Pan Ming's wish was simple: to stop his hair from growing. However, he couldn't simply bargain his hair away for wisdom like other Barbarians, because the value of things varies from person to person.
What might be worthless to one individual could be incredibly precious to another. As the God of Law, Cerydra's Authority operated with perfect fairness, ensuring no such loopholes could exist.
Stopping about two meters from Cerydra, Pan Ming knelt on one knee, briefly stated his request, and then watched as the scales of justice before her slowly tilted to one side.
After all, this was just a small wish, and shouldn't require much of a price. But just as Cerydra was about to check what Pan Ming needed to pay, she suddenly noticed the scales stop tilting and begin slowly returning to balance. She froze in surprise.
Pan Ming asked, "Your Majesty, what price must this humble monk pay?"
Cerydra paused for a few seconds before saying, "You... need not pay a price. Or rather, you've already paid it in advance. Do you have any other requests? You may voice them all now."
As she spoke, Cerydra gazed into Pan Ming's eyes. His black pupils were completely devoid of highlights. During the battle with the Falcon Clan, when she retrieved her people, Aria's Paladin Divine Artifact's buff had covered the entire battlefield, naturally including Pan Ming.
Theoretically, Pan Ming should have benefited from Aria's various buffs, including but not limited to Unlimited Stamina and superhuman regeneration. This regeneration was so powerful it could even regrow severed limbs, making the restoration of his eyesight a trivial matter.
Yet, Pan Ming's eyes remained unhealed. This alone proved that his blindness was no ordinary condition but rather a 'price' he had paid for some purpose.
Cerydra glanced at the scales before her. Even if Pan Ming had paid some price in the past, that was then. How could it serve as collateral for a transaction in the present? This made no sense.
As Cerydra meticulously examined the scales and her own Authority, she discovered that the primary reason for their balance was that other "people" were currently helping Pan Ming pay the price.
Cerydra suspected that these so-called "other people" were the world itself.
If someone consistently does good deeds and selflessly gives, is it truly possible that they will receive no reward? Perhaps not. Just look at this—the reward has arrived.
However, when Cerydra said, "You don't need to pay the price. Do you have any other wishes?" Pan Ming shook his head. "No, this is already sufficient."
Cerydra couldn't help but press, "But even if you make a wish now, you could gain unimaginable power, vast wealth beyond measure, or even supernatural abilities that ordinary people don't possess. And you could have it all without paying any price. Are you sure you don't want anything else?"
Pan Ming shook his head again. "This humble monk has no further desires."
The scene left Cerydra with an inexplicable sense of unease. It felt as if a button had been placed before her, promising instant transformation into 'superman'—granting her a billion dollars—yet the man stubbornly refused to press it.
As the saying goes, "Don't turn down freebies!" Yet Pan Ming, that stubborn fool, genuinely declined.
Cerydra couldn't help but sigh in exasperation. With the man's adamant refusal, what else could she do? At the ceremony celebrating the Falcon Clan's subjugation, Cerydra ended up awarding only one 'irreversibly hair-loss' reward. It was, to say the least, absurd.
As Dirk, Pan Ming, Aria, and the others departed, Cerydra remained gazing at the doorway, her suspicions lingering. She doubted Pan Ming had paid only the price of blindness; she suspected he had sacrificed something else in the past.
For instance, she suspected Pan Ming lacked the sense of taste. No matter what he ate, he would sincerely declare it "delicious," even the raw potato earlier. Moreover, his clothes were remarkably plain, devoid of pockets, leaving him no place to carry belongings. Aside from his own person and the prayer beads on his wrist, he seemed to possess no external possessions whatsoever.
Cerydra sighed, shifting her focus from Pan Ming to the task of consolidating the 300,000 members of the Falcon Clan into the Northern Territory Empire.
The Northern Territory was notoriously isolated, lacking efficient communication methods. Information relied heavily on word-of-mouth, which meant that while the Empire boasted a total population of 500,000, at least 80% of the Barbarians had never seen her in person.
When the Empire numbered only 200,000, the Barbarians' perception of Cerydra was one of adorable majesty. Even those who had never met her knew her as the "Blueberry Cupcake," a diminutive goddess barely reaching 1.4 meters in height—a young girl who was, in essence, a minor deity.
All the Barbarians revered their Boss Imperator, Caesar, declaring that "though short in stature, her capabilities soar higher than the heavens!"
However, with the recent influx of Barbarians from the Falcon Clan, a peculiar rumor had spread like wildfire. Now, most Barbarians believed Cerydra to be a towering, muscular female warrior with a fierce countenance.
Cerydra suspected that this image of the Imperator was largely a figment of the Falcon Clan Barbarians' imagination. After all, the Falcon Clan had been defeated by the Northern Territory Empire, and even their formidable Boss Jones had been strung up and beaten by Cerydra's subordinates. Logically, Cerydra herself must be even more powerful than her subordinates, right?
Thus, the image of a muscular, ape-like woman had taken root in the minds of these Falcon Clan Barbarians.
It was an unavoidable situation. When Cerydra had previously absorbed smaller clans, she had met and "persuaded" each group individually. But with the Falcon Clan's massive population of 300,000, she couldn't simply stroll among them without taking any action, could she?
In short, this distorted perception of the Imperator was far from ideal. So, what could be done to rectify it?
Cerydra quickly hit upon an idea: portraits! By producing portraits of herself and distributing them so that every barbarian received one, wouldn't the problem be solved?
While the Northern Territory lacked the means for such a project, Okhema certainly did not. She could have a photographer take a portrait, then use Okhema's Magitech to mass-produce prints. Problem solved.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Cerydra acted. A Century Gate materialized behind her, and she leaped from her chair, turned, and strode through it. Hysilens, who had been standing by her side the entire time, followed closely behind.
Under Tribios's orders, Okhema sprang into action with remarkable efficiency. Within just half an hour, the filming location, props, and cameramen were all in place.
As Tribios gazed at the lavish throne before her—its crimson frame trimmed with gold and studded with dazzling gemstones—she raised an eyebrow and turned to a nearby staff member. "So, where did this chair come from?"
Okhema had no monarchs, and Tribios's own workspace was just an ordinary office with a simple desk. Given the thirty-minute timeframe, the throne couldn't possibly have been newly crafted; it must have been retrieved from somewhere.
The staff member replied, "Oh, Holy Maiden, it's just a movie prop. Don't let its realism fool you—it's all fake."
"That gemstone-looking thing is actually just a glass ball. Even the red velvet base is a cheap imitation."
While Tribios chatted with the staff, Cerydra had already changed into her iconic attire and entered the room. She still wore her classic Cerydra outfit: a blue-dominated dress with one leg clad in black stockings and the other bare.
But this time, she wore a fluffy 'cloak' over her shoulders, resembling the one depicted in Cerydra's light cone from Honkai: Star Rail or Artoria from Fate/Grand Order.
As the name suggests, it looked like she was wrapped in a cotton quilt. After all, as the Empress of the Northern Territory, this 'quilt' felt more fitting than a flimsy cape.
However, due to Cerydra's petite stature, the original blanket cape had nearly swallowed her whole, wrapping her up like a dumpling. In a way, it had truly become a blanket. The current version was the smallest size available, hastily altered to fit.
In addition to the cotton-padded cloak, Cerydra also held a blue scepter. She slowly walked to the throne, plopped down, and immediately felt... a slight prickling sensation. No wonder this thing is a cheap movie prop made with inferior materials, she thought, it's actually quite uncomfortable.
The photographer, a woman with glasses and dressed in black business attire, quickly took her position. At first glance, she exuded an air of competence. However, upon arriving, her first gaze locked onto Tribios. She licked her lips, her eyes gleaming, and stammered, "H-Holy... Holy Maiden, may I take a picture of you?!"
Tribios remained silent for a moment, then replied, "After you've completed your official duties first..."
"Got it!" the photographer nodded, her words tumbling out rapidly. "I guarantee perfect mission execution!"
With brisk, short steps, she hurried to Cerydra and asked, "Any specific requirements for the photos?"
"Just make me look dignified," Cerydra replied naturally.
The camerawoman's face fell into a thoughtful expression. Truth be told, it was a bit of a challenge. Perhaps the props weren't quite right—the Throne was too large, making Cerydra, when seated upon it, look less like an Empress and more like the King's youngest daughter sneaking onto the Throne in the middle of the night for a playful romp.
There was no majesty, only overwhelming cuteness.
But challenges exist to be overcome! After a moment's thought, the camerawoman suddenly dropped to her knees with a thump. Not stopping there, she pressed her upper body flat against the ground, adopting a full-fledged crawling position.
Raising the Magitech Camera, she peered upward through the lens several times, then nodded. "This angle is perfect! Now, Miss Cerydra, please cross your left leg over your right, lean slightly to your right, lower your gaze, and... most importantly, give me a look as if I'm utter trash!"
Cerydra: "..."
Since the camerawoman had given such specific instructions, she naturally complied, assuming the required pose. However, the "look at me like trash" part proved surprisingly difficult. After struggling for a long time, she couldn't quite manage the expression.
Perhaps sensing this, the camerawoman paused, then wriggled across the ground like an earthworm for a short distance. Making a very distinct slurp sound as if sucking on saliva, she chuckled, "Hehehe~ Miss Cerydra looks so adorable, all soft and fragrant. If only I could lick her~"
As native-born Okhemans, they held no reverence for kings, nobles, or anyone of high status. Even upon learning that the person before them was the ruler of some distant land, their reaction would likely be a dismissive, "Oh, is that so?"
This was largely because Okhema's Holy Maiden herself was remarkably approachable. Tribios had explicitly stated that excessive deference wasn't necessary; Okhema valued equality above all else, with no rigid social hierarchy.
Thus, even after learning Cerydra's true identity—one of Okhema's twelve Demigods, the Empress of the Northern Territory Empire—the camerawoman still dared to utter such remarks.
But there's no denying that her words were remarkably effective. Cerydra's lips twitched slightly, and she instinctively adopted a somewhat disdainful expression.
"Yes, yes, yes! Exactly that!" the photographer exclaimed, immediately switching back to normal.
Click, click~
The photographer wriggled around on the ground, making minute adjustments to the angle, while the shutter clicked incessantly. Once finished, she scrambled to her feet, handed the camera to Cerydra, and apologized, "I'm afraid my earlier remarks were a bit presumptuous. Please don't take offense."
Cerydra waved off the apology with a dismissive "No matter," took the camera, and examined the photo. Perhaps due to the shooting angle, the girl in the photo appeared inexplicably taller, and her downward gaze radiated regal authority—an Empress commanding respect without anger.
The photo was undeniably impressive. However, just as Cerydra was about to stand up, the photographer interjected, "Wait, wait, wait! That's only one photo! Since we're already here, why not take a few more from different angles and in different styles?"