Free Web NovelChapter 185: Chapter 176: The Instigation Tactic Never Goes Out of Style
"That flashy, useless junk from the Sharp Ears should be swept into the dustbin of history!"
Zog was very satisfied. ’A bit more inflammatory... just a bit more.’
"But then again, the Elves’ work isn’t completely worthless. You can’t achieve that level of intricate detail without considerable skill."
Zog was no longer satisfied. ’How is it that the more Bane drinks, the more rational he becomes?’
’That’s not how it’s supposed to work for normal people.’
Bane continued, "And the affinity Elven smithing has for Enchantment is actually really impressive. Not like our work—sometimes the Enchantments don’t take well, and the yield rate for quality items is low."
He rambled on for a while after that, no longer just blindly belittling the Elves, but actually pointing out many of the excellent and admirable aspects of their craftsmanship.
His words carried a sense of respect reserved for a worthy rival.
After all, only the Dwarves and the Elves were so obsessed with forging—obsessed to a degree that other races simply couldn’t comprehend.
If this were a romance story, they’d be a classic pairing: a love-hate relationship, the simpleton and the grump.
Zog could completely understand Bane’s respect for the Elves.
As old rivals with a millennia-old grudge, constantly belittling your opponent doesn’t make you look impressive. It makes you look stupid. freewёbnoνel.com
’If they’re so pathetic, how is it that you’ve been competing for this long and are still evenly matched?’
’Doesn’t that just mean you’re on the same level as the ones you’re mocking?’
But as inflammatory material, Bane’s speech was completely unacceptable.
But that was fine. Zog was well-versed in the *Basic Principles of Audio Editing*.
The footage he had just recorded gave him plenty of room to work with.
If Bane’s words weren’t inflammatory enough, Zog could give them a little push.
Half an hour later, the drunken Bane had finished recounting several historical anecdotes about the two races.
He’d even elevated the conversation to the grander topic of how to break the ice between them, lamenting the messy history that had led to this point.
He mused that this forging competition, while a contest, could perhaps become a bridge for communication between the two races.
He expressed his high hopes for the Zog Group’s role in cultural exchange.
Force, while useful, couldn’t solve everything. Cultural exchange was of the utmost importance.
The old Dwarf’s drunken, heartfelt speech made Zog feel a twinge of guilt.
’Maybe it isn’t right to edit his words to provoke the Elves.’
Luckily, Zog had no conscience.
Out of humanitarian concern, he’d pixelate Bane’s face. That was as far as he’d go.
"It’s getting late." Bane wobbled to his feet.
Zog felt like he was looking at Gragas in the flesh.
"Remember to make sure I can pull the Dwarf King!" he added before leaving.
"Don’t worry, I won’t forget. And you, remember to find your contestants. We’ll have two Dwarves for the first episode."
Bane waved his hand, signaling that he understood.
"Wait a minute!" He stopped at the door, a thought suddenly striking him. He turned his head and asked, "Since you can raise someone’s pull rates, have you ever secretly lowered them?"
"Of course not," Zog denied with a smile.
’How could I ever do something so unscrupulous!’
’The most I’ve ever done is implement a reverse pity system, where you’re guaranteed *not* to get a rare drop for a certain number of pulls.’
’An "excellent design" borrowed from cheap, ad-driven games.’
He’d gotten rid of it later, after discovering that the publicity from someone having an insane lucky streak was far more effective at getting people hooked.
"So... for my account... can you just keep my rates permanently boosted like that?" Bane asked sheepishly.
"You mean, in every future event, no matter what you’re pulling for, you get it instantly? And all the other Dwarves gather around to watch, completely stunned, calling you the one truly blessed by fate?"
Bane nodded eagerly.
"In your dreams!" Zog slammed the door in his face.
’How ridiculous. As if I’d let him be the king of luck forever.’
After seeing Bane out, Zog immediately retrieved the footage from the hidden camera. He summoned his post-production team and personally directed them through the editing and censoring process.
Once the final product was exported to a Magic Crystal Stone, Zog flew straight to the Silver-White City State without a moment’s rest.
He went to Kaelan’s home once again.
Mrs. Kaelan’s attitude was much better this time; she received Zog with perfect courtesy.
Although she was anxious, she didn’t press him about the progress on the full version of *Monument Valley*.
For Elves, it was considered extremely rude to rush an artist’s work.
If doing so affected the quality of the final piece, it was even considered a crime under Elven law.
Zog’s take on this was that the Elves were just too righteous. ’If Humans had a law like that, the prisons would overflow with falsely accused people.’
"What brings you here this time?" Mrs. Kaelan asked tentatively, her tone notably more respectful.
She was speaking the Elven Language, however. While most Elves knew the common tongue and many other languages, they avoided using them whenever possible.
The reason was simple: disdain.
To the Elves, language wasn’t just a tool for communication; it was a vital part of their artistic philosophy.
"I wish to invite the best young artisans from the Silver-White City State to participate in a bladesmithing competition. It’s a tournament that will be broadcast on the Magic Vision Device," Zog replied.
"You know how things are here. If it’s for a Demon Vision show, we probably won’t be able to recruit any Elves on such short notice," said Mrs. Kaelan.
"Your opponents will be Dwarves."
"There is no honor in winning a competition against such crude creatures, who so utterly lack a sense of aesthetics."
"But the Dwarves are saying the Elves are too cowardly to compete. They also said they’re going to sweep you into the dustbin of history."
Mrs. Kaelan’s hand trembled visibly, but her excellent self-restraint allowed her to maintain her composure.
Zog simply took out the Magic Crystal Stone and began to play the recording.
On the screen, Bane appeared, his face obscured by heavy pixelation.
"And this is?" Mrs. Kaelan asked, pointing at the obscured face.
"The interviewee wished to remain anonymous," Zog lied smoothly.
"A cowardly Dwarf. Is someone like that truly worthy of a clan title? Each generation is worse than the last!"
"Huh?" Zog was baffled. ’How did this Elf tell that the person in the video was a Dwarf with a clan title?’
Seeming to notice Zog’s confusion, Mrs. Kaelan explained, "The way his beard is braided. Among Dwarves, only heroes who have inherited their clan title are permitted to wear such a braid."
She enunciated the word "heroes" with particular weight, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Zog was genuinely surprised. ’Do these two races really need to know each other this well?’
On screen, the question about his opinion of Elven craftsmanship was asked, and the "subtly adjusted" answer followed.
"The things they forge are just for show, at best. They’re not nearly as durable as what a Dwarf makes."
"The Elves’ work is worthless. The details are so intricate, not much skill."
"And as for the affinity Elven smithing has for Enchantment... sometimes the Enchantments don’t take well, and the yield rate for quality items is low."
... ƒrēewebnovel.com
It was the classic technique of turning a "don’t" into a "do."
By simply removing a few words, Bane’s statements immediately became incredibly aggressive.
Coupled with his drunken slurring, the insults were utterly scathing.
SLAM!
Even Elves slammed tables when they got angry.
"Those tasteless runts have the gall to say Elven Enchantments are ineffective?"
Zog hadn’t expected Elves to get so heated. He’d always thought they were perpetually aloof.
He hadn’t seen the Elven guards get this worked up even when he’d come to the Silver-White City State to do demolition work in the past.
’Nothing stirs the pot like an ancestral grudge.’
Because her complexion was so fair, the blush of anger on her face was especially noticeable.
Looking as if she were balancing a monkey’s red backside on her neck, Mrs. Kaelan shot to her feet and said furiously, "This is a provocation! A blatant provocation! I must inform the City Lord!"
Zog knew she held a high position, but he hadn’t expected her to have a direct line to the City Lord.
’Well, that saves me some trouble. I thought I’d have to let this simmer for a few days.’
It was a rare display of efficiency from the Elves.
A mere three hours passed from the moment the City Lord heard the news to when a grand assembly was convened for all the Elves of the city’s Craftsmen Guild.
In a pure white hall, hundreds of Elves were gathered. The usual quiet solemnity was gone, replaced by a restless agitation.
They were all watching the short interview clip Zog had brought with him.
"What right do the Dwarves have to say such things?"
"It’s pure jealousy! A bunch of crude rabble whose own work can’t fetch a decent price."
"Stupid pigs!"
"Fools!"
"Garbage!"
"They deserve to be reincarnated as animals!"
The Elves dredged up the foulest curses in the Elven Language to voice their outrage.
To Zog’s ears, however, these insults lacked any real bite.
’They should go take some lessons from an online forum or something.’
Nevertheless, he made sure to film the rare spectacle of a large group of Elves cursing up a storm.
’And what would he use it for?’
’To show the Dwarves, of course.’
’You can’t just fan the flames on one side.’
After the short film finished, the Elf City Lord tapped his staff twice on the floor, signaling for silence.
Once the hall fell silent, he spoke. "I will hold a selection among the city’s younger generation of artisans. We will choose the most outstanding among them to go to this bladesmithing competition and prove that Elven craftsmanship will not be shamed by these squat, arrogant thugs!"
’Success!’
