Shield of the Rose

Soldiers were everywhere; not a single pedestrian could be seen on several main streets, and shops on both sides had closed their doors.

This tense atmosphere was something Richie had experienced back in Glaslovar. He even saw the same panic and confusion on the faces hiding behind one window after another.

Unlike Glaslovar, even possessing knight status, Richie was actually unable to walk around freely!

Sentries stood at every street corner, and every time he passed a sentry post, he would be stopped and checked for identification documents, causing him immense annoyance.

All of this had begun after two in the afternoon. Richie felt somewhat fortunate that he received the news early in the morning.

Without waiting for Ariana to wake up, he had Milia call Audrey over, taking Audrey to the Quartermaster Department to find his father. After briefly explaining the matter to his father, the rest was left for his father to handle. He himself boarded a horse carriage and headed for that lake in the suburbs.

At this moment, those girls had all woken up. Only Ksenia lay groggy on the bed, having been fucked so intensely that her injuries were severe.

Richie came here to bid farewell; perhaps because his strength had grown, or perhaps because Emily and the others no longer needed his worry, his mood remained exceptionally calm, completely lacking the grief and lingering attachment of past life-and-death partings.

He stayed in that wooden cabin for merely half an hour before leaving. Farewell had to be decisive; the longer one stayed, the harder it was to part, and the more sorrow it brought. So he left, leaving after giving everyone a deep kiss. Never expected that upon returning to the city, martial law was already enforced. After walking seven or eight blocks, Richie refused to continue. He didn’t know which idiot thought of doing this—it appeared strictly guarded, but in truth was merely wasting time.

Fortunately, public carriages specifically serving officers could travel unimpeded. Richie had to run to a station to wait for a carriage; gendarmes guarded here as well, similarly inspecting documents, but once aboard the carriage, everything became simple.

At an important place like the Youth Army Headquarters, a station naturally stood at the entrance, and Richie disembarked here.

Compared to the sword-drawn tension on the main streets, this place appeared vastly more relaxed, though people still came and went inside, everyone looking rushed.

“I was just looking for you!” Just reaching the hallway, Richie was caught red-handed by Highgate: “Where did you spend the night yesterday? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, searching all places.”

Highgate looked displeased; he had never lost his temper at Richie, making it very obvious he was genuinely angry this time.

Richie didn’t intend to defend himself, nor could he, and could only change the topic: “What did you need me for?”

Once talking about official business, Highgate instantly couldn’t vent his anger; he still had favors to ask of Richie.

“The enemy’s offensive came far too suddenly, and my direct superior has been surrounded. Upper authorities have now appointed me acting Commander of the 5th Corps under the First War Zone. I must rush to the front line immediately—are you interested in coming with me?”

Richie had already thought through his next steps on the way here; being with Highgate was naturally good, but he couldn’t leave Unit 105.

“I’m very sorry. As far as I know, Polmo is also heavily encircled by heavy troops. I am a member of Unit 105, and I cannot abandon my companions, so I plan to join the corps reinforcing Polmo.” Richie spoke as tactfully as possible.

To his surprise, although a trace of disappointment flickered across Highgate’s face, he showed little shock.

Richie immediately understood: Highgate had certainly anticipated this possibility long ago.

Highgate was indeed prepared, yet being rejected still made him feel exceedingly depressed. After staying silent for quite a while, he said: “You’ve picked the toughest bone. The Norman Alliance’s sudden offensive this time definitely carries the flavor of a desperate cornered dog—the two armors you captured must have touched their most sensitive nerve. Similarly, this allowed them to guess Polmo might hold something, so the pressure on Polmo’s side is exceptionally heavy this time; the Varedins have deployed at least two elite corps in that direction.”

“Regardless, I must head to Polmo.” Richie looked at Highgate with deep regret, his heart filled with apologies.

“Why apologize? You did nothing wrong.” Since things had reached this point, Highgate no longer persisted; he wasn’t without backup plans.

Patting Richie’s shoulder firmly, Highgate bit his teeth with unwilling reluctance and said: “The unit responsible for breaking through to Polmo is the newly formed 35th Corps. Although that corps’ commander isn’t a Youth Army member, he shares a very good relationship with Boss Bloom. I’ll have the Boss help squeeze you in, so you should receive a bit of care.”

Thinking for a bit, Highgate felt that since he had already paid such a big price, he might as well add more weight: “Seeing how well you and Harney cooperate, I’ll have the Boss help transfer Harney’s squad to the 35th Corps. Nominally he is captain and you are a member, but both he and you know who listens to whom.”

Richie was speechless; receiving help to this extent, saying any further words of thanks would be superfluous.

“Rest assured, I won’t make you regret it. I’ll bring the team back without losing a single person as much as possible, and guarantee that when handed back to you, it will be a qualified assault squad.”

Highgate smiled, but before he could reply, a young officer walked over.

The officer saluted and said: “Someone just delivered an armor, saying it’s for you.”

Highgate was somewhat mystified, but glancing sideways at Richie beside him, a hint of guess immediately formed in his mind.

A few days later, Richie boarded a bumpy equipment truck once more. Beside him stood two armors—one large, one small—firmly secured.

The large armor shone silver, looking as beautiful as could be.

This armor had been sent by Espol, originally Unit 1 used by Espol and his team for conducting experiments.

The other armor formed a stark contrast, ugly to the point where one couldn’t bear to look—naturally Richie’s armor designed for flying in the sky. He harbored a premonition that this gadget would likely prove useful on the battlefield.

He wasn’t the sole person sitting on this equipment truck; all seats were packed tight. Sitting behind his seat was Harney.

Behind this vehicle followed three more vehicles; aside from the last equipment truck carrying armor spare parts, the other two trucks were packed with people. This was another over-sized squad: fifteen members including Richie, containing two Recon Knights inside.

The members of this squad were either Youth Army members or auxiliary personnel of the Youth Army.

The squad Highgate initially assigned Richie to train had every member serving as either captain or vice-captain; after these people finished training and returned to their respective squads, they immediately trained others.

So this squad commanded by Harney was by no means unfamiliar with long-range raids, except part of what they learned had been excised—for instance, “Heavenly Hearing” hadn’t been promoted down. Highgate still hesitated; using one squad for experiments was something he could bear, losing these dozen people at most, but promoting it down was far too risky; once it failed, the entire corps would be ruined, a price he couldn’t afford.

Ever since boarding the vehicle, Harney hadn’t been calm, clutching a pile of plan booklets and reading them carefully. These plan booklets had all been formulated before departure with the help of those staff officers.

Harney wasn’t without battlefield experience; during the first phase of the war, he suffered heavy injuries and hadn’t fully recovered even now, possessing rich combat experience. However, previous battles were all about superiors ordering them how to fight, and he moved accordingly. All he needed was to head to his assigned position as instructed. But this time differed: no one would issue orders to them this time. Nominally belonging to the 3rd Legion of the newly formed 35th Corps, in essence this legion was merely responsible for providing necessary supplies, without managing how they acted.

This was a good thing, yet also a bad thing. The good thing was not worrying about becoming cannon fodder or facing interference; the bad thing was not expecting any coordination from friendly forces.

He didn’t know how this kind of battle should be fought.

Feeling his brain had turned into a pot of mush, Harney saw Richie appearing quite relaxed, unable to stop complaining: “Give me a hand here! Take a look at which plan is more suitable? Don’t forget I’m only nominal captain—the true captain is you.”

Richie wasn’t doing much better than Harney, equally ignorant of what to do upon reaching the battlefield; the future appeared equally blank to him, but he couldn’t show any of this.

“I’ve already read those operational plans,” Richie answered softly, thinking of wording as he answered; how to speak next was something he himself didn’t know.

“Which plan do you think is more suitable?” Harney finally gained a bit of confidence, waiting for Richie to make a decision. Back during training it was the same: Richie formulated training plans, and he executed them.

“All suitable, and all unsuitable,” Richie spoke extremely vaguely.

Harney’s brain was originally mush, and now grew even fuzzier: “What do you mean?”

In that back-and-forth Q&A, Richie had already thought of phrasing: “Remember what I once told you about what matters most in long-range raids?”

Speaking these words, Richie felt quite a sense of accomplishment, feeling he truly possessed a bit of an officer’s flavor.

“Avoiding battle—what about it?” Harney retained an exceedingly deep impression of those words back then; later during training, he also continuously felt the Recon strength was insufficient, so he held unwavering belief in this point, merely unaware of Richie’s purpose in mentioning it right now.

“Avoiding battle, searching for enemy weak spots or lethal vitals, striking forcefully with maximum speed—that is the sole plan I can think of. Specific actions can only be determined upon reaching the battlefield.”

Richie speaking these words was actually pushing the issue backward, never expecting Harney to actually believe it; Harney slowly closed those plan booklets.

However, his heart still felt somewhat uncertain; after staying silent for half an hour, he still couldn’t help asking: “Can you give me a general direction? Specific actions can be discussed when the time comes, but you surely have a general idea? Do you plan to charge straight to Polmo to rendezvous with the people there, or follow the 35th Corps pushing forward?”

Richie was truly left without options by this impatient guy, though fortunately he had already gathered some thoughts earlier: “I don’t know the situation at Polmo; before figuring things out, I won’t take risks, nor do I plan to follow the main army forward—that’s not what we excel at. Don’t forget: mobility, stealth, and speed are our strengths.”

Harney urged: “Keep going. Please, I know you hang around a bunch of wise masters daily, but my teammates and I don’t possess such high intelligence. Can you speak a bit more directly?”

These words made Richie roll his eyes, while making the others on the same vehicle quite annoyed; if not for Harney possessing some prestige usually, someone would probably jump out to flip faces. This made the squad members even more curious about Richie; they had heard Harney mention Richie before, but treated it as stories. A few days ago, Richie appeared before them for the first time, making it truly hard for them to believe such a little guy possessed the capabilities Harney claimed.

Precisely because of this, everyone on the vehicle pricked up their ears at this moment, wanting to hear what plan Richie harbored.

“Alright, I plan to detach from the main battlefield, penetrating deep into the enemy’s rear. There are two highways leading to Polmo, and three highways leading to Isbal; we’ll guard these highways, specifically looking for trouble with transport convoys. If we get lucky and encounter a supply depot, we’ll hit it hard, casually capturing a few prisoners to inquire about Polmo’s situation. In fact, I haven’t even thought about relying on the 35th Corps for supplies; energy crystals are all the same, so we can snatch some from the Alliance side, avoiding damage as much as possible during combat. If armors suffer severe damage, we’ll snatch the enemy’s armors to use—in short, sustaining war through war.”

Harney stared blankly at Richie; he had never heard of such an operational plan.

“Why do I feel this team’s style resembles ancient nomadic tribe tactics?” a knight below muttered to himself.

Richie was startled; thinking carefully, it was indeed the case.

Knights engaging in war also spoke of sustaining war through war, but that type was capturing a location and holding it, extracting local resources to ensure the army could continue fighting.

However, the “sustaining war through war” he spoke of was capturing a location, taking only the portion of items they needed, and destroying the rest—such sustaining of war through war indeed carried a bit of ancient nomadic tribe flavor.

“Not bad either. From now on, our squad will be called… Tribe. You guys call Harney ‘Chieftain’, call Vincent… um… ‘Shaman’, call Silva…” Richie couldn’t think of suitable names for a moment.

Speaking these words was merely a joke, yet to his surprise, not a single person in the vehicle objected.

“Supply depots are definitely heavily defended; attacking a supply depot—doesn’t that contradict the principle of avoiding battle?” A small voice of doubt issued from below after a while.

The reason for speaking softly was that this person also knew he lacked confidence in his own words.

If truly finding a supply depot, it would definitely be attacked at all costs, because its impact on the war was simply too immense. Destroying a large supply depot could easily plunge the enemy’s army into predicament within a short time. There was an unwritten rule in the army: if seeing an enemy large supply depot without making any response, it counted as dereliction of duty, sufficient to be thrown into military court.

“Hit it if we can; if not, send a message to the main corps!” Harney didn’t mind much; although that unwritten rule existed, if a team harbored an even more important mission, that unwritten rule no longer applied. Their current penetration into enemy rear harassing transport lines far surpassed attacking a large supply depot in importance!

Compared to Harney, Richie appeared even calmer. His first major achievement back then was blowing up a supply depot halfway to Morna. That supply depot didn’t have a single knight defending it, watched over merely by two ordinary soldiers.

This was actually easy to understand: during rapid pushes, troops were extremely tight; if every supply depot assigned knights for defense, no matter how many knights existed, it wouldn’t suffice. So the best method was setting supply depots in relatively hidden places, setting up multiple points with small amounts of supplies at each point, which also facilitated corps mobile combat.

So whether gaining harvests depended not on this squad’s strength, but rather on how luck turned out.

The road from Peines to Polmo was something Richie was traveling for the third time.

Polmo didn’t sit close to the front line, belonging to the central region; the Norman Alliance advancing here at once definitely counted as a gamble. This battle line was exceptionally prominent; the Alliance side clearly knew this as well, so they deployed two elite corps here.

Upon entering the war zone, the road grew bumpy; traveling on such bumpy roads easily caused fatigue, and Richie felt groggy.

Without knowing when it started, people grew numerous; not a single pedestrian could be seen on the narrow, bumpy road, packed entirely with vehicles—supply trucks carrying supplies, large trucks crammed with soldiers, and equipment trucks identical to theirs.

Judging from unit designations, they also belonged to the newly formed 35th Corps.

“How are they faster than us?” Richie looked out the window, feeling exceptionally confused.

“This corps was hastily reorganized; troops were mostly drawn from nearby garrisons, integrating upon entering the defense line, so arriving earlier than us is very normal,” Harney explained from the side.

Richie understood somewhat; this resembled the reinforcement corps back when attacking Morna, haphazardly cobbled together on short notice.

The shadow left at Morna loomed over his heart once more.

He had to admit the current situation shared extreme similarities with Morna back then: the Alliance was also west of the battle line, and the Republic’s defense troops still existed, merely having their connection to the rear severed.

He could only pray silently, hoping Morna’s tragedy wouldn’t repeat itself here.

Thinking like this, he immediately understood why the newly formed 35th Corps was hastily assembled and assigned to take over defense in this war zone: upper authorities were certainly terrified of Morna’s tragedy repeating, hence acting so.

With many vehicles around, speed naturally slowed down. Richie estimated the time to reach the front line, finally unable to resist commanding: “Find an empty spot and park by the roadside! Everyone get ready; we’re dismounting immediately!”

Harney hurriedly relayed the order to the vehicles behind.

Fifteen people, three small vehicles; aside from energy crystals loaded inside these small vehicles, there were only core armor spare parts.

Differing slightly from the earliest small vehicles, these three small vehicles each added a foldable rack; Richie’s flying armor was firmly tied to the rack of one vehicle.

Another vehicle’s rack tied a hanging frame, its bottom fitted with a seat, and top mounted with a large disc connected to many metal wires. Sitting inside the hanging frame was the military affairs officer.

In this squad, the military affairs officer’s most important duty wasn’t maintaining armors, but operating that large disc.

That large disc had undergone modifications, not actively scanning surroundings, but rather serving to locate the enemy’s scanning devices.

All of this had been specifically prepared for penetrating deep into enemy rear; compared to that previous action, Richie’s preparations were far more thorough!

Checking all equipment and armors thoroughly, confirming zero issues, “Tribe” finally set out on the road. As for those equipment trucks, they were left for trailing units to handle; someone would naturally drive them away.

To avoid drawing attention, Richie chose a route not marked on maps; compared to penetrating Glaslovar back then, present Richie possessed far more experience.

Back on the road to Glaslovar, Unit 105 traveled entirely on country paths; during the return trip, to shake off pursuit and blockades, they didn’t even dare take mountain paths, traveling entirely through wild wilderness, ultimately discovering this was no harder than taking country paths, while being far safer.

So the route he picked this time wasn’t a road at all, merely possessing slightly flatter terrain. Looking from maps, this route spanned roughly one hundred seventy kilometers! Richie simply treated this as a live-action drill before battle.

Since it was a live-action drill, it naturally had to be realistic, so along the way, just like penetrating deep into enemy rear, whenever seeing people, he detoured forward.

Without needing Richie’s explanation, others in the squad could guess why this was done; training and actual combat were two different things after all. Soon to penetrate deep into enemy rear, having opportunities to familiarize with the environment was by no means a bad thing.

Purple Alfalfa Town was a medium-sized town of six thousand households, famous for purple alfalfa growing all over hills, but currently served as the legion HQ of the 3rd Legion under the newly formed 35th Corps; residents of this town had been relocated, and vacant houses turned into barracks.

When “Tribe” squad arrived, it caused a wave of commotion; no matter who it was, discovering an unseen unit creeping up close would induce tension.

Fortunately, both chief and deputy legion commanders of the 3rd Legion had received news from corps HQ long ago, knowing a special squad had been inserted into their legion.

Aside from harboring a trace of resentment, these two felt mostly curiosity.

The reason for their displeasure was that although this squad nominally served as their subordinates, it didn’t obey their commands. According to upper authorities’ intent, they didn’t even need to know what this squad did; the sole thing they needed to do was provide supplies for this squad.

Curiosity was natural; upon receiving notification, their first reaction was that this squad carried some secret mission.

So when “Tribe” suddenly appeared outside town, they didn’t feel overly surprised, though this further convinced them this squad bore an extraordinary secret mission—otherwise there would be no need to act so elusive.

“Tribe” didn’t enter town, the entire group curling up inside a small woods outside town, everyone staying inside armors. Over the next few months, they would spend every night like this, armors serving as their tents and beds as well.

The exterior of these armors was covered in camouflage netting; with the whole squad hiding in the woods, without approaching close, no one could discover them. Wrapped tightest was Richie’s armor, which was unavoidable—his armor surface shone silver, far too easy to expose.

Though the team didn’t march into town, Harney, Richie, and Vice-Captain Silva went inside! They had to report to legion HQ; otherwise who would know they had reached the battlefield? During war, failing to report for a week resulted in being listed as deserters, thrown into military court whenever caught.

Another Vice-Captain, Vincent, remained on the spot; although war flames hadn’t burned to this place and the Alliance hadn’t even swallowed the original corps guarding this defense zone, unable to attend here for now, caution remained necessary. No one dared guarantee whether the Alliance side harbored a squad identical to theirs.

Legion HQ sat at town center—originally the town government office building, and the tallest building in the entire town.

Like everywhere else in town, this place appeared exceptionally busy, officers constantly coming and going at the entrance, people moving about inside the hall.

On the left side of the entrance posted a floor map of the building; the three took a glance and walked up along the stairs, the reporting office sitting on the second floor.

Just as reporting finished, a captain walked over: “Someone wants to see you; please follow me.”

Richie and Harney exchanged glances, ultimately leaving Vice-Captain Silva behind. Aside from reporting, they had many matters to handle—at least six departments needed visiting, which could only be executed by the vice-captain now.

That captain led them all the way to the top floor; with him leading, no one checked Richie and Harney’s documents along the way.

The top floor of legion HQ housed operational command rooms and legion commander offices; a knight was seen standing at the stairhead.

Seeing this person, muscle across Richie’s body snapped taut instantly; he could fully feel how terrifying this person was.

Without a doubt, this was an Honorary Knight, and an Honorary Knight who had entered the late stage, merely having not hit a bottleneck yet. Such a person counted as a top-tier expert in the Republic; those capable of surpassing him numbered at most a dozen people, even counting those few Glorious Knights and Quasi-Glorious Knights inside.

Opposite, this person was similarly scanning Harney and Richie: initially paying attention to Harney, but Harney didn’t make him feel anything special; Richie, due to age, was originally overlooked, but when his eyes casually swept over Richie, his pupils contracted violently as he saw those two silver stars on Richie’s chest.

“I am Elmoin, Commander of the 3rd Legion. You arrived earlier than I expected.” The Honorary Knight extended his hand.

Harney shook it with quite some excitement; as a squad captain, rarely did a legion commander give such face, actually shaking hands with him. But the moment his hand touched, it retracted like lightning, his mouth letting out a light “hiss” sound.

Richie didn’t need to ask to know what happened; he hurriedly prepared “Mirror Reflection” before extending his hand to shake the legion commander’s hand.

As their palms touched, several crisp snapping sounds immediately erupted.

Richie felt his hand as if clamped by iron pliers, finally understanding why Harney was so embarrassed earlier.

That legion commander similarly knitted his brows; his handshake wasn’t intended to make the opponent suffer, originally planning to probe the opponent’s strength and cultivated technique at the instant of shaking hands.

This move was originally foolproof, never expecting it to fail this time. Just during that moment of touching hands, the battle aura he outputted was completely bounced back.

Elmoin had encountered people capable of resolving this move before, but all dissolved his battle aura; having it bounced back was an absolute first.

He didn’t feel overly surprised: someone possessing two silver stars would be truly surprising if lacking real capability. He felt somewhat curious, but casually asking about another’s cultivated technique was an absolute taboo, so he could only restrain his curiosity.

Leading the two into his office, another person sat inside the office—clearly an ordinary human.

“I am Deputy Commander McElroy.” This person extended his hand as well.

Harney was somewhat startled like a frightened bird, shaking hands with extreme caution, battle aura covering his palm. Only after shaking twice did he recall this person wasn’t a knight.

Richie shook hands with this person as well.

“I don’t want to inquire about your mission,” Elmoin was the one speaking again. “I just want to know what kind of coordination you need? Given the current dire situation, I hope your demands aren’t too high.”

Both sides didn’t know the other’s plans, fearing the opponent opening a lion’s mouth to treat them as cannon fodder.

What Elmoin feared was this squad using secret missions as a pretext to make his subordinates make pointless sacrifices—something he had to guard against.

Harney glanced at Richie, then spoke: “Sir, currently what we need most is understanding the situation ahead.”

“Ordinary intelligence can be given to you, but some are classified—that depends on whether your security clearance is high enough,” the deputy commander beside them chimed in.

This time Harney simply kept his mouth shut; he had seen Richie’s documents before, and the security clearance level was so high it almost made his eyes pop out the first time he saw it.

He believed if those two opposite compared security clearance with Richie, they would certainly be stepped beneath his feet.

“I want to know how Polmo’s current situation is,” Richie asked.

Both legion commanders were instantly stunned, seeming to understand something.

Elmoin smiled bitterly and said: “I’m afraid to disappoint you; even we don’t know Polmo’s situation. For some reason, that area was designated a red zone; upper authorities told us not to bother with it. The sole thing I know is that upper authorities specifically dispatched a corps to break through in that direction.”

Though receiving no desired intelligence, Richie’s heart felt far calmer than before; it was visible upper authorities were determined to preserve Polmo at all costs, as secrets hidden there pertained to war victory or defeat.

“It seems we can only obtain surrounding intelligence,” Richie remarked with deep regret, pulling out his documents from his pocket.

Identical to Harney’s imagination, those two opposite showed faces of utter disbelief.

That very night, “Tribe” set off carrying a large pile of known intelligence.

Reason for such urgency was that all intelligence possessed timeliness; most intelligence they obtained was dispatched before evening, and by next morning, a portion might have undergone changes, so waiting a day meant two-thirds of the intelligence would likely be useless.

At this moment, most important for the squad was the Alliance side’s troop deployment situation; wanting to avoid battle meant finding gaps in enemy deployment.

Richie picked an exceedingly hidden, remote route; along the way, two Recon Knights—one ahead, one behind—kept alert at all times, with the military affairs officer sandwiched in between, responsible for detecting surrounding scanning nets.

Back during that deep penetration action and the subsequent sudden battle at Polmo, facts taught him one truth: although night was quiet and sounds traveled far, tracking a target by sound was extremely difficult.

Back at Polmo, he followed that injured Honorary Knight with someone following behind him; after a marathon chase, all three behind were shaken off. If he hadn’t risked his life to block that Honorary Knight, no one knew what the outcome would be.

So mobility and speed were most important for raid operations.

Perhaps because Richie’s strategy was completely correct, or purely due to good luck, or perhaps the Alliance’s troops were genuinely stretched thin, that night’s action went exceptionally smoothly.

By dawn, they had penetrated about fifty kilometers into the battle zone.

Penetrating to this depth, no usable intelligence remained.

Richie had the military affairs officer risk turning on active scanning, sweeping the surrounding twenty-kilometer area once, confirming zero knights nearby before letting everyone stop.

Finding a dense woods as a station, everyone finally had an opportunity to rest.

“Everyone take turns resting in two batches, four hours per batch,” Richie commanded. Specific arrangements didn’t need his management, naturally handled by Harney and the two vice-captains.

Stepping down from the silver armor, Richie climbed up the treetop, looking up at the sky above through canopy gaps.

Clouds in the sky were very thick, pressing very low.

He climbed down the tree, changing into his flying armor.

This thing’s flight range was merely two hundred kilometers; counting round-trips, he could only circle within a hundred-mile radius, but for them, this was already sufficient.

Richie didn’t want to charge into the Alliance’s heavy troop encirclement due to rushing too fast.

“You guys wait for my news; without news, don’t move around rashly.” Before leaving, Richie didn’t forget to issue a warning.

Harney and his subordinates all felt somewhere between tears and laughter. This was looking down on them too much; regardless, they were battle-tested knights.

Though depressed, they couldn’t say much; unfamiliar with Richie, harboring mistrust toward the other side was very normal, and they weren’t without doubts toward Richie either.

Emerging from the woods, finding a relatively flat slope, Richie charged down the hill slope.

A moment later, he was soaring in the sky.

For stealth, he flew straight into the cloud layer, though occasionally drilling out from the clouds to look down below.

High in the sky, everything on the ground appeared so clear; although dense tree canopies blocked sight, looking down from above presented far fewer obstacles after all, unlike on the ground where nearby rocks, trees, and grass, plus distant mountains and dense woods, blocked line of sight.

Suddenly a highway entered Richie’s vision.

This highway twisted and turned like a long snake coiled among mountains.

When first seeing this highway, nothing was on the road, but a few minutes later, a convoy appeared at the distant mountain pass.

This convoy consisted of seven vehicles, all heavy-tonnage transport trucks.

Richie instantly gained interest; adjusting flight direction, he concealed himself inside the cloud layer.

Entering the clouds, nothing could be seen, but Richie possessed an auditory receiver; those transport trucks crushing road surfaces produced loud noises, and this area lacked human population, appearing exceptionally clear under the auditory receiver.

His auditory receiver possessed strong directionality, enabling him to easily track the convoy.

Flying high one moment and gliding the next, Richie minimized consumption as much as possible.

Without knowing how much time passed, the convoy gradually slowed speed, and sounds around the convoy grew noisy—it seemed to have reached its destination.

Richie felt somewhat hesitant, unable to confirm whether drilling out from clouds posed danger.

He didn’t worry about mind-users’ scanning, as scanning nets resembled flat discs, high altitude being an absolute blind spot. What truly needed worry was Recon Knights; as long as one Recon Knight looked up, he would definitely be exposed.

After hesitating for a long time, Richie ultimately decided to take a risk.

Almost in an instant, he emerged from the cloud layer. Sweeping a glance below, he pulled up violently, drilling back into the clouds.

Though lasting merely a dozen seconds from beginning to end, it already allowed him to see the general situation clearly.

Below lay a hill slope—a hill slope dense with woods—with a warehouse sitting deep in the woods. This warehouse was extremely hard to see from the ground, blocked by trees, and the path leading inside twisted circuitously; someone ignorant of inner details would certainly take it for a mountain path.

In that hasty glance, he didn’t see clearly how many guards were below, but one thing was certain: a watchtower stood below, an open watchtower used by Recon Knights, with a Recon Knight standing guard on top.

He instantly felt agitated; having a Recon Knight meant at least one knight squad was stationed here, counting as a tough bone for them.

Circling back and forth in the sky, listening to movements below while circling.

Sounds below were extremely noisy—heavy objects being moved, conversations, and metal clashing sounds from armors walking.

Richie counted as a half-baked Recon Knight, lacking the ability to tell how many armors existed from footstep sounds, let alone armor models; he only knew more than one armor existed, yet not as many as a dozen.

“To hit or not?”

Returning to the hiding spot, Richie immediately called Harney and both vice-captains over.

Four people squeezed into a tent to hold a secret meeting, maps spread over the ground, alongside a recording reading device currently playing footage recorded during those dozen seconds emerging from clouds earlier.

Suddenly Harney pressed a button, freezing the image. Pointing to a shadow in a corner of the warehouse, he said: “Does this look like a scanning disc?”

“Indeed very similar.”

“Should be that thing.”

Both vice-captains nodded. Though Richie didn’t speak, he agreed with Harney’s view.

“With this thing around, we have no way to approach,” Harney said with a bitter face.

“We can intercept a convoy halfway. The highway wasn’t built specifically for this warehouse, and the group guarding the warehouse, for stealth’s sake, certainly won’t verify every passing convoy’s identity one by one. The highway’s closest point to the warehouse is less than one kilometer away.”

The one coming up with this idea was Vice-Captain Vincent; back when Richie assigned him the codename “Shaman,” it was precisely because this guy possessed a great brain.

After pondering for a while, the others all felt this plan feasible.

“However, one kilometer is enough time for the enemy to react; occupying advantageous terrain, even if guarding knights number only four, they can still drag us for one or two minutes! With one or two minutes, people inside will definitely prepare for combat. Outcome is hard to predict.”

Harney harbored his worries; though the squad’s leading figure was Richie, the captain was him, and he had to be responsible for his subordinates.

“Leave this matter to me,” Richie directly took over this task: “I’ll descend from the sky, kill that Recon Knight first, destroy the scanning disc, and finally breach the roof to enter the warehouse directly. If I didn’t guess wrong, this warehouse should be a hollow square structure, surrounding rooms serving as barracks. I’ll make those resting knights lose the chance to wear armors.”

“Is this plan too risky?” Harney couldn’t help feeling worried: “If blocked by guarding knights, with this flying armor’s defensive power, it probably can’t withstand a single strike.”

Everyone in the squad knew this armor was virtually built like paper.

“I won’t give others the chance to attack me.” Richie was exceptionally confident, his confidence stemming from the original purpose of designing this armor.

Initially he hadn’t thought about wearing this armor to fly in the sky; one purpose of designing ultra-light armor was for urban combat.

Standard armors issued to the military possessed far too great firepower. If fighting inside cities, a casual strike could turn a house into rubble.

If fighting on one’s own turf, after a battle, the entire city would turn into ruins; if fighting on enemy turf, having superior numbers didn’t matter much—at most consuming a bit more energy to dismantle the enemy’s city. But during long-range raids, having noticeably fewer people than the enemy, those houses served as the most suitable obstacles; destroying them was far too wasteful, better left behind to play hide-and-seek with the enemy.

This time happened to serve to verify his idea.

“When do we act?” Vice-Captain Silva was a man of action, possessing a completely different character from the other Vice-Captain Vincent.

“Night,” Harney said with absolute certainty, though after speaking, he looked uncertainly at Richie. Only now did he recall people in this squad hadn’t cultivated “Heavenly Hearing.”

“Switch to dawn,” Vincent similarly knew the captain’s difficulty; only the three chief and deputy captains knew training contents had been excised, and precisely due to this excision, night raids became unfeasible.

“How about moving to that highway now, finding a closer spot to rest?” Harney proposed.

This time no one raised any objections.

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