Novels by Bader

Before Caelum had even reached the threshold of Silk Robe Alley, the sheer magnitude of the wedding of the Wei Dynasty’s Third Rank Scholar began to weigh upon the very air of the city. Starting from the bustling Kangning Street, the entire northern sector of the Shuzhou provincial capital was transformed into a vibrant theater of celebration. The rhythmic thundering of gongs and drums echoed through the narrow corridors of the city, punctuated by the sharp, staccato explosions of firecrackers that left a hazy, celebratory mist hanging over the cobblestones.Every storefront and residence along the route was draped in festive lanterns and colorful ribbons, each adorned with the crimson character for "Double Happiness." Young men and women of high standing, dressed in flowing red robes and elegant skirts, moved through the crowds with radiant smiles, distributing candies, traditional cakes, and small tokens of good fortune to every passerby."The wedding of the Third Rank Scholar, Alar

While Caelum was enjoying a peaceful and undisturbed slumber within his private chambers at the Residential Villa, savoring the profound tranquility that precedes a grand storm of social engagements, his older brother, Sylvan, was enduring an entirely different and far more jarring experience. It was not the kind of beginning any man would wish for when facing a day as pivotal as the wedding of the young and celebrated scholar, Alaric.The first rays of dawn had not yet dared to pierce the horizon when Sylvia, Sylvan’s personal maid, burst into his room with a sense of duty that bordered on the militant. She did not bother with soft whispers or gentle nudges. Instead, without a single shred of mercy, she took a heavy towel that had been soaking in a basin of ice-cold water until it was saturated to its very core, and slammed it directly onto Sylvan’s face.Sylvan jolted upright as if struck by a sudden bolt of lightning, his breath hitching in his throat as the shock of the cold seize

In truth, Caelum had no desire to exert himself more than necessary, let alone plunge into the murky waters of political and business intrigue. His natural inclination leaned toward a life of quiet observation, a peaceful existence where the world’s troubles remained at a comfortable distance. However, the current precarious state of the Shau family left him with little choice but to begin laying the groundwork for a more stable future. He needed to be prepared, not just for the family's sake, but for his own survival in a city that was becoming increasingly hostile.The establishment of the "Hundred Herb Hall" was the first pillar of his strategy, a hidden reserve intended to safeguard their interests. The second pillar was himself—his own skills and influence, which he needed to cultivate with more urgency than he cared to admit."When did a son-in-law ever have to rely on his own hard work like this?" Caelum thought to himself, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "At t

As Caelum had predicted with his usual calm foresight, the opening of the Spirit Orchid Pavilion changed the landscape of Silverstream’s medical trade almost overnight. Within just three days, the new establishment had successfully managed to divert more than half of the patients within a three-mile radius of the Eastern Market. It was a strategic masterstroke; not only were their medicinal herbs priced significantly lower than anyone else's, but they also boasted the presence of renowned physicians whose names carried weight among the sickly and the elderly. This combination proved irresistible to the public, drawing in waves of people who had suffered from chronic ailments for years, all hoping for a miracle at a bargain price.During these tumultuous days, Caelum had several opportunities to observe the man behind the counter—the manager of the Spirit Orchid Pavilion. He was a middle-aged man with a pale, beardless face named Silas. Contrary to what his name might suggest, Silas wa

The province of Silverstream appeared to settle into a state of deceptive tranquility over the following days, a stillness that felt more like a held breath than true peace. To an outside observer, the bustling markets and crowded streets suggested that life was continuing as usual, yet beneath this mask of normalcy, a dark undercurrent of tension was beginning to stir. The news regarding the theft of the Shau family’s massive medicinal shipment had spread like wildfire, carried by the frantic whispers of travelers and merchants who had witnessed the grim aftermath at the mountain inn. Public opinion was sharply divided into distinct camps, fueling a climate of uncertainty and fear. The members of the martial arts community were convinced that the stolen crates held legendary artifacts or ancient spiritual herbs, far beyond the monetary value of common medicine. Some went as far as to claim that a mythical ginseng root, intended to save the ailing Old Marquis of the Shau family, had b

The aftermath of a summer rain often brought a stifling heat that felt as though the downpour had never occurred at all. From the moment the sun crested the horizon, the rising steam carried a warm, muggy dampness that clung to the skin, creating an atmosphere that was both oppressive and irritating. It was the kind of weather that made one feel restless, yet there was an old saying that a calm mind brings its own coolness. Within the pavilion of the Shau estate, Caelum, Duke Zhang, and Mr. Sun remained composed, their temperaments as steady as ancient mountains. In stark contrast, Butterfly was bustling about, her twin hair buns bobbing back and forth as she tended to their needs. Despite the heat and the visible beads of sweat on her forehead, she moved with a diligent rhythm. By noon, when the sun reached its zenith and its rays were at their most piercing, Duke Zhang and Mr. Sun finally felt the weight of fatigue. They prepared to depart for a brief afternoon respite. Before leav

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking softly under my weight, as I studied the woman standing before me. Captain Mareona held herself with a rigid, military poise, yet there was a flicker of something familiar in the set of her jaw and the sharp, attentive light in her eyes. It took a moment for my mind to sift through the memories of the past six years, back to the early days when my grandmother had sent a contingent of four hundred soldiers to ensure my survival in this desolate state."You look remarkably like Captain Ela," I said, my voice cutting through the silence of the office. "Tell me, what is your connection to her? Are you perhaps her mother? Or given the lines of experience on your face, perhaps her grandmother?"The mask of military stoicism on Mareona’s face shattered instantly. A vein throbbed visibly on her temple, and her eyes flared with a sudden, indignant fire. "I am her younger sister!" she barked, her professional composure momentarily eclipsed by pure

To the common observer, four years is a period of slow, rhythmic change. But within the borders of the Secluded State, these years were a whirlwind of divine intervention and industrial revolution. I had long ago realized that borrowed strength was a deceptive comfort; a sword lent by another can be reclaimed, but the strength forged in one’s own meridians is the only true sovereignty. Thus, while the world moved on, I anchored myself within the heart of the Spiritual Land, a sanctuary that had transitioned from a hidden valley into a fortress of unparalleled sophistication.Under my directives, the transition was surgical. I had tasked Elder 1 and Elder 5 with a monumental architectural feat: the creation of a base that would serve as both a sanctuary and a laboratory. I demanded that the true heart of our power—the scientific facilities—be buried deep underground, hidden from the prying eyes of heaven and earth alike. I wanted a self-sustaining ecosystem protected by a multi-layered

The atmosphere within the governor’s grand office was thick with a tension that felt almost physical. Three days had passed since the silver and white mists of the system’s summoning had receded, and the reality of my new cabinet was beginning to set in. I sat behind the massive mahogany desk, my fingers steepled, watching the silent play of power across the room. Across from me sat the "Three Legends"—Lynch, Nel, and Holt—their faces etched with the fatigue of two years of relentless labor. Next to them stood the three scholars I had chosen to remain in the city: Elder 2, the stoic elven mistress of agriculture; Elder 4, the calculating human master of economics; and Elder 5, the dwarven architect whose eyes seemed to constantly measure the structural integrity of the walls.The silence was broken by Old Nel, who, true to his lecherous nature, was staring at Elder 2 with a look of undisguised, pathetic longing. His eyes wandered over the elegant curve of her elven ears and the poised

The shattering of the talent stone had left a ringing silence in the clearing, broken only by the heavy breathing of the three legendary nobles. Old Holt looked at the sparkling obsidian dust at his feet, his eyes wide and shimmering with a mixture of reverence and absolute shock. He looked at me as if he were staring at a god descended from the heavens. I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you, My Lord! he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. But this... this is beyond anything recorded in the annals of history. You possess the greatest talent that has ever graced the Vermilion Empire!Old Nel, ever the one to boast once his fear had subsided into pride, puffed out his chest and looked at the others with a triumphant smirk. Hmph! Forget the empire! Nel shouted, gesturing wildly. He has the greatest talent in the entire world! Even those pampered prodigies from the Central Continent, who think they are the darlings of the heavens, aren't fit to carry our Lord’

The passage of time is a fickle thing; to the idle, it is a slow decay, but to those with a kingdom to build, it is a fleeting currency. Two years had bled into the tapestry of history since I first stood upon the broken gates of the Secluded City. Now, as I sat perched upon a thick, gnarled branch of an ancient oak tree that guarded the perimeter of my estate, I looked out over a landscape that had been utterly transformed. The air no longer carried the stagnant scent of fear and poverty that the Lamonia family had cultivated like a toxic crop. Instead, it was filled with the vibrant, chaotic hum of a burgeoning metropolis.I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sensory data wash over me. I could hear the rhythmic clanging of hammers from the newly established industrial district, the distant shouting of merchants in the central square, and the steady marching of boots that signaled the changing of the guard. The Secluded State had undergone a metamorphosis that defied every law

The stench of the dungeon lingered in my nostrils as I ascended the stone stairs, the silence of the underground replaced by the chaotic symphony of a city in the throes of a violent rebirth. Veldora followed a step behind me, his expression unreadable, while Kurma trotted at my side, occasionally licking his chops with a disturbing sense of satisfaction.I had missed it. The grand spectacle of the siege, the clashing of steel on the battlements, the dramatic fall of a corrupt regime—all of it had happened while I was stuck in a damp cellar watching two divine beasts have a snack. I looked at Veldora with a flash of genuine disappointment.Are you happy now? I muttered, my voice echoing in the narrow corridor. I missed the entire show. My first real battle, and I spent it listening to those two screaming for mercy. Now, all I see is a massive game of hide-and-seek played by an entire city.Veldora offered a small, apologetic bow. My Lord, the quality of a meal is often determined by t