Chapter 687: Game of Thrones (3)

Flares of conflagration pelted down from the sky in a great baptism of fire that turned what was once a multitude of Yin soldiers on the ground into nothing more than wisps of Yin energy that quickly dissipated into the surroundings. Catherine the Great stared dumbly at the hopeless sight before her eyes, before sighing softly.

The climax was filled with ups and downs, and twists and turns. They were filled with elation and hope when the Reverse Cross first appeared. Unfortunately, none of them had expected Fate to completely obstruct the Reverse Cross’ approach at the eleventh hour with a brilliant display of the top defensive ability across the netherworld. To that end, it was clear that a quasi-divine artifact of one of the P4 underworlds was easily an equal to one of the protector Yin artifacts of lesser underworlds.

It was a toss up between 10% chance of survival and a 100% chance of death. Naturally, they chose the former. Unfortunately, miracles were called miracles precisely because of their rarity.

She stared blankly at the sky with an ashen expression and a despondent heart.

Why?

Why are we always so near, yet so far?

Whoosh… The gloomy clouds of Yin energy around her suddenly stirred into action once more, and 13 pairs of netherflames appeared around Catherine the Great at once.

Just then, Qin Ye turned back haughtily, only to notice the figure standing at the top of the stairs of light suddenly vanish from his place.

Even though Qin Ye couldn’t see this man’s appearances, he could sense that the man had cast a deep gaze upon him just as he passed by.

After all, her personal humiliation was nothing compared to the rise of the Russian Underworld.

This was Tsar Arturo Vladimir, the true master of the Russian Underworld!

Copious amounts of Yin energy billowed from his body, making him look absolutely surreal. The black cloak of Yin energy on his back fluttered wildly, while the ends of it constantly tore apart from the main body, transforming into dark crows of Yin energy that flew away into the night sky. His facial features were completely shrouded in darkness, and one could only make out two spots of golden netherflames peeking out of the darkness.

“The recovery plan… has failed…”

For the longest time, he simply stared at distant skies as he sighed softly. The astringent sense of failure stirred in his heart.

Yet, even the Tsar knew full well that it wasn’t the time to be languishing in the miserable state of his plans.

He looked around, and the roiling clouds of Yin energy immediately receded into the surroundings, revealing the 13 Mythic Spirits hidden within. Each of them appeared valorous and majestic, befitting of a god of death. Chieftain Woolf glanced at the Tsar and sneered, “Tsar… Nameless god of death, it’s been a while.”

And it also marked the time… to divide the spoils of war.

The netherflames in the Tsar’s eyes immediately flickered wildly. After some time, he responded, “First of all, I believe there’s been some misunderstanding between us.”

No matter how bad the situation might seem to be, he would still need to create a pretext for their presence in these regions. Otherwise, the Russian Underworld would simply be made the laughingstock of the entire netherworld.

The netherflames in the Tsar’s eyes flickered wildly - These Alkebulan Underworlds have never been able to reconcile their differences for the longest time, and yet they can actually come together to put forth such threats before me?

Such a complaint by them isn’t that threatening. What’s more threatening is… He glanced at Qin Ye.

The P4 underworlds held veto rights. Even if the Russian Underworld was clinging tightly to the thighs of the Argosian Underworld, Hell could likewise stand in the way of their veto rights and balance things out!

There was no use blabbering about rights without talking about compensation. After all, would the Alkebulan Underworlds be here for fun?

Unfortunately, there wasn’t any response.

He gritted his teeth, “Might I be so bold as to ask what would sufficiently recompense you for such a misunderstanding?”

The Tsar took a deep breath, and then spoke hoarsely, “Certainly.”

The Tsar was practically speaking through gritted teeth right now, and his voice was filled with incomparable resignation.

“Secondly, at the junction where the western Rus tectonic plates meet the east European tectonic plates, where five large S-class veins are located… Ah, that’s right, it’s the connected veins of mineral deposits codenamed ‘Chekov’ that the Russian Underworld had announced at the Netherworld Tectonic Conference 200 years ago.”

“Other underworlds may not intervene in any way, nor can our rights be revoked. Furthermore, our mining rights… must be absolutely tax-free.”

Catherine the Great shut her eyes in despair. The Russian Underworld, Hell and the New World were the three regions known to the rest of the netherworld as the king of minerals. Despite that, S-class mines were still considered a great rarity among these three regions. To date, the Russian Underworld’s surveillance efforts have revealed that there are only 53 such mines in the lands of Rus, and of these, the Chekov connected veins are among the richest of mines, containing up to 100 million tonnes of mineral ores and deposits!

Indeed, it was. These are S-class mines after all. The value of 100 million tonnes of such resources were sufficient to make any other underworld green with envy. That said...

Even if each tribe was able to harvest 50,000 tonnes per year, a hundred years would mean the extraction of only 5 million tonnes. And this was on the condition that they had the requisite tools and special implements required to harvest these minerals and ores effectively. After all, such S-class minerals often needed to be harvested under special conditions. Taking into account a small discount for the fact that these were tribes, the dozen or so tribes would in a hundred years… quite probably be able to harvest 50 million tonnes of these resources!

They would at least have about half of the mineral veins to themselves!

“I… give you my word.” The Tsar gazed deeply into the skies and nodded softly.

Pfft… Qin Ye could almost hear the Tsar crying within, and he couldn’t help but delight in the Tsar’s misery.

Patents pertaining to Yin Talismans and armaments were the foundation of any nation. The only thing that was probably more precious than this was the territory of a nation. The Alkebulan Underworlds were like a pack of hungry wolves, biting down hard on the flesh of a lion, refusing to let go.

The Tsar fervently suppressed the fury in his heart, “And what will you do if I refuse to give you my word?”

He stroked the Harken’s fur placidly, “And mark my words, they’ll be kept inside so long as you refuse to give us your word.”

Seconds later, the Tsar’s voice trembled, “Very well… I give you my word.”

His only wish was that these negotiations would soon end. After all, it was so humiliating that he could no longer keep the expression on his face straight anymore!