The turmoil in Seven Hills City quickly transmitted back to the Desert Kingdom through alchemy communication.
As Perfikot read the battle report, her slender fingers unconsciously tightened, creasing the fragile parchment deeply, her brows knotted with a cold fury.
Perfikot wasn't angry at the Missionary Group's mishandling—the elite missionaries, each selected through rigorous screening, perfectly adhered to the principle of "exchanging resources for faith."
They brought the goodwill and abundant resources of the Empire, offering hope to those survivors struggling amid the calamity.
But what did those ignorant mobs do?
Perfikot's fingers clutching the battle report almost crushed the parchment.
"Utterly absurd!" Perfikot almost hissed these words through gritted teeth.
Her fingers gripping the report whitened from the force, the parchment groaning under the pressure in her palm.
