According to Hiyori, the Chengdu Concession west of Wuhan is a remnant of China’s unification.
Long ago, China relied on Britain’s help to unify the country. Britain crushed China’s enemy states—but then stationed its own military in those conquered territories. That eventually became what is now the Chengdu Concession.
Officially, it’s Chinese territory. But in reality, Chinese troops aren’t allowed inside. Education is conducted in English (Chinese is treated as a second language), and the heads of all major industries are British. It’s essentially a British enclave—arguably even a colony.
Naturally, this has kept relations between Britain and China tense for a long time.
The region happens to suit the tiger-type magical beast Dun, so they thrive there. These tiger beasts are like cars in this magic age—making Chengdu a major hub for the “automobile” industry. Britain is determined to hold onto it.
Yeah… no surprise things are tense. If I got my hands on something like a mana-stone mine, I wouldn’t let it go either.
There’s supposedly an agreement to return it to China in a few decades, but… who knows.
Hiyori knows a British noble who governs the concession, so we decided to stop by to confirm geography.
We’re heading to the Rushi Kingdom via India, but there’s a mountain range between China and India. Hiyori last passed through there over fifty years ago, so the best way to get updated information is to ask someone local.
If only we had the internet—we could pull up a current map instantly. What a hassle.
When we entered the Chengdu Concession riding tiger beasts, the scenery already felt distinctly British.
Brick buildings reminiscent of the Industrial Revolution. Street lamps lining the roads. Smoke billowing from chimneys, making the air slightly hazy.
Gentlemen in black and gray frock coats walked about carrying elegant magic wands, while women holding shopping baskets and parasols chatted at street corners…
…wait, their clothing looks like Hiyori’s? Witch-style robes, maybe. Quite charming.
“Mi-mi-mi… the air is delicious!”
Tsubaki, trotting alongside our tiger (they refuse to carry her because she’s on fire), inhaled deeply with a big smile.
Well, makes sense for you. If a fire creature started coughing in smoky air, it’d need a new element.
“Like it?”
“Mi-mi. Sekitan would like this place. Smells like coal everywhere. I like it too, but I won’t make it my territory.”
She said that while chewing on the handle of her Salamandra staff.
She really likes the texture, so she’s always gnawing on it. It’s metal, so it doesn’t leave marks, but it gets dirty with soot and drool. Still, for a fire lizard, that’s basically a sign of affection—so judging it by human standards would be unfair.
…Even so, as the one who made it, I kind of wish she’d treat it more carefully. Mixed feelings.
It’s been about ten days since I made Salamandra, but it still hasn’t reached its full potential. Right now, it’s just a high-temperature, high-pressure staff. Seems like forming a micro-core isn’t something that happens overnight.
When we reached the central district, Hiyori dismounted.
She handed the reins to Tsubaki, smoothed out her robe, and adjusted her witch hat.
“That should do. Dairi, I’ll head to the Stewart estate. I’ll arrange things so we can have dinner together at the inn—wait for me.”
“Got it. Bring back a good deal.”
“Hard to say. He’s a man who values quality—but also dignity.”
I’m aiming to sell high-quality magic staff—made from premium wood from Kinrenka and high-grade gremlins we picked up along the way—to the noble ruling this concession.
If Hiyori lands the deal, Master Wand Craftsman 0933 will absolutely deliver.
Gathering route intel is important—but so is marketing my work.
“Then I’m off. Tsubaki, take care of Dairi. The inn is straight down this road, then on the right—The First Oriental. Can you read English?”
“I can! A-B-C-ME-E-F-G!”
“…Dairi?”
“I’ve got English covered. At least until we get inside.”
Perfect teamwork: I handle directions, Tsubaki handles check-in.
The inn turned out… not great.
The windows were covered in soot—you could draw a smiley face in it. The stable smelled like manure masked with heavy herbs, making the tiger sneeze.
One big bed, one sofa, and a fireplace. Since it’s summer, the fireplace was empty. Tsubaki stuck her head in to sniff, then breathed fire in disappointment.
“This place sucks. Fireplace with no ash? Failed bedmaking.”
“It’s not spotless, but it’s fine. If you want ash, grab some from the kitchen.”
“Mi-mi-mi. I’ll do that. And get some oily snacks.”
“…”
“…”
“…You’re not going?”
“Blue Witch told me to guard Dairi. I won’t leave until she returns. I’m strong. This time, I protect my pack.”
Tsubaki curled up at my feet, hugging her staff and hammer, chirping softly like when she was a hatchling.
Adorable. And reliable.
Honestly, after what happened in Wuhan, I can’t call this overprotective.
While passing time, I started experimenting with large gremlins I bought.
Teleportation magic processing.
It’s been a year since I started extracting fire-lizard gremlins and training mana. I’m now at over 80K mana—enough to use teleportation magic.
The lowest-tier spell, “Inorganic Exchange Teleport,” costs 50K mana. I can use it once without issue.
For ordinary people without mana control, the process is ridiculously complicated.
First, generate static electricity somehow.
Gremlin-infested Earth doesn’t allow normal electricity, but extremely weak charges are ignored. Otherwise, human bioelectricity would vanish and humanity would already be extinct.
I rubbed synthetic fibers against my palms to build static charge.
When it builds up, you feel a tingling sensation.
Apparently, that’s gremlins forming in response to voltage crossing a threshold, stimulating the nerves. It fades in hours to days—or can be healed with magic.
Next, connect your pinkies and thumbs to form a loop. Keep other fingers apart.
Then spin around to force blood into your hands.
“Mi-mi-mi. I don’t do spinny-throw anymore. I’m an adult.”
“…Yeah. You are.”
Once your hands suddenly feel cold—that’s phase two.
Bring the four fingertips together to form an infinity shape, then separate into two loops—one in each hand.
The left loop marks the target, viewed through your right eye. The right loop holds the destination.
You can swap objects up to about 50mm in size.
Of course, mages and transcendent beings don’t need any of this nonsense.
They just… use magic normally.
And can teleport anything—rocks, houses, whatever.
The gap is ridiculous.
“Let’s exchange—Oitachakuo…!”
I focused through the left loop, visualized strongly, and cast the spell.
The gremlin sphere on the table was hollowed out, and the removed material appeared in my right-hand loop.
“Oh! It worked!”
“??? Dairi, why do it that way? Just do it normally.”
Tsubaki casually did the same thing—perfectly.
…Show-off.
Her cut was smooth. Mine was rough.
Figures.
Conclusion: I can’t brute-force this.
Without proper mana control, teleport processing isn’t worth it. Better to carve by hand.
Still, it helped me understand how modern wand-making has evolved.
As I finished jotting notes, Tsubaki looked toward the door.
Footsteps approached.
Hiyori returned.
“Welcome back! We guarded properly!”
“Mm. Good work, Tsubaki.”
“Welcome back. You look… conflicted. No deal?”
Hiyori hesitated.
Then asked carefully:
“Dairi… you don’t care about fame or power from selling your staff, right?”
“Not really. I want my staffs famous—but I’m fine staying unknown. Why?”
She sighed in relief.
“This is… troublesome. But also an opportunity. I’ll protect you—but more allies help. So… I hesitated.”
“Spit it out.”
She took a breath.
“Dairi… will you make a royal scepter? I secured a commission—a regalia to legitimize a noble who will soon declare independence from Britain.”
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