Chapter Fifty-Nine: An Unexpected Catastrophe

“So that’s how it is...” Mo Fangyuan’s eyes burned even brighter as he looked at Fang Zhi. With nothing but a single page documenting the red stone, he had managed to perfect the iron automaton to such a degree. And thirty years of unwavering dedication... Such talent, such spirit... In his previous life, a person like this would surely have been at the level of an academician. He couldn’t believe his luck today, stumbling upon such a remarkable individual.

“I’ve decided not to explore other villages for now. Tomorrow, we’ll set out and safely escort this talent back to the Kingdom of Blocks before anything else!” Mo Fangyuan knew his priorities. After a brief conversation with Fang Zhi, he went to deal with the villagers outside.

The residents, who had been on the verge of emotional collapse, regained their composure under Mo Fangyuan’s dual comfort—both spiritual and material. They began to pack their belongings, ready to leave their ancestral home behind.

“Zhang Lingyun, pay attention. If you see anyone in the group struggling, go and help them.” Winter migration was something Mo Fangyuan had never attempted before. Unlike migrations during other seasons, this time the threat wasn’t monsters but the harsh natural environment, requiring utmost caution. Success would bring experience; failure, a lesson.

The wind howled, sweeping the snow from the ground and obscuring everyone’s vision. Heaven was kind to Mo Fangyuan today—despite the strong winds, no snow fell. Otherwise, the journey would have been even more difficult.

Guiding the migrant group across the snowy plain, Mo Fangyuan frequently checked on their progress. “Zhang Lingyun, watch the rear, I’ll take the front!” The group of seventeen was stretched thin under the storm, and Mo Fangyuan worried those at the back would fall behind. He immediately moved Zhang Lingyun, who was in the middle, to the rear to gather the migrants.

In weather like this, a stretched-out team could easily be separated by the wind. Getting lost during the winter meant certain death.

“It’s getting dark. Let’s stop here for today!” The sun was hidden behind thick clouds, but Mo Fangyuan could feel night approaching. “Everyone, follow my instructions and gather here!” He sent Zhang Lingyun to round up the scattered block people at the back, then pulled wool from his inventory to start building a temporary tent.

Wool blocks, being lightweight building materials, required fewer strikes to secure, retained heat well, and provided excellent wind protection—essential for travel and home alike.

With the help of the migrants, a large tent was quickly erected, spacious enough to accommodate twenty block people comfortably. Inside, wool blankets were spread out and a hearth built from raw stone was set up in the center—an accomplishment worthy of pride.

The lagging migrants, with Zhang Lingyun’s assistance, soon gathered inside the wool tent. Mo Fangyuan tossed several coal blocks into the hearth and handed out the well-prepared baked potatoes to everyone. After a hearty meal, the tent grew warm and cozy, the flames standing in sharp contrast to the bitter cold outside.

He added a few more coal blocks to the fire; outside, night had fallen completely. Apart from the incessant howl of the wind, all was lifeless.

“It’s time for me to perform again.” Indeed, every time he brought in a new batch of migrants, Mo Fangyuan would deliver a motivational speech the night before—his infamous “inspirational soup.”

“Comrades! Soon you will embrace a new life, become holy and honorable members of the Kingdom of Blocks! In the great Kingdom of Blocks, you will not suffer slaughter by monsters, nor persecution by the elements...”

“Hold on! Victory is just around the corner! Foods far tastier than baked potatoes beckon to you! Homes more comfortable than wool tents await you in the Kingdom of Blocks! All you need is to work twelve hours a day, three hundred sixty days a year, and all this will be yours!”

For a full hour, he delivered his motivational speech, and the effect on morale was immediately obvious. Filled with hope, everyone drifted quietly into sleep.

Mo Fangyuan surveyed the sleeping migrants, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No one understands motivational soup better than me!” He began his night watch. Though few monsters appeared in winter, one could never be too cautious. If luck turned and monsters did spawn while everyone was asleep... it would be a total wipeout!

At Mo Fangyuan’s feet, Zhang Lingyun slept soundly. “Ah, what a terrible sleeping posture!” Her cloak had slipped off at some point, revealing her exquisite face in all its glory. Perhaps the robe was a bit too large; her right shoulder was bare, the skin white as snow, drawing Mo Fangyuan’s gaze.

“Ah, this...” Mo Fangyuan felt his mouth go dry. “Bah! What am I thinking?” “As a successor of socialism, the agent of core values, a member of the Young Pioneers... how could I entertain such corrupt thoughts? Shameful!” He manually turned his head away. “My mind is clear!”

As the sun rose in the east, the weather remained unchanged—still wind, no snow. After breakfast, Mo Fangyuan and his companions gathered the migrants and continued toward the Kingdom of Blocks. The tent was left standing, intended as a small wilderness rest stop for future use.

“Your Majesty! Our forces in the Overworld have suffered severe setbacks! None of the pigman units we sent out returned, only a few scouts survived!”

Pigman Empire’s capital—Juan Ti. In the infernal tongue, Juan Ti means “the strongest stronghold.” True to its name, this city stood as the greatest industrial metropolis of the Nether.

Factory after factory rose from the smoky golden city: gold parts processing facilities, gold manufacturing plants, and countless others. At the very heart of the city lay the core of the Pigman Empire—the Netherfire Castle.

The emergency conference hall, reserved for major meetings, was packed full of pigmen with red skin and fat ears. Some were military generals commanding thousands of warriors. Others were veteran politicians, their every move shaping the empire’s future. Still others were city lords, controlling entire urban centers.

These powerful pigmen, usually so dignified, now looked utterly miserable, as if thrown into water.

“What on earth happened! Those were five thousand pigman warriors—the product of decades of imperial effort!” An enraged general with protruding tusks roared; half of those warriors had been his own troops—five hundred pigmen, his very foundation.

“The weather in the Overworld became abnormally cold, and our forces couldn’t adapt? We had no intelligence on this! What has the intelligence department been doing?” A political official, whose interests hadn’t suffered too much, questioned the others in confusion.

“What exactly is going on?”
“Has the situation changed in the Overworld?”

The enormous emergency hall was as noisy as a marketplace. All the pigmen wanted answers.

“Enough!” The pigman seated at the front spoke, and the hall fell instantly silent. He was the seventh king of the Pigman Empire, the most powerful figure in this monarchy.

“This is the intelligence department’s responsibility! It must be thoroughly investigated, whatever it takes!” “Currently, pigmen cannot adapt to the Overworld’s temperature, and our existing technology cannot change this... Suspend all activities in the Overworld for now!”

A single winter snowstorm, unknown to the Pigman Empire, which had never learned the Overworld’s customs, dealt them a heavy blow, forcing them to halt their expansion. It was hardly surprising; proud pigmen scorned the Overworld’s language, and the seasonal cycle was common knowledge there—so no one bothered to mention it.

This time, the Pigman Empire could only admit defeat.