Chapter 954: Redemption! (2/4)

Chapter 954: Redemption! (2/4)

At that moment, his adjutant stepped into the observation post, his expression grave as he handed a coded telegram into his hands.

Ross took the telegram, glanced over it hastily, and his face froze in astonishment.

【Order to the 17th Myriarch: The 3rd Myriarch of the Bharata State will exchange positions with the 11th Myriarch at twelve o'clock today. At that time, a person bearing the flag of the 11th Myriarch will ascend the mountain. All troops are forbidden to open fire and shall immediately surrender to this person. The Emperor of the Eastern Empire promises to ensure your safe return home.】

【—Northern Front Commander, Olet, Myriarch】

His lips trembled, and he drew a deep breath, his eyes bloodshot, as if he wished to tear the telegram to shreds and scatter it to the wind.

Traitor!

A cur who clings to life in shame!

They had hidden in caves, eating insects, expanding the empire’s territory for the Legion—only to be met with this outcome!

His hand clenched the telegram paper, and at that moment, he noticed his adjutant before him, eyes just as bloodshot as his own.

Seeing the hand resting on the holstered sidearm, Ross understood everything in an instant.

Not everyone was willing to shed their last drop of blood for the Legion...

They had charged with him time and again, but this time, they could charge no more.

The Legion was finished.

“...Do you want to go home?”

The adjutant said nothing, only looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, then nodded.

“The soldiers all want to go home... Their families are in Eternal Night Harbor. Your wife is there too, isn’t she?”

Ross drew a deep breath, sat down on a chair, and gently set the telegram aside.

He did think of Demi, of his children... and that was something he had always been unwilling to dwell on, because once he did, he would remember that he was a man, not a beast.

Once the box of memories was opened, a flood of recollections rushed back in an instant.

Including the promises he had made to his wife and children before his departure—

He had set foot on the Bharata Province to protect the Wilant people, and he would return home covered in glory.

Though most of those promises could no longer be kept, at least one thing remained within his power...

“I understand... I will take you home.”

Seeing his commander nod, the adjutant stood at attention, eyes red, and saluted.

“Thank you...”

Ross smiled weakly, gazing out at the verdant mountains beyond the observation post.

It was over...

“Don’t thank me. I owe you this.”

At the same moment he laid down all his obsessions, the front lines of the Bharata State’s Northern Field Army were bustling with a change of positions.

To guard against a backstab from Rasi, Isher had handed the front line over to Yokal and personally led his troops to the western bank of the Tasa River to watch for any unusual military movements from the Mammoth Kingdom.

Due to the tense atmosphere between the two sides, the ferry crossings along the Tasa River had been forced to close, and the narrow muddy roads were clogged with migrating carts and oxcarts.

Among them were a few automobiles.

And as luck would have it, Niyang, rushing to the front, was stuck in one of those automobiles...

On the other side, Yokal, who had taken over the defense zone, was itching for a big fight when a bucket of cold water was suddenly poured over his head.

It was a coded telegram from the Family Council—

【The Southern Legion’s Bharata Theater Northern Front has surrendered. After the 3rd Myriarch completes its redeployment, your unit shall ascend the mountain bearing the flag to accept the surrender of the Southern Legion remnants. Remember, no accidental discharge of firearms, and no harm to prisoners!】

【—Gray Wolf Army Commander-in-Chief, Gopal】

“What the hell, we’ve won just like that?”

His hand clenched the telegram tightly, and Yokal’s eyes reddened too.

Those damned Wilant had come to their land and slaughtered to their hearts’ content. He had finally scraped together dozens of field guns, and before he could even have his fill of killing, these people just stopped fighting—how outrageous!

He fumed for a while, but in the end, he was a man who understood the bigger picture, and he swallowed his anger.

The officer who had delivered the telegram also breathed a sigh of relief.

In his hand, he actually held a second “coded message”—a verbal order from Savar, the second-in-command of the Family Council.

If Yokal failed to see the bigger picture, for the safety of the countless people of Bharata, he could fire the first shot!

Meanwhile, outside the cave in Snake Province, Zayed, wearing leather shoes, lit a Rick Five that he had always been reluctant to smoke, looking up at the clouds in the sky with an air of triumph.

The sunlight today was exceptionally dazzling, and the clouds were as white as snow.

Because just moments ago, he had made his final move, checkmating two kings with a single stroke.

“This Rasi fancies himself the Great Moon King, but to me, he’s nothing but a mad donkey, heh.”

He suddenly thought of an old acquaintance—that naive little girl who seemed to have been raised in a honey jar.

That one had won too easily, and so she thought victory was a matter of course.

Gopal, standing beside him, laughed heartily.

“Of course, who could compare to you?”

Revenge was sweet!

Gopal’s heart was filled with immense satisfaction, to the point where he suddenly found those squeaking little mice not so annoying anymore.

Those Bharata people had once ruthlessly abandoned them, drowned them in the Eternal River, trampled them into the garbage heap—but in the end, they had obediently returned to their side.

Their bodies were still quite obedient, after all.

Since he had become the “Wolf King,” he might as well spare them for now!

As if reading Gopal’s thoughts, Zayed smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t be soft-hearted. Don’t drop the ball at the last moment. When it’s time to kill, kill; when it’s time to slaughter, slaughter to the fullest. Better to kill too many than too few... Keep the code name for this operation in your heart—call it ‘Total Annihilation,’ alright!”

Suppressing that flicker of mercy, Gopal laughed with high spirits.

“As you command!”

He had never understood that thick epic before, but now he finally realized why none of the thirteen kings could match the Great Moon King—why their armies were strong yet routed, and why the Great Moon King ultimately lost to the not-so-bright Xilan.

But no matter.

They would seal the loophole that the short-lived Wuto and the previous Rowell had failed to foresee...

Inside the cave behind the two men, young Savar stood on a platform, his face filled with grief, facing a crowd of indignant faces, mourning the family members who had died under Rasi’s guns.

“...We deeply mourn the family we have lost in the fight against the forces of evil. We will never give up the fight for the dawn of a new era!”

“They will not have died in vain!”

The memory of the second massacre at West Sail Harbor resurfaced before everyone’s eyes, and this time, the perpetrators had shifted from the Wilant to some arrogant “Moon King.”

Survival was now a pressing matter—there was no choice but to fight.

The Bhorans were not the only ones recalling bitter memories; the Verlanders in Westsail Harbor were as well.

The eighty thousand curry soldiers of Bhoran had marched north, and the "Iron General" Groff, whose fame had surged like a tiger, sent the once-proud Gibson fleeing in panic, routed and disgraced.

That fellow had already tasted defeat at the hands of the Alliance, and now he lost to the Bhorans—he had thoroughly shamed the Verlanders.

Yet his loss was not undeserved, especially when he saw those Conqueror tanks thundering across the plains; he nearly choked with rage, wishing he could drag out every last soul in the logistics department and shoot them one by one!

No matter what, a loss was a loss.

Not to mention how the "False Emperor" Akbar and his servants panicked—their terror was already insignificant; the Chief of the Great Rift Valley had not even sent him an invitation.

Though he was nominally the king of millions, in the eyes of the Great Rift Valley, he was no better than the clown of Dam City.

Watching those mournful reports drifting from the front lines, no longer suppressible, the Verlanders in Westsail Harbor were all thrown into panic, desperate to leap into the sea and swim out of this "Port of Death"!

No one could guarantee that this Abusek would not, like his old master Yanush, let those eighty thousand troops slaughter the entire city.

And just as they were gripped by terror, the Eastern Empire suddenly extended an olive branch to them.

Rather than stay in Westsail Harbor to die, it was better to board the Eastern Empire's ships and head for New Westsail Harbor…

The Eastern Empire had no fleet, but the New Commonwealth in the New Continent did, and in no small number.

For the sake of fellow countrymen and a hefty sum, the Federal Fleet, which had just finished firefighting in the Whirlpool Sea, made a detour to the Bhoran Sea, carrying the eagerly waiting people to the new homeland the Eastern Empire had prepared for them…

……

At the same time, in the southwestern corner of the Dzhorbal Mountains, a young but hopeful harbor sat on the barren land.

People carrying large bundles and bags stood on the streets, receiving their tents with the help of Eastern Empire soldiers.

This was the "Verlander Province Experience."

The series of resettlement measures the Archon had once introduced to deal with the Death Agent had clearly been learned by the Eastern Empire.

If Marshal Julius were still alive, he would surely be comforted by this sight, and might even change his view of Rowell.

The Verlanders, who had not "thought of change" for a century, had regained the ability to learn, and all because of the survivors of the Bhoran Province.

If this were seen as a grand chess game, Rowell must have calculated that the War Construction Committee would create the Verlanders, and to save the Verlanders yet unborn, he deliberately created the Red Earth!

That image shone even brighter in an instant.

Standing on the bare dock, the Myriarch Olet, haggard, carried his luggage.

When he sent the secret telegram to the front, he, already in the northwestern corner of the war zone, had boarded the Eastern Empire's ship, bringing the confidential documents of the Northern Front to the harbor the Eastern Empire had prepared for receiving spoils.

Thinking it over, this might be the real reason Saren had never sent troops to help them.

That fellow had long coveted their wealth.

Just as they coveted the treasures of the civilian bureaucracy…

Looking at General MacLenn standing at the harbor, the Myriarch Olet, having understood everything, gave a bitter smile.

“…Our Tyr schemed and calculated, never expecting to become your wedding dress.”

Watching this man who had once been so spirited before him, MacLenn, puffing on his cigar, let out a laugh.