March!

Although many did not understand the Corps Commander's order, it did not stop them from executing it immediately. The relocation of the old base camp and the construction of the new one were completely suspended. Units across the legion began packing up equipment and logistical supplies. Efficiency was high, but organizing an operation this massive still took time. And that time was precisely what was needed to flesh out the details and make arrangements for this bold, aggressive plan. Robbed of his afternoon nap, Neo leaned back in his chair, twirling a cigar in his fingers and occasionally bringing it to his nose for a whiff. Before coming inside, he had intended to ask Karen with a grin why he had suddenly changed his mind and turned so decisive all at once. Yet the moment he stepped in and saw Karen seated in the main chair, Neo suddenly lost the urge to ask. People changed, after all. Not that his character or bottom line had shifted, but in the process of going from unfamiliarity to mastery over something, a person's reactions were bound to evolve. Karen had always insisted he didn't know how to wage war, while Neo had always reassured him that he was a fast learner anyway. Now, this was merely a thoroughly natural transformation. Just like back when Neo had taken him on as an off-roster member of his squad: before long, Karen had formed a squad of his own, never once hiding that he had learned squad operations and management from Neo. This was nothing more than a replay of the same old story. Neo could only sigh inwardly: *Thank goodness I'm not his father.* Being his dad and having a son like him would leave very little room for a sense of achievement—and far too much room for emotional trauma. The first person summoned inside alone was Madame Gandiluo. Entering, Madame Gandiluo immediately sensed the unique atmosphere in the room. Since joining this circle, she had never experienced Karen treating her with such serious, undivided attention. Karen wasted no words on pleasantries or preliminaries. He got straight to the point: "There is an arduous and extremely dangerous mission that I am assigning to you." In Madame Gandiluo's mind flashed the advice Daliwenluo had imparted over the past few days. Immediately dropping to one knee, she said with earnest devotion, "Your will is my mission." "I need to deploy bait. Using clay figurines and the communications array's external transmissions, we will deceive the enemy and create the illusion of our main force. It is very dangerous—even if everything goes without a hitch, the forward vanguard you are in will still end up completely encircled by the enemy. "If anything slips up, you are finished. "And if our main force engages the enemy and the battle goes poorly, leaving us unable to relieve you in time, you are finished as well." Order doctrine championed sacrifice and dedication, but it also told you what you were sacrificing and dedicating yourself for; the choice was yours to make. Of course, Madame Gandiluo didn't actually have any choice. She had already left the undersea tomb; her second life was granted by Karen. She had no means of refusing any command from him. Even so, the formalities had to be observed. Bowing her head, Madame Gandiluo said, "Thank you for granting me this opportunity. I will not fail you." She knew full well that once this was accomplished, she would completely wash away all past negative impressions and officially become a core member of this circle, just like the other former coffin dwellers. Karen nodded and gestured for her to rise and stand aside. Before long, Dena entered. "Corps Commander?" Karen said, "I need you to lead the communications division as bait to lure the enemy in, creating the right combat opportunity for our main force." Dena immediately snapped to attention and shouted, "It is an honor!" "You may die." "Dying in battle is the glory of a Knight of Order!" Karen knew there was no need to do any ideological persuasion with this young lady. She was a pure warmonger with a burning desire to prove herself. The more dangerous the task you gave her, the more grateful she would be. "She is your partner." Karen pointed at Madame Gandiluo. "Moving forward, the operations of the communications division, along with all external transmissions and liaison duties, will be in your hands." Dena looked at Madame Gandiluo and asked, "Partner meaning... equals?" "Yes, you are of equal rank. If a disagreement arises and you cannot reach me in time, defer to her." "Understood, sir!" "If communication requests come in—whether from the Order of Knights, headquarters in the rear, or other regiment commanders in the army group—do your best to answer on my behalf, just like last time. You can put on a bit of a nasty temper." "A nasty temper..." "I was afraid you wouldn't grasp the idea." "I understand. You want to leverage my identity and temper to make things feel more authentic." Karen nodded. Dena was uniquely suited for this role. Although her actual situation as the nominal foster daughter of the High Priest had always been awkward, that awkwardness only existed within the tight inner circle around the High Priest and the Whip-Wielder. To the outside world, her status carried immense weight, and it would also play right into the intelligence network of the allied coalition's spies. After all, the key to this plan lay not just in deceiving the enemy's battlefield scouts, but also in getting the Church's embedded spies to cooperate. "Go outside and prepare," Karen said. Pausing, he added, "Offer an apology to our colleagues in the communications division on my behalf." What had been the safest post was now being sent to the most perilous front lines; some would inevitably harbor resentment. Yet Karen's "apology" was merely a polite gesture. Once draped in the sacred robes of Order, you had no room to back out at a time like this. The Church was not a place one could enter and leave at will. In most cases, leaving the Church meant apostasy—and when it came to dealing with apostates, the Church of Order retained all the brutal rot typical of religious realms. After Dena and Madame Gandiluo left, Richard, Aisen, and Kaixi walked in. Muri explained the plan in Karen's stead, outlining the tasks for which they would be responsible. Mr. Aisen was to lead a contingent of array masters deep into enemy territory alongside the communications division, maintaining concealment arrays to generate a "battlefield blackout zone." Once Muri finished his briefing, Karen said, "Battalion Commander Aisen, you must control the intensity of the shielding array with great precision. The effect we want is to let the enemy know our 'legion' is there, while preventing them from truly seeing its full scale. You must not obscure your tracks completely, or the enemy won't be able to find you at all." Neo chimed in, "The enemy is waiting to reel in their catch, terrified that we won't bite. They won't deploy ground forces for any substantial assaults for fear of scaring us away." Aisen replied, "Understood. I guarantee the mission will be accomplished." Karen turned to Richard. "I won't be with the communications division. Once you depart, there will be considerable distance between us, and routine communications will be kept to a minimum. Therefore, when documents must be handled or replies drafted in my name, I leave it to you. I trust you will handle it well." "Rest assured, Corps Commander!" Back in Yorktown, as head of the intelligence office, Richard had overseen Karen's external communications, often leveraging Karen's name to manage relationships. For the upcoming period, he would be "Karen" within the communications unit. As for using a magic ring or illusion to disguise himself as Karen, that would be gilding the lily; whenever a public appearance was necessary, Dena could step forward. Once Richard and the others departed, Philomena, Count Rekar, and Daliwenluo walked in. Purr was perched on Philomena's shoulder. She could easily have remained in the tent to listen from beginning to end, but had refused. She insisted on waiting outside until her turn, feeling it added to the atmosphere. "Rekar, take your First Cavalry Battalion and accompany the communications division." "Yes, Corps Commander!" "Daliwenluo, assemble a new assault team from a hand-picked squad to escort this mission." "Yes, Corps Commander!" What Daliwenluo had been plotting was made plain enough by those gleaming shaven heads. Karen took no offense at such minor maneuvers. A healthy sense of competition among subordinates was a good thing. Besides, with his faction and domain constantly expanding, a pond this vast could accommodate many species of fish. Karen was unaware of Daliwenluo's resentment toward Alfred, but even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. Alfred didn't need him to take sides; he was more than capable of handling such challenges himself. "Philomena, your entire scout squad will join this operation. In addition, the whole falcon knight battalion is placed under your command. While we anticipate the enemy won't stage any substantial ambushes, perimeter surveillance will certainly be active. Your mission is to eliminate those eyes." "Yes, Corps Commander!" "The supreme commander for your mission is Purr." Purr raised a padded paw and rested it against her chest. "Meow!" ... Once preparations were complete, the legion set out, crossing the Chia Grand Canyon and advancing into deeper territory. The bait had departed earlier, already putting distance between themselves and the main force—a gap that would only widen over the next two days. In short, the Whip of Order Legion was now completely separated from the army group and detached from the front line, plunging into the deep as an isolated vanguard in the truest sense. Yet from a military standpoint, it was not excessively reckless. For one, with the opening clashes between the two sides underway, the strength arrayed across every front was already laid bare on the table; there was practically no chance the opposing side possessed a massive hidden army waiting for them to walk into a trap. Otherwise, the enemy wouldn't have adopted a defensive posture earlier—after all, they weren't facing an elite Church of Order army group, but merely a motley force consisting of one regular regiment dragging along four militia regiments. Secondly, even if Karen hadn't detached from the front line, given the current circumstances, he wouldn't have received much support from friendly forces anyway. Just because Karen was willing to look at the bigger picture didn't mean others possessed the same wisdom. After Pilger was cursed out as a pighead by Dena, Karen felt that even if he sent out a distress signal, the man would probably just sit back and watch the show. While thinking this might insult Commander Pilger's faith in Order, Karen was not about to gamble the lives of his entire legion on the purity of another man's devotion. Muri appeared behind Karen and walked over. They were standing atop the back of a golden-armored dragon turtle, behind which trailed magic crystal cannons being hauled along. Karen loved looking at the cannons; the sight of row upon row of magic crystal cannons always brought him immense security. Most of a commander's hesitation, after all, stemmed from a phobia of insufficient firepower. "A pity we didn't have time to receive the new batch of logistical supplies," Karen sighed. During the assault on the Chia Grand Canyon, the magic crystal cannons had merely fired a salvo without facing any real counter-battery duel, yet fifty cannons had still developed various defects. This wasn't due to poor maintenance or improper operation; magic crystal cannons were simply delicate instruments. Even if left completely untouched, they could break down on their own. If a golden-armored dragon turtle let out a fart while hauling them, sending a speck of dust past the oiled canvas wrap and into a gauge or dial, the cannon could malfunction. Conventionally, malfunctioning cannons were sent back to the rear for overhaul, and if surplus existed, replacements were issued immediately. Thus, to keep a nominal five hundred cannons constantly operational, at least an extra hundred cannons had to be available for rotation. Fortunately, the legion had a repair team led by Old Saman. With no time for meticulous repairs, Saman had simply robbed Peter to pay Paul, managing to restore thirty of them; the remaining cannons, stripped for parts, were left behind in the canyon. As for shells, despite the numerous rounds of fireworks they had set off, they had followed Neo's advice beforehand and packed ample ammunition, so supply was not an immediate concern. Still, for Karen, anything short of perfection was a regret. "Corps Commander, here is today's summary dispatch from the forward communications division." "Mm." Karen took it and began reading. Presently, the true command hub was not here with him, but with the forward communications division serving as bait. As a result, all external intelligence reached him secondhand. The main legion used the reconnaissance battalion as an "external liaison unit" to communicate with the communications division. Consequently, transmissions were kept infrequent—barring an emergency, only one dispatch was sent per day, which made each one quite voluminous. Before departing, Karen had reported this campaign plan upward, though only the superficial layer: that they had intercepted transmissions likely belonging to an enemy supply base, captured its coordinates, and were preparing to strike. In the summary from two days ago, Karen had already seen the reactions from various quarters. First came the response from the army group: Pilger and the other three militia regiment commanders had all voiced opposition. Their own situations were far from ideal. Pilger's regular regiment was still locked in bitter fighting, while the other three militia regiments had turned what was supposed to be an assault into a defensive struggle. In their eyes, after swiftly seizing its objective, the Whip of Order Legion should have established a defensive line and then moved to aid them. They believed the Whip of Order Legion had achieved such rapid success solely because of superior equipment. Now, that equipment ought to be used to support friendly forces, rather than squandered on a reckless thrust driven by their commander's personal ambition. Pilger had gotten into another argument with "Karen," only to be thoroughly rebuked by Dena once more. Infuriated, Pilger had lodged a complaint with general headquarters. Headquarters had initially issued instructions to suspend the operation. Richard, replying in Karen's name, stressed how rare the opportunity was and how massive the victory would be if they succeeded. After two days of back-and-forth, headquarters realized that the "Whip of Order Legion" had already marched deep into the desert and ceased trying to intervene forcefully, shifting instead to warnings urging caution. Behind all this lurked a hidden crisis—not for the legion, but for Karen's personal career. If this battle was won, none of it would matter. But if it went awry, the pushback he was facing now would rebound upon him tenfold after the war. Karen flipped quickly through the dispatches. The rest he could ignore for now; what he cared about most was the attitude of the Whip of Order in the rear. When Karen had first reported the plan, Miguel's feedback had been: *Is this not too aggressive?* Miguel knew nothing of military affairs, but he had hinted that the Whip-Wielder's attitude toward Karen had changed—a veiled warning. The following day, presumably having seen the broader backlash through Whip of Order channels, Miguel's wording had grown sharper, demanding that Karen think long and hard about whether such an impatient maneuver was truly worth it! Miguel meant well; he didn't want Karen cut down in his prime. But every man had his limitations. In Miguel's eyes, the entire Whip of Order belonged to the Whip-Wielder; Foden was the "god" of this domain. And Karen had now crossed that "god." Richard's replies on Karen's behalf had consisted of explanations and pacifications—polite on the surface, perfunctory in substance—for the "legion's" movements showed the plan was still being executed with unwavering resolve. Karen was curious whether Miguel's wording today would be even harsher than yesterday's. Yet when he reached the bottom of the dispatch, he gasped in surprise: "Huh?" ... When Miguel stepped into the office holding the military intelligence report, he saw the Whip-Wielder standing on an ice glacier, feeding snacks to Augie. The snacks were living, breathing people. With the outbreak of the desert war between the Church of Order and the allied coalition, embedded spies within the Church and its vassal religions had been activated en masse. The Whip of Order had caught a great number of exposed operatives lately, including traitors from within its own ranks. Those from the outside were interrogated and sanctioned as appropriate; those from within the system were fed by the Whip-Wielder directly to Augie. Augie leaped up from the depths of the icy pool again and again, swallowing down each "criminal." She even made a point of letting the prey linger between her jaws so the Whip-Wielder could watch the mist of blood spurt out, enhancing his satisfaction with the executions. Augie used to love these snack parties, but ever since Little Kanna had asked whether she had eaten something recently that made her dumber, she had developed an internal aversion to eating these idiots. Yet though her mind recoiled, her body complied; she still had to put on a conscientious show for the Whip-Wielder. The moment Miguel entered, he began berating Karen. "Whip-Wielder, Corps Commander Karen is growing more and more out of line! He has completely disregarded every voice of reason and insists on going his own way. Yes, he is young, capable, has rendered great service, and won victories, but right now his blood has gone to his head—he is frantic to rack up more glory!" The chief secretary wasn't kicking Karen while he was down. Sometimes, voicing harsh criticism in advance could help soften a subordinate's blameworthiness. More importantly, while he might hold high hopes for Karen, his stance had to unconditionally follow the Whip-Wielder's lead. In his view, the Whip-Wielder was already deeply displeased with Karen! In the pool, Augie listened intently while continuing her "dolphin show." She too had sensed the shift in the Whip-Wielder's attitude toward that fellow, especially that time the Whip-Wielder had actually cursed at him. *Sigh.* *When that guy comes back from the war, or gets dragged back mid-campaign, and the Whip-Wielder strings him up here for me to eat, should I eat him or not?* *Eat him, I definitely will. I don't have a choice.* *If worst comes to worst, I'll just slurp him in whole and swallow him down without chewing.* Augie felt that was the only mercy she could offer. Then, she startled herself. *Why should I show mercy to that arrogant, insolent, conceited jerk?* Lost in thought, Augie accidentally bit a criminal in two with her teeth. Blood splattered outward, showering toward Foden. A sheet of ice crystals instantly formed before Foden, deflecting the hot blood so that not a drop soiled his clothing. "Idiot." Trembling in fright, Augie instantly curled back into the pool, poking out only her dragon head with an air of deep penitence. With the Whip-Wielder disciplining his pet, a polite, appropriate smile immediately formed on Miguel's face—just as when someone scolds their child in front of you: you can neither dissuade nor join in, so you simply maintain a polite smile. Foden turned around and glanced at Miguel beside him. Particularly upon seeing the smile on Miguel's face, Foden furrowed his brows slightly, seemingly baffled. Noticing the Whip-Wielder's expression, Miguel... was rather baffled as well. Foden spoke: "Miguel, do you know how to fight a war?" "I... your subordinate naturally knows nothing of it." "Then do you think Karen knows how to fight a war?" "Corps Commander Karen... he should know how. He just won a major victory not long ago." "Then why does his command need commentary from an ignorant layman like you? Do you, Miguel, possess such qualifications?" "This... your subordinate... I..." "Idiot." Miguel wiped the smile from his face at once. At last, he understood: the Whip-Wielder had been calling *him* an idiot all along, and he had actually smiled after being insulted. No wonder the Whip-Wielder had looked so utterly bewildered just now. Putting himself in Foden's shoes, Miguel would have thought his secretary had lost his mind. Miguel sank into deep confusion. As the first secretary, he realized he had completely lost track of the Whip-Wielder's true stance toward Karen. Nevertheless, he bowed immediately to seek pardon: "Yes, this subordinate was foolish. Please punish me, sir." At that moment, Augie poked her head slightly higher out of the icy pool, the corners of her dragon maw curving upward. The polite smile had not vanished; it had simply transferred onto Augie's face.