"Jandener lost?" The parchment slipped silently from Ou Fuwei'er's hand, and he caught it with a swift motion. He looked up, revealing an expression of surprise.

Princess Griffith listened to this news without batting an eyelid.

The result of a major battle in the Southern Territory was not immediately known; Jandener's army was defeated, causing shockwaves. The Alliance suffered minimal losses; most personnel fled, swept away by the panicked mountain people, while Grizzly Bear Territory's forces remained unharmed. The actual losses were merely the few thousand noble soldiers of Grus and Pallas, yet the deaths of Pallas, Weide, and Sir Grus created a buzz throughout the Southern Territory.

Numerous nobles and two lords, one being a close house servant of Count Rangdenier, perished in a single battle. As a result, the power of Tonyger and the northern regions was utterly depleted, leaving Jandener incapable of gathering an army to attack Lengshan Domain.

Unless he leads the army himself, but that's impossible. What lord doesn't have enemies? Count Rangdenier must constantly guard against his foes seizing this opportunity, especially now that everyone thinks his tiger has lost its teeth, and even his internal affairs begin to stir.

Thus, although Rangdenier hates Brand enough to gnash his teeth, he must first resolve his own issues before making a move. By the time he can make a move, Brand feels he will have nothing to fear from him. His original goal, at this moment, could be said to be half achieved.

By the end of the Winter Zither Moon, with the onset of February's blossoms and the thawing of the Earth, all of Erune was abuzz discussing the great battle. However, Tonyger remained calm, with few in its domain discussing the war.

Lengshan Domain also paid a heavy price in the war, especially the mercenaries tasked with holding back Jandener's army, losing more than half their numbers. Some veterans of the November War, who never bowed to its brutality, now lie at eternal rest by the banks of the Griss River, their graveyard as serene as a poem within a pine forest.

Yet the shadows of war were soon washed away by the green shoots sprouting from the freshly thawed fields. After a long winter, Vorn was alive again, and people incredulously realized—they had actually won.

"We won just like that, and I didn't even make it to the battlefield," Caglis remarked, sitting unceremoniously on a bench, hands behind his head, watching Dwarf Odem and Erune Royal Family's Forging Master Bai Lu fussing over a heap of scrap metal—which, to him, was indeed nothing more than scrap metal—just some raggedy old swords.

The most direct gain from this great battle was the discarded burdens and armor weapons of the noble armies, which were exactly what Lengshan Domain lacked the most. Bai Lu estimated that once reforged, they could fully equip an army of three to four thousand. This reminded Brand of the heaps of random items in his Dimension Hole, relics collected from the ruins within the Trade Wind Ring, so he dumped them all out, nearly cluttering Bai Lu's blacksmith shop.

Bai Lu, of course, was furious, kicking him and Caglis—since the training task for the first batch of White Lion Legion officers had temporarily concluded, the freed-up Caglis had almost taken over Qian's role as the Guard Captain, following him around all day—out of the house.

But moments later, the Kingdom's Forging Master happily emerged, eyes gleaming, grasping Brand's hand and asking, "Lord, where did you get those weapons? Surely you haven't raided some Empire's supply warehouse, right?"

Brand, irritated, shook off his hand, "Do you think Empire's supply warehouses are like public toilets, where you can come and go as you please? Besides, even public toilets charge for entry and exit."

"Isn't it because you're the Lord?" the old man chuckled, "Outside, everyone says there's nothing the Lord sets his mind to that can't be done. See, now others call you 'Miracle-creating Bran,'" he said with a smile, "But, by the way, what exactly is a public toilet?"

Brand frowned deeply, wondering who gave him such a tacky title. 'Miracle-creating Bran' sounded like the name of a protagonist in some third-rate knight novel. He had thought there'd at least be a title like 'Wolf Shepherd' or something.