Karl woke up with a heavy heart that morning. The first rays of sunlight had only just begun to filter through the curtains of his office, yet his mind was already occupied by the difficult decisions that awaited him. The knowledge contained within Gaia's tome was simply too valuable to ignore, but that same value made it dangerous. Every instinct he possessed told him to keep the information hidden and use it exclusively for the benefit of his own family.
Unfortunately, reason told him otherwise.
The discovery of the Nature Heart and the magic circle was simply too important to be kept secret forever. If the Sonnenbergs attempted to monopolize such knowledge and their allies later learned of it, the consequences would be disastrous. Families that had worked alongside them for generations would feel betrayed, and even their friends would become suspicious of their intentions. Karl knew all too well that resentment born from betrayal was far more dangerous than open hostility.
Even worse, they would draw endless hatred toward themselves.
The old man leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. The family was certainly strong, but they were not powerful enough to stand against everyone at once. Their allies, trade partners, and noble acquaintances represented a force that even the Sonnenbergs would struggle to resist. If all of them turned hostile simultaneously, the family would be forced into a defensive war that could last for generations.
The only reason they could survive the first wave of attacks was because of Arin.
As long as his grandson remained inside the Crimson Forest, surprise attacks would be almost impossible. The forest itself had already demonstrated its extraordinary sensitivity toward intruders. If an enemy attempted to infiltrate their territory, there was a good chance that Arin or the forest would notice the danger long before the attackers could strike.
At least, that was Karl's hope.
He had absolutely no intention of testing that theory.
No matter how unique Arin's connection with the forest might be, relying on it completely would be foolish. A family that survived for a thousand years did not do so by placing all of its hopes on a single possibility. They survived because they planned for the worst and prepared for every outcome. Therefore, the best solution was to prevent such hostility from arising in the first place.
That was where his current plan came in.
Karl slowly smiled as the idea took shape in his mind. The solution was surprisingly simple. They would sell the information contained within the tome for a reasonable price and attach one important condition. Anyone who purchased the information would not be allowed to share it with other families or organizations for two weeks.
It was a perfect arrangement.
Those two weeks would give the Sonnenbergs enough time to approach every major faction one by one and sell the information repeatedly. By the time the restriction expired, nearly everyone worth approaching would have already paid for the knowledge. It was an opportunity to make an enormous amount of money while simultaneously earning goodwill.
And the funniest part of the whole plan was that he absolutely had to do it this way.
If he simply handed the information to everyone for free, almost nobody would trust him.
The old man had dealt with enough politicians and merchants in his lifetime to understand how people thought. In their world, nothing truly valuable was ever free. If someone offered priceless information without asking for anything in return, most people would immediately become suspicious.
There were only two assumptions they would make.
The first possibility was that the Sonnenbergs expected an enormous favor in return. Personal favors between individuals were common and generally harmless. Favors between entire families, however, were an entirely different matter. Such obligations could last for generations and sometimes proved more dangerous than outright debts.
No sensible family would accept that kind of burden lightly.
The second assumption was arguably even worse.
People would believe that the information itself contained a trap.
Perhaps the cultivation method would secretly damage their bodies. Perhaps the magic circle would somehow allow the Sonnenbergs to control them. Perhaps some critical detail would be intentionally omitted to cause disasters later. Regardless of the exact suspicion, people would carefully inspect every page of the tome while doubting every word written inside.
That process alone would breed distrust and resentment.
No, selling the information was unquestionably the correct approach.
If someone paid a fair price for it, they would naturally assume that the information had value. Money gave weight to an offer in a way that generosity never could. More importantly, paying for something meant that people would be invested in making use of it.
Karl could already picture the sequence of events.
First, he would approach the trade families.
The trade families would understand the value of the information immediately. They were practical people who constantly sought opportunities to improve their craft. Once they learned that a magic circle could enrich the mana of an entire region, they would scramble to obtain the knowledge.
After that, he would approach the noble houses.
Those old families cared deeply about the future of their bloodlines. A method capable of increasing the cultivation speed of future generations would be irresistible to them. They might grumble about the price, but in the end they would still purchase the information.
Only then would he approach the government.
There was a very good reason for leaving them until last.
Despite the close relationship between the Sonnenbergs, the army, and the intelligence bureau, Karl had no desire whatsoever to become entangled in politics. Politics was a beast that devoured everyone who approached it carelessly. Once someone became involved in internal government affairs, it was nearly impossible to escape.
Their family had understood that lesson centuries ago.
One of the oldest rules of the Sonnenbergs was simple.
Be friends with government officials if necessary.
Accept work from them if it benefits the family.
But never, under any circumstances, become involved in their internal power struggles.
That principle had served them extremely well over the centuries.
Even after the fall of the Dutch Golden Age, when the family had been forced to retreat back into the forest and abandon much of their influence, they had managed to avoid countless political disasters simply by remaining neutral.
Of course, there had always been enemies within the government.
Some politicians disliked the independence of the Sonnenbergs and wished to see them disappear entirely. Others coveted the wealth and resources of the family. A few simply hated anyone who possessed influence beyond the reach of the state.
Fortunately, such people rarely ended well.
Whenever someone became too ambitious, the family would send a polite warning. Most individuals quickly understood that antagonizing the Sonnenbergs was a terrible idea and wisely chose to leave them alone. The family preferred peace whenever possible.
As for the fools whose egos became wounded by the warning…
A cruel smile slowly appeared on Karl's face.
Those people usually learned the lesson the hard way.
The old man looked out of the window and watched the early morning sun rise above the forest. Birds were already singing among the trees, and for a brief moment everything seemed peaceful. It was almost difficult to believe that the world had changed so drastically over the past years.
Then he turned back toward his desk.
Several stacks of paper were already waiting for him, along with a list of names and communication numbers. Today was going to be an exceptionally busy day. If his plan succeeded, the family would not only gather the funds necessary to build the magic circle but also strengthen their relationships with countless allies.
"Right," Karl muttered as he settled into his chair.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Let's get this party started."
He reached for the first communication device and activated it. Outside his office, a sign hung on the door with four simple words written on it.
Do Not Disturb.
For the next several hours, Karl intended to make a fortune.
"Right, let's call them first," Karl muttered as he leaned back in his chair.
Even now, he was slightly irritated by the fact that the family he intended to contact still did not have a proper name. Their lineage supposedly traced back to the original source of the word assassin, the legendary Hassassin sect of the Middle East. Over the centuries, they had accumulated dozens of titles and aliases, but none of them had ever truly stuck. Karl sincerely hoped they would eventually choose something more dignified than simply calling themselves assassins.
The old man opened one of the hidden drawers in his desk and pulled out an ancient-looking phone.
Unlike modern communication devices, this one was impossible to track.
The phone constantly changed frequencies, encrypted its signals, and rerouted its transmissions through countless channels before reaching its destination. It was a relic from an age when secrecy meant survival and when a single intercepted message could destroy an entire organization. Despite the advancement of technology, both families still preferred these older methods for their most important conversations.
Karl entered a long sequence of numbers.
The call connected almost immediately.
"Hello, Karl. What can I do for you?" a female voice asked, amusement evident in her tone.
The owner of the voice sounded genuinely surprised.
The Sonnenbergs rarely called without a reason, and when they did, something important usually followed. Their two factions had remained close partners for centuries, long enough that both sides understood each other's habits remarkably well. Even so, an unexpected call from Karl early in the morning was enough to spark anyone's curiosity.
The woman on the other end of the line was Natasia.
She was one of the senior figures of her faction and someone Karl had known for many years. Their relationship was difficult to define. They were business partners, occasional allies, and old friends, all at the same time. More importantly, both families trusted one another far more than they trusted most of the world.
That trust had been earned through centuries of cooperation.
The mysterious assassin family often used the Crimson Forest as one of their final training grounds. Before a trainee could graduate and become a full member of their organization, they had to spend several days inside the forest and complete a series of tasks.
Very few people ever enjoyed that experience.
In the modern world, assassinations rarely took place in forests anymore. Most killings happened in cities, where technology and crowds offered endless opportunities to hide. As a result, many young assassins became overconfident in their abilities and forgot that battlefields came in many forms.
The Crimson Forest was there to remind them.
Not a single member of the assassin family believed they could defeat a Sonnenberg inside the forest. In their own territory, the Sonnenbergs became terrifying opponents. They knew every tree, every path, and every hidden corner of the land. Fighting them there was like trying to challenge a fish underwater.
The final trial existed for one simple reason.
It taught humility.
It reminded every graduate that there was always someone stronger, someone more experienced, and someone more dangerous. Most importantly, it taught them that when an enemy fought in their own home, even the smallest mistake could cost them their lives.
"Natasia, can you stop trying to push my buttons?" Karl replied, amusement entering his voice. "I assume you received your package?"
"Yes, we did," she answered immediately.
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
"You should have seen his face when he arrived," she said with obvious delight. "I don't think I've ever seen him look so confused."
Karl smiled slightly.
"But that's not why you're calling," Natasia continued, her voice becoming serious.
The amusement vanished instantly.
She had known Karl long enough to understand that he never wasted time with small talk. If he was calling personally, then the matter was undoubtedly important.
"Yes, you're right," Karl said with a tired sigh.
"I have some information that I believe is better sold than kept hidden. Holding onto it simply isn't in my best interest, and frankly, I need the money to fund a rather expensive project."
For several seconds, the other end of the line remained silent.
That alone was enough to tell Natasia just how serious the matter was.
Karl was not someone who casually sold valuable information. If he was willing to part with it, then the information was either incredibly dangerous or incredibly profitable.
"Okay, I understand," she finally replied.
"What are the price and conditions?"
She did not even ask about the contents.
After dealing with the Sonnenbergs for centuries, she had learned that the information itself was almost irrelevant at this stage. Karl would never intentionally sell her something worthless or attempt to deceive her. Doing so would damage a relationship that had survived hundreds of years, and neither family would gain anything from such behavior.
"I want ten thousand silver coins," Karl said calmly.
"And you are not allowed to spread the information beyond your faction for two weeks. After that, you may do whatever you wish with it."
Natasia raised an eyebrow.
Ten thousand silver coins was certainly not a small amount of money, but it was also not outrageously expensive. Whatever this information was, Karl clearly wanted it to spread eventually.
A moment later, another surprise appeared.
A translucent screen materialized in front of her.
A contract.
Karl had already prepared a special agreement purchased through the System Shop. Such contracts cost one hundred silver coins each and were widely used by powerful organizations. Once both parties signed, the System itself would enforce the agreement.
Breaking one of these contracts was practically impossible.
Even if someone wished to violate the terms, the System would intervene before they could do so.
"Always prepared, aren't you?" Natasia muttered with a smile.
She carefully read through every clause.
There were no hidden conditions, no strange loopholes, and no unreasonable demands. The agreement was remarkably straightforward.
She placed the required ten thousand silver coins onto the contract.
The money immediately disappeared.
Then she signed her name.
The contract dissolved into countless particles of light.
A moment later, a thick stack of neatly bound A4 papers appeared on her desk.
Natasia blinked.
The documents had been bound using special archival paper that old factions like theirs adored. The material was resistant to water, fire, insects, and the effects of time itself. It was expensive, unnecessary for ordinary purposes, and exactly the kind of thing ancient organizations appreciated.
Karl had even gone to the trouble of using proper presentation.
That alone made her smile.
"Thank you for this trade," she said warmly.
"We'll speak again soon."
The call ended.
For several moments, she simply stared at the stack of papers before her.
Then her curiosity won.
She reached forward and opened the first page.
A few seconds later, her eyes widened.
The amusement on her face disappeared entirely.
By the time she reached the second page, she had already stood up from her chair. By the third page, she had completely forgotten about the cup of tea sitting beside her.
"This…"
She could barely find the words.
A slow smile appeared on her face.
No.
A grin.
The kind of grin that only appeared when someone discovered a treasure beyond their expectations.
The information in her hands was truly special.
For the first time in years, Natasia felt like a child who had just been handed the key to a hidden treasure chest. She immediately understood why Karl had chosen to sell the information rather than keep it hidden.
Because if this knowledge were monopolized by a single faction…
The rest of the world would eventually declare war to obtain it.