As night fell, the lights in Jeming's study at the mansion in Elorcia City remained lit.

Jeming, dressed in a loose robe, lightly tapped his fingertips, and the last secret glow merged into the wall. The atmosphere of the entire room instantly became harmonious, with no hint of it leaking out.

He sensed it slightly and, satisfied, withdrew his hand.

Since returning from the banquet, he had hardly rested these past few days.

After confusing the surveillance in his mansion, he became fervently busy, and now he finally constructed all the needed arrays.

"First... let's test it."

Thinking for a moment, Jeming took out a metal disc, on which a palm-sized micro space transmission array was emitting a faint glow.

This small array could only perform point-to-point short-distance teleportation and required pre-set nodes at both ends.

He had long set up the corresponding other end in the underground laboratory at the Golden Harbor mansion.

He stepped into the array.

Space twisted, and the next moment, he found himself in the underground chamber of that dilapidated mansion in Golden Harbor.

The air was thick with the smell of blood.

In several specially made sturdy steel cages beside the chamber, three previously captured Beastman leaders lay dying breathlessly.

Their heads hung low, bodies covered in cuts and scorch marks.

Jeming had been away for half a month, and these fellows still weren't in their right state. Having had nothing to drink for half a month, their life auras were now as faint as a candle in the wind.

"Very well, it seems the space transmission is operating smoothly." Jeming couldn't help but laugh. "This way, even within the Royal City, my research can continue."

Jeming stepped forward to check slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a cold grin, "Not bad, indeed you are legendary, surviving even in such conditions; I was worried you might starve to death."

"You..." The Beastman leader lifted his head in anger, but his body's weakness left him with only the strength to glare at his foe.

Jeming clapped his hands with a smile, "Rest assured, now that I'm here, I won't let you die of starvation. Although from your perspective, starving to death might seem like a good option."

"Beastmen... will not yield," another Beastman leader scoffed disdainfully.

Jeming watched the silver-white demonic puppet coming over at his command, and helplessly spread his hands towards the three Beastman leaders, "I'm afraid it is unfortunate, I never needed you to yield..."

He took out several bags of freshly prepared nutrient liquid and handed them to the puppet, "Inject them with the nutrient agent, don't let them die."

After checking the condition of the Beastmen in the cage, and confirming they still held "value," Jeming turned and left the chamber, walking along a corridor to the mansion's courtyard.

He leisurely glanced around.

By this time, Golden Harbor had long been seized by the Beastmen, this once luxurious city now lay in ruins burnt by war, debris everywhere, charred timber emitting residual warmth.

Large buildings had been toppled, serving as temporary camps for either Beastman or human armies.

Only this section of the mansion appeared unusually abrupt—from inside looking out, of course.

From the outside, this mansion, like other buildings, had also turned into a ruin.

This was precisely the effect of the meticulously arranged concealed array Jeming implemented before leaving Golden Harbor.

Besides covering the real information inside, this illusion technique array could synchronize with the environment to create identical "ruin" illusions from the outside.

Additionally, as a high-tier array, it could diminish the area's sense of presence.

Simultaneously, the subconscious exorcism technique embedded in the array induced inexplicable anxiety and discomfort in those who inadvertently approached, intuitively leading them away.

"Perfect." Jeming chuckled lightly, "Although the investment in this laboratory wasn't small, it seems the effect is quite remarkable."

...

...

A few days later.

With the space transmission device, Jeming had fervently conducted research in the secret laboratory of Golden Harbor these past few days.

Suddenly, immersed in experimental research, Jeming lifted his head at the sound of an alarm nearby.

It was his arrangement at the mansion in the kingdom capital, alerting him immediately if someone visited.

Opening the surveillance light screen, the image outside the mansion appeared with a visitor bearing the insignia of the palace guard, seeming somewhat urgent.

He immediately ceased his experiment, brushing his isolation garment changed into a loose soft robe.

Stepping into the space transmission array, space flashed brilliantly, and Jeming was once more in the capital's mansion study.

He adeptly concealed his aura, pretending he had just finished reading, and calmly opened the study door.

Outside, the butler raised an arm to knock, informing him that the Palace Guard Captain and an Order Officer were waiting in the reception room.

"Consultant Jack!" Upon seeing Jeming, the captain immediately bowed, his respectfully tinged with urgency, "His Majesty commands you to proceed to the royal palace conference hall immediately, to attend the meeting concerning the kingdom's negotiations with the Beastman and Elf Delegations."

Jeming was slightly taken aback.

He was merely a "Special Level Consultant," a titular role, and such high-level diplomatic negotiations shouldn't typically involve him.

Amidst his inner doubts, he maintained a calm facade, "Oh? Does His Majesty wish for me to offer some insight on the Beastmen?"

The Order Officer respectfully replied, "His Majesty did not specify, only mentioning the vital nature of these talks, hoping for collaborative ideas."

"Alright, I'm on it." Jeming nodded in agreement.

Being able to access more information was, of course, something he was pleased to see.

...

...

Deep within the Royal Palace, inside Ottolek III's private study.

Ottolek III put down the scroll in his hand, his gaze falling on the bowing Chief Minister in front of him: "That 'Jack', has he gone to the council hall?"

The Chief Minister bowed and said: "Yes, Your Majesty, I've sent someone to call for him as per your instructions."

Ottolek III let out a cold laugh, leaning back into the broad chair: "It's good to send him, just to disgust the Beastmen."

"Hmph, just a bunch of savages. Even if they play tricks, that's all they can do." Ottolek III squinted, "Sending this 'disposable pawn' to the negotiation table, if he can't help but contact the delegation, we can gather more intelligence in our favor."

He paused, a shrewd glint in his eyes: "Even if he really restrains himself and doesn't contact the delegation, just him sitting there is like a thorn, stabbing into the hearts of the Beastmen delegation, affecting their mindset, making them think their bottom card is exposed, even leading them to suspect shadows. That's enough."

"Your Majesty is wise." The Chief Minister lowered his head, his voice as steady as if there were no emotional fluctuations.

...

The Royal Palace council hall.

The atmosphere in the council hall was tense and heavy.

On either side of the long, rectangular negotiation table sat the core ministers of the Human Kingdom and representatives of the Beastman delegation.

The Elf and Dwarf delegations were also present as mediators.

Jeming sat in a corner of the observation area, playing the role of an inconspicuous "Special Level Consultant."

The negotiations had already gone through several rounds, yet were still in a deadlock.

"Humans, the demands of us Beastmen have already been laid on the table. You must compensate with the resources we previously agreed upon and pay for the losses our Kingdom incurred due to the delay!"

The leader of the Beastman delegation, a rough-haired Beastman elder, spoke in a booming voice, his tone bearing an undeniable bluntness.

"Beastmen! We are willing to compensate with the resources previously agreed upon, but you must also pay the price for capturing our city!"

"You're full of crap! That's our spoils of war!"

"F**k your bleep bleep bleep, you..."

"[Beastman profanity]."

As the so-called negotiations turned into a shouting match once again, someone couldn't help but glance at the Elf and Dwarf delegations.

After all, the reason these two races were invited was to mediate conflicts between humans and Beastmen at critical moments.

Unfortunately, it might have been better not to ask for help.

From the Elf delegation, the female Elf who had sensed an unusual aura during the banquet stood up at this moment.

She had a tall figure, cold and proud features, and her tone carried obvious disdain: "You two races only know how to take, not to contribute. Forming an alliance with such vulgar races only sullies the glory of the Elves!"

Hearing such outrageous statements made Jeming's eyelids twitch: "Is this really mediation or pouring oil on the fire..."

The most outrageous part was that despite other Elves not speaking, their expressions involuntarily showed signs of agreement.

Indeed, the Elf's outrageous statements soon met with a response.

"Long ears, I'll f**k your bleep bleep bleep..."

The leader of the Beastman delegation was the first to strike, and the ministers of the Human delegation immediately joined in.

"[Kingdom Capital profanity]."

And the Elves were not to be outdone: "[Elegant Elven profanity]."

As for the Dwarves, those not good with words expressed no intentions of speaking from the start, each one drunkenly holding their ale.

"Did you hear? The leader of the Beastman delegation got into a fight with the patrol outside the city, talking about 'Beastman honor can't be desecrated.' If it weren't for the Mage Association arriving in time, there might have been casualties," a servant whispered to another.

"And Seraphina from the Elves, every time she speaks, it's so high and mighty, belittling both the Beastmen and us to nothing. Is she simply against forming the alliance?" another noble aide complained with a frown.

"The Dwarves too, that female Dwarf leader, besides emphasizing the importance of Dwarf technology and minerals, won't speak a word about supporting the war, truly stubborn to the core."

Jeming heard these whispers, but felt something was off in his heart.

It seemed as if each race was long accustomed to the mutual conflicts.

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

Unmoved, he cast his gaze towards the Alien Race delegations, already knowing that the three 'peculiar' individuals he noticed at the last banquet were the leaders of these delegations.

The female Elf sat there proudly and elegantly, as though uninterested in the negotiation outcome.

The Beastman warrior was turning to curse with the Human minister.

The female Dwarf was clutching a wineskin, taking a swig now and then, her gaze appearing slightly unfocused.

Amid the non-action of the three mission leaders, the negotiation atmosphere grew ever more tense, the smell of gunpowder increasingly intense.

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