Ten puppet constructs knelt on one knee before them.

Three stood at gold tier, their combat capability fully matching Chimu’s existing gold construct, “Sunset.”

But Chimu knew exactly what “Sunset” had cost. Silver Moon City had thrown everything it had behind that project — every available construct master working in concert for a full year to complete a single gold-tier construct. The three gold-tier constructs kneeling before them now had gone from concept to completion in under ten days. More remarkable still: every one of them had been grown directly from the earth, with not a single mechanical fabrication step involved.

The only real time investment had been the initial design and material preparation.

At this rate of production, with sufficient material, it would take less than half a day to manufacture dozens — nearing a hundred — gold-tier constructs, and hundreds, approaching a thousand, silver-tier ones.

Not a single one of the ten kneeling constructs was even bronze tier.

The lowest among them was silver.

This wasn’t manufacturing. This was creation on a divine scale.

“What a shame — not a single platinum tier among them.” Yue Yang sighed faintly, looking genuinely dissatisfied with the result. Chimu nearly throttled the man on the spot for the sheer audacity of that complaint. Three gold-tier constructs had just sprung from the ground in a matter of moments, and this was somehow disappointing? Platinum tier? Ji Wuri — a man widely regarded as the closest thing to a living god in Human Valley — had spent three full months, with the entire imperial court’s resources behind him, to produce a single platinum-tier construct in the Vengeful Prince. Did Yue Yang think platinum-tier constructs grew on trees, ready to be harvested by the dozen on demand?

“Forget platinum tier — what we have right now is already an enormous success!” Chimu felt his chest swell with pride. He was, after all, one of the three masterminds behind this miracle. His name was guaranteed a place in the history books. The only open question was exactly how lavishly the chroniclers would praise him.

“Not bad at all. I’ll take the one in the middle.” Mingzhu, too, found three gold-tier constructs from a single attempt well beyond expectation.

The original plan had projected a single gold-tier construct.

They’d gotten three.

A pleasant surprise, by any measure.

As the marker of their first successful attempt, Mingzhu decided to keep one gold construct as a memento. The middle one had received the most material and the most careful attention during fabrication — claiming it now felt like fitting compensation for the effort invested.

Chimu, alarmed at being left out, jumped in immediately. “Then I want the one on the left — no wait, I’ll take the right one. Hold on, which one did you say you wanted? Is the right one actually better? It seems better than the left somehow — or is the left one better? Hey, don’t try to trick me, I’m an easy man to fool, just tell me honestly — fine, I’ll take this gold one on the left. The more I look at it, the better it looks, the more handsome it gets. My eagle eyes clearly know quality when they see it. Magnificent!”

Yue Yang handed him a gold construct control bracelet, which finally stopped the endless stream of commentary.

Chimu wasn’t usually this excitable. But witnessing an actual miracle had a way of doing that to a person.

“It can transform! A lion! My construct turns into a lion — king of beasts! Roar! Incredible! I’m the Lion King! King of all beasts!” Chimu pressed the gemstone button on his new bracelet and watched, delighted, as his newly claimed gold construct began shifting shape in a way that defied easy explanation — within seconds, the humanoid frame had collapsed and reformed into a golden lion.

This thrilled him beyond words.

He still remembered the endless promises and concessions he’d had to make to his family elders just to get his hands on “Sunset.” And now, with a single offhand remark, he’d walked away with a gold construct every bit as powerful — and this one could transform on top of it.

Human Valley had once known transforming constructs, but the ancient construct techniques behind them had been lost for tens of thousands of years. No construct in living memory could shift freely between human and beast forms — at least, Chimu had never heard of a single surviving example. If they existed at all, they existed only in legend.

And here he was, holding a legend in his hand.

Was it any wonder he was practically vibrating with joy?

Chimu vaulted onto his golden lion’s back with one fluid motion and let out a roar of his own, every inch the conqueror astride his beast.

“Far too loud, Xiaomu. Could you go test it somewhere else?” Mingzhu rubbed his temple, privately wondering if the man had taken complete leave of his senses from sheer joy. Had he known things would go this way, he might have reconsidered letting Chimu participate at all — at least his ears would have some peace.

“As you command!” Chimu, blissfully unbothered by anything, agreed instantly and rode his golden lion out to test it elsewhere, careful not to interrupt the other two.

Before fully leaving the courtyard, though, he circled back, steering the lion with his bracelet, and pointed at the seven silver constructs that had already shifted into silver wolves. He gave Yue Yang a hopeful little bow. “I know full well you’re not interested in lowly silver-tier constructs — why not just give them all to me? You and Mingzhu can keep researching in peace, I won’t bother either of you. I just want these seven silver wolves. Just imagine — me on a lion, seven wolves trailing behind. How magnificent would that look?”

Yue Yang had nothing to say to that. The man’s greed knew no shame. Still, getting the lightbulb out of the way sounded appealing enough.

So Yue Yang transferred full ownership and control rights of all seven silver wolves to Chimu’s gold bracelet, if only to avoid further drooling and stalling.

Chimu laughed like a delighted child.

“War beast legion — move out!” He rode off triumphantly atop his golden lion, seven silver wolves streaming behind him, off to show off to whoever happened to be in his path, completely abandoning any pretense of further research. With a lion and wolves in hand, the actual science was someone else’s problem now — let the higher-IQ monsters handle that part. He was, regardless of how it shook out, destined to be remembered as one of the three masterminds anyway. As he tore out of the estate, his mind had already moved on to picking a sufficiently impressive name for his lion. Whatever happened between Yue Yang and Mingzhu back at the estate was entirely beside the point as far as he was concerned.

“I really shouldn’t have invited him along,” Mingzhu said, offering Yue Yang a small apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” Yue Yang said, magnanimous about the whole thing.

“What’s next — more creation, or do we move to what you mentioned about elevating the gold constructs’ tier?” Mingzhu found, somewhat to his own surprise, that he genuinely enjoyed working alongside this man. Beyond the monstrous creative instincts and the miracle-grade output, there was something about researching at his side that seemed to sharpen his own thinking — as though proximity to him made inspiration flow like water from a spring.

“Don’t you want to see what your construct turns into?” Yue Yang took hold of Mingzhu’s hand and gently fastened a small, elegant bracelet around that pale, jade-smooth wrist.

“A quasi-Sacred-tier construct control bracelet?” Mingzhu had been about to pull away, but his eyes widened as he registered what was on his wrist.

“Unfortunately I can’t quite hit full Sacred tier yet — but don’t worry, I’ll get yours there eventually. Give me time. I’ll keep creating miracle after miracle here in Human Valley, as many as it takes, as long as you’re willing to stay and watch it happen with me.” Yue Yang held onto Mingzhu’s hand, refusing to let go, and added with a small sigh, “Beautiful…”

“It is rather elegant. I’ve never seen a bracelet this finely crafted.”

“I meant your hand.”

Mingzhu went still for half a second.

“You absolute disaster. How dare you say something that disrespectful to me — I’ll just dig a hole and bury you right here!” His mood reversed faster than a book closing. The golden hammer materialized in his hand instantly, and before Yue Yang could so much as flinch, it came down, driving him straight into the dirt.

Having dealt with Yue Yang, Mingzhu didn’t seem particularly angry anymore. Instead, he turned his attention to the bracelet, activating the transformation on the gold construct Yue Yang had poured the most effort into.

Watching his own construct shift smoothly into a snow leopard with perfectly proportioned, elegant limbs, Mingzhu couldn’t help but smile — clearly pleased with the result of their joint effort. Before Yue Yang had even finished pulling himself out of the ground, Mingzhu grabbed his hand and pressed the gemstone button himself, watching Yue Yang’s gold construct shift into a powerful, commanding tiger that took up position beside the snow leopard — one slightly larger, one slightly smaller, the pairing strikingly complementary. His mood improved considerably. He reached down and hauled Yue Yang up out of the dirt, though he wasn’t quite ready to let the matter drop entirely. “As a noble, you ought to understand basic etiquette. Show respect to your friends, and watch your tongue. I’m only letting this slide because we’re friends — anyone else would already be facing a formal duel.”

Yue Yang nodded with practiced innocence. “Understood, understood. I’ll behave from now on. Though — I couldn’t have praised it if it weren’t true about your hand. I never lie.”

Mingzhu glared. “Are you seriously telling me a man’s hand can be called beautiful?”

“My mistake,” Yue Yang said, immediately contrite. “My mind wandered for a moment and I forgot you’re a man. Won’t happen again.”

“Hmph.”

Mingzhu delivered a melodic little exhale through his nose, declaring the matter closed.

For the next several hours, Yue Yang behaved with unusual diligence.

He and Mingzhu fell back into focused work — first continuing their collaborative “planting” method, producing two more batches of constructs.

With the lessons of the first success behind them and tighter control over material allocation, the second and third batches yielded even more gold constructs than the first, though of slightly lower individual quality than the original three — not because higher quality was impossible, but because it wasn’t strictly necessary. Both Yue Yang and Mingzhu agreed the gold and silver constructs being produced now were primarily meant to arm their subordinates. Neither of them intended to linger at gold tier for long — platinum, and ultimately Sacred tier, remained the true objective.

Rumble…

Rumble, rumble, rumble…

The two subsequent “plantings” yielded eight gold constructs and twelve silver constructs in total. Unlike the first batch’s variety of tigers, leopards, lions, and wolves, this round produced only a single form: the giant ape. The gold-tier ape constructs stood ten meters tall, noticeably larger than the eight-meter silver-tier version, with roughly double the combat capability.

Mingzhu’s mood had climbed considerably, and he laughed — a sound like clear bells that left Yue Yang momentarily distracted all over again.

Fortunately, Mingzhu’s self-control was exceptional, and his composure returned quickly. He nodded toward Yue Yang. “The secret creation technique has reached full maturity — no further obstacles remain. Next we should move to the second stage: the secret technique for elevating construct tier. Actually — how did you ever arrive at the idea of using this planting method in the first place? Drawing on Human Valley’s law and tapping into endless earth energy to create constructs this way — what made you think of it?”

For this particular question, Yue Yang felt no need to hold anything back. He clasped his hands behind his back and adopted a slow, deliberate pace, walking a few steps the way a man does when preparing to deliver a story of great weight.

When Mingzhu reached for the golden hammer preemptively, Yue Yang quickly signaled for restraint.

He cleared his throat with the gravity of an elder statesman and began. “Truthfully, the inspiration came from our hardworking peasant farmers. There’s an old saying — in spring, the farmer plants peanuts, and in autumn, the farmer harvests a bountiful crop of peanuts. So I thought: if that’s how it works, why not plant a beautiful woman in spring, and by autumn, harvest an abundance of beautiful women?”

Mingzhu stared at him as though he’d seen a ghost, his voice unsteady. “You — you actually did this?”

Yue Yang shook his head. “I only wanted to try it. Unfortunately, I never got the opportunity to plant anyone. Though I heard there was a man before me who actually attempted it — planted his girlfriend in the spring, and come autumn, harvested a single peanut.”

“What? Impossible!” Mingzhu refused outright to believe this. Plant a girlfriend in spring, and by autumn you’d surely harvest nothing but a skeleton — how could it possibly produce a single peanut?

“I thought a single peanut was a rather tragic outcome myself, which is exactly why I never went through with it,” Yue Yang said, sounding genuinely troubled by the question. “It must have been a planting error. Or perhaps he failed to weed, fertilize, and deal with pests properly. I’ve also heard you’re supposed to sing to flowers for them to bloom beautifully — maybe that fellow planted his girlfriend and simply walked away without another thought. No singing at all. That would explain the single peanut.”

“Singing wouldn’t have helped anything, you absolute fool!” Mingzhu couldn’t resist landing one more blow with the hammer. What kind of person was this, with such a complete absence of basic common sense, presuming to take up farming? No wonder he’d thought to grow puppet constructs out of the dirt — an idiot savant if there ever was one.

Still — why exactly would planting a girlfriend yield a single peanut?

That part genuinely eluded him.

Yue Yang quickly raised both hands. “Stop — you’re the one who asked me to tell it, and now you’re upset about the answer? Fine, I’ll never share another secret with you again.”

Alarmed, Mingzhu immediately lowered the hammer, straightening Yue Yang’s collar, brushing the dirt off his shoulders, and plucking a stray bit of grass root from his hair, fighting back a smile as he offered something resembling an apology. “Fine, that one’s on me. I apologize. What other secrets do you have? Go on, tell me.”

Yue Yang propped his chin in thought for a moment. “Do you want to hear the secret of how panties saved the world?”

Mingzhu’s expression turned faintly awkward.

He had no particular wish to revisit that subject in any depth. But the man seemed genuinely serious this time, not crude for the sake of being crude, and Mingzhu decided to extend one more chance — there was, admittedly, something faintly intriguing about the premise. How exactly could panties save the world? It seemed flatly impossible. He’d listen, just this once, and reserve judgment on whether the hammer was warranted afterward. With that settled in his mind, he gave a small nod, granting Yue Yang permission to begin.

“It’s a long story,” Yue Yang said. “If I told it in full, three days and three nights wouldn’t cover it. Let me get some water first — and you should sit down too, have something to eat while you listen. Why are you sitting so far away? Relax, I have no interest in men, only beautiful women. What about you? Ha, sorry, got distracted — where was I… Right. Long, long ago, there was a terrifying mad scientist. His forces commanded an army of overwhelming power, and he intended to conquer the entire world. The only thing in existence capable of stopping him was a Divine Dragon.”

“A Divine Dragon?”

“That’s right. The legendary Divine Dragon — the one that, the moment it appears, can grant any wish.”

“Magnificent. Now that’s a real Divine Dragon. So — did it appear? Did it stop the mad scientist and his army?”

“No. The mad scientist summoned the Divine Dragon himself. You heard correctly — since no one else was capable of stopping him and his forces, the slumbering Divine Dragon was awakened and summoned by the mad scientist’s own hand. And that’s not even the worst part. The truly terrifying part is that the mad scientist intended to wish for absolute dominion — to become ruler of the entire world.”

“Did the mad scientist succeed?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“At the absolute last second, a lecherous fool of a man appeared out of nowhere. Just as the mad scientist opened his mouth to declare ‘I wish—’ before he could finish with ‘to become ruler of the world,’ that fool shouted at the Divine Dragon: ‘I wish for a beautiful woman’s panties!’ And so the Divine Dragon, bound to honor the wish, granted the fool a pair of panties — still warm, still faintly fragrant, fresh from a beautiful woman who had just worn them. And that — because of that single pair of panties — every person on Earth was saved. That is the true story of how panties saved the world. Ow — wait, don’t hit—”

(End of Chapter)