Chapter 216: Hmm, I Dug Out His Blood Core

The Demonflame Horse is a type of Demon Spirit Horse!

Demon Spirit Horses are not native to the Old Continent. They hail from another world, summoned rather than tamed, and must anchor their existence to a transcendent artifact. Without such a foundation, they cannot remain in this world.

These creatures are unparalleled mounts on the battlefield, charging tirelessly through the fray. However, should their anchor artifact be destroyed, they vanish completely, unable to return.

Every hundred years, Demon Spirit Horses undergo a transformation. Sometimes they become stronger; at other times, they split into two entirely different Demon Spirit Horses, or they might perish altogether.

Generally, after two or three successful transformations, a Demon Spirit Horse has the chance to evolve into a Demonflame Horse, which lacks a physical form and can traverse any terrain—be it hills, swamps, or water. It can even gallop through a sea of flames.

Summoning a Demonflame Horse is exceedingly difficult. The Adonis Clan’s Vampiric Secret Arts not only summon such creatures but also use Bloodflame Aura to reforge their connection, creating an intimate bond between the horse and its master. This bond allows the master to draw power from the horse—or even receive its energy in return.

After spending an entire day narrating novels to Princess May, Charlot Mecklenburg finally found some relief. Turning to the Adonis Clan’s Vampiric Scroll, he became intrigued by the Demonflame Horse.

In ancient China, horseback travel relied on relay stations and inns that supplied fodder and beans for horses. This network made long-distance journeys feasible. On the Old Continent, however, the lack of similar infrastructure rendered horseback travel cumbersome. Even knights rarely rode into battle as there were no convenient supply depots, forcing riders to source their own fodder—an onerous task.

Even in ancient China, deploying cavalry required large numbers of servant soldiers to provide logistics. On the Old Continent, cavalry deployment often required more than ten times as many infantry to maintain their operations.

More critically, the Old Continent lacked the expansive grasslands necessary for swift cavalry movements; it was dominated by forests instead.

Charlot had heard rumors that the New Continent’s vast grasslands allowed cavalry to develop far more rapidly than in the Old Continent.

The Demonflame Horse, a creature from another realm, needed no fodder, sustaining its existence purely through magic.

Charlot, however, was less interested in its combat prowess as a battlefield mount and more in its speed for travel. Compared to a carriage, it was undeniably faster—even if less comfortable.

While poring over the Adonis Clan’s Vampiric Scroll—also known as the Charlot Mecklenburg Diary—Princess May suddenly reached over and grabbed the diary. After a glance, she tossed it back and asked, “What stage has your Blood Glory reached?”

Charlot replied quietly, “Eighth stage.”

Between the seventh and twelfth stages lay the mid-tier of transcendent ranks. Charlot had only just entered this tier, still far from reaching the high-tier transcendents.

Princess May made no comment, merely stating indifferently, “We’re approaching Saint Michael Island.”

Charlot was slightly startled. “The Golden Rams Fleet’s Saint Michael Island?”

He recalled that Mad Horse Davis had mentioned this: departing from Cappadocia, one could reach Saint Michael Island in at most half a day by sea. The Golden Rams Fleet that occupied the island boasted over thirty ships, including three warships.

One of these warships was reportedly docked at Cappadocia, though the fate of the fleet remained uncertain.

Princess May affirmed, “Yes. Even I wouldn’t dare set foot on Saint Michael Island.”

“They possess an alchemical warship, an ancient magical warship, and even a Saint-ranked guardian.”

Charlot couldn’t help but ask, “What happened when Zimourman Axel Robin tried to conquer all the pirate fleets and challenged the leader of the Golden Rams Fleet?”

Princess May replied, “He abandoned the attempt and left Saint Michael Island.”

Hearing this, Charlot, who had previously looked down on the Golden Rams Fleet, now saw them in a new light. He remarked, “No wonder neither Francis Drake nor James Cook considered attacking this island city.”

Princess May chuckled lightly. “Even if their ships carried a Saint-ranked figure, they wouldn’t dare attack Saint Michael Island.”

Charlot asked, “If we’re not going to Saint Michael Island, where are we headed?”

“Cappadocia,” Princess May replied nonchalantly. “Don’t you have a fleet there?”

Charlot scratched his head awkwardly. “My methods of seizing merchant ships were rather crude at the time. I didn’t leave anyone to manage them. The fleet has probably disbanded by now.”

“Why not take a look?” Princess May suggested.

Charlot didn’t argue further. If the fleet was gone, so be it.

But if it remained...

Well, what were the odds of that?

...

The next day, as the sun rose, Charlot spotted a small mountain rising abruptly from the sea. The mountain had been transformed into a city, fortified with massive cannons at every angle. Around this island city, three to four dozen medium and large ships moved about, though only a dozen bore the Golden Rams Fleet’s flag.

Princess May chose not to provoke this pirate fleet. Their ship, the Titanic Whale, bypassed Saint Michael Island and headed directly for Cappadocia.

The Titanic Whale, much faster than ordinary merchant ships, reached Cappadocia by the afternoon. Charlot was astonished to see that while the port had fewer ships than before—only five or six—the remaining vessels still bore his family’s banner.

Yes, during his time in Cappadocia, Charlot had ordered both the city and its merchant fleet to fly the Mecklenburg family’s insignia.

The Titanic Whale was too massive to dock, so Charlot and Princess May leapt into the sea, using the Swiftstep Technique and Spider Technique to sprint across the waves. As they neared the city, someone shouted, “It’s Lord Mecklenburg!”

In no time, countless residents emerged, waving hands, clothes, and random items in the air, cheering loudly, “Welcome back, Lord Charlot Mecklenburg!”

Princess May raised an eyebrow, casting a curious glance at Charlot. “You’re rather popular, aren’t you?”

Charlot smiled sheepishly. He hadn’t expected to maintain such high prestige in the city after being away for so long.

As he stepped ashore, he was met by Cruse, the former head overseer of Cappadocia, who approached with a tearful expression, leading a small entourage. “Subordinate Cruse greets Lord Mecklenburg!”

Charlot helped him up and asked, “Why are there still five or six ships left? Hasn’t the fleet disbanded?”

Cruse explained in a low voice, “They consumed alchemical potions and feared death. I had no choice but to create some ointments, tricking them into believing they were antidotes. To my surprise... it worked.”

“Now, the Cappadocia merchant fleet has expanded to twenty-three ships. Several vessels even joined voluntarily. Most are out transporting goods and remain loyal to Cappadocia.”

“The city is thriving. Life here is much better than before.”

Charlot glanced at his “temporary subordinate” with newfound appreciation. For the first time, he realized Cruse might actually be talented!

While the alchemical potions were fake, their supposed effects should’ve been exposed quickly. Cruse, however, had managed to use a batch of fake antidotes to maintain the fleet’s cohesion. Though some details didn’t quite add up, Charlot decided to let it slide for now.

Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss—a great wisdom of life.

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