The Brant Empire, capital city Hershalem.

Inside the long hall of the National Assembly, members of parliament conversed in hushed tones, their faces etched with a mixture of tension, doubt, and curiosity.

The light was dim, as if only black, white, and the dust motes dancing in the light were visible.

The atmosphere of tension in the assembly hall reached its peak when the new Prime Minister entered.

His figure appeared firm and decisive, dressed in a formal black suit, impeccable in every detail. He walked through the crowd towards the podium, each step appearing heavy and full of meaning.

As he stood on the podium, a low murmur rippled through the hall.

Prime Minister Wilford looked around, took a deep breath, and began his speech.

His voice was firm and powerful, filled with passion and determination. He spoke of the challenges facing the Brant Empire, his stance, and his belief in the future. It was not only a statement of the current situation but also an encouragement to the nation.

Reporters diligently recorded his words, while the members of parliament reacted to his speech in various ways, some appearing surprised, others remaining skeptical.

As a conservative, he was now displaying a relatively radical attitude, which clearly made it difficult for everyone to understand his position.

However, undeniably, the new Prime Minister demonstrated an extraordinary aura of composure in this critical moment.

His speech was not only a statement to the congress but also a declaration to the entire Brant Empire and even the world.

"Victory, we want victory."

"Victory at all costs."

"Victory, no matter how terrible. Victory, no matter how long the road ahead."

"Because without victory, there is no survival!"

This was his first national address since taking office.

Ranch's voice was impassioned.

But it did little to move the conservatives.

It even made conservative members wonder why Ranch Wilford had abandoned them after taking office.

Most of the seats in the entire National Assembly Hall were terrifyingly silent.

They occasionally looked towards Duke Moretti, the true power holder and leader of the conservatives. Only when he took out the handkerchief representing approval from his breast pocket would others follow suit. This was something that Ranch Wilford, the new Prime Minister, could hardly change.

Soon, with the end of the Prime Minister's inaugural speech, the crowd began to disperse.

Those who were to leave left, and those who were to continue the meeting went to the Senate meeting hall on another floor of the building.

Walking through a series of corridors, Ranch bid farewell to many people and arrived at a small, rustic conference room with dark wooden paneling.

The ceiling was very low, making it feel suffocating.

The heavy curtains made the space feel even more traditional and weighed down by authority. A long conference table occupied the center of the room, with neatly arranged documents and pens on top.

Ranch sat at one end of the conference table, his posture dignified and firm, his hair neatly combed, but his eyes revealed a hint of fatigue.

He looked like he hadn't rested much in the past two days, working against the clock.

So Ranch closed his eyes for a moment to rest his mind.

Before long, Duke Moretti and his followers arrived at the conference room, accompanied by a series of footsteps.

Duke Moretti appeared even more steady and relaxed, wearing a well-tailored dark coat, chatting and laughing softly with the people around him. Compared to the other conservatives who cast doubtful and complex glances at Ranch as soon as they entered, Duke Moretti did not seem to harbor much hostility.

Finally.

"Mr. Wilford, I think we have been waiting for you for a long time, and everyone's time is precious,"

Duke Moretti said to Ranch across the table, leaning back in his chair.

The atmosphere in the room became a little tense, and the other members did not dare to speak.

No one was sure whether Duke Moretti's current calmness was a cover for hidden malice. The conservatives only knew that the Duke had remained expressionless when he heard Ranch's speech in the assembly hall earlier, never once reaching for the handkerchief representing approval.

"I apologize, but my position was made quite clear in my speech this morning. This meeting itself is a waste of everyone's time."

Ranch opened his eyes, looked directly at the other man, and replied.

"Prime Minister..."

Duke Moretti chuckled softly, seemingly not minding the domineering attitude displayed by the new Prime Minister even before he had firmly established himself.

"The military strength of the Horning Empire is superior to ours in all aspects, and they also have the support of the Blood Clan. Once the neighboring Kingdom of Bliss falls, we will have to fight with all our strength."

Duke Moretti leaned forward slightly and said to Ranch and everyone else in the room.

"I think the next month is the last chance we have to strive for peace talks."

He reminded Ranch in a low voice.

It also seemed to carry a hint of warning.

This was the main purpose of today's meeting.

As the Foreign Minister, he understood the latest situation far better than Ranch.

"We must never be so frightened that we lose our nerve before they even attack."

Ranch replied calmly.

His eyes did not show the slightest retreat.

The conference room immediately fell into a terrifying silence. No one responded to Ranch's words, which once again made his position clear. Instead, they looked at Duke Moretti.

"Prime Minister, I have reservations about this."

Duke Moretti continued.

"Who doesn't have reservations?"

Ranch raised an eyebrow.

"I think your ideas will cause many unnecessary sacrifices. There are other options."

Duke Moretti smiled, not caring about the stubbornness Ranch had shown earlier.

"What other options are there?"

There was no interrogative tone to Ranch's question, as if he was skeptical of Duke Moretti's answer in advance.

"I will ask the diplomatic ambassador of the Pruno Empire in the south to help us seek negotiation opportunities with the Horning Empire. As long as we can guarantee the freedom and independence of the Brant Empire, we will consider all proposals and avoid this unnecessary war with the Horning Empire."

Duke Moretti replied.

"Because doing so is also beneficial to them. They also have no need to pursue mutually assured destruction with us."

He added.

The eyes of most people followed Duke Moretti and looked at Ranch.

Since ancient times, the Horning Empire, as the overlord of the south, had never had the possibility of fighting against the Brant Empire in the northern continent. The two countries had no hereditary enemies. Now that the war had spread all the way north, it was unexpected for the upper echelons of the Brant Empire. Naturally, they hoped to avoid fighting if possible.

"Do you know who our real enemy is?"

Ranch asked without hesitation.

"Obviously, it's the Horning Empire, and the Blood Clan."

Duke Moretti's bland words seemed to suggest that Ranch had asked a meaningless question.

"Have you ever considered that the real enemy is the Blood Clan, not just the Horning Empire? The Blood Clan's ambitions have been known to everyone since ancient times, and now they are advancing triumphantly. Do you really think that these superior beings who feed on us humans will give us freedom and independence?"

Ranch tapped his fingers on the table, the sound echoing in the room, his attitude particularly firm.

This caused a few members of the council in the conference room to look sideways.

There was indeed a rumor called "The Blood Clan has completely controlled the Horning Empire."

Although the figure of the Blood Clan had emerged in the Horning Empire during this war.

However, the claim that "the Blood Clan completely controls the Horning Empire" was not necessarily true, and there was still no evidence to substantiate it.

The key was whether the dominator of the Horning Empire now was the Blood Clan or humans.

If their true enemy in the Brant Empire was not the joint army of humans and the Blood Clan, but the Blood Clan completely, then it was indeed a very terrible thing. Regardless of whether they negotiated peace or not, the ultimate goal of the Blood Clan was probably to raise humans like livestock.

But the councilors did not understand why the Prime Minister was so stubbornly willing to believe this terrifying news that seemed to have come from the south to shake their minds.

As the supreme leader in wartime, if he could not make accurate judgments in the intelligence war, it would be a real disaster for the entire Brant Empire.

(End of this chapter)