News of Victory!

"Still no word from headquarters?" "None. We've sent repeated inquiries, but so far there's been no reply or directive." "Damn it, what on earth is going on! What about the Order bastards outside? Have they finished building their castle?" "The scouts haven't returned yet. I suspect the other observation posts have lost contact with headquarters too. Our intelligence and command network is probably paralyzed." "How could that be? It has to be an issue with our clay figurine here." Just then, someone slid down from above—one of the post's scouts. "What's happening out there?" "Order's battle formation has pulled back." "What? Pulled back? Did they finish building their castle?" "N-no, I saw it—it's less than half-finished. Also, on my way back, I made a point of contacting the nearest outpost. They lost contact with headquarters too. I'm wondering if the Order Legion used some wide-area Forbidden-tier shielding spell." "No, impossible. The operating principles of our Earth Religion's clay figurines are completely different from other religions' communication methods. We wouldn't be affected by that." "Then that means headquarters..." "No, that's even more impossible!!" Evidently, the commander was unwilling to believe anything had gone wrong at headquarters, because the implications of that were simply too horrifying. Under normal circumstances, splitting an army apart for decentralized defense was tantamount to slow suicide. It was only the terrain, combined with the traits of the Earth Religion and Church of Life, that had twisted this disadvantage into an advantage. But the prerequisite was that the command system had to remain stable and keep the entire defensive structure operating at peak efficiency. Once that command system was gone, the small garrisons dispersed across the various outposts of the canyon became nothing more than frogs trapped at the bottom of dry wells. "What is this?" Someone cried out in alarm. Smoke had begun rising from beneath their feet, growing thicker and heavier. It carried a pungent odor, and bare skin burned acutely on contact. At the same time, magma appeared at the far end of the tunnel. At first, it was merely a network of fissures, but it rapidly began dripping down, spreading into a bog of molten rock. The garrison's retreat was effectively severed. As the poisonous fumes continued to billow, only one choice remained. The Earth Religion priests threw open the hatch and climbed up to the surface. Just as eight of them made it out, before they could even catch their breath, crossbow bolts whistled through the air, piercing several men clean through. Shadows surged from beneath them. Cloaked in black priestly robes and wielding weapons, the attackers resembled fiends clawing out of hell, swiftly and ruthlessly reaping the lives of the remaining Earth priests. The last one out of the hole was the commander. He seemed to have had some grim premonition, poking only half his body out, and arrived just in time to witness his subordinates' gruesome deaths. "Sigh..." Shivering, the commander fumbled for a cigarette case in his pocket. But before he could pull a cigarette free, a blade cleanly took off his head. The squad had work to do. With this post eliminated, they had to hurry to the next; they had no time to waste chatting with doomed frogs. Two figures approached from the distance—one holding a wand, a spellcaster, and the other holding a disc, an array master. The scene inside the tunnel had been their handiwork. The man who had just decapitated the enemy commander glanced at his squadmates. "Did you record it?" "Recorded, Captain! Heh heh, I think we must be the fastest squad out of all of them." "Don't be so sure. Everyone came out of the pioneering space. It's only normal that there'd be squads stronger than us. Move, pick up the pace!" "Yes, Captain!" "Yes, Captain!" The Whip of Order Legion had originally been assembled by disassembling and recombining individual Whip of Order squads. Rigorous training and drills had welded them into a cohesive whole. Yet now, by Corps Commander Karen's order, the legion was broken apart once more. Former captains rounded up their former squad members, reverting to their old squad structure, and began a sweeping hunt across the Chia Grand Canyon. The garrison in each outpost had a single function: some were responsible for reconnaissance, some for operating a war engine, some for feeding monster beasts, and some for supplying nutrient fluid to the vines... The nature of their duties meant they were one-dimensional. And being one-dimensional meant that once stripped of their system's advantages, they were hopelessly frail as individuals. The Whip of Order squads, on the other hand, had long grown accustomed to operating in squad formation. Their division of labor was clear, and their teamwork was seamless. Taking down an outpost was no different from assaulting a mission objective in the past. On top of that, these were elite squads forged in the pioneering space; calling this a dimensional strike was no exaggeration at all. Before them, the priests stubbornly clinging to their isolated posts were sheep waiting to be slaughtered—as quick and simple as an experienced forager digging up razor clams along the beach. There was also stiff competition among the squads. Before the operation began, word had spread that the squad with the best "performance" would win the honor of dining with the corps commander. Some battalion commander had even embellished the rumor, claiming the meal would be personally cooked by the corps commander himself. That was a supreme honor, more than enough to pump every Whip of Order squad full of zeal. *** "To loosen and tighten at will—you've truly mastered the art." "Loosen and tighten?" Neo looked at his hand, clenching it into a fist, then opening it. "You always manage to find interesting yet awkward metaphors." Some simple ideas, when phrased in the Marklai language, were impossible to make concise. Neo gently rolled his neck, leaned back on both hands, and gazed up at the sky. "A pity I'm not Alfred. I know he's always loved playing that language-inventing game with you." "Mm." Karen clipped the end of a cigar. Channeling Allen's power, a small flame sparked from his fingertips, lighting the tip. In Karen's hands, the power of the venerable Progenitor Allen seemed to have been reduced to drawing bathwater and lighting smokes. Neo didn't hold back. Taking the cigar from Karen, he drew a puff, blew it out, and then drew the smoke back in through his nose. "Expensive stuff really does hit differently." "I didn't bring the cigars gifted by the Whip-Wielder. These are cheap ones traded from the local natives." Neo shot Karen a glare. Even so, he covered for himself: "It was personally lit by the corps commander. How could it not be precious?" "Whatever makes you happy." A battle was drawing to a smooth close. Though some sacrifices had been made, overall it was an exceptionally cost-effective victory. Reason and courtesy dictated letting this de facto battlefield commander indulge himself a little. "When it comes down to it, it's just our legion's inherent nature at work. Breaking back down into squads still gives us overwhelming local superiority. Any other legion would have completely disintegrated. "Looked at another way, though, assembling an army out of small squads was also a disadvantage during our initial training and integration. "War is like gambling. You always have to know your hand and your chips, keep a close eye on your opponent, and shift your tactics accordingly." "Are you trying to wrap this up with a moral?" "I'm teaching you." "Mm, I know." Just then, a crow flew over. Messengers of this kind differed from one another; to an outsider they appeared identical, but at the commander level, one could clearly tell what sort of intelligence was being carried. After unsealing and reading the report, Karen sighed. "Our army group is making very poor progress on other fronts. The 12th Regular Regiment's advance is completely stalled, and the other three militia regiments have even faced counterattacks from the garrison. They started as the attacking force, but now they're digging in and calling for help." Neo seemed unfazed. "Normal. Right now both sides are pushing their front lines forward. Only after making actual contact will the local distributions of strength settle into a truer, jagged front line. "The enemy our army group is facing is clearly beyond our pay grade. "The defensive strength in this canyon wasn't something a militia regiment could ever crack. Even for an outfit with our loadout, taking it through conventional methods would have resulted in horrifying casualties. Even if we ground it out and took it, we'd have to be pulled back to the rear for rest and reinforcement afterward. "By that same token, the coalition's other defensive lines will be heavily breached by our main army groups. Once the initial contact settles, both sides will reallocate their forces and resources. "By then the battlefield will become clearer, with units at each tier matched against roughly equivalent units, leading to a stalemate. "In the long run, taking this place isn't actually a good thing for our army group. It forces our front line into a very awkward shape. "Originally, everyone would test the waters, realize it was a hard nut to crack, and tacitly agree to stop pushing until the second round of adjustments. "Now that we've taken it so fast, the other regiments in the group—especially the 12th Regular Regiment—have essentially been tossed onto the fire to roast." "I'm merely following military orders from above." "HQ never truly expects every order to be carried out to a hundred percent." "By your logic, taking this place almost seems inappropriate?" "There's nothing inappropriate about it. You see that more clearly than I do. If you want to achieve anything, you have to ignore the jealousy of the weak." Karen glanced at the sky. "At our current clearing speed, we won't need to wait for a midnight snack. We can have dinner right here in the canyon." "You have to cook it yourself." "Who spread that rumor?" "Me, of course." *** At dusk, Karen walked across the grounds of the canyon. All along the path lay heaps of bodies. A few were intact, but most were in pieces, bloated from water, frozen solid, charred black, or contorted in other bizarre shapes. It couldn't be helped. Every Whip of Order squad had its own preferred style, which meant the "artworks" left in their wake each possessed distinct characteristics. Work on the large castle had ceased; construction was halted, but a small encampment had already been thrown together, rudimentary as it was. Karen entered the camp and ascended to its highest vantage point, surveying his surroundings. Below his feet, fighting was still underway. The outer posts had been virtually wiped clean, but clashes were still raging in the deep underground core. Still, the outcome was sealed. The remaining enemy forces were incapable of making any meaningful waves. If there was one regret, it was the scarcity of prisoners—almost nonexistent, in fact. Perhaps due to the squad competition, no squad had been willing to linger and round up captives, opting instead to butcher them all and move on. From Karen's perspective, prisoners had value; they could be used to trade for captured comrades down the road. On the perimeter, a patrol of cavalry circled the camp on guard, and overhead, a squad of falcon knights kept watch without drifting away. This was still an active battlefield, after all, and the corps commander required standard protection. The small bone dragon flew down, carrying Purr and Kevin, along with ingredients scavenged from the camp's mess crew. When Little Kanna shifted back into her little-girl form, a massive iron wok was perched atop her head. A well sat nearby, but likely because the Earth Religion crowd had dug too many tunnels, it yielded no water. Using Progenitor Allen's power, Karen condensed a stream of water into the wok and began washing the vegetables. Once the vegetables were washed, he swapped out the water and conjured a ball of flame to quickly ignite the firewood beneath the stove. Purr watched the scene with a complicated expression. Darkness was falling, leaving no time for elaborate cooking. Moreover, the ingredients and seasonings had been gathered in haste. Fortunately, Karen had instructed Purr to bring hotpot base bricks. He tossed the crimson hotpot base into the pan to fry briefly before adding water. All they had to do then was wait for it to boil and drop in the ingredients. It was a bit informal and rushed, but Karen felt that compared to the mess crew's three-meals-a-day mush, it was overflowing with sincerity. Before the water even came to a boil, the latest intelligence arrived: the largest underground pocket of resistance had been annihilated, and the assault squad had been successfully rendezvoused with. In truth, Karen had never worried about them. The resonance between him and the Coffin Bearer had hung between them the whole time, functioning like constant spoilers. Yet to Karen's surprise and delight, when Daliwenluo led the group over, Philomena was with them. Before this, Karen had already mentally prepared himself for the possibility of her death. "You've had a hard time. Sit down and eat something." "Understood, Commander." Daliwenluo and Madame Gandiluo sat down, while Philomena took a seat beside Purr. Purr sniffed at her and asked, "Oh, heavens, have you been soaking in a dumpster for three days and three nights?!" In reality, priestly robes possessed self-cleaning properties, but that cleaning only treated the symptoms rather than the root cause. Most priests still washed their robes by hand at home. Philomena answered, "For the sake of infiltration..." Daliwenluo chimed in, "Commander, our assault succeeded largely because Philomena stepped in at a crucial moment. It was pivotal." Philomena remained silent. Purr, however, wrinkled its nose in disgust. "Don't eat just yet. Go get washed up first." "Alright." Philomena obediently rose. She found herself enjoying the feeling of being ordered around, because left to herself, she felt utterly lost and foolish. Once Philomena departed, Karen glanced at Purr. "She looked hungry." When she sat down, staring at the boiling red broth, she had been constantly swallowing saliva. Purr replied, "Richard is still back at camp handling external communications. Our chief dispatch officer has blisters on his lips from these past few days." Hearing that explanation, Karen smiled faintly and said to Purr, "Don't interfere in their affairs." Karen had noticed some sparks, but he had never intended to play matchmaker. Not only was he their superior, he was also the object of their faith. Precisely because Philomena was so obedient to him, he had to exercise caution in such matters. "What era is this? What's wrong with falling in love? Even if it doesn't work out, breaking up is perfectly normal, isn't it? Even among married couples, divorce is everywhere." "Mm-hmm," Karen acknowledged. Purr froze, then realized its slip of the tongue and immediately shifted into a blatant double standard: "Marriage is sacred and inviolable!" Behind Daliwenluo, one person lay on the ground while three remained standing. Karen looked at them. "Sit." "Yes, Corps Commander!" "Yes, Corps Commander!" Daliwenluo began the introductions: "Commander, allow me to introduce them: Aike, Senmuer, Kongtejia... and Andrew." Sitting on Karen's shoulder, Purr turned toward Daliwenluo and offered a feline smile. "It seems the radio demon's manure stench wasn't pungent enough for you." "Heheh..." Daliwenluo offered an awkward chuckle. The cat saw right through him. Karen reached up to stroke Purr's head, signaling it to be quiet, before turning to Aike and the other two. "Our success in this operation owes everything to you. Your role was the most critical." Unfortunately, there was no wine on hand. In their haste to boil the hotpot, they hadn't even set out utensils yet. Karen simply pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed one to each of the three young men. All three caught them with both hands. Karen produced a lighter, and the three men made to stand up. Karen didn't insist on theatrically rising to light it for them, instead tossing the lighter to Aike. Only then did the three young men sit back down, looking thoroughly relieved. These young men hadn't batted an eye when preparing to detonate themselves alongside the enemy, yet in a setting like this, they were fraught with nervous tension. Aike spoke up: "Corps Commander..." Karen cut him off gently. "Tomorrow we will hold a memorial service for those who fell in this battle. I will guarantee their pensions and honors. Furthermore, I believe the God of Order will not fail to witness their devotion and sacrifice." The three young men nodded together. Daliwenluo chimed in, "Most certainly. Most certainly." As the final mop-up concluded, the results of the squad competition were tallied. The members of the winning Whip of Order squad were brought over. The captain was a rather lean man with resolute eyes. The squad was at full strength, but half bore injuries, two of them severe enough to be carried over on stretchers. "Zeqi's Squad pays respects to the Lord Corps Commander." "Your name is Zeqi?" "Yes, Zeqi Simpson." "Good work." "No, it was nothing. It was merely our duty, sir." "Sit." "Yes, Corps Commander." Karen offered the rest of the cigarette pack to Zeqi. Zeqi was stunned. The captain who had decisively led his team to wipe out the most outposts during the contest suddenly didn't know which hand to extend. Only after pondering for a good moment did he remember he could take it with both hands. After receiving the pack, he passed the cigarettes out to his squadmates one by one. In a military camp—especially during wartime—even those who had never smoked before picked up the habit. Though it harmed tomorrow's health, many of them might not even have a tomorrow. However, Karen had strictly banned psychotropic drugs in his camp. He had conducted rigorous inspections earlier, forbidding soldiers from using such substances to numb their nerves. Just as the food was dropped into the pot, Karen received a communication request from Commander Pilger of the 12th Regular Regiment. He needed to return to the main camp. In truth, Karen could have put on airs and delayed answering without issue. The Whip of Order never needed to walk on eggshells around others. Besides, Commander Pilger's relationship with Karen was terrible; in their few communications, Karen had keenly felt the man's passive aggression. Yet Karen didn't care to bicker over such petty things. Rising, he called out the names of Aike and the other two, signaling Daliwenluo to continue dining with them, then pointed at Zeqi. "I need to return to the main camp for a meeting. Accompany me." "Y-yes, yes, sir... Corps Commander!" Zeqi frantically spat a piece of meat he had just put into his mouth into his palm, answered, and then immediately shoved it back into his mouth. Seeing their leader in such a flustered state, his squad members bowed their heads and muffled their laughter. Little Kanna was already fast asleep leaning against Kevin's back. Purr used its tail to shoo away mosquitoes from her face. Karen summoned a falcon knight to carry him and Zeqi back to camp. Once airborne, Karen asked, "Which battalion are you currently in?" "Reporting to the Corps Commander, I serve as a squad leader in the 2nd Cavalry Battalion." "Ah, Bart's battalion." "Yes, Lord Bart's." "Go speak with Bart. Tell him to arrange a new post for you." "Thank you, Corps Commander!" "You earned it." After that, Karen fell silent, and Zeqi stood beside him in equal silence. As the falcon flew on, Karen suddenly felt this scene bore a striking resemblance to his ride on the frost dragon alongside the Whip-Wielder. Only Zeqi was far more constrained than he had been. Look, the man had let the conversation die completely; Karen would never have done that. *Sigh, what am I thinking... Am I criticizing myself for being too worldly and slick?* *** "Everyone keep eating, keep eating." Daliwenluo ushered the others to continue their meal. Madame Gandiluo ate a little, then set down her plate. "What is it?" Daliwenluo asked between chews. "Nothing... it's nothing." Karen hadn't spoken to her specifically earlier, yet by rights, she belonged to his inner circle. "The past is wiped clean. He didn't say anything specific to you because he felt there was no need. You're family, after all." "Is that so?" Madame Gandiluo picked her plate back up. "Relax. Things aren't that complicated. Our young... our commander is actually quite easy to get along with." "Woof." Kevin let out a bark at Daliwenluo. "Well, well." Daliwenluo shifted from sitting to squatting, rubbing his bald head. "It seems you agree with what I just said." Kevin gave a nod of his canine head. Furthermore, the dog had noticed the parcel containing bones that Daliwenluo carried. Though the setting of the meal had kept Daliwenluo from mentioning it to Karen, Kevin had already guessed what Daliwenluo would ask of Karen later. Kevin had taken quite a liking to this Church of Life traitor—not just because the man had fawned over him at Allen Manor, but because Kevin recognized the deep-seated hatred lurking within Daliwenluo's eyes. That hatred wasn't directed at Karen; rather, Daliwenluo hoped to borrow Karen's strength to enact his revenge. Wasn't that just like Kevin had been in his own past? Of course, the most important factor was that Kevin loved Daliwenluo's hairstyle. Once Daliwenluo squatted down, Aike and the other two young men squatted down as well. They knew this dog was extraordinary; they had heard their comrades in the artillery battalion mention that a golden retriever by the corps commander's side had an uncannily sharp eye for directing artillery fire! At that moment, the slumbering Little Kanna rolled over, slipping off Kevin's back to curl up against Purr and sleep on. Purr yawned, patting Little Kanna's head with a soft paw. Taking advantage of the break, Kevin stood up, took a few paces, and shook his coat to stretch his limbs. After circling around, Kevin stopped in front of the unconscious Andrew. "The medics treated him. His injuries are severe, but they're all external. A few days of rest will do it. He's a good kid." Kevin looked at Daliwenluo as if to ask: *Are you sure?* The dog remembered that Karen had previously strung this fellow up to discipline him. Daliwenluo said, "The commander definitely remembers him." Kevin nodded, then stepped up to Andrew, lifted a leg, and began relieving himself on him. Alfred had personally proven in the past that Kevin's urine worked wonders on external wounds. Andrew slowly regained consciousness. Not knowing what was on his face, he licked his lips in a daze, then licked them again. "What is this taste?" No one answered. When Kevin returned to Daliwenluo, Daliwenluo volunteered, "All four of them said earlier that they loved my hairstyle. They'll be switching to my hairstyle shortly too." Kevin blinked his dog eyes. Aike and the other two exchanged glances, hesitated for a second, then nodded one after another. Their earlier willingness to sacrifice themselves did not conflict with their current desire to seize opportunities and climb the ranks. They might not understand what Kevin truly was, but they knew Daliwenluo held a unique standing before the corps commander. As for Daliwenluo, he was angling to secure Kevin as his patron. Regardless, gaining an evil god as one's backer was hardly shameful. In the distance, Purr couldn't help but chuckle softly: "Oh my, Little Karen, a faction has sprung up in your team... and it's a skinhead party, meow." *** Returning to the command tent, Karen found Richard, Daina, and Philomena squatting outside, eating canned rations. The cans had been heated, steam curling up from them. Over a dozen empty tins were already stacked at Philomena's feet. Seeing Karen return, Richard quickly stood up. "Commander, Commander Pilger's communication request is still active." "Keep eating. I'll take it myself." "Oh, alright." Richard didn't object; sometimes a superior's conversations were not meant for subordinate ears. Karen turned to Daina. "Go ask the medics what supplies they're lacking and what they need." "I haven't finished eating yet," Daina said aggrievedly. "Eat as you walk." "Yes, Commander." Daina stood up and headed toward the medical camp, her lips fluttering rapidly like a goldfish blowing bubbles with her back turned to Karen. Karen stepped into the tent and calibrated the array himself. After waiting less than two minutes, an image flickered to life. Pilger's figure appeared. His hair was slicked back neatly, likely right after washing his face, and though the communication projection was blurrier than reality, the bloodshot veins in his eyes remained clearly visible. Evidently, his sector of the battle... was not going well. "Regional Chief Karen, I hope you can respond more promptly next time. This is an active army!" Clearly, Pilger assumed Karen had deliberately made him wait. Furious, he addressed Karen directly as "Regional Chief" instead of Commander. In truth, Karen hadn't delayed at all. Upon hearing of the request, he had cut the gathering short to come. "Commander Pilger, I believe my dispatch officer informed you that I was at the front lines." "Heh." Pilger evidently didn't buy it. "The defenses at the Sorrow Dunes are formidable. The coalition forces have constructed extensive fortifications there. I hereby order your unit to immediately cease the assault on the Chia Grand Canyon and move to rendezvous with my forces. Your unit possesses multiple magic crystal cannons; we need your firepower to help breach the enemy's fortifications." Communications between regiments, between commanders and subordinates, and between the Whip of Order Legion and the broader Whip of Order network took place constantly. However, when it came to major developments like definitive battle results, transmission required Karen's explicit approval. As such, news of the Chia Grand Canyon's fall had not yet spread. "My apologies, Commander Pilger, but my unit is currently unable to relocate." "Regional Chief Karen, I am issuing this order in my capacity as army group commander! The enemy's defensive strength far exceeds HQ's projections. If our army group is to achieve a breakthrough, we must concentrate our forces! Your unit cannot hoard the finest equipment and resources while neglecting the big picture!" "I acknowledge your command authority over my unit, Regional Chief Pilger. And I am indeed acting in consideration of the big picture. At dusk, my forces completely captured the Chia Grand Canyon. We are currently mopping up the battlefield. Next, in accordance with HQ's prior orders, my unit will construct a defensive line across the canyon. To guard against potential enemy counterattacks, we cannot redeploy to support other sectors at this time." "You've already taken it?" "Yes, Commander Pilger." "Do you know the consequences of fabricating military reports, Regional Chief Karen?" Karen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them, speaking in an utterly calm voice: "Commander Pilger, you are welcome to send your scouts here to verify it in person." "Understood." Pilger cut the connection. Karen pursed his lips. "Oh, look what we have here. I see our Lord Corps Commander suppressing his rage." Neo stepped into the tent. Karen began recalibrating the communication array. "Karen, with your usual temper, you would have bitten his head off by now." "Two commanders tearing each other's faces off will only lead to more faithful dying on both sides in future operations." "Fine, fine. But I suggest you report this situation to the Whip-Wielder." "Reporting this to the Whip-Wielder would be improper. Going forward, let Daina serve as the deputy head of communications. Any calls from Pilger's side will be taken by her first." Neo chuckled. "And when our unit reports to the Knight Order, Daina will handle the initial contact as well, won't she?" Karen said, "In short, internal friction shouldn't be brought into the open. It makes us look immature." Neo nodded. "Understood. Completely clear. A young girl's grumbling will just be seen as routine operational feedback, heh." Once the communication array was calibrated, Karen personally broadcast a dispatch to the Whip of Order network: *The Whip of Order Legion has captured the Chia Mountains, achieving its initial designated objective.* *** Having concluded his meeting, the Whip-Wielder returned to his office, surrounded by glacial frost. The first thing he did was examine the battle reports from the front. Miguel stood beside him, providing verbal supplements; after all, he served as the regular liaison between Foden and Karen. "Is that canyon truly so difficult to crack?" "It is, Lord Whip-Wielder. The interior of the canyon has been modified by the Church of Life and the Earth Religion..." Miguel began relaying the intelligence gathered from Karen. Worried that the Whip-Wielder might fault Karen for poor command due to the stalled battle, he even slightly exaggerated the battlefield's difficulty. "Oh... so that's how it is." Foden tucked the blanket snugly over his knees, then picked up a bowl of shaved ice from his desk and took a spoonful. "Which means this engagement will take a very long time." "I believe that in such a complex environment, a prolonged stalemate is inevitable. Corps Commander Karen is likely trying to avoid excessive casualties for our unit." "Mm." The Whip-Wielder gave a slight nod, adding, "Such prudence and deliberation are as they should be." Just then, a secretary announced themselves from outside. Miguel stepped to the door and took the document—the latest dispatch sent from the front lines. Scanning its contents, Miguel's eyes instantly went wide. He had just spent all that effort laying the groundwork and making excuses, and they had already taken it? Miguel walked back to the desk, swallowing hard. "Lord Whip-Wielder, the latest military dispatch from the front lines." "Read it." "'Our Whip of Order Legion has captured the Chia Grand Canyon, achieving its initial designated objective.'" After reading, Miguel added, "Corps Commander Karen's command ability is truly admirable. Such a complex and difficult situation, resolved so quickly by his hand." Miguel watched the Whip-Wielder's reaction closely as he finished speaking. The Whip-Wielder showed no signs of delight; instead, he remained as cool and detached as the icy peaks around them. From the frozen pool in the distance, Augie's dragon head slowly surfaced. Had she just heard that Karen won another battle? To liven up the mood, Augie snorted two jets of water from her nostrils, attempting to add some flair for the Whip-Wielder. Yet the Whip-Wielder merely swept a chilling gaze over her. Augie felt a bone-deep frost grip her whole body. She didn't even dare let the sprayed water fall, instantly freezing the jets into icicles before ducking back down to the bottom of the pool in shame. The Whip-Wielder reached out, took the report, glanced over it, and set it on the desk. Tapping his fingers lightly against the paper, he murmured: "Heh. This corps commander of ours... he has ideas."