The Dragonborn have left, carrying a document representing the formal establishment of diplomatic relations between the two countries, along with a series of business plans, diplomatic initiatives, and technical and cultural exchange programs.

The official news of establishing diplomatic relations with the Sacred Dragon Kingdom quickly spread through the streets and alleys of Cecil Castle, appearing in every province and city covered by the new imperial communications network, on the Magic Web’s broadcasts, and in the citizens’ newspapers, becoming the talk of the town for the citizens over the next few days, serving as inspiration for merchants’ investments in the following months, and ultimately becoming the long-term work for the Empire’s governors and clerks.

As the days grew warmer, the fields outside the city were covered in green, and the winds blowing from the plains and hills no longer carried any chill, with only the signs of the approaching summer becoming more apparent each day.

A gentle breeze swept across the open take-off and landing area, a black dragon streaked across the sky, and smoothly landed within the area marked by white reflective paint. The side of the black steel armor shimmered with flowing light, and the accumulated waste energy from various limit tests was continuously released into the air through the lattice structure, forming an unstable and heat-rippled cyclone around the dragon.

When the cyclone gradually dissipated, Rebecca, wearing a white short robe over her single-piece dress, and Sonia, dressed in light green form-fitting hunting attire, approached Maji, who was examining her equipment.

"That was a beautiful flight, Maji!" Rebecca said with a cheerful smile, "Especially the acceleration at the end!!"

"But I still couldn’t break through the ’Missile Limit,’" Maji shook her head, somewhat regretfully, "I felt like I was just a little bit short, but the magic always dissipates at the final acceleration stage..."

"Yeah, just a little bit," Rebecca scratched her head, "It was fine in the Origin Laboratory... But why can’t we break through that speed limit?"

Sonia, from the Silver Empire, currently serving as the exchange ambassador between Cecil and the Silver Empire and also as the consultant for the Cecil aircraft project, listened to Rebecca’s musings and couldn’t help but shake her head. With a hint of emotion, she softly said, "The limit speed of flying objects... has also been a problem that has troubled elves for many years."

"Apart from instant spells like rays or Lightning Spells, and ’pathless spells’ like curses and illusions, all missile-like, fireball, and ice cone spells that require physical flight have a speed limit, right..." Maji moved her large body slightly, lying on the ground at a more comfortable talking distance, "The name ’Missile Limit’ is quite fitting."

"We elves actually prefer to call it the ’Entity Flying Speed Barrier,’" Sonia said beside her, "because it’s not just magical flying objects that encounter this speed limit. According to our observations and statistics over thousands of years, no naturally flying creature can break through this speed either, not even dragons, it seems—everything with substance reaches an ultimate limit, that’s our conclusion."

Rebecca blinked, holding her head in a bit of a dilemma.

Testing the limits of current flight technology in terms of altitude and speed, and seeking a direction for breakthroughs, this is the next exploration goal in the field of aircraft by the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute, and Rebecca’s team had already carried out a series of tests for this. What they were testing here today was the extreme speed of the Wings of Steel—the test results, as usual, were disappointing.

"If we don’t come up with any results, the ancestors will be angry... At least we need to find the reason..."

"Let’s do it again," Maji suddenly perked up, lifting her neck, she gazed at the open fields full of greenery and the distant Dark Mountain Range, and her tone slightly rose, "Let’s fly again!"

Rebecca looked at her with some concern: "Don’t you want to take a break?"

"I’ve rested enough—Dragonborn recovery speed is much faster than you humans, and besides, most of the time when I fly, the machine is doing the work," Maji said with a laugh in her voice, "and I also want to fly again—the Revival Month is nearing its end, and I’ve seen the giantwood Forest in the distance is already lush. There are beautiful sceneries over there that I want to see~~"

Hearing the scenery described by Maji, Rebecca immediately felt cheered (her mood always easily become happy), and she too looked at the distant scene with a joyful smile on her face: "Indeed, it’s green everywhere, it’s truly the last week of the Revival Month... Alright, let’s test again. Ah, I suddenly have an idea!"

"An idea?" Maji was initially startled by Rebecca’s final exclamation, but soon remembered that her ideas were always novel and interesting, immediately curious, "What idea?"

"Bring a Magic Web Terminal that can record images up there, and take a shot of the giantwood Forest and the Dark Mountain Range from the sky, would you?" Rebecca said excitedly, gesturing, "Look, although we have Dragon Cavalry, ordinary people still have little chance of experiencing flying in the sky, and they don’t know what the land where their family lived for generations looks like—from above, record a video, and we will send it to the Magic Web Broadcasting Center, Miss Giply will definitely be delighted."

"Magic Web images..." Listening to Rebecca’s imaginative idea, Maji was initially taken aback, but quickly caught up with the thought, revealing a smile with twenty-eight fangs and half a meter wide, "Good idea!"

...

On the Imperial Avenue on the east bank of the Gorgon River, a convoy adorned with the Sword and Plough Emblem was passing between the riverbank and the plains.

"We have already left Cecil Castle far behind, even farther than the distance that the Magic Train currently covers," the red-haired Dragonbranded Witch Asharena glanced at Sir Golosh sitting by the window, saying somewhat helplessly, "If you really miss it, you should have had more in-depth conversations with Maji back in Cecil Castle—I’m not talking about the usual talk, I mean like a father and daughter having a proper sit-down chat, sharing a meal or playing a game, like normal family interactions instead of superior-subordinate meetings."

"I..." Golosh withdrew his gaze from the window, opened his mouth, yet in the end, could only wave his hand, "I tried..."

"Indeed, I could see you made an effort," Asharena shook her head, "you’ve learned quite a bit about how to joke and chat with others over the years, and according to what I observed, those days in Cecil Castle should be the most harmonious days you’ve had with Maji over the past decades."

"I suppose so," Golosh thought for a moment, nodding with a touch of helplessness yet comfort, "At least she was willing to smile at me."

"That’s... nevermind," Asharena waved halfway through her words, "It’s already great, considering everyone’s situation is different."

Sir Golosh paused in silence for a moment, then suddenly seemed somewhat relieved, letting a slight smile appear on his face as he shifted his gaze back out the window, though he no longer looked at the south left far behind—his gaze swept across the vast plains of the Gorgon River’s east bank, across the sprawling fields bathed in sunlight and breeze, the abundant flowing rivers and lakes, and the undulating distant mountains. Between the rivers and the wilderness, smoke from cooking fires rose, and metal sentinel towers shone brilliantly in the sun.

He had stayed in the Cecil Clan’s imperial capital for half a month, and those two weeks seemed to have coincided with the most noticeable phase of seasonal change in the human kingdom – temperatures gradually rising, vegetation becoming lush, with all social activities and construction projects growing busier. When he first looked out of the car window at the Plains of the Holy Spirits, a lingering chill of winter still pervaded, but this time, gazing at the fields, life was flourishing.

This led him to ponder: "The season changes in the human world are so distinct—the Sacred Dragon Kingdom is almost always in winter, but here, these two seasons resemble two different worlds. I still remember the last time these plains were bare, but now the same place is already farmland."

"Perhaps, we should be more amazed that this used to be a land destroyed by the fires of war," Asharena gently shook her head, "we are passing through the main contaminated area of the Anzu Civil War—Cecil Clan is rebuilding here, and those fields and settlements have been established within the past year. It’s not only the seasonal changes transforming this land, but those Cecil Clan who firmly believe in rebuilding their homeland."

"...Perhaps this is one reason why Duke Balogar believes the Cecil Empire is worth befriending," Sir Golosh fell silent for two seconds before saying in a low voice, "After Gawain Cecil established that new order, the people of this country dared to challenge anything for a better future."

Asha Leyna didn’t speak, but instead followed Golosh’s gaze out the window, watching the plants and small rivers on the plains retreat incessantly, observing as a camp built by the reconstructors last winter slowly disappeared into the undulating wilderness...

...

In the distance, a convoy traveled along the Imperial Avenue, and further beyond, faintly visible, were iron towers, cranes, and other engineering facilities arrayed along the riverbank.

A tall man stood silently on the high ground at the edge of the camp, gazing at the distant riverbank. He wore the gray-blue work clothes commonly worn by the reconstructors of the Plains of the Holy Spirits, while his exposed arms, neck, and a small part of his face were wrapped in white bandages.

In the areas not covered by the bandage, faded scars left by the retreating Crystal Clusters could be seen, and even some remnants of crystals.

The gray-blue work clothes were issued by the engineering team, simple in style but made of high-quality industrial fabric from the Typhon Empire. In the old days, poor people wouldn’t have received a new piece of clothing for years; such an issued new outfit was already a great thing to many.

The bandages were meant to cover and treat the "after-marks" left by the Crystal Cluster Infection—although this dreadful infection would no longer spread, the scars and crystallization left on their bodies still affected many healers’ lives. The Empire’s Druids were trying to alleviate these symptoms, and now they could at least reduce the residual crystals and scars on the healed by half. To aid treatment, "bandages" had become one of the distinctive features of healers in the reconstruction area.

Suddenly, footsteps came from beside him, and the tall, silent man turned his head, seeing a dark-skinned man in the same work clothes approaching him.

"Thirty-two!" The approaching man waved, "You are indeed here, huh?"

"Isn’t it work time yet?" the man called Thirty-two replied gruffly, "Got other work to do?"

"Work is all you think about," the dark-skinned man joked with a smile, "You’re confused, remember? We have half a day off this afternoon, you forgot?"

Thirty-two remained silent for a moment, then shook his head, "...Forgot."

"What are you looking at?" The dark-skinned man walked over, glancing in the direction Thirty-two had been looking, and clicked his tongue, "Oh, not bad... The railway engineering team on the riverbank has pushed to here, might be able to extend the road to St. Soniel before autumn..."

"That’s quick... Back then, building a road from Talen to Sorinburg took years."

"Sounds like you built it yourself," the dark-skinned man glanced at his work partner and then patted his arm, "Stop standing in the wind here and hurry back to the camp, something good is happening this afternoon—I kindly came to call you, or you’d miss it."

"Something good?" Thirty-two frowned, his face altered by bandages, scars, and crystals revealing a shred of confusion, "What’s the good thing?"

"Hey, what’s the fashionable term...? Welfare! Some welfare the upper management fought for us!" The dark-skinned man laughed happily, "I won’t tell you now, come with me, you’ll know when you see for yourself!"

As he spoke, he tugged Thirty-two’s arm to lead him towards the camp. The latter, filled with curiosity, followed, passing through the empty ground outside the camp, through the gate of the reconstruction camp, and heading toward the auditorium next to the residential area—the auditorium was spacious enough for everyone. The camp management would gather everyone there for meetings, announce work plans or supplies situations, and a "teacher" sent from Pompeii gave lessons on literacy, arithmetic, and "social order" there. Everyone was familiar with the auditorium; apart from the warehouse, it was the most important place in the camp.

Many people were already gathering toward the auditorium.

Thirty-two, alongside his partner, walked toward the crowd, puzzled. He heard someone mention "Magic Shadow Drama," others referenced "new technology from the south," and finally his partner stopped keeping secrets. The cheerful man from Fertile Woods laughed, saying, "They’re showing Magic Shadow Drama today. Do you know what Magic Shadow Drama is? It’s a theater play by Magic Guide Technology—theater used to be available only to aristocrats! Now we can watch it, and for free..."

Thirty-two listened to his partner’s introduction and boasting with mild comprehension—he could tell this guy hadn’t seen the so-called Magic Shadow Drama yet; everything he bragged about was probably learned from others mere minutes ago.

Yet, this kind of boasting wasn’t annoying.

He nodded cooperatively, offering some response to his partner’s tireless bragging. Then he lifted his head, gazing toward the auditorium’s outer wall not far away, where shadows of many people flickered, and vibrant giant canvases seemed to hang on the thin ironclad exterior.

Thirty-two’s gaze froze.

He saw a young man standing on that canvas, clad in old-era armor, with both hands resting on a long sword. Behind him was a dim, descending plain, yet a ray of sunlight shone down, illuminating the young man’s face, casting a layer of light on the distinctive armor.

The entire painting exuded a typical southern style—realistic figures along with vividly abstract and cryptic symbolism painted landscapes.

Massive letters imprinted on the canvas, seeming to name it "Fire Beacon."

The artwork was surely created by an extraordinary master.

The person depicted on the canvas was truly lifelike.

(A friendly recommendation for a book, "The Chronicles of a Writing Worker Saving the World," written by an old reader following since the time of Hilling, many of the original readers might remember him, and Old Shen knows him as well—he writes this=.=)