After settling all the envoys, Henwell heads down to the basement of Blood Hill Manor.

  Newwood is already waiting there, handing Henwell a handshake emblem.

  “This is the badge for your department. With this, you officially become a member. Think of it like your work ID. But once you’re done using it, you have to return it to me. For a short time, your soul can’t carry this item.”

  The emblem slips into Henwell’s hand, then instantly dissolves into a streak of light. A burning sensation spreads across his arm.

  Henwell pulls off his vambrace and rolls up his sleeve, noticing a new tattoo has appeared on his arm—the exact pattern of the emblem.

  Henwell frowns. “This thing’s like the hound tattoo on your arm?”

  Newwood raises his arm, revealing the fierce hound head insignia. “Exactly! But your situation’s a bit special, you can’t carry the work ID for now.”

  Henwell smirks, “Like an undercover cop in a gang. I’m undercover in the mob but actually a cop, so I can’t carry a badge!”

  Newwood pats his shoulder. “Little Henwell, I know you don’t want to accept it. But I have to remind you, you’re not an undercover cop in the mob. You’re not exactly a good guy. Still wanna be a hero? Nope. You’re an undercover gang member inside the police force! Get that out of your head, you’re a big vilin!”

  Henwell ignores Newwood’s nonsense and starts checking his gear again:

  Armor, greatsword, war spear, longbow, arm crossbow, arm shield.

  Poisoned bolts, various toxins, and twenty kilograms of high explosives.

  Plus two small boxes, one filled with all kinds of extraordinary potions, the other packed with every seed he’s managed to collect.

  Newwood looks puzzled, wondering why Henwell insists on bringing those two boxes.

  Henwell expins, “For people like us building up our own power base, quality seeds can change the fate of an entire nation. They might not grow in Lucy’s world, but it’s still a valuable research direction. If even one crop succeeds and boosts grain yield by a hundred jin per mu, that’s a game-changer, worth thousands of soldiers.”

  ”The same goes for potions. I can recklessly test potions on people here, but Lucy’s world has strict moral constraints against rge-scale human trials under the Eastern Dynasty system. If exposed, it’s as bad as outright rebellion. These are carefully selected, extraordinary substances, potions that might work across different worlds. Strengthening the medical system has huge benefits, both for civilians and the military.”

  Newwood gives a thumbs-up. “No wonder they made you the store manager! I’m no good at business. Very few can see the heart of the problem like you do. These basics are the real key to a nation’s development.”

  After confirming everything’s in order, Henwell nods at Newwood. “Alright! Let’s get started.”

  Newwood’s smile fades. “Don’t worry about the trip. Here’s a little insider tip, business trips come with a hefty allowance. The perks? You’ll find out soon enough. But your safety comes first. If things go south, just run.”

  ”While you’re gone, I’ll disguise myself as you to keep Peace Haven stable. But you better finish your mission quickly, you don’t want me marrying off your bride, do you?”

  He extends his right hand. “Be careful out there.”

  Henwell reaches out to shake. “Don’t tarnish my reputation, alright?”

  Newwood yanks his hand away. “Get lost! I’m about to go flirt with some noblewoman using your face!”

  A bck fme rises from Newwood’s arm, slowly forming into the roaring phantom of a hound. The space around them warps, as if the hound is tearing at reality itself.

  Moments ter, a portal over two meters tall appears. Beyond it lies darkness. No, not just darkness. Light entering gets swallowed whole. It’s more like a void.

  Henwell asks, concerned, “Are you sure this is safe? It looks pretty unstable.”

  Sweat beads on Newwood’s forehead. “Cut the crap! I can’t hold this for long. Hurry through!”

  Henwell hesitates, then thrusts his war spear into the void to test it. But Newwood, already trembling, loses patience and kicks Henwell through the portal.

  As Henwell disappears, Newwood quickly cancels the hound portal.

  Newwood exhales deeply and stretches his arms.

  Suddenly, the bck fmes around him fre up again. When they fade, a figure of ‘Henwell’ appears in the basement.

  Unlike the real Henwell, this version—Newwood’s disguise—gives off a sly, mischievous vibe.

  Grinning wickedly, he says, “Time to go flirt with the manor’s young maids!”

  Just as he lifts his foot to leave, over ten golden glowing chains suddenly materialize from thin air, locking Newwood firmly in pce.

  He tugs at the chains, feeling their strength, and rolls his eyes. “Does this guy’s obsession run that deep? So sure I’d use his face to hit on women? Talk about judging a book by its cover!”

  He then studies the chains binding him. “This is the will manifesting itself! Impressive. Does this guy have such a high talent?”

  Abandoning any pns to ruin Henwell’s reputation, the chains gradually vanish.

  This is the power of Henwell’s Armed Civilization, the will of Henwell itself. Anyone within Henwell’s influence must submit to this force.

  This power doesn’t belong to this world but comes from a higher pne of existence.

  Besides the name Armed Civilization, it’s better known as the Will Lock!

  Simirly, Henwell’s Blood Will has a famous name too—the Gene Lock!

  Will Lock represents great perseverance!

  Gene Lock stands for immense courage!

  Henwell possesses both, and as circumstances change, his perseverance grows stronger, his courage more resolute!

  This is one of the main reasons Henwell is gaining recognition from above.

  Whistling, Newwood leaves the basement and heads to the first floor of Blood Hill Manor. When he meets the patrolling Lord Iron Guards, his previously carefree expression vanishes, repced by a commanding and steady demeanor.

  He calls out each guard’s name and chats with them warmly, even nodding and smiling at passing maids.

  No one suspects that this isn’t the real Henwell.

  Newwood then goes to Henwell’s bedroom and closes the door. His first order of business—he happily rummages through the wardrobe, picking out pajamas.

  Meanwhile, Henwell drifts through a corridor shimmering with flowing light, floating in midair.

  The shifting light makes it impossible to tell whether he’s moving forward or backward.

  After an unknown amount of time, Henwell snaps out of his daze as a familiar, sweet voice reaches his ears.

  “Lucy, greets Mr. Henwell!”