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Chapter 290 - Chapter 291: A High Degree of War Artistry in Ronan’s Strategy

Chapter 291: A High Degree of War Artistry in Ronan's Strategy

"Ayesha, you must understand—your grandmother is the Goddess of Death in Asgard, the future empress destined to inherit the throne of the God-King. I, as the firstborn legitimate son, am also the royal successor. But your mother... she was just a regular nine-to-five worker tightening screws. The disparity in our status was simply too great. There was no way our love could ever have a happy ending."

From under his armpit, Allen pulled out a stalk of celery and held it between his fingers, pretending to puff on it like a cigarette, exhaling imaginary smoke with a sorrowful look.

He looked exactly like a romantic fool crushed by the shackles of worldly obligations.

"If Grandma is so powerful, then you must be a prince," Ayesha said excitedly. "Which means I'm a princess!"

"That's not the point," Allen rolled his eyes, thinking Ayesha was completely missing the point. He continued, "I ran off with your mom against all odds. Your grandmother disapproved of me throwing away my future and thus ordered the entire universe to hunt me down. She even killed your mother."

"What!?"

Ayesha was thunderstruck, frozen in place like she had been struck by lightning.

To think that the person closest to her had killed the one she loved most...

Allen patted her on the shoulder, trying to console her. "Don't blame her. Being born into royalty means losing the freedom to choose."

"I don't believe it."

The tears that had welled up in her eyes finally overflowed. Like her entire worldview had just collapsed, Ayesha dashed out of the tavern in tears.

The moment she stepped outside, she ran into Hela and the others returning.

"Ayesha, where are you going?" Hela asked casually, a hint of concern in her voice.

"I don't need your concern, murderer of my mother!" Ayesha hurled the accusation with hatred and fled without looking back, tears streaming down her face.

Her teammates were left utterly baffled. Wasn't she an orphan? Where did this mother come from? And the so-called father—also fake?

There was only one person who could explain this: Allen.

When they entered the tavern, they saw Allen chatting with the bartender.

He handed over a bottle of fine liquor—clearly a consulting fee.

Nothing comes free in this world, especially in a tavern full of shady characters. Getting information without paying something in return? Totally unrealistic.

"According to some rumors, an unknown force suddenly launched surprise attacks on various Stargates, forcing the three major interstellar empires to shut them down and launch a joint counteroffensive." The bartender lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Is our star sector in danger?" Allen asked casually.

"Right now, it's safe. The unknown force is mainly targeting Stargates, seemingly challenging the authority of the three empires."

That said, any force bold enough to challenge the three major empires was bound to have great confidence in its strength.

Though the current warfare was limited to battles for strategic Stargates, there was no guarantee it wouldn't spread across the universe.

And the empires could conscript their vassal civilizations into the conflict.

If that happened, even bounty hunters wouldn't be able to stay neutral.

Dangerous missions might then be outsourced to bounty hunters and raider teams.

"Allen, what did you say to Ayesha?" Hela's face was icy cold, her eyes filled with killing intent. It was clear she believed only a lunatic like him could mess up a kid so badly.

"I didn't say anything," Allen replied evasively, eyes darting around. "Ayesha fell for that ghostfire boy, and I absolutely forbid her from dating. I know what kind of trash that guy is—he has an epic-level seven-colored ghostfire, the top-tier nobility of all ghostfires. There's no way I'd let Ayesha go down that path."

"When did I ever kill her mother?" Hela asked bluntly, her tone frigid.

"Oh, that was a misunderstanding."

Allen put on a sleazy smile. "I told her her mom was the Ghostfire Girl, and because I'm the crown prince of Asgard, you—Sister Seaweed—couldn't allow a love that was wrong on every level. So, you killed her mom to toughen me up and shape me into a true iron-blooded king."

"You're out of your damn mind."

Enraged, Hela stormed over and began grinding her knuckles into Allen's temples. "You really are shameless—just slapping the Asgard heir title on yourself like it's nothing. Even I wouldn't dare dream of that!"

"Ow, ow, ow…"

Allen wriggled free, pouting in innocence. "She already called you 'Mom,' what's the harm in me inheriting Asgard? You're so stingy."

"Why don't you go ask Odin if he agrees?" Hela sneered.

Odin ruled Asgard with violence. The various races across the Nine Realms saw him as a tyrant, which is why rebellions kept springing up.

As commander of Asgard's armies, Hela had witnessed too much truth. She knew very well how the beings of the Nine Realms viewed Odin—as a cruel oppressor.

"Forget it. Being emperor is such a drag. I've already been one before—basically like a community organizer."

Allen quickly backed down.

If he really dared to show up in Asgard demanding the throne, he'd probably be burned to a crisp on the spot.

Besides, in the mage timeline, he had already founded an empire once. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as one might think.

First off, the local women were dark-skinned, their hair was a tangled mess full of lice, and worst of all—they never brushed their teeth. Just standing near them was enough to knock him out from the stench.

As someone who loved clinging to beautiful women, Allen was completely put off. He didn't even spare them a glance.

Second, Allen had never been a drinker. One sip of the local booze was enough to get drunk without the fun—plus, the locals couldn't brew alcohol properly. Even drinking raw water could give you diarrhea.

He also had to mediate tribal disputes every other day. It was a complete chore.

Allen concluded that he just wasn't cut out to be a "build-your-own-empire" protagonist. He had no interest in power accumulation.

Accuser's Military Base.

The factions supporting Ronan had been closely monitoring the latest reports from the Kree Empire.

After all, it was Ronan who had stolen the black water, not the rest of them. They had no reason to fear being implicated.

"Your Majesty, why capture so many Stargates?" the High Evolutionary asked, perplexed by Ronan's military intentions.

Revealing the existence of the Zerg too soon would only raise the risk of failure.

Right now, the Zerg forces weren't strong enough to take on the three great empires head-on. It would only lead to pointless losses.

"Do not question a strategist's battle plan."

Ronan, a graduate of the Kree Empire's military academy, had fought in numerous wars. He was deeply confident in his strategic layouts and tactical deployments.

He unfolded a star map, marking the Stargates they had already seized.

"See anything unusual?"

"…"

The High Evolutionary, who was an expert in biological engineering but clueless about warfare, was totally lost.

Ronan, pleased with his ignorance, seized the chance to show off his strategic brilliance.

"The Stargates we've taken are scattered—but each is a critical transportation hub. With them shut down, interstellar trade and shipping across the three major empires are on the brink of collapse. My intention is simple: force their armies to scatter in order to respond. And since there's no Stargate teleportation available, they'll have to rely on long-range travel, which takes time. During that window, we'll use it to spread the Zerg across more ecological planets."

Ronan gave a cold smile as he pointed to several more red dots on the star map. "These red dots are Zerg units. Once the enemy forces are split, we'll annihilate them one by one, then launch a final assault to encircle and destroy the three imperial capital planets."

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