All-Out Attack!

Philomena lifted the cauldron of blackened broth and dumped it into the pit where she had previously hidden. Then she set the pot and its lid on the ground and proceeded to knock down every pot, bowl, and utensil in the kitchen, arranging them across the floor to look as if the tremors had shaken them loose. That way, no one would notice that someone had attempted to poison the soup. Yet she suddenly frowned. There was no second cauldron of broth for her to poison, and she was heading out to find an assassination target anyway. What was the point of carefully staging the scene of an aborted poisoning? *Smack!* Philomena slapped her own forehead with one hand. She felt that hiding among the food waste had probably rotted her brains from the stench. Then again, recalling her string of blunders over the past few days, she felt too embarrassed to shift all the blame onto the trash. Glancing at the garbage pit in the corner, her face grew faintly hot. She hadn't thought much of it before, but after being left on her own and experiencing all this, she finally understood the look Karen had often directed at her in the past: *Oh... he was looking at an idiot.* *If only I had a Jerry too.* That was what she thought, envying Richard for having a worm in his head to do the thinking for him. Drawing the Blade of Nightmares, she slipped it up the sleeve of her clerical robe flush against her forearm. Lowering her head, Philomena hurried out of the kitchen with feigned urgency. Soon, she ran into priests scrambling in panic in the distance. After seamlessly blending into the crowd, her eyes swiftly picked out those who looked less flustered and began trailing them. She knew full well that at a time like this, ordinary lower- and mid-level priests might panic, but the command system would surely have to maintain smooth operation. Gradually, she separated from the general crowd. As she continued forward, she relied on her agility and spells to conceal herself. The priests she encountered ahead clearly held unusual status, judging by the grade of their vestments. She had likely found where the commanding lord was stationed. Philomena took a deep breath, silently vowing to herself that this time, she had to land a big fish. She could no longer bother worrying about how to explain herself to the people outside—she could hardly face herself anymore. However, a checkpoint manned by dedicated guards appeared ahead in the tunnel. Philomena had no choice but to reveal herself and walk over. "Hey, what unit are you from?" The two guarding priests called out to stop her. "I'm from..." Philomena raised her head. Just as she was about to strike with the Blade of Nightmares, a deafening boom sounded from above. *Boom!* A hole blew open in the ceiling, and Andrew dropped down from above. Gripping a greatsword, he split one guard cleanly in two from head to toe, then whipped the blade back in a fluid arc, cleaving the other guard across the waist. The sudden assault took them completely off guard. In the confined space of the subterranean tunnel, once a warrior closed the distance, victory or defeat—no, life and death—was decided in an instant. Having slain both men, Andrew swung his blade straight at Philomena. She drew the Blade of Nightmares to parry. As the blow was deflected, Andrew felt a cramp shoot through his wrist—the force behind her guard was terrifying. Just as Philomena was about to speak, Andrew spun around and dashed through the checkpoint. He was tasked with spearheading the assault squad; when facing a troublesome opponent, bypassing them was standard procedure, leaving them for the comrades behind him. *Our own side has launched a raid!* Just as Philomena realized what was happening, another figure dropped from above, slashing at her just like Andrew had. "Friendly!" Philomena shouted. Yet the attacker's assault didn't pause for a moment. As members of a strike team, they had never anticipated having an insider inside the enemy command center! "I'm on your side!" Philomena ripped off her cowl, but the man continued attacking regardless. The reason: he did not recognize her. The reconnaissance battalion had always trained and operated on the outer perimeter without joining the large-scale joint drills, so ordinary soldiers had no idea what their battalion commander even looked like. Philomena fumed with frustration. She had shouted repeatedly, yet he showed no reaction. Worse, each of his strikes was fierce and deadly; she could only fall back defensively, suppressing her instincts to strike back. "The enemy has infiltrated!" After she retreated a certain distance, a group of armored Earth priests charged down the intersecting tunnel to reinforce the command post. The strike team member, his blood boiling from the skirmish with Philomena, glanced left and right. In the end, he chose the more crowded side. Leaping forward, his form dissolved into black mist. Once he closed the distance with the incoming guards, he detonated the scrolls strapped to his body. *Boom!* Flame spells engulfed everything. In the enclosed tunnel, their destructive power was concentrated and magnified. The rushing guards were turned into living torches in the narrow corridor, their armor and defensive arts utterly incapable of withstanding the sudden, extreme heat. On the other side, Philomena had to retreat rapidly, ducking sideways into a crevice in the rock while erecting a barrier. Even so, the searing heat left her skin stinging with pain. At this moment, she had zero resentment left toward the colleague who had failed to recognize her and relentlessly attacked her. His resolute willingness to perish alongside the enemy commanded her deep respect. Yet when the flames died down and Philomena stepped out from the crevice, a blade slashed diagonally toward her face. She flipped her body in an instant, narrowly dodging the blow through sheer reflexes and agility. Shock flickered in the attacker's eyes—he had clearly not expected her to evade the strike. But he did not hesitate, nor did he stay to duel her. Dissolving into black mist, he surged forward. There, a second wave of guards had just arrived, only to see a shadow rushing straight toward them. Immediately following was a blinding flash as horrific lightning burst forth like a caged beast unleashed, piercing their bodies one by one and arcing deep down the tunnel to electrocute those behind them. As for the man who detonated the spell scroll, the initial lightning burst had reduced him to charred ash in the very instant of activation. Such was the purpose of the assault squad. From the moment the attack began, every member willingly treated themselves as an expendable magical artifact, their only initiative being to maximize the cost-effectiveness of their trade. "Ugh..." Philomena propped herself up against the rock wall. She had only caught the blast's periphery, yet the numbness radiating through her body was intensely debilitating. After lurking in the enemy camp for so long, the moment she was finally ready to accomplish something, she had nearly been taken out by her own comrades. Leaning on her blade, she struggled to steady the spiritual power within her. Her comrades' objective aligned with her own; there truly was a big fish inside, and she had to go. When Philomena stepped out from the crevice, a group of wounded guards bypassed her from behind, rushing inward to reinforce the post. Seeing her wearing their church's robes, they subconsciously skirted past her. Philomena did not spare their backs. Sweeping the Blade of Nightmares, she cut down seven or eight guards in rapid succession. For an assassin of her caliber, such efficiency was hardly surprising. Watching the blood dripping from her blade, Philomena finally felt her wits returning. After stumbling through these past few days in a daze, she had finally done something worthwhile. Because of the artillery bombardment above, many priests in this sector had retreated into sheltering tunnels for protection. The two waves of incoming guards had been almost entirely wiped out by the two suicide scroll detonations channeled through the narrow terrain, and the remaining wounded guards had been finished off by Philomena. As a result, a temporary vacuum emerged around the command center's perimeter. Even so, the battle inside the command center remained intensely deadlocked. Andrew had been the first to breach the command post. The chamber inside was vast, resembling a miniature opera house, except that the terraced seats were filled not with spectators, but with rows upon rows of small clay figurines. The clay figures could speak. Behind each figure was a corresponding trapdoor—the medium through which the Rat Den issued orders and received intelligence reports. This was the core mechanism that kept the entire Chia Grand Canyon defense network functioning. At the same time, thick plant roots bored into the rock walls, spreading densely in every direction. Relying on the life-cultivating bogs built here by the Church of Life, these roots could summon massive vines to reinforce the battlefield while helping the Rat Den monitor battlefield conditions with greater efficiency. Most of the priests inside the command center were staff officers rather than combatants. Andrew's sudden intrusion left them stunned; some even shrieked in horror. Ruke, seated at the command dais, stood straight up, his eyes widening. Any commander busily directing an operation would feel bewildered upon suddenly seeing an enemy soldier barge into his war room. Andrew's gaze snapped onto his target. He saw the nexus of the root system—a figure resembling a massive tree seated right in the center. No intuition or analysis needed: this guy was undoubtedly the key! "Fuck your mother!" The young man who had once shouted in the Regional Chief's face, "What makes your rank higher than mine?" bellowed at the top of his lungs. He gave no thought to fighting, nor did he care about getting out alive. Leaping forward, he chose to detonate himself on the spot! Yet Bilien's eyes narrowed. Tendrils shot out from all directions, binding Andrew tightly. Countless tendrils pierced into his body, disrupting the fluctuations of spiritual power within him and paralyzing his physical functions. Andrew's self-destruction was aborted halfway through, its fuse pulled before it could ignite. Bilien refrained from killing Andrew outright because he worried that the extinguishing of the young man's life force might trigger some holy artifact on his person, which could indirectly detonate the scrolls and wreak havoc on the chamber. "Ruke, relocate!" "Understood!" Ruke shouted, "Initiate Earth Relocation!" The Earth priests present immediately began casting spells. Fresh layers of clay manifested and gradually enveloped the command post. Once the spell completed, the entire command center would shift through the earth to deploy at a new location. Bilien crossed his hands, and vines wove together rapidly to seal off the command center. By the time the rest of the assault squad breached the room, all they saw was a thick wall woven of vines. Some unleashed spells while others hacked with weapons, but the vines were not only exceptionally tough, they also possessed rapid regenerative properties. Even detonating the scrolls strapped to their bodies likely wouldn't blast through it. Ruke let out a long breath and urged his subordinates to speed up the casting, simultaneously issuing orders to each clay figurine to halt all resistance operations. Relocating the command center was the top priority; operational command had to be temporarily set aside. Furthermore, with Bilien focusing his power here, the colossal vines on the battlefield had withered and receded. Without vine support, relying solely on rat teams in the tunnels to harass the enemy would yield no real results and only cause needless casualties. Though this delay would allow the Order forces above to erect a fortress, it was only a single stronghold. Even if completed, it wouldn't alter the bigger picture. They just had to endure for now. Bilien sat back down, grabbed a vial of potion beside him, and tossed it into his mouth, crunching the glass bottle and swallowing it glass shards and all. Yet just as he steadied his breathing, he sprang back to his feet. Not only was the vine barrier before him beginning to unravel on its own, but he had also sensed an intensely familiar aura! The Church of Life was obsessed with the research and development of life stages, giving the families within the faith an innate sensitivity toward the power of their kin. While this resonance could not rival the legendary depth of the Arte family, it was more than enough for them to recognize the identity of a clansman instantly. As the vines dissolved, Daliwenluo's silhouette emerged. He had driven his sapling into the earth. Facing a Church of Life vine barrier, he could naturally manipulate and dissolve it using a branch of the Tree of Life. If traitors were ranked by danger, Daliwenluo was among the most terrifying kind to the Church of Life: a prodigy blessed and recognized by the Tree of Life who, upon apostasy, would inflict geometric increases of damage upon his former church as time went on. Even though Daliwenluo wore a mask, Bilien cried out: "Daliwenluo? You're not dead?" "Hello, cousin." While the cousins exchanged greetings, Madame Gandiluo materialized directly behind Ruke, thrusting a crystal spike toward his back. *Pfft!* Ruke's body was impaled, but in the next heartbeat, the corpse turned into a straw doll. The real Ruke had already reappeared in a corner below. "Speed up the casting!" Under Ruke's command, the Earth priests pushed their spells harder, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths. Clay had almost completely blanketed the room, creating an unstable state throughout the command post akin to an activating teleportation array. This instability prevented the assault squad members from triggering the scrolls strapped to their bodies. Left with no choice, they had to resort to the most primitive method of combat: hand-to-hand slaughter. Earth priests fell in succession, yet the ritual had progressed too far; everything seemed irreversible. Ruke dared not face Madame Gandiluo head-on. Repeatedly darting behind his subordinates to use them as meat shields, his mastery of agility and puppetry was formidable enough that Madame Gandiluo could not pin him down right away. On the other side, Daliwenluo was wildly swinging his sapling at Bilien, devastating concussive shockwaves echoing incessantly through the chamber. Facing Daliwenluo's ferocious onslaught, Bilien chose to defend. He repeatedly conjured shields of Life Protection to negate the blows while simultaneously deploying his power to aid other friendly priests, including Ruke. For a time, the command post descended into chaotic melee, neither side able to swiftly tip the scales. Right then, Daliwenluo noticed a figure slipping in. Unlike the regular legion soldiers who didn't recognize Philomena, Daliwenluo and the others in the inner circle knew her well. Daliwenluo lashed out with another strike of his sapling, which Bilien deflected. But just as Daliwenluo withdrew his force, Philomena ghosted beside him and slashed her blade directly at him. Though Daliwenluo backed away swiftly, a horrific gash opened across his arm. "Damn you!" Enraged, Daliwenluo cursed and raised his sapling to strike Philomena down. "Well done!" Seeing this, Bilien couldn't help but praise her—after all, she was dressed in the vestments of his own faction. Philomena blocked Daliwenluo's blow, but the impact was so staggering that she was flung backward toward Bilien. Daliwenluo pursued her aggressively, seemingly intent on finishing her off. Bilien immediately raised a hand, expanding his defensive ward to shield Philomena. Sheltered behind the ward, Philomena felt not a shred of gratitude. Spinning around, she opened her eyes and murmured softly, "Dreamfall!" Although the sudden psychic assault failed to drag Bilien entirely into a dream, it sent his mind reeling in dizzy disorientation. Philomena seized the opening, thrusting the Blade of Nightmares straight into Bilien's chest. *Pfft!* When Bilien's senses cleared, he looked down in astonishment at the blade impaling his chest. It had all unfolded too fast. Philomena and Daliwenluo hadn't exchanged a single word of coordination; the moment she attacked him, Daliwenluo had understood precisely how to play along. From Bilien's perspective, how could he have imagined that this sudden strike team would pull off such a treacherous deception! Yet with the treant-like vitality Bilien possessed, a single stab was far from fatal. While reinforcing his outer defenses to keep Daliwenluo at bay, he began knitting his wound shut, and two wooden branches were already coiling up from below to ensnare Philomena. Philomena ran her palm across the edge of the blade, letting her blood drip over the steel, and whispered in a low voice: "Dark Moon." Crimson radiance enveloped the entire blade in an instant, surging deep into Bilien's body to sever and strangle the life force within him. The people of Dark Moon Island practiced a fragmented, discontinuous faith in the Dark Moon, but only two people had truly received the authentic heritage of the Dark Moon: One was Karen, and the other was Philomena. Karen had obtained the Dark Moon Bone on Sacrificial Island, while Philomena had received the Dark Moon Divine Sense. However, because Karen's body had undergone total restructuring in the polluted cavern, strictly speaking, Philomena was now the world's sole true inheritor of the Dark Moon Goddess. Imbued with the will of vengeance, the power of the Dark Moon exerted immense restraint over vitality. As the crimson light penetrated his body, the wound on Bilien's chest tore open rapidly. Like a leech sprinkled with salt, his entire frame began to dehydrate and shrivel. Before long, all that remained on the seat was a rotting piece of human-shaped wood. Without Bilien's cover, Ruke could no longer evade Madame Gandiluo's near-frenzied pursuit. Like Philomena, Madame Gandiluo was desperate to earn merit, eager to wash away her past and prove herself. *Crack!* A crystal cage finally sealed Ruke inside. There was no requirement to take prisoners, nor did she care what additional credit capturing the enemy commander alive might bring. They were an assault squad; annihilating the command post was their sole priority. Madame Gandiluo clenched her fist hard. The crystal collapsed inward, crushing Ruke into a pouch of bloody slush mixed with muddy residue. The rest of the squad also cleared out the remaining enemy priests in the room. Just at that moment, the command post finished its subterranean relocation, shifting into another underground sector of the canyon. Dense footsteps immediately echoed outside—priests stationed in this area were already converging on them. Moreover, because the location had changed, the assault squad had lost the entry tunnel they had originally breached. This meant they were trapped inside. Fortunately, their mission was complete: they had slain both commanders of the garrison. "Smash every piece of equipment here!" Issuing orders, Daliwenluo walked over to Bilien's desiccated corpse, raised his sapling, and thrust it into the body. He was not defiling the corpse out of spite. As he channeled the life energy within him into it, Bilien's withered body miraculously regained its luster, like dead wood sprouting anew—even though the man himself was dead. Using Bilien's corpse as a conduit, Daliwenluo manipulated the roots inside the chamber, erecting a sealing barrier at the entrance identical to the one Bilien had created earlier, locking the priests outside. Having finished, Daliwenluo exhaled deeply. Instead of destroying Bilien's remains further, he even spent extra effort restoring them slightly. If he managed to make it out alive, he would take this body back as his trophy. Then he hoped "Young Master" would grant him a small request: allowing him to have another proper "catch-up" with his dear cousin. Young Master would likely agree. After all, he had just accomplished such a monumental feat. Provided, of course, that they could leave here alive. Daliwenluo turned to Philomena and said, "Everyone thought you went missing. Who would have guessed... Heh, I'm actually starting to admire you." Philomena wore her customary blank expression, neither confirming nor denying anything. Daliwenluo walked over to Andrew, who lay in the corner riddled with puncture wounds. Rolling him over, he found a faint heartbeat. "Well, look at that. Still alive." Andrew weakly half-opened his eyes. His mind was already foggy, but his trembling fingers were reaching to fulfill his unfinished obsession: detonating the scrolls on his chest. Alarmed, Daliwenluo grabbed his hands immediately and pried his fingers loose. "Mission's accomplished. Go to sleep, don't worry." Whether Andrew heard him or simply succumbed to his injuries, his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness. Of the remaining squad, besides Madame Gandiluo, Daliwenluo, and Philomena, only three survivors were left. Daliwenluo said, "That wall I put up outside won't hold for long. Once I can't maintain it and it collapses, do your best to kill a few more to make it worth your while." Having already fought a battle, their remaining strength was running thin. Now, everything depended on whether high command above would launch a general offensive in time, and how effective that offensive would be. Madame Gandiluo was surprisingly calm, sitting cross-legged while idly twirling an amethyst crystal in her fingers. After a period of silence, Daliwenluo looked at the three surviving squad members and asked a question akin to *if your parents divorced, who would you choose to live with*: "Tell me... do you regret it now?" One of them brushed back his blond hair and replied, "What we're going through right now doesn't even compare to when the Corps Commander went down into the polluted cavern." Daliwenluo gave him an appreciative look. This young man was named Ek—Ek Zashibi. "Don't worry. If we make it out alive and get extracted, I'll put that line in the mission report. Because I can tell you truly understand the meaning of life: as long as life continues, brown-nosing never ends." "Haha!" Ek laughed. The other two comrades chuckled along with him. Daliwenluo urged, "Hey, you two better think of something quick. Tell me once you have it, and I'll write yours down too." At that, a young man with reddish-brown hair said, "Save it for the fallen brothers. Record it as their dying words." The other young man nodded. "Yeah. We're still breathing—that's already the best reward, even if we only outlive them by a few hours." These two were named Samuel and Kontega. All three were very young. Not all of the assault squad had been young men; half of them had been middle-aged. And those older soldiers had tacitly volunteered for the initial suicidal assignments—intercepting enemy reinforcements, guarding the rear, and being the first wave to sacrifice themselves. Only Andrew, that reckless hothead, had been an exception, charging in first because of his persistent delusion that the Corps Commander was persecuting him. Daliwenluo sighed. The surviving young men were sensible and brave, but truth be told, the ones who had already fallen had been even more outstanding. Unbeknownst to himself, Daliwenluo's perspective and stance had shifted. His intentional effort to remember these young men's names looked like mentoring, but in truth, he was paving his own way forward. In the records of the *Light of Order*, each of the Twelve Knights of Order had left behind a legacy, and several departments within the Church of Order today had been founded by one of those revered figures. In the future, he too would need a circle of his own followers. Otherwise, he would forever be bullied by Alfred. Why was Alfred always swaggering around? Wasn't it just because he had taken advantage of the Young Master's lack of time for mundane matters to build up that entire retinue with his own hands? At that moment, a fresh wave of attacks began pounding the plant barrier outside. Daliwenluo could feel what little life energy remained in his body rapidly depleting. In that instant, a realization dawned on him: the Twelve Knights of Order were positions, not permanent titles tied to specific individuals. In other words, some knights might have perished during the God of Order's rise and conquests, only for their seats to be filled by successors. Daliwenluo glanced at Madame Gandiluo. Could the two of them be replaced as well, forced to vacate their coffins for newcomers? *Sigh. I even planted quite a few flowers and herbs in my coffin. I hope whoever moves in after me will help water them.* ... The frontline of the Grand Canyon had been quiet for a long time. Led by Mr. Aisen, the array masters in the battle formation had begun erecting the fortress. The titanic vines were gone, and the trapdoors no longer opened to disrupt them, as though conceding by default. Perched on the back of the bone dragon, Neo crouched while scanning the valley below, rubbing his chin with one hand. He said: "Karen, it's time to gamble." This situation meant either that Daliwenluo's assault squad had destroyed the enemy command post, or that they had failed and the enemy was intentionally playing dead to lure them into launching a general offensive. Karen asked, "Shouldn't that decision be yours to make?" Neo licked his lips. "You know, when I trade stocks with my own bonds, I always end up on the rooftop ready to jump. But whenever I trade with Leon and the others' bonds, I make massive profits every single time." "Because they aren't your own bonds, you exercise more caution, which leads to greater gains." "No! It's because they aren't my bonds that I dare to bet wildly, not giving a damn if they lose—and the result is that I fucking strike it rich every time!" "Heh." "You make the call. Hurry up. We can't drag our feet. Wait too long, and even if they successfully took out the command center, the garrison might organize a new chain of command." "Then launch the general offensive." "Huh?" Neo said, surprised. "Hey, not a shred of hesitation?" "Because I can sense that both Daliwenluo and Madame Gandiluo are still alive. If they're alive by this point, the mission must have succeeded." Neo spread his arms. "Trading stocks on insider info like that robs you of the pure joy of gambling. Really." "You can enjoy that joy on my behalf. The wind on the rooftop is too strong; I catch cold easily." "Heh. Back when we first met, why didn't you dare mock me like this?" "Didn't I? I seem to remember I did—right after I accidentally snapped that Whip of Order ring you gave me and discovered it was plastic." "You really hold a grudge. Fine, order the full army assault! But to speed up the purge of enemy forces in this area and minimize our casualties, I propose breaking the army back down into smaller units. "Now that we're certain their command network is severed, the subterranean depths of this canyon are full of little rats holed up in groups of three, five, or a dozen. They can no longer reinforce, cover, or coordinate with one another; they can only sit tight and wait to be picked off one by one. Which means..." Karen finished his sentence: "Which means we can play directly to the core strengths of the Whip of Order." ... Falcon knights skimmed low through the air to deliver dispatches, while ravens bearing Karen's seal beat their wings and darted into each combat echelon. Leading the messengers, Richard relayed the order from Karen: "Order from the Corps Commander: "All combat echelons, battalions, and task groups: temporarily dissolve your current regiment structures! Reassemble into your original Whip of Order squads! Operating squad by squad, sweep the entirety of the Chia Grand Canyon and purge every rat hole!"