Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

East of the Dawn Empire, near the border.

Night fell over this war-torn land.

A few faint lights could be seen in the distance; those were the camps of the Imperial army.

Further away lies a continuous mountain range, its peaks covered in snow that never melts. Beyond these peaks lies the territory of the dwarves.

A great battle had just ended here, and the monster horde retreated like a tide into the depths of the mountains, leaving behind a trail of corpses and ruined fortifications.

Inside a huge underground cave in the mountains.

The air was thick with the stench of decay and blood, mixed with some ancient scent, like a blend of rocks and rotting wood.

There were several cracks in the cave wall, through which moonlight shone in, casting pale spots of light on the ground.

Hundreds of monsters crowded together and roamed around the perimeter of the cave.

They come in all shapes and sizes—some look like humans but crawl on all fours, some have bony spurs on their backs, and a few are particularly large, exceeding two meters in height.

A figure passed through the mindless monsters and headed deeper into the cave.

As they saw the armored figure approaching, they all lowered their heads and made way for him.

Cassian didn't look at them.

He walked along the passageway.

The air grew increasingly stuffy, carrying a smell of decay and rust.

Torches began to appear on both sides of the passage, and after walking a few dozen steps, the view suddenly opened up before us.

This is a naturally formed cave that has been modified by humans. The floor is paved with stone slabs, oil lamps hang on the four walls, and a stone table is placed in the center.

Three people were sitting around the stone table.

The messenger stopped at the cave entrance and dared not go any further.

A tremor that seemed to come from the depths of his soul brought him to an abrupt halt.

He lowered his head, walked quickly to the stone table, and knelt down on one knee.

"grown ups."

The one sitting on the left slightly raised his hand.

It was a very short figure. He sat on a stone bench, his feet barely touching the ground.

He was burly, with broad shoulders and short, strong fingers.

He wore a dark gray robe with a hood that covered most of his face, revealing only a tuft of stone-gray beard braided on his chin.

The envoy dared not look any longer.

"How's the fighting going in the East?"

The sound was deep, like the friction of a stone.

The envoy lowered his head: "The monster horde has retreated to the mountains as planned. The Imperial army suffered approximately four thousand casualties, including about one hundred members of the Purifying Knights. Our side suffered... over a thousand monster casualties, including thirty-seven Shadow Servants."

"That's enough," the one in the middle said.

The messenger froze.

The sound was strange, without any inflection, as if it came from a very distant place.

He couldn't help but want to look up, but as soon as he had the thought, he was stopped by an invisible pressure.

The one in the middle is sitting, his face is indistinct.

It's not that I can't see clearly, it's that even if I do see it, I can't remember it.

It was right in front of me, but when I looked over it, it was like looking through a blank space. I could only vaguely sense that it was a human figure, wearing a dark robe, and the surrounding light seemed to be tilted towards it.

"Step back." The distant voice came again.

"Yes."

Cassian felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He was really uncomfortable being with the "Shadow Guardians," so he quickly got up and slowly retreated.

The depths of the cave fell silent once more.

Cassian's footsteps disappeared at the end of the passage.

The three people sitting around the stone table did not move.

The torchlight cast flickering shadows on the wall, making the silhouette of the short figure appear longer and shorter.

He reached out and picked up the iron box on the table, weighing it in his hand. The dark red patterns on the surface of the iron box pulsated slightly.

"We've secured the Hearthstone family's anchor point," he said. "Even though their bloodline is far from the Bronzebeard Pass in the Dwarven Empire, we've still lost over a thousand men."

He placed the iron box on the table and pushed it toward the indistinct-faced man in the middle.

"Moreover, what should have been obtained three hundred years ago has been delayed until today."

The one in the middle didn't reach out to take it.

He just stared at the iron box, and the surrounding light seemed to shift slightly in his direction.

"What's your assessment of the casualties in the Eastern Frontier?"

The short figure withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair: "Cassian just reported—over a thousand monsters were killed, along with thirty-seven Shadow Servants. On the Empire's side, four thousand died, and about a hundred were killed in the Purifying Knights."

"Useless~" The opening on the right.

The sound was very soft, like the wind blowing through dry leaves, with a rustling texture, yet full of a unique flavor.

She—judging from her voice, she was female—was wrapped in a dark green cloak, the hood covering most of her face.

His exposed chin was grayish-green, with fine textures faintly visible, like the bark of an old tree.

What is most striking is her left hand, resting on the edge of the stone table, with slender, pale fingers, but several thin vines are wrapped around the back of her hand and wrist.

Tiny white flowers, no bigger than grains of rice, bloom at the ends of the vines, swaying slightly in the dim light of the oil lamp.

"They fought a bunch of weak humans and so many of them died. What are they if not trash?" she continued, her voice carrying a nonchalant sarcasm.

"I told you long ago that we shouldn't have completely trusted these beasts; they are utterly incompetent."

The person in the middle, whose face was indistinct, moved slightly, as if adjusting their posture.

"Watch your words, Manra." His voice was hollow and distant: "Don't forget, a thousand years ago, I was also human."

"Heh~ I know, Jesper," Manra replied, her tone still nonchalant.

There was silence for a few seconds around the stone table.

The short figure let out a low chuckle.

He was clearly used to Manra's personality, and simply tapped his stubby fingers lightly on the stone table.

"Jesper, how much longer until we reach the East?"

Jesper, whose face was obscured, did not answer immediately.

His silhouette swayed slightly, as if he were thinking, or as if he were listening to some sound that only he could hear.

"Two months," he finally said. "Maurice is all set. Charles VI... will no longer be an obstacle."

Manra's fingers slid gently along the edge of the stone table, and the vines trembled slightly with her movements, the small white flowers swaying so brightly they made one dizzy.

"That old bastard is finally dead?" Her tone was still as nonchalant as ever: "I told you long ago, what was the point of keeping him around? Humans just love to go through all this trouble."

Jesper ignored her sarcasm.

"After stabilizing the physical connection, the Shadow Envoy will announce the candidate for the next king, namely the fourth prince."

His voice was calm, as if he were announcing something insignificant: "At that time, the capital will be completely under our control."

"The army of the Dawn Empire will also be completely taken over by us."

The short man nodded, his rough fingers gently stroking the iron box.

"What about that kid from the southern border?"

Silence fell again around the stone table.

Manra's fingers stopped moving, and the little white flowers stopped swaying.

Jesper was silent for a few seconds before speaking. His voice was still hollow, but now it carried a hint of seriousness.

"Lynn Cole...is more troublesome than we anticipated."

The short man frowned: "How much trouble could a down-on-his-luck viscount who's been exiled possibly cause?"

"Don't forget, we were the ones who orchestrated his exile."

Jesper said calmly, "But now? He has displayed strength beyond his capabilities and knowledge that no one has ever seen before."

"This is beyond our plans, Barnker. Don't tell me that those cement and fire-breathing iron pipes are products of your dwarf race."

Barnker blew on his beard: "The dwarves don't have these strange things."

A brief silence fell over the cave once again.

Manra tapped her fingers lightly on the stone table, and the vines swayed slightly with her movement.

"Still can't get into the elf area?" Jesper asked.

Manra remained silent for a few seconds, her expression obscured by the shadows of her hood.

"Eternal Song Forest is sealed off," she said. "Those old fogies from the Breath of Nature sect have planted the entire outer perimeter with thorny thickets. The kind blessed by the Mother Goddess, imbued with purifying power. Three groups were sent in, and not a single one came out."

Her voice held a rare seriousness.

"Moreover, the Moonlight family... has completely disappeared."

Barnker looked up, his tan eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Literal meaning," Manra said. "A hundred years ago, their activities could still be traced—Moonshadow Woods, Silvermoon Altar, the High Priest's bloodline. But in the last hundred years, all clues have been lost. They either hid in the deepest sacred grounds within the kingdom, or..."

"Either way, the bloodline has been severed."

Barnker snorted: "Elves have long lifespans, they're not so easy to extinct. Besides, you and I both know that the Anchor Point family will definitely leave its bloodline alive."

"That's not necessarily true." Manra's tone returned to its usual nonchalant sarcasm: "Dwarves live long lives too, and isn't the Hearthheart family down to its last branch?"

Barnker's beard twitched, but he didn't refute.

Jesper's silhouette swayed slightly, as if he were thinking.

"What about the sea creatures?" he asked.

Barnker shook his head: "We can't find them. The Endless Sea is too vast, and the abyss is even deeper. If one out of ten people we send down comes back, that's considered good. Besides, those sea creatures hate land-dwelling races and never give us a chance to make contact."

He tapped his stubby fingers on the stone table.

"Not to mention the dragons. Deep within the Dragonslumber Mountains, the sacred land of the dragons, we don't even know where the entrance is. Even if we find it, you know how formidable those giant lizards are; we'll save that for last."

Manra laughed, a laugh like the wind rustling through dry leaves: "So, of the five anchor points—the dwarves have one, the humans have one in the southern border of the Dawn Empire, the elves are missing, and the sea creatures and dragons are nowhere to be found?"

"More or less," Barnker muttered.

Jesper remained silent for a long time.

"Then let's take down the Dawn Empire first," Jesper said, his voice hollow and calm. "A month later, the Eastern Territory will be breached, and the capital will change hands."

He paused.

"By then, that kid from the South—no matter what secrets he has, or how many strange weapons he has—will just be a rock in the way of our wheels."

He stood up.

The air around them seemed to move.

"One month later, we'll first take over the Eastern Territory, then the capital, and finally—crush that little bug in the Southern Territory."

He looked at the creeping monsters deep inside the cave and at the faint light of fire in the distance.

"It's time to wrap up this thousand-year plan."

Barnker put away the iron box and jumped off the stone bench.

Manra pulled her cloak tighter, and the vines tucked back into her sleeves.

The three figures disappeared in different directions deep within the cave.