shrouded in mystery, recklessness was folly.
The hall fell silent, all eyes turning to the Lord of Thunder Country.
"Hmm." He leaned back into his throne, fingers tapping against the armrest, his gaze as distant as the thunderclouds he commanded. "Test them, then. Unveil the truth of Tang's World Prop. If they think to intimidate the heavens, I shall remind them of their place beneath it."
The lord's voice rolled across the room like the distant growl of an approaching storm. He was no fool, no iron-headed brute hungry for glory. Why waste his full strength when caution could secure the same victory?
The clash of World Props was not simply a matter of power—it was a battle of minds.
Whoever seized the opponent's secrets first would wield the advantage, a shadow lurking over the battlefield. And as a ruler, he could not allow himself to step carelessly onto that stage. If he fell, the Kingdom of Thunder would crumble like a castle of sand swept away by the tide.
Caution was his shield. Strategy, his blade.
"The throne is the heart of the kingdom," he murmured to himself, "and the heart must remain untouched."
He would not sully his hands by charging onto the battlefield himself. From his palace, he would command the storm, wielding his armies like a painter's brush—brushstrokes that painted victory across the map.
"Go," he ordered, his voice steady as iron.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
A chorus of voices erupted like thunderclaps, reverberating through the chamber. The generals rose, their faces alight with murderous resolve, their bloodlust thick enough to stain the air.
The Lord of Thunder Country watched them go, his storm-filled eyes narrowing. The coming battle would shake the heavens, and when the dust settled, he alone would stand victorious.
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