The Cautious General Neo

Standing on the battlements with a monocular spyglass held to his eye, Neo watched the scene below, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. At this moment, he finally understood the sheer joy Karen felt whenever he layered turtle shell upon turtle shell on himself before every fight. The dazed, helpless look on the enemies' faces was practically the finest tobacco leaf in the world—you didn't even need to smoke it; just a whiff of the fumes was enough to get you high. Neo relayed an order to Richard beside him: "Crossbowmen." Serving as the signaling adjutant, Richard immediately passed down the order. Holding a glowing flag, he waved standard flag signals while putting his vocal cords to good use as well: "Attention, crossbowmen into position!" All the crossbowmen mounted the battlements, nocking arrows and bolts before positioning themselves sideways against the merlons. These bows and crossbows were magical apparatuses. They fetched steep prices in the Church Affairs Building and on the black market alike, and even now, they were only issued for regiment use; once the war ended, they had to be turned back in and could not be kept privately. Even if your personal weapon was originally a bow, crossbow, or magical firearm, you weren't allowed to carry it without a specially approved exception. Everyone had to use the standardized issue—first, to streamline logistical supply and maintenance, and second, to make it easy for comrades to pick up and use your weapon if needed. Neo said, "Summoners, Plan 3." Richard shouted, "Summoners in position, execute Tactical Plan 3!" On a circular stone platform inside the fortress, Ashley ordered the people around her, "Let's move!" "Yes, Captain!" "Understood, Captain!" Ashley was the captain of the militia regiment's summoner squad. Her securing this post owed much to Karen deliberately promoting and compensating her; after all, several members in her squad were former colleagues of her parents. Even so, there was never any issue with her commanding respect. She had been part of Karen's original core team from the beginning, and as Karen climbed step by step to the position of Regional Chief, that group had all risen rapidly in turn, becoming prominent figures among the younger generation. It was a standing bestowed by the fortunes of life. As the summoner squad activated their spells, illusory phantoms of flying monster beasts were summoned one after another. "Oh, Sandy, my dearest friend..." When Sandy was first summoned in the past, it had been spirited, proud, and free, instinctively showing off its beauty and majesty. Yet with every subsequent summoning, Sandy's expression grew more and more numb. Its eyes now carried the weary disillusionment of someone who had seen through the world, as if it could foresee the ending right from the opening curtain. Much like how an adolescent girl always holds beautiful fantasies about romance, while the old woman running the pastry shop begins plotting reasons to deny your bargaining the second you step through the door. Still, what had to be done had to be done. That was life. Led by Sandy, a flock of flying monster beast phantoms soared over the camp's ramparts into the open air, diving down to circle at low altitude. The Nightstalkers below retaliated at once. Spells and magical implements detonated in midair, battering the beast phantoms until they wailed and shrieked in misery. These flying beast phantoms didn't possess much combat strength. In short, it was just one Sandy leading a flock of "Sandys" who weren't even as good-looking as Sandy. Many beast phantoms were critically injured and dissolved, leaving only a downpour of diverse feathers drifting through the sky. With a sudden pull-up, Sandy climbed back out of the low altitude. Its luck wasn't bad today—it actually hadn't been blown to pieces. Deep down, it even felt a twinge of regret, because surviving meant it would likely have to dive down and take another round of explosions. Neo said, "Crossbowmen, target lock." Richard shouted, "Crossbowmen, calibrate targeting!" Neo said, "Three-round burst." Richard shouted, "Prepare rapid three-round burst!" Neo said, "Fire!" Richard roared, "Loose!" Every beast feather that settled on a Nightstalker served as a tracking beacon. If Kevin's broad, acute sensory detection earlier had outlined a general landing zone for the artillery, what was taking place now was point-to-point sniping. This was also why Karen had dared to pick off isolated elites of the various orthodox churches one by one out in the desert, yet had unhesitatingly chosen to avoid the rebel forces. Individual strength—unless formidable to a terrifying degree—remained pale and frail when pitted against an organized church military formation. The crossbowmen unleashed rapid three-round volleys. The bolts automatically locked onto the targets marked by the feathers. An enemy might manage to dodge the first bolt or parry it with a protective sacred artifact, but the two subsequent bolts were far harder to deflect. Moreover, every bolt was imbued with elemental effects, none of which were easy to withstand. Among the Nightstalkers below, some burst into human fireballs, others rotted into puddles of foul pus, and still others were electrocuted into charred husks, each death more gruesome than the last. The fortress wall ahead loomed tall, impossible for them to scale. To facilitate infiltration, they wore no heavy armor, had inherently weak defenses, and carried no siege weaponry... In short, this was a large pack of assassins trapped beneath a barbican, being picked off from above like fish in a barrel. Seeing this, the enemy commander had no choice but to sound the retreat. The surviving Nightstalkers began falling back. The artillery squad opened up with another round of shelling, though the damage dealt was quite limited this time; it was more like a fireworks display celebrating the victory of the defense. Standing on the command platform, Muri hadn't spoken a single word from beginning to end. Bart held his heavy shield, longing for an order to sally out and pursue, but he was destined for disappointment. No such order came from above. The troops were merely instructed to tally and replenish consumables while working with the priests to recover their energy. Neo glanced at Count Rekar beside him and asked, "Should we pursue?" Count Rekar shook his head. "After suffering such heavy losses, they can still scatter and pull back in an orderly fashion. That's a retreat, not a rout. Better not give chase." Neo agreed. Holding this ground while inflicting severe casualties on the enemy—with losses on their side low enough to be negligible—was already a massive profit. There was no need to add leverage now. If he truly ordered a pursuit out of the camp, they might well walk into a lethal counterattack. A militia regiment was, after all, only a militia regiment. Relying on pre-constructed fortifications, coordination among squads, and siege instruments to bombard the enemy wasn't particularly difficult. Charging out into open-field warfare was the real test of an army's quality. If Neo were commanding a knight order, he certainly would have thrown open the gates and charged out by now. Actually... if it had been a knight order, they probably wouldn't have bothered defending behind walls here in the first place. Though he had broken away from the Church of Order, Neo still shared the deep-seated conviction held by the vast majority of Order believers: the Knights of Order were the most formidable fighting force in existence. The orthodox churches surely believed so as well. Otherwise, they wouldn't have picked on the outer militia regiments—the softest persimmons—tonight, but would instead have pincered the knight order launching the offensive. Rekar said, "We held out here because of our pre-built fortifications and early warning. I worry the other militia regiments won't be able to hold." "No need to worry—they've definitely collapsed by now," Neo replied. "The ones we just shot down under the walls were Nightstalkers from the Night God Church. They're hailed as the finest assassins in the world. Just imagine what would have happened if they'd infiltrated our camp. "The other militias might not be facing the Night God Church, but every orthodox church has its own trump cards. Their battles won't be any easier. "I expect the entire outer defense line manned by the militias has basically fallen apart. "Richard, send a message to Senrol next door and ask how things are going on his end. "Then release crows to gather as many scattered militia survivors as we can. After that, we sit tight and wait for the knight order on the front line to send reinforcements." By mid-morning, routed militiamen began trickling in around the camp in considerable numbers. Under normal battlefield conditions, these stragglers would have been lambs to the slaughter. But fearing reinforcements from the knight order, the enemy hadn't lingered to indulge in further slaughter after overrunning the militia camps; they had chosen to withdraw decisively, giving these routed troops a chance to survive. Neo ordered his men to take them in, providing tents, food, and potions outside the walls, while dispatching priests beyond the gate to assist with treatment. However, not a single routed soldier was permitted inside the fortress, even if they carried complete, valid identification. Until he saw the banner of the knight order, Neo intended to ensure his camp remained completely secure and unassailable. Seeing this made Muri and the others wonder how such a cautious Commander Neo had managed to end up on the rooftop time and time again in the past. The method to assess the overall state of the outer militia regiments was simple: see whether communications were restored. For deployed military units, maintaining communication was the best proof that an organizational structure remained intact. The result was that the original "group chat" had dwindled to a private chat with their "next-door neighbor." Every time Yorktown Region sent out a communication check, only the "next-door neighbor" checked in. Moreover, the "next-door neighbor" never missed a single check-in; one could practically feel the schadenfreude dripping from their enthusiastic responses. At noon, a force from the knight order was confirmed to have arrived nearby, meaning the two militia regiments in this sector finally had their backing back. Neo ordered the gates opened to let the gathered survivors into the stockade. Muri stood at the gate, warmly greeting each person and offering apologies for not letting them inside earlier. Meanwhile, the commander of the "next-door neighbor" couldn't wait any longer. Riding a falcon himself, he flew over through the air to pay a visit. Senrol was a rather plump man who would have been well-suited to play a villain in a Wien court drama. Over the preceding days, he had withstood immense pressure, pushing imitation and copying to their absolute limits. Finally, in the early hours of this morning, he had reaped a bountiful harvest. Neo didn't need to entertain him; Muri was the nominal commander, so Muri met with him inside his military tent. The moment Senrol arrived, he launched into a profuse expression of deep admiration for Regional Chief Karen. If Karen hadn't been so extraordinarily young, Muri felt the man might actually have claimed to have "grown up listening to stories of Regional Chief Karen." After that, Senrol mentioned his close ties with Sus, Karen's predecessor's predecessor, and brought up Director Andilao, claiming he had also studied under his guidance. In short, the introductory pleasantries dragged on for a long time, mostly consisting of Senrol playing up his connections and affection. Then Senrol revealed the true purpose of his hasty visit: joint command. Nominally, all militia regiments took orders from the knight order, but in actual practice, they enjoyed a great deal of autonomy. As for who would command whom... that went without saying. Senrol had come proactively to hand over command of his regiment to Muri. He had truly skipped the copying process altogether and chosen to simply join up! On the surface they were equals, but in practice, his unit would be subordinate to Muri, taking direct orders from him. This posture was so utterly humble that Muri was momentarily at a loss for how to respond, managing only to brush him off with polite noncommittals for the time being. Senrol expressed understanding and approval, hinting that his own Regional Chief would certainly contact Regional Chief Karen soon, as the two chiefs were the ones who truly called the shots. Once Senrol left, Muri brought Ventura to report the situation to Neo. At that moment, Neo was soaking in a bath barrel, a glass of red wine at his right hand and a cigarette pinched in his left. Had it not been for his enduring emotional conservatism regarding Miss Eliza, pairing him with a newly seduced priestess right now would have completed the textbook image of a greedy, corrupt warlord. After hearing the report, Neo showed not the slightest excitement at the prospect of commanding two regiments. Instead, he cursed outright: "What? That sticky candy wants to glom onto us?" Neo took a long drag of his cigarette, flicked the butt away, and cursed again: "Then how the hell are we supposed to rob tombs? Are we really stuck here fighting a fucking war?" Muri reminded him, "Going forward, we'll be very conspicuous, and our combat missions will be much heavier." Because only two militia regiments had preserved their organizational structures; the rest had been shattered. Rebuilding them would require personnel and equipment replacements—in other words, time. During this period, whenever the knight order needed support for operations, they could only deploy the two remaining units. Furthermore, if you excelled and became the top student in the class, it became rather difficult to hide in the back row during lessons to slack off and sneak snacks. Neo muttered irritably, "I know that, but you need to understand even more that your Regional Chief is sitting at home waiting for our revenue. Right now, he's like a starving baby crying for milk." Just then, Richard walked in and reported, "The knight order's disciplinary officer has arrived to help tally our battle results. Also, Muri, Commander Daan of the knight order wants to see you. You need to head to their camp right away; it's quite a distance." "Understood. Help me get ready first, Richard." "Sure thing. I'll go deal with that disciplinary officer and see if I can inflate our kill count a bit—I'll try to get as many vaporized enemies counted as possible." Once Richard stepped out, Muri looked at Neo and asked, "How should I answer? Commander Daan will certainly ask why we were able to take precautions in advance." Ventura, standing beside them, chimed in bluntly: "Isn't that simple? It was all thanks to the brilliant leadership of our great Regional Chief." *** The High Priest was not in the divine administrative palace today, though work there continued as normal. He was currently inside an expansion realm, atop a massive mountain composed of black crystals. At this moment, it was drenched in thick, foul-smelling blood, and Order priests were carrying away the carcasses of giant insects one by one. From a cave, a brood mother resembling an enormous maggot was dragged out, shivering in terror before the High Priest's carriage. It possessed intelligence and clearly knew who held true authority among this terrifying group of intruders. Its trembling was more akin to groveling flattery. However, the High Priest, who had come to inspect the expansion realm today, showed little interest in humoring the fawnings of a monster beast. He had just received news from the desert front. Yet he was not angry. From the reports received so far, the desert rebels who had gathered had been broken by the knight order, while Order's militia regiments had been swept aside by the "mercenaries" sent by the various orthodox churches. The desert rebels hardly counted as human beings; neither Order nor the orthodox churches supporting them regarded the rebels as people. They were merely expendable fodder used casually in the friction and skirmishes between the orthodox faiths. Thus, this time, Order had lost face and taken a loss. Yet the High Priest was pleased. The orthodox churches had finally entered the fray in earnest. From here on, things would get interesting. What Order least wanted to see was not immediate losses, but a prolonged, hollow war of attrition. As it turned out, those orthodox churches had been even more impatient. *Are they worried about the return of the God of Order? Heh,* the High Priest thought to himself. Mobiten placed a golden cube before the High Priest. As it rotated, the internal communication array activated, establishing connections directly with the offices of several departmental heads without requiring their confirmation. This was the authority of the supreme ruler. Before him, even if you were the undisputed head of a department, you had no privacy to speak of, even within your own office. Seated upon the carriage chair, the High Priest spoke a few brief words to everyone. "...I will return to the divine administrative palace shortly. Since the other side took the initiative to escalate the conflict, it is time for us to deliberate on a plan for the next phase." As the captain of the High Priest's guard, Mobiten had been able to see the battle report delivered earlier. He saw the name of his grandson, Muri Benda, listed upon it. His grandson had earned military merit. At the same time, during the communication conference just now, Mobiten had clearly caught sight of Karen in the small frame showing the Whip-Wielder's office, standing in the corner beside the Whip-Wielder's secretary with his head bowed in salute. He had had friction with Karen in the past. Back on Fire Island, when he had tried to discipline Muri, Karen had stood up for Muri on the grounds that he was Muri's superior. Yet how much time had passed since then? The two unreliable youths from back then... one had become a Regional Chief, and the other was now leading troops on the front line. Among the third generation of the Benda family, the one holding the highest post and doing the best for himself was, ironically, the grandson he had once liked the least. The communication ended, and the High Priest prepared to return to the teleportation array area. As the carriage moved along, the High Priest looked at Mobiten beside him and smiled. "Muri Benda is your grandson, isn't he?" Mobiten was not at all surprised by the High Priest's sharp memory; moreover, the Benda surname was quite conspicuous. "Yes, High Priest." "Mobiten, you have raised a fine grandson." Taking a group of pampered young masters into one's team was exceedingly difficult to manage. But if managed well, the advantages one could reap at a critical moment down the line were immense. "No, High Priest. My relationship with that boy has never been good, and he left the family very early to make his own way, so I dare not claim credit. Rather, it is his longtime superior who has exerted great influence and provided immense help to him." "His superior is..." "Regional Chief Karen of Yorktown Region." "Ah, yes. A very promising young man discovered by Foden. His ability to handle affairs is first-rate. So your grandson works under him." Mobiten swallowed hard and said, "I just saw him in the Whip-Wielder's office." "Oh?" The High Priest nodded and said casually, "Then have Foden bring him over for a meeting."