Chapter 186: Second Stop of Revenge

**Chapter 186: Revenge – Second Stop**

The Evergreen Empire was an advanced civilization—even if it had only recently joined their ranks. But an advanced civilization was still an advanced civilization, worlds apart from intermediate ones.

While their neighbors were still stuck at intermediate or even primitive levels, they had already ascended to the advanced tier.

The people of the Evergreen Empire were proud as peacocks.

As for the major live broadcast incident during the empire’s hit reality show over a century ago, the citizens had long written it off as no big deal.

Occasionally, when someone brought it up, they’d shrug it off: “So what if they picked the wrong planet? Thought they’d be easy to mess with for some laughs—and got busted. Big deal.”

“They don’t even know where we are or who their enemy is. There’s no way they could come after us.”

“Besides, even if they did know our coordinates—what are they gonna do?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’re an advanced civilization now!”

“What could a mere intermediate-tech civilization possibly do to us?”

“Not to mention, that show got reported and taken down completely. We already paid for it…”

The Evergreen Empire lived for entertainment—especially since intelligent robots handled so many tasks, leaving people’s lives feeling like the same old, same old. This made them hooked on wild shows, always chasing new thrills.

That’s just how things were.

Back then, that variety show was the hottest thing around in the empire. If not for the on-air disaster, it might still be going strong today.

Hell, on the black market, past recordings of its live broadcasts were going for a fortune—and the prices kept rising.

Still, plenty of people secretly bought and watched them.

After the empire’s successful ascension, some even started petitions on the star-net, openly urging others to join calls for the ban to be lifted so the show could return.

Word was, the empire was already caving.

At first, though, when the System Bird sent out by the show for intergalactic broadcasting was discovered and immediately destroyed by that intermediate-tech planet, the empire had been in full panic mode.

Citizens were terrified, and the imperial government didn’t waste time—they banned the show outright and hit the producers with massive fines, nearly bankrupting the show’s backer.

For a long time, the entire Evergreen Empire was tense and anxious.

Even though they knew the System Bird carried no traceable coordinates, and that as a live-broadcast tool, it had been obliterated on impact—likely leaving not a single scrap behind—they still couldn’t help but wonder: *But what if they did find something?*

There were differences even among intermediate-tech civilizations.

A newly promoted one, a seasoned intermediate civilization, and a heavyweight on the verge of advancing to advanced status—those weren’t the same thing.

What if this civilization had better tech, managed to recover some damaged chips from the wreckage, and used those scraps to track us down?

Especially since, during the live feed, it became clear that the planet wasn’t just an intermediate-tech world. The captain of the defense team who destroyed the System Bird could control plants, insects, and animals.

That planet might very well be a high-tier awakened world.

The thought that the show had treated such a powerful civilization like a primitive joke made folks curse up a storm.

They'd do anything for views, yet botched the most critical preliminary research.

They ended up provoking a powerful enemy for the Empire.

For a long time, the people of the Evergreen Empire lived in constant dread—unable to escape their fear.

But no matter how frightened they were, as time passed, they found everything remained calm. The retaliation they’d imagined—the enemy coming to settle the score—never happened.

So gradually, they let their guard down.

Then, when the Empire successfully ascended, rising from an intermediate civilization to an advanced one,

everyone stopped worrying about it entirely.

Even if they were an intermediate tech civilization enhanced by psychic abilities, what chance did they stand against an advanced civilization?

The people went back to their happy lives.

When the fleet from Azure Star surrounded them, the Evergreen Empire had no clue what was going on at first.

It never even crossed their minds that this was fallout from that reality show catching up to them. Their first thought: Who the hell are these clowns? What idiotic militia dares to mess with us?

Don’t they know we’re an advanced civilization now?

Like some flying scrap-heap army could possibly threaten our warships?

Wait—could it be they were tricked by someone and don’t even know we’ve ascended? Maybe they still think we're an easy target?

Otherwise, there's no explaining this madness.

If that’s the case, while we feel bad for their misfortune, they’ll still have to pay the price.

Besides, since becoming an advanced civilization, the Evergreen Empire hasn’t made an example of anyone yet.

This is the perfect chance to throw our weight around.

And since they practically walked right into our hands, might as well take it—every little bit counts!

So when they saw their planet surrounded by an unknown fleet, the Evergreen Empire wasn’t worried about war—they thought: Bring it on!

On their way here, Azure Star had dug through the StarNet for info on the Evergreen Empire.

Unlike the under-the-radar status of Azure Star, the Evergreen Empire had a huge online presence.

There was plenty of intel available, and before arriving, Azure Star had already gotten the gist of the Empire’s current state.

Seeing how quickly they’d forgotten all about it, everyone was furious at first.

Just as they were fuming and ready to fight, vowing revenge and swearing to make them pay,

Sheng Qingquan calmly said, “The best time for revenge is now—when your enemies have moved on like nothing ever happened[1].”

Holy shit, he’s right!

Isn’t the Evergreen Empire’s situation spot-on for this?

Suddenly, instead of anger, everyone broke into grins, elbowing each other and trading shit-eating looks.

“Guess we should go all out then—give them the shock of their lives!”

"Too bad no one's on the verge of a breakthrough, otherwise it'd be hilarious to send the Evergreen Empire another lightning tribulation like last time."

"But honestly, no tribulation works too. Otherwise this trip would've been pointless. We came all this way—we gotta make our mark! Always being bystanders gets old fast."

...

After surrounding the Evergreen Empire with their fleet, the Azure Starians once again had the Lion Demon let loose with his roar.

Only after clearly hearing what the opposing fleet was shouting did the Evergreen Empire folks have an "aha" moment—"Oh right! It’s that mid-tier tech civilization coming to settle the score!"

Who knew they’d actually show up?

Too bad they were late. If they’d come just over a hundred years earlier, we might’ve actually broken a sweat.

But now? The Evergreen commander mused from on high: A gimme military victory—who should I send to grab this glory handout?

The emperor’s third prince or the prime minister’s eldest daughter?

Such a tough call!

"...This is an invasion against Azure Starians, therefore, Azure Starians..."

The other side kept blathering on, and the commander was getting seriously annoyed.

Whatever—tell ’em both to tag-team it.

Can’t have either side feeling slighted.

The commander barked the order. Before the Azure Starians could even move, the Evergreen Empire jumped the gun with an attack.

The third prince and the prime minister’s eldest daughter each led a unit into battle, amped up, practically vibrating with excitement.

Time to make their bones—their first step onto the political stage!

Especially with that pain-in-the-ass rival watching. No way were they letting the other guy take first blood.

"Now we're talking!"

"Game on, game on!" The Azure Starians were even more hyped than the Evergreen forces.

As soon as the warship doors opened, the cultivators burst out like caged beasts set free.

And there was also a literal tiger. The Tiger Demon had been fuming—he hadn’t gotten to do anything yet, while his old nemesis, the Lion Demon, already notched wins with every roar.

Wasn’t a tiger’s roar just as loud? Why him and not me? The Tiger did the whole confused head-tilt thing.

Good thing he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

The Tiger Demon went full send, charging straight at the Evergreen army and roaring with everything he had.

Full alpha predator dominance packed behind that roar, slamming into them like a freight train.

"How come our mechs can't block this sonic attack? We’re in armor—why are we still affected?"

"Sh*t, my body won’t listen anymore. Everything’s numb—I can’t move!"

"That tiger just roared—since when do regular tigers pack this kind of punch?"

...

The mechas plummeted like a meteor shower.

This was completely different from what they had imagined. Weren't the enemies supposed to be easy prey, crushed effortlessly before they returned in glory to receive praise from all quarters?

The soldiers of the Evergreen Empire began to panic. Even more panicked were the Third Prince and the Grand Chancellor’s daughter, who were leading troops into battle for the first time.

Fortunately, the commander had been thorough in his arrangements. To ensure a smooth path for the two to earn their merits and secure this favor, he had assigned them capable deputies.

Thus, under the deputies’ reminders, both the Third Prince and the Grand Chancellor’s daughter promptly issued orders: "Cease manual operations—switch to mental energy control immediately."

The mechas, which had been falling uncontrollably, quickly stabilized and soared back up.

A small setback, but no worries—we still hold the upper hand!

That was what the Evergreen Empire’s forces thought.

But on the Azure Star faction’s side, seeing the tiger-type demon strike first, the others refused to fall behind.

Each unleashed their own signature moves.

A plant-type demon summoned endless vines; a fish-type demon flicked its tail, summoning a massive tidal wave. Shi Buju couldn’t be bothered with incantations—she simply shifted back to her original form, a colossal boulder careening wildly through enemy lines, crushing countless mechas, combat robots, and even warships...

While the monster cultivators shone, the humans were no less impressive.

One raised a hand, releasing a cloud of colorful mist—upon closer inspection, it wasn’t mist at all, but a seething mass of brightly colored insects. The insects devoured everything in their path, even high-grade mechas.

Another boldly hurled toxic pellets—each one, upon contact, spread rapidly, melting mechas, combat robots, and warships into bubbling sludge.

Some wielded swords to unleash a thousand strikes, while others struck with a barrage of fist projections.

There were even those who frantically flung coins.

Not funeral money—they weren’t prematurely mourning their enemies.

These were hard cash from Azure Star.

Long ago, it had been discovered that using banknotes as talisman paper boosted the talismans’ potency.

Though Azure Star’s laws still forbade defacing or altering paper currency, talisman crafting was an exception—legally exempt.

Thus, most talisman cultivators had switched to this method.

This discovery opened floodgates of creativity. Formation masters soon realized that using currency for arrays worked just as well!

And it wasn’t limited to paper money—one-yuan coins, half-yuan pieces, or even the long-outdated one-cent coins were all viable. They proved far more effective than laboriously collected array materials.

The larger the denomination and the longer the currency had circulated, the more potent the array.

It was, quite literally, money on fire.

Some even discovered that using savings cards yielded even more astonishing results. As long as the card held enough funds, they could deploy higher-tier arrays.

The only catch? Being prepared to emerge penniless once the array was complete.

Inspired by the formation masters, talisman cultivators unlocked a new realm. They found that the more money they burned, the greater the talisman’s power.

Banknotes worked well, but high-value bankbooks worked even better.

Even sword cultivators, recalling the "Five Emperors Coins" often mentioned in novels—usually an exorcist’s tool—thought, *Who says we can’t wield them too?*

Five Emperors coins are hard to find, but the country issues new ones every year!

Sheng Qingquan glanced around. Right now, there were already seven or eight people at the venue wielding various spell swords made from coins. Even a wealthy showoff had fanned out a row of debit cards like swords.

Even he himself hadn’t crafted such a weapon, but he had to admit—coin-based divination worked like a charm. That’s exactly how they plotted the star chart for this trip!

Besides magical attacks, those piloting warships often couldn't resist sneaking in potshots at the enemy.

In short, every attack from Tianlanxing mowed down enemy troops by the thousands.

To insiders, this was war; to outsiders, it looked like a game launch where slow players missed out on kills.

The Evergreen Empire quickly realized the battle was one-sided—they got one look at the enemy before their forces were erased. Some didn’t even have time to drop dead—no bodies left to bury.

Wiped out. Every last one. Even the reinforcements met the same fate.

The Evergreen Empire’s commander tried sending troops to rescue the Third Prince and the Eldest Princess. Not only did they fail to retrieve them, the entire rescue squad was obliterated too.

They’d meant to score points, but instead ended up offending the two most powerful factions in the empire.

But the commander gave a bitter smile. “Offending them hardly matters now.”

The Evergreen Empire got steamrolled, and as commander, he’d be thrown under the bus.

He had hoped Tianlanxing might spare the Third Prince and the Eldest Princess, using them as bargaining chips. As long as they lived, maybe the Prime Minister and the royal family would protect him—even if it meant court-martial or prison, at least he’d survive.

But now, recalling how the Third Prince and the Eldest Princess took the brunt of the fire...

Neither lasted long enough for help to reach them. They were dead beyond recognition—not even mech scraps remained.

The commander had accepted death, so he was numb to it now. But the rest of the Evergreen Empire—from the royal family to commoners—weren’t ready.

Everyone was terrified.

They couldn’t fathom how their "advanced" empire folded so fast.

All hell broke loose.

"It's all that variety show’s fault! After it was canceled, nothing happened—meaning they were willing to let it go. But then some geniuses had to revive it!"

"They must’ve caught wind of it, thought we hadn’t learned our lesson, and came to smack us down hard!"

Supporters of rebooting the show were roughed up by angry crowds. Some even stormed the Prime Minister’s residence and imperial palace.

"If experienced generals led the mission instead of the Third Prince and Eldest Princess—just there for clout—they might still have lost, but not so catastrophically."

Families of fallen soldiers mourned their children, conveniently forgetting they once sat glued to the livestream, hyped and eating it up.

Who blames themselves?

So of course, it was the production team’s fault. The viewers’ fault. The Prime Minister’s fault. The royal family’s fault!

Others were just scared stiff thinking about the whole army getting obliterated.

Without the protection of the military, you can imagine what would happen to these people.

The fear of death gripped them tightly, leaving them trembling with dread and boiling with rage at their useless superiors.

The hated leaders? They were freaking out even more.

The Prime Minister and the Emperor of the Empire couldn't even spare a thought for their own kids—their first move was to request frontline communications.

Ditching their usual cocky attitude, they were practically groveling now.

The two who couldn’t be bothered to show up before now didn’t dare let the commander relay their words. Instead, they begged for a direct line to Tianlanxing.

The moment the communication connected, both the Emperor and the Prime Minister let out the breath they'd been holding.

As long as the other side was willing to talk, there was still a chance to work things out.

They didn’t dare demand accountability for the army’s deaths. Even though losing these forces would leave the Empire wide open—making them sitting ducks for space pirates or other civilizations posing as pirates—they just needed to get through this immediate crisis alive.

"We’re willing to hand over everyone involved in the program and shut down all such broadcasts for good—not ever again."

"We’ve realized what arrogant, clueless assholes we’ve been."

"We’re grateful you came all this way to school us."

"As compensation, we’re prepared to offer the following."

Fearing impatience from the other side, the Prime Minister hastily listed a series of reparations—starting with the cession of ten high-grade resource planets and a mind-blowing 100 trillion credits.

"Wow, big-league civilizations really go all out," someone on Tianlanxing’s side whispered to a comrade.

When the other side remained silent, the Prime Minister panicked, assuming the offer wasn’t enough.

Through clenched teeth, he threw in another 50 trillion credits.

High-grade planets were too precious to part with, but fearing further provocation, he reluctantly tossed in a bunch of mid-tier and crap planets too.

Still met with silence, he knew looking too desperate would screw the Empire—but at this point, they had to bend the knee.

What else could they do?

They couldn’t let the whole damn Empire go down!

Back when these types of broadcasts first took off, smart people had warned that exploiting lower-level civilizations was immoral and asking for trouble.

But blinded by dollar signs, the Empire not only allowed it—they secretly pushed it forward.

Now, the Emperor and Prime Minister wished they could slap their past selves silly.

Why hadn’t they listened to the wise advice? Why?!

If they had listened back then, the Empire wouldn’t be in this deep shit.

But no use crying over spilled milk. Swallowing his pride, the Emperor finally spoke again:

"On top of the compensation, as our way of saying thanks for Tianlanxing’s enlightenment—which stopped our Empire from sinking further—I, on behalf of the Evergreen Empire and its royal family, also wish to present a gift to the great nation of Tianlanxing."

"Your country must have heard that the reason the Evergreen Royal Family has been able to endure through generations—regardless of each emperor's abilities—is because they possess a sacred treasure."

"We have the Evergreen Ore catalyst. Burying just a small piece of it will, over several decades, gradually transform ordinary soil and rock at that location into Evergreen Ore."

Evergreen Ore is one of the high-grade energy sources and extremely valuable.

This is also why the Evergreen Empire was able to rise to advanced civilization status so quickly.

For an empire like Evergreen, which only recently left intermediate civilization status, the reason it could offer far more resource planets than Akor Star is now obvious.

It was all bought with money.

"We are willing to give up most of the catalyst as a token of gratitude."

"There are currently only three kilograms remaining. The royal family is willing to give your country two kilograms free of charge."

That does seem generous and sincere, but Azure Star still isn’t budging.

Seeing this, the emperor realizes his little game is probably up and dares not try anything else.

The emperor slumps and admits, "I phrased that wrong. What I meant was, our nation is willing to provide your country with two kilograms of Evergreen Ore catalyst every ten years—for two hundred years."

"The production of the catalyst is extremely difficult, requiring a special bloodline and techniques. Only our royal family can produce it."

"And even within the royal family, only the reigning emperor can do so. That’s why output is very low. The royal family can barely scrape together two kilograms every ten years."

"At times, it’s barely over one kilogram. To guarantee a full two kilograms every ten years for your country, we’re even raiding our stockpile."

It seems there really is nothing left to milk from them.

Seeing this, Azure Star’s reps finally crack a smile.

"We see your country’s sincerity. But we can still talk about the details."

Now that they had finally convinced Azure Star, even though he knew the other side would drive a hard bargain, did the emperor dare refuse to negotiate?

After half a month of talks, Azure Star made slight adjustments to the quantities and walked away loaded.