CHAPTER 832: CHAPTER 832: I’M YOUR GRANDPA, THE PANGOLIN!

The air in the church was as cold as the howling wind on the Wandering swamp, even though West Sail Port, situated in the tropics, never sees winter.

It’s all cost...

Everyone in this settlement.

Anvo’s gaze suddenly filled with despair, losing all hope in the rebellion, he lifted the gun in his hand again, though he didn’t release the safety.

"...I don’t care about any of this, even if we’ve been used, give me and my brothers beside me a way out! I’ll give you a way out!"

"...If you hadn’t interrupted, I was about to say that. To survive, you have to pretend to have killed the people, yet the people aren’t dead."

Yishel glanced mockingly at this cowardly wolf afraid of death, then slowly continued speaking.

"Don’t just stand there foolishly, go to the port and get some bodies, get some carts for transporting bodies, arrange the bodies in the church, shoot a round at them, then drag them out."

Although there’s a suspicion of desecrating bodies, there’s no time to worry about that now.

Survival is the most important.

Anvo asked nervously.

"Then what?"

Yishel’s mind was whizzing, but his speech was steady without the slightest panic.

"Then these survivors will have to lie with the bodies and follow the carts out of the city. Just make up any reason, like the people who died in the Silver Moon Church must be returned to soil & Rest in peace... The rebels and Mr. Melgio should leave him alone. However, this thing requires Mr. Melgio to follow, there is still some risk—"

"That’s okay, as long as we can save these poor people, this risk is nothing," Melgio interrupted him, looked at him earnestly and said, "I’ll be with the convoy leaving the city, reciting scriptures along the way, so we can at least put on a good performance."

"Thank you, it’s a burden for you."

Yishel nodded at this pastor, then looked towards the old butler Sahadu who had been silent from the beginning.

"Is the Count Sharma’s estate far from here? How big is it? Could it accommodate 200 people?"

Sahadu returned to his senses abruptly, hurriedly replied.

"Not far! If we leave now, we’ll definitely arrive before dawn! We have a vast plantation! Not 200, 2000 people can be accommodated with no problem!"

"Very good..." Yishel nodded and said, "Once out of the city, take everyone to Count Sharma’s estate. Find a not too big, not too small place to hide everyone, remember! The fewer people who know about this, the better!"

The young man named Paven couldn’t help but ask.

"Shouldn’t we hide separately?"

Yishel rolled his eyes.

"Are you a pig? What difference does it make if you catch one or catch ten? Everyone staying together is the safest! And only one person can deliver food and water... No, don’t choose anyone else, you’re it, these 200 lives are your responsibility."

While speaking, he grabbed Paven’s shoulder, staring into the young man’s eyes, until the fear in those pupils turned into calmness, then he let go.

"You’re a smart person... Since you know mingling with this bunch is hopeless, seize this last chance to survive."

Paven gathered his courage and nodded, agreeing.

"Yes..."

"Very good."

Upon hearing the young man’s response, Yishel pushed him next to Anvo.

"Now this kid is yours, find an opportunity to promote him, at least let him mix into a Centurion. Once we’ve taken Count Sharma’s estate, let him out, let him be responsible for overseeing Sharma’s estate and family."

Anvo glanced at the young man, nodded and said.

"Shouldn’t be a big problem... I heard Anush promised Lion State to Absek, who is my direct superior. Some people will definitely stay to tidy up the land around here."

Yishel felt a surge of joy.

"Great."

The butler Sahadu asked tremblingly.

"Since this place is already a land of strife... Can’t we just escape?"

"Escape?"

As if hearing a very amusing joke, Anvo looked cheerfully at this old butler.

"Are you going to leave with dry food or empty-handed? How much dry food are you planning to take where? Once news from here spreads, there will be people everywhere wanting your life, you won’t have time to flee, nor will you run far! Trust me, staying put is actually the safest, by then the Weilante people will land here... I dare bet Anush won’t stay here guarding, will probably leave a scapegoat here."

"But if I stay in Lion State, those Weilante people will kill me..." Paven said in panic.

"As long as these people are alive, you won’t die. If they die, wherever you flee to will be the same."

Anvo glanced at this young man, his expression complex, but ultimately said nothing. Then he looked towards Lady Margaret and asked.

"What about the kids? Will they also leave for the city?"

Margaret was silent for a while, with some hesitation in her eyes, but ultimately she made up her mind.

"It’s too dangerous... We can’t put all our eggs in one basket, someone has to survive, to tell the people outside what happened tonight."

Anvo nodded.

"I think so too, kids are too risky, if one cries halfway, everyone will be doomed... Will you go and bid goodbye to the children?"

"No need."

Margaret shook her head gently, then walked to the old nun, holding her hands.

Looking into those eyes, she said sincerely.

"Our children are in your care, in a few days, the Weilante people will surely come here... But unless you judge that the news we’re still alive can make people here suffer less suffering, please temporarily do not tell the Weilante people we’re still alive, just say we’ve been taken out for execution."

Those people will not let them survive.

Maybe they will save.

But in the end, there will certainly be one or two minutes of "delay," arriving only after everything is over.

This is an obvious thing.

A train in motion will not stop because a small ant is on the track.

Will 200 fewer dead bring 3000 already dead back to life?

The war will be launched as well.

And to avoid involving the puppets controlled by the mastermind within the rebellion, allowing "personnel changes" to affect subsequent plans, the puppets manipulated by the mastermind will definitely receive the news before "those who go to save them."

And why is that...

Because they were already included in the "budget."

Margaret took a deep breath and continued.

"It won’t just be the army... people from the alliance are also likely to come here. However, the alliance is not entirely trustworthy. They have close cooperation with the army on the Sticky Community, and it’s not unlikely they might adopt an appeasement policy. There are too many things happening behind the scenes that we do not understand, please make sure to watch those people closely and see if they are worth..."

Actually, it doesn’t matter even if they aren’t worth it.

If even the alliance sides with the army, supporting an invasion of the empire, two bandits joining hands to ravage this land, then no matter how bright the truth’s light, it will certainly be obscured.

And by that time.

Perhaps only people from corporations or the academy could come to collect the corpses, documenting what once happened here.

Margaret tightly held the old nun’s hand, her earnest voice tinged with an unconscious plea.

"Please... make sure to take good care of them. If we unfortunately meet our demise, then please reveal the truth to the children after everything is over."

The old nun nodded seriously.

"I will indeed! And madam... please take care of yourself. The children cannot be without a mother, even if it’s solely to prevent those bad people from planting ugly things in their heads, you must survive."

Mr. Melgio walked up to the two of them and said softly.

"Brave people don’t die so easily... it’s getting late, let’s start preparing quickly."

"I have already arranged for someone to handle the bodies at the harbor," Anvo glanced outside the door, then at the over two hundred Weilante people in the hall, "You should prepare too, see if you need to change into other clothes or something. As for the luggage, don’t even think about it, just leave it here."

Anvo looked at Yishel, who stood with arms crossed nearby, then at the dozen or so of his churchmates behind him.

"What about you? Going home? Or going with these Weilante people to Count Sharma?"

"They don’t need me to follow them, you’re actually more important than them, I worry more about your safety... if you mess up, we’re all doomed."

Yishel glanced around, tore a large strip off his sleeve, and tied it around his arm amidst the stunned gazes of everyone.

That look really seems like something.

After all, those things tied to the arms of the rebels weren’t uniformly made either.

Seeing the wide-eyed Anvo, Yishel raised his eyebrows.

"I’m rebelling too."

"Now I’m your subordinate."

...

Everything went as planned, Anvo arranged for trusted subordinates to bring over more than three hundred bodies from the harbor.

Most of the people at the harbor were dead drunk, nobody cared about those things, only thinking some nosy bigwig arranged for the bodies to be cleaned up.

The rebels currently hadn’t formed an organization, the command system was in chaos, without unified instructions.

Even those retired veterans of the Grey Wolf Army united around Anush couldn’t sort out seniority matters, let alone their small factions.

However, if, as Lady Margaret speculated, an unseen black hand was indeed manipulating everything here, then the chaos of the rebels shouldn’t last long.

At the very least, it certainly wouldn’t drag until reinforcements from Evernight Harbor arrived.

They just need to push one person out as the leader, raise a big flag as their banner, then supplement the rebellion with a reason, decide who stays behind to die, and they can march grandly out of the city, advancing towards Tiandu.

If nothing unexpected happens, those left behind should be the city defense force.

They are the least likable, and with poor combat power, leaving them for the Weilante people to vent is most appropriate, those big noses can use them as targets.

Of course, this would certainly not be stated outright, it would probably end up being offered under the guise of "joining terms," just like oneself going to the Silver Moon Church to kill.

Only unlike them, the price for their joining terms is one they can’t afford with their entire family’s lives riding on it...

Watching his confidants position the bodies in the church, Anvo’s expression was icy.

The young man named Paven walked over to him, trembling as he spoke.

"All set..."

Although he hadn’t killed anyone, at this moment he was covered in blood, as if he had crawled out of a pile of dead bodies.

Anvo nodded, gesturing for the twenty or so confidants beside him to aim at those slumped on the church benches, before decisively waving his hand.

"Fire!"

The moment the words fell, loud gunfire echoed through the church, everyone closed their eyes unwillingly, even the children in the basement let out stifled cries.

The cart for carrying the bodies was pushed inside, and it came out even fuller.

The despondent pastor followed the cart step by step, one hand clutching the silver crescent at his chest, the other on the blood-stained cart.

Not far away, a few patrolling "Bandage Guards" saw and showed envy.

"Those guys probably had fun."

"Damn... there were more people than meat at the harbor, I didn’t even get a sip of soup."

Suddenly someone chuckled lewdly.

"By the way, isn’t there still a nun in the church? Should we go take a look?"

Before he finished, the ten-man leader smacked him on the head.

"Are you freaking crazy? Anush didn’t even dare mess with those who chant, and you think you’re better than the boss?"

He had seen that not only was Mr. Melgio alive, but also dared to follow beside that wolf tribesman and pray for the dead.

What this meant was self-evident.

Another soldier, probably having been to the church, also gave that guy a disdainful look.

"That nun must be at least fifty or sixty years old... are you interested in an old geezer like that?"

The soldier who chuckled lewdly finally fell silent, scratching the back of his head.

"How was I supposed to know..."

The sounds of laughter and curses drifted along the street, as if bidding farewell to the convoy transporting corpses.

On the other side of the church, the old nun simply bowed her head silently, holding a mop, futilely cleaning the blood-stained hall.

Then some people entered the church.

However, they merely glanced at her, then at the blood on the floor, and hurriedly left without saying a word.

This church seemed forgotten, surviving a quiet corner in this hell of piled corpses and blood for three whole days.

Until the deafening roar erupted, and the Weilante people’s military boots finally stepped onto the port, did it end...

...

The flame on the silver candlestick flickered gently, a sudden trance pulled that distant time back to the present.

After recounting the whole story, the old nun slowly continued.

"If everything goes well, your lady and the other survivors are probably hiding in one of Count Sharma’s houses or plantations, cared for by a centurion ... or maybe a Centurion named Paven. And Mr. Melgio should also be there."

"As for Anvo, he should be beside his superior, Absek, which is also Mr. Yishel’s suggestion. The most dangerous place is often the safest, if those people become suspicious, no matter what you do, you’ll die."

"... But if you can gain their trust, there’s a hope of being drawn into their circle and finding evidence of the army’s involvement in this conspiracy."

The basement was unusually quiet.

The players were watching the subtitles translated by the VM, while Yarman held his breath.

The silence was first broken by the young Ruby.

A faint layer of mist like a spring from a dried-up well moistened those eyes covered with a layer of dust.

Hope rekindled in her eyes, and her lips moved softly.

"Mom... is still alive..."

"Margaret... Oh, Silver Moon Goddess above!"

Yarman, excited and incoherent, pressed his lips and nose to his clasped hands.

He wished he could kneel and bow to the Silver Moon Goddess on the spot!

Praise the moon!

No matter if the Silver Moon Goddess resides there or not!

If this doesn’t count as a miracle, what could be called a miracle?!

"Where is she now? No... what should I do to bring her back?"

Yarman gradually calming down, realized that the matter was not as simple as it seemed.

Firstly, he couldn’t leave West Sail Port.

The soldiers outside would certainly keep him here for safety reasons and question his reasons for leaving.

This was completely reasonable.

And if he said Margaret was still alive, and was with the people who stayed in the church that night, the Heaven King’s forces would certainly find them before the Weilante rescue troops.

At that time, not only would Margaret die, but everyone with her would die!

Even the good man who spared her life that night — Mr. Anvo who was inside the Heaven King’s forces — would die!

They would die in silence, taking all the secrets with them to their graves.

"Your lady also doesn’t know, but she believes you must have a way, a way to save everyone! Not just her and the two hundred survivors, but everyone about to be swept into this war..." The old nun sighed softly and looked at the people of the Alliance.

Following her gaze, Yarman also looked at those beside him for help, especially the one who seemed most reliable, the Far-sighted Eagle.

The latter had been silent, pondering with his chin pinched, until Yarman’s gaze turned to him, then he slowly spoke.

"This won’t be easy... If we leave West Sail Port, the Weilante people will definitely follow us alertly. Besides, just relying on us won’t help, the Heaven King’s forces in the Lion State number in the tens of thousands, at least right? Not to mention escorting two hundred people to withdraw, even without heavy equipment and support, two ten-man teams would be enough to give us a hard time."

Stick Brother scratched his head, the difficult expression clear on his face.

"Indeed, and if the rescue fails, the army might blame it on us, ’Why didn’t you report the danger!’... Tsk, it’s troublesome, if these dogs bite back, we won’t have any ground to stand on."

"Send in an airborne unit then?" The Skilled Warrior Wolf looked at him puzzled, "Since we know it was the army’s people causing trouble, couldn’t we just send in the troops?"

Old Stick rolled his eyes.

"Are you kidding? Those are army citizens, it’s not up to the Alliance to rescue them, not to mention, can you decide troop movements just like that? If we follow your reckless plan, the Alliance might as well do nothing and just spin around this tiny spot."

Old Wolf was anxious.

"But..."

The Eagle interrupted what he was about to say, seriously pondering as he spoke.

"Stick Brother is right, calm down a bit. Even if we have a Resurrection Coin, it doesn’t mean we can act recklessly."

"And to speak frankly, from the Alliance’s standpoint, rescuing those two hundred people isn’t enough. The guy named Anvo might be even more important to us than those two hundred lives, he might have already found clues to some of the higher-ups in the Heaven King’s forces and high-level army insiders... This might be the only leverage to halt the army, although it’s very slim."

This meant, before rescuing the survivors, they would have to find Anvo first.

At this point, the Eagle couldn’t help but express a frown of worry.

"The problem is, however, we have no way to contact that guy, we don’t even know where he is."

Stick Brother suddenly spoke up.

"That part’s actually easy."

Three pairs of eyes turned to him, including the troubled Eagle.

Old Stick cleared his throat and switched to his not-so-standard United Human language.

"Didn’t that Anush surround Tiandu already? Those ’loyalists’ who pushed him into power must be by his side, right? For instance, that Absek, find him, and you’ve found Anvo... We can just go to Tiandu directly."

"Tiandu?! Are you crazy?" The Skilled Warrior Wolf stared at him in astonishment.

"Let’s put it another way, send an envoy to Tiandu?"

Stick Brother chuckled, swaying the VM hanging on his arm while looking at his three speechless brothers.

"Since they’ve shouted slogans of abolition and equality, as the ’big brother’, we ought to take a look, right? We can’t let them write it wrong."

"Damn it?!"

"You’re giving up your account?!"

"I need to ask the BOSS first! Damn it, I’m not going crazy with you!"

Just as Eagle, Old Wolf, and Old Butler were all stunned by this guy’s terrible idea, a yacht about ten meters wide slowly approached the dock at West Sail Port.

They saw a haggard-looking man, holding onto the gangway, walk down, and after a couple of steps, he bent over his knees and dry heaved.

"Damn! This godforsaken place is really far!"

Even with his Awakened Constitution, he didn’t get seasick, but the constant changing of transport and the seafood along the way were too much to handle.

There is no fixed flight from Jinjaron Harbor to West Sail Port; this yacht was temporarily rented at Jinjaron Harbor, and the supplies on board were fished along the way.

After taking a couple of breaths, he finally felt a little better.

Meanwhile, the soldiers at the port had long noticed this uninvited guest and began to approach with their weapons drawn.

"West Sail Port is closed to non-residents! Who are you!" Centurion Peter, who was on duty, stepped forward, staring at the yacht and the man standing beside it, eyes slightly narrowed.

This kind of small boat doesn’t look like it could handle the open sea.

This guy must have come from Jinjaron Harbor!

Realizing this guy might be from the Alliance, Peter’s face instantly turned cold, and his gaze grew increasingly unfriendly.

"Are you from the Alliance—"

"Spit! You’re the one from the Alliance!" The man rolled his eyes, rudely interrupting him.

Looking at the bewildered Little Centurion in front of him, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group cursed unceremoniously.

"I’m your uncle Pangolin! Rank is Thousands of leaders! When I was slaughtering Blue Ground Squirrel, you were still playing house on some sandpile!"

His United Human language was no longer as stilted as before, and he used modal particles with ease.

"Which hundred-man team are you from, damn it? Get your leader over here!"

Peter: "???

As soon as the Old Soldier finished speaking, the soldiers surrounding the dock suddenly stirred, making way. A man wearing an officer cap walked towards the two confronting each other on the dock.

Seeing his long-lost acquaintance, McCullen suddenly seemed to fall into some sort of memory, a nostalgic smile easing his stern mouth.

"Long time no see, seems you’ve become more talkative."

Hearing that familiar voice, Peter quickly turned his head, showing a surprised expression on his face.

"Gen-General McCullen?! You’re... not asleep at this hour?"

Hearing that familiar name, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group, just putting on airs, was suddenly stunned, finally recognizing the man silhouetted against the streetlamp light, and his expression instantly turned awkward.

Careless.

This rank is higher than mine.

"...Greetings, General." The Old Soldier stiffly saluted.

Damn it!

Why is the Ten Thousand Leader here to join the fun!

Shit!

McCullen chuckled, returning a salute, then casually said.

"I remember you worked under Coleway?"

The Old Soldier nodded awkwardly.

"Uh, yes! But I was seconded there... I don’t actually command the troops directly, just handle relations between the locals and the Weilante People, since there’s still a ten thousand troops stationed there."

McCullen casually mentioned.

"The 37th ten thousand troops, if I remember correctly, that’s Coleway’s unit number."

"Yes!" The Old Soldier nodded, muttering in his heart about how well this guy knew the deployment situation in Haiye Province, a few thousand kilometers away.

McCullen continued.

"Did Bennott send you?"

"Yes..."

Looking at this honestly nodding guy, McCullen smiled and asked.

"What did he want you to do?"

The Old Soldier hesitated about whether to say it, but seeing McCullen seemed to already know everything, he decided to take a chance and said.

"Sent to Tiandu to negotiate with the Heavenly King Army."

The surrounding soldiers were in an uproar, including Peter, who couldn’t help but clench their fists, their eyes burning with visible anger.

Negotiate?

To hell with negotiations!

He only wanted to slaughter the people of this settlement, then go and slaughter those so-called Tiandu and Heavenly King Army people!

Without a trace, McCullen glanced at the Centurion beside him, then looked back at the Pangolin beside the yacht, nodding slightly.

"This isn’t the place for this conversation, let’s get ashore first."

"Yes..."

You damn well know this isn’t the place to talk!

The Battlefield Atmosphere Group kept the words in his heart, pretending to be an honest man, following behind McCullen, passing through the soldiers’ murderous glares.

Enduring that prickling sensation on his back, the Old Soldier couldn’t help but complain internally.

This damn Old Mai!

Learned to play tricks!