Ambush

The largest Golden-Armored Dragon Turtle in the entire corps marched right down the center of the column. Not only did it tow three advanced magic crystal cannons behind it, but an officer's tent was also pitched on its back. Inside the tent were just three people: Neo, Muri, and Karen. The daily routine commander-level briefing had already ended. The reason they were continuing with this smaller meeting was specifically to give Karen, the Corps Commander, some "extracurricular tutoring." In the previous meeting, Karen had issued a series of new orders. Now, Karen needed to thoroughly understand why he had issued them. Any other commander would probably find it intolerable to become a hollow figurehead, but Karen did not mind. Everything required a process of cognitive learning. Not long ago, Neo had suggested that Karen study military strategy, and Karen's response had been quite lackluster. Yet Neo had never worried about it, because he knew all too well this family's addiction to learning—or rather, their addiction to plundering knowledge. Just look at him now: the guy sat there with a notebook balanced on his knees and a fountain pen in hand. One should never believe an overachiever who claimed to hate studying; it was merely a habitual preamble to blow everyone away next time. Muri hung photographs and scroll-drawings on a blackboard. Depicted within them was a meandering expanse of hollows and depressions that could well be called a canyon, looking as though swarms of enormous loaches had once wriggled and coiled there in chaotic tangles. "This is the terrain of Chia Grand Canyon, our assigned objective to seize and fortify into a stronghold," Muri said. "Strategically speaking, it lies in the southeastern desert. Rich in runic iron ore, it was developed back in the Church of the Desert era, and during the Desert Church era, it was turned into a holy site. "During the desert civil war, it was among the first areas captured by the rebels. Because runic iron ore is an indispensable consumable for teleportation arrays and highly valuable, capturing it allowed the rebels to fuel their mining operations and build out their own teleportation transport network. "Later, when Order intervened and launched an offensive here, the desert rebels chose to withdraw without offering resistance. At the time, the knight order did not adopt an occupation strategy; instead, they destroyed the local infrastructure and mining equipment before moving on. "Currently, according to intelligence from the Whip of Order, the mining rights to Chia Grand Canyon have been mortgaged by the desert rebels to the Church of Earth in exchange for Earth's support." Karen twirled the pen in his fingers. "A place once abandoned with no interest in holding, and now we have to retake and build it up again. It can only be said that the shifting winds of war are truly unpredictable." In the earliest phase, Order had merely supported the Desert Church from behind the scenes in suppressing the rebellion. Only when the Desert Church had been battered near collapse and stood on the brink of being fully absorbed by the desert rebels—when legitimate authority and rebel status were on the verge of reversing—did Order's forces directly intervene. In that first phase of the war, Order avoided garrisoning divided forces in order to avoid sinking into the quagmire of counterinsurgency, as well as due to objective troop limits. Instead, they relied on destruction and massacres to whittle away the rebels' capacity to resist. That approach no longer worked. With the arrival of the coalition forces, Order no longer enjoyed the unilateral dominance it once held over the desert rebels. Moreover, after this period of reorganization and rest, both sides had amassed vast troop counts. Like two fists that had previously pulled back by unspoken consensus, they were opening up once more, and every strategic position had become an objective worth fighting for. Considering the prolonged nature of the war, they might even end up having to rebuild the very infrastructure they had once destroyed. Neo nodded, paying Karen rare deference by chiming in, "Events have moved too fast." Karen asked, "What is the enemy's strength there currently?" Muri replied, "The latest intelligence indicates that only small numbers of rebels and Church of Earth believers have been active in the area, likely conducting small-scale salvage mining. For now, there are no reports of organized, established units stationed there." "Are we certain?" Karen asked. "For the exact situation, we can only wait for the reconnaissance team led by Miss Purr and Philomena to confirm." Karen began to ponder: if they could seize the area easily, could he take advantage of it to resume mining operations? Every little bit counted; after all, his family back home was an insatiable tiger that could never be fed enough. Neo stood up and walked over to the levitating map in the center of the tent, marked with five black arrows. The Whip of Order Corps was attached to the Ninth Army Group on Order's desert front. This army group was centered around the 12th Regular Regiment, which had been reorganized from garrison forces, and oversaw four militia regiments, the Whip of Order Militia Regiment being one of them. The Ninth Army Group was not ranked among high-combat-power formations. The measuring standard was simple: whichever army group had the Knights of Order was guaranteed to be an elite ace army group. Consequently, an outfit like the Ninth Army Group—one regular regiment leading four militia regiments to clear blind spots and seize forward outposts—was, in Neo's words, mere cheerleaders on the battlefield. However, while that was the general hierarchy, the Whip of Order Corps was the one marching down the center route in practical execution, with the 12th Regular Regiment guarding the flank. Command had likely reviewed the rosters and equipment manifests and specifically adjusted the march orders. After all, both in manpower and equipment, the Whip of Order Corps far surpassed the other militia regiments and even outshone the regular regiment beside them. Yet holding this "backbone" position brought Neo no joy, because actual command of the Ninth Army Group rested with the commander of the 12th Regular Regiment. Occupying the core position without matching authority created a jarring mismatch that made Neo deeply uncomfortable. Neo said, "Order the corps to pitch camp." Muri reminded him, "But it's just past noon." Neo shook his head. "We march far faster than they do; we need to wait for them. We don't yet know the situation ahead, so we should maintain our group formation as best we can." Originally, stopping the explanation there would have sufficed, but Neo glanced at Karen and added: "I'm worried that if we push too fast and detach from the formation, we'll turn into an exposed salient. If something really happens up ahead, they might take the opportunity to encircle us. If we have to dig in and wait for reinforcements, I doubt our allies outside will be able to break in to help us; and if we want to break out in time, I worry the 12th Regular Regiment will order us to hold our ground. It's better to play it safe rather than get aggressive. "That regular regiment shouldn't be moving so slowly, yet they've dragged their pace down to match the three ordinary militia regiments. I suspect their commander gave separate orders to those three regiments. He'd probably like nothing more than for us to sprint ahead and serve as the frontline cannon fodder scouting the way." Karen asked, "Would he really think like that?" Neo shrugged. "You, Karen, look at the big picture, but not every commander shares your moral standards. Our roster and gear are already enough to invite envy. "Besides, as a commander, sending a unit ahead to scout the road is standard operating procedure. He just has reservations and doesn't want to issue such an order to us openly, so he's hoping we'll get hotheaded and rush forward on our own." Karen said, "I'll handle communication on that issue." "Alright, that's all. For now, let's just pray there are no enemy garrisons in that canyon. Assaulting terrain like that would be a massive headache. No matter how powerful magic crystal cannons are, they can't shoot mice hiding underground. "Good thing Purr is leading the scout team. I trust Purr to bring back the most accurate intelligence. After all, cats are best at catching mice." With that, Neo walked out of the tent; he still had to inspect the camp. Karen remained seated inside a while longer, finished adding to his notes, then closed the notebook and stepped outside. By this time, the order to encamp had been given. The nearly one hundred giant elders were unloading supplies; once finished, they could shrink back to normal human size to rest. It was precisely thanks to them and the elite support of the dragon turtles that Karen's corps could march so quickly. An army could not march while abandoning its siege engines and heavy baggage—otherwise, they would experience the same despair the believers of the Church of the Night had felt that evening when facing towering, fortified walls. Little Kanna walked over to Karen's side and asked, "Can Sister Purr take me along next time she goes out?" Karen shook his head. "No." "Why? I don't understand." "Because you need to stay by my side to protect me." Little Kanna wrinkled her brow and nodded. "Fine, I understand." Soon, however, she looked up again and said, "Then I don't have to take a bath today, right?" "Don't worry. From now on, our tent will have its own simple shower. You'll just need to fetch water." "But this is the desert. Water is very precious." Karen held out his palm, and Ancestor Allen's water-affinity power condensed into a sphere of water, reflecting Little Kanna's "delighted" face. In truth, Karen had initially wanted to avoid special privileges as much as possible. But every time he went to the camp's communal bathhouse to wash, he would encounter a bunch of male priests covered in soap and lather stiffly saluting him in solemn greeting. He was no artist and had no fetish for statues; he really had zero appreciation for such scenes. After spending more time with the corps, he had gradually realized that leading a military corps was not like leading a squad. A squad leader or team head could eat and sleep alongside soldiers without special treatment, but at his rank, obsessively pursuing an idealized standard of absolute equality only produced counterproductive results. "By the way, did you have lunch?" Karen asked. He had missed lunch because of their small meeting. Little Kanna nodded. "I did." "What was for lunch? Still a few lumps of piping-hot mush?" Little Kanna shook her head. "No." "Whew, that's a relief." "I scooped some for you and left it in the tent. Now it's cold mush." Karen felt a wave of nausea. From Ruilan to Wien, he had endured many hardships, but the one thing that had never suffered was his stomach. Little Kanna added, "The mess chief told me he could cook something special just for you." As she spoke, Little Kanna made a stirring motion with her hands. "He'll whip up a fresh batch of hot mush just for you." ... Chia Grand Canyon was crisscrossed with gullies and ravines, as intricate and furrowed as the wrinkles on an elder's face. A large golden retriever sprinted along the canyon's edge. Perched on its back sat a black cat. From the saddlebags hanging on either side of the golden retriever, spirals of feathers drifted—an ingenious low-tier sacred artifact that efficiently boosted speed while minimizing energy expenditure during movement. Through their scouting, other than finding three mineshafts where clandestine mining was still being carried out, they had seen no other coalition forces. However, just as they were about to enter a downward slope ahead, Purr raised a paw. Without needing to be told, Kevin tilted his neck back and slid to a halt after skidding a short distance. Purr's amber cat eyes carefully surveyed their surroundings, while Kevin closed his eyes and began sniffing the ground. "Did you notice it, stupid dog?" Kevin nodded. "Woof." "This section isn't natural terrain. Though it was disguised well, there must be a recently laid trap buried deep beneath it. Oh, damn it, it's hidden remarkably well—they used genuine material fill." "Woof!" "Let's look around more and see if there are other areas like this." Kevin picked up speed again. Cat and dog did not charge forward in a straight line; instead, they made sudden turns and route alterations. Kevin's sensory capabilities coupled with Purr's exploration experience allowed them to take unconventional paths. A second smoothed-over patch was found, then a third, a fourth... In no time at all, they had found nine such spots, and this certainly wasn't all of them. "Alright, time to head back and tell our Little Karen that this place is a trap, meow." Purr reached a paw into Kevin's bag and tapped on a seashell inside. "Fall back, meow!" ... Buzz! Hearing the sound transmitted from the shell at her ear, Philomena immediately took out a signal flare, fired it into the air, and ordered the scouts to withdraw. She had discovered a suspicious spot that seemed to have undergone terrain alteration, but before she could locate another, it was time to fall back. She could only report it to Purr once they regrouped and let Purr decide whether to conduct a second sweep. If they could find one or two more similar areas, they could substantiate suspicions that this seemingly undefended canyon harbored danger. However, just as she turned to leave, the earth rose at four corners centered around her. Like clay sculptures, the mud molded into human silhouettes, resolving into four men in earth-yellow robes. Their robes clearly belonged to the Church of Earth, though the insignias had been scrubbed away. Philomena drew the Blade of Nightmares, while the four Earth priests simultaneously raised their arms, silently raising a boundary barrier. Crack! Philomena struck swiftly, closing in on one Earth priest and driving her blade into his body. Yet his flesh was as if truly made of mud—no blood flowed from the wound, only oozing sludge. They did not want to kill her—or rather, they did not want to kill her right now. What they wanted was to temporarily trap her without creating any disturbance that might leak out. From beyond the perimeter stepped a female priest dressed in robes of Order. She looked at Philomena, and then her face began to melt as sludge restructured her features into an exact replica of Philomena. Opening her palm, a wisp of sludge formed in her hand, solidifying into the shape of the Blade of Nightmares. She flashed Philomena a smile. Philomena said, "You can't impersonate me." No sound could travel out of the barrier, nor could any enter from outside, but the female priest seemed able to guess what Philomena was saying. Her smile broadened, dripping with mockery at Philomena's ignorance of her capabilities. Philomena bit her lip, wearing what looked like an expression of bitter helplessness and anxiety. In reality, she was holding back with all her might to keep from laughing herself. Fortunately, Philomena had long grown accustomed to a deadpan, expressionless life and possessed formidable control over her facial expressions. After the female priest waved and departed, Philomena sat down cross-legged. She knew this barrier would not hold for long, so she needed to conserve her strength and wait for the moment it weakened. ... The reconnaissance unit assembled—three groups of twelve members each. The newly added scout trainees had also been brought out, but they had only been assigned to scour the canyon's outer perimeter. Only these three veteran groups had penetrated deep inside. Purr returned riding on Kevin's back. As soon as they arrived, Purr leaped onto Philomena's shoulder, sat down, and asked: "Consolidate reports." "Nothing." "Nothing." "Nothing." "..." A brief round of quick reports—no one had found any leads worth mentioning. Purr was not surprised. The concealment here was exceptionally well-executed; even Purr and Kevin had not noticed anything amiss during their initial sweep. Though these freshly trained scouts were considered veterans compared to the newest recruits, they were still far too green in reality. "Alright, let's head back. Assume dispersed formation and prepare... for countersign verification!" With a sudden turn of phrase, members on the field immediately began shouting countersigns. These countersigns were assigned spontaneously by Purr before dispersing for each operation. Voices rang out across the ranks: "Sweet and sour carp!" "Squirrel mandarin fish!" "Pickled fish!" When shouting the first, "Sweet and sour carp," the scouts were already watching their flanking companions' reactions. At "Squirrel mandarin fish," they could practically complete the second verification. By the time "Pickled fish" was called, it was time to draw blades. Beside three members, the teammates flanking them had already unsheathed their weapons and thrust them into their chests. The three could not react in time and were slain on the spot. After killing them, the scouts inspected the corpses. Before long, sludge began surfacing on the faces of the dead; once the sludge receded, unfamiliar faces were revealed. Philomena said with a grim expression, "The situation has become serious." Purr nodded, rested a paw on Philomena's neck, patted it, and said: "Indeed. So, do you plan on keeping up the act, meow?" Philomena asked with a smile, "Was I not supposed to give the countersign?" "Your perception and reflexes are sharp, so although there was a slight hesitation when you called out the countersign, it wasn't obvious at all." Philomena turned her head toward Purr. "Then where did I slip up?" "You did very well; you didn't show any flaws. Demanding the countersign was just to give them some practical field training. After all, actual scenarios where companions are replaced don't come around often, so we had to make use of it. "Besides, "tell me, "after all these years, when you people from the Church of Earth plaster rotten mud over your faces, can't you add some perfume? I could smell that earthy stench from miles away, meow!" Purr swiped a paw across Philomena's face. With a loud smack, the face caved inward. Yet she did not die. Instead, a shrill shriek erupted from within her body, and numerous presences materialized around the perimeter, closing in at high speed. Her head, deformed from the cat paw's blow, melted rapidly into a vicious ghoul skull that lunged to bite Purr. Purr kicked off her shoulder and leaped away, dodging the strike through anticipation. The female priest's body tore apart as a sludge monster billowed forth, joining forces with the approaching host from the perimeter—evidently intent on brute-force slaughter after their infiltration failed. Landing back on Kevin's back, Purr first commanded: "Disperse and break through!" Immediately afterward, Purr pressed both cat paws together before her chest and prayed: "O Big Brother Little Karen, grant kitty power!"