Chapter 58: A Deadly Threat

Yark Bevan took a deep breath and spoke in a grave voice, “The greatest reason for our failure was underestimating the enemy. That allowed us to fall into their trap—ten of our soldiers lost all combat capability right from the start. I swear to the Holy Emperor, they were a group of red devils! Never, ever underestimate them!”

Morton seemed to remember something as well, nodding his head. “Yes, red devils—that term is very familiar. Seventy years ago, my grandfather’s father fought them in North Shinra, and he described the soldiers of that ancient, mysterious nation the same way. He said they were a band of madmen: resolute in will, utterly fearless, possessed of a spirit of sacrifice, and harboring a deep, implacable hatred toward the Minia Federation and its vassals. They excelled at fortifications and at launching night raids. In the darkness, they would blow their piercing whistles and charge in a frenzy, while we, faced with such attacks, would soon succumb to panic and collapse. Oh, Holy Emperor…”

Morton’s words seemed to confirm Yark Bevan’s account, and a heavy silence settled over the cabin. Then Bevan suddenly smiled. “But there’s nothing to fear. This time, our forces vastly outnumber the enemy. According to our intelligence, at most we’re facing a single ten-man team, and besides, attacking from the sea is our specialty…” He spread out a map. “So long as we follow the operation plan, we’ll send them straight to hell!”

…

The red jump-ready lights began to flash, casting a warning glow. Yark Bevan folded his map, looked solemnly at his subordinates, and said in a deep voice, “Prepare to jump! Execute the operation plan!”

“Yes, sir!”

The rear hatch slowly opened. The Hercules transport braked and decelerated, tracing a gentle arc through the night sky. One by one, the Poseidon commandos leaped from the aircraft, and soon, over a hundred black canopies were swallowed by the dense, inky clouds.

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When Shuiyao Xian slowly opened her eyes, she found herself still on Leiding’s back.

Leiding’s spine was as straight and broad as ever, solid and strong, moving with such slow, steady steps that she could not feel the slightest jolt. Resting against such a back, she felt a deep sense of comfort and security.

A warm current rose from her core, racing along her meridians, filling her entire body with a cozy warmth suffused with a sense of strength. Shuiyao Xian gave a soft gasp, overwhelmed by an indescribable astonishment.

Even as she opened her eyes, Leiding, who had been pondering the coming battle while remaining constantly attentive to Shuiyao Xian’s condition, immediately sensed the change. Hearing her soft exclamation, he stopped and asked gently, “Are you feeling better?”

As she gently circulated her internal energy, Shuiyao Xian’s surprise deepened into shock. Since she had taken the pill, not much time had passed, yet not only had her internal injuries healed, but her meridians now flowed far more smoothly. Where there had been faint blockages, there was now free passage; her vital energy was even richer than before her injury. Shuiyao Xian even felt she was on the very threshold of the Foundation Establishment stage—she needed only a single opportunity to break through.

Although, as a descendant of the Shamanic order, she already possessed exceptional skill in both medicine and alchemy, Shuiyao Xian had only ever heard of such miraculous pills in ancient legends: medicine that not only healed grave wounds in an instant but even aided the wounded in advancing their cultivation. In this era of dwindling magic, such a pill could only be called a true Elixir of Immortality!

She could easily imagine how much its owner would treasure such a precious medicine—yet Leiding had given it to her without a moment’s hesitation!

Staring in a daze at Leiding’s jungle-camouflaged boonie hat—at this angle, his hair, less than a centimeter long, stood up in stiff bristles, radiating a silent, rugged strength—Shuiyao Xian’s eyes grew faintly moist.

When she didn’t reply, Leiding’s heart sank. He raised his voice, “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

“N-no… I’m fine…” Shuiyao Xian answered instinctively, only to hear a gentle, good-humored chuckle beside her. Lifting her gaze, she saw, even in the darkness, the silver-haired Cao Jingren watching her with a knowing smile.

“Oh…” Shuiyao Xian suddenly realized she was still on Leiding’s back, her cheeks flushing as she let out a soft exclamation. “I’m alright now. I can walk on my own…”

“Oh… ah?” Leiding was momentarily taken aback, then his face flushed bright red. He hurriedly set Shuiyao Xian down, but worried that her injuries might not have healed, he turned and reached out to support her. But seeing her stand firm, her color restored, he finally relaxed and awkwardly withdrew his hands.

The moment Shuiyao Xian’s feet touched the ground, she felt her strength return, and after steadying herself, she glanced at Cao Jingren, forcing down the shyness that fluttered in her chest, and looked around.

By now, the rain had stopped and the wind died away. Faint starlight appeared in the sky; visibility was still very poor, but the blurred outlines of the surroundings were just discernible.

A long, weary column was slowly passing by her, pushing aside grass as high as their waists, pausing at every step as they trudged forward with difficulty.

By the faint starlight, Shuiyao Xian judged their direction and realized the group was crossing a low-lying stretch of the island, moving southeast.

“Where are we going? The pier?” As soon as her mind began to work again, her embarrassment vanished, replaced by the calm, meticulous presence of a seasoned female operative.

She knew that on the island’s southeastern flank there stood a pier, now abandoned yet still capable of docking a five-thousand-ton vessel. To get all the passengers off the island and safely back to the Republic, Leiding’s yet-unnamed special operations team had only two options: either a large transport plane was dispatched from home, or they used sea transport.

In the past decade, the Republic’s scientific expeditions in the South Pacific and the icy Antarctic continent had grown ever more frequent and active, and this island clearly lay in the South Pacific, not far from the frozen continent.

Given the group’s direction—it was not toward the derelict airstrip—it was easy for Shuiyao Xian to deduce that the Republic had encountered unknown difficulties in dispatching aircraft, leaving only the large research vessel operating nearby as their only hope.

“Yes, but…” Leiding, burdened by worry, nodded, glancing at the struggling column and sighing without finishing, but Shuiyao Xian immediately understood his meaning.

The group’s progress was painfully slow.

Among the more than two hundred people trudging in line were babbling infants, feeble elders, and even Chen Weizhe, whose arm had been shattered by a heavy-caliber sniper’s bullet, leaving him so weak and bloodied that he could only be carried in turns by several young men.

Such a group, faced with the task of crossing rain-soaked, muddy grassland to reach a pier over ten kilometers away, faced a challenge of the highest order.

But as the mission’s leader, Leiding had no choice but to shepherd this exhausted company—over two hundred faces dulled by trauma—forward, step by halting step. Yet his training had only covered how to approach an enemy undetected, how to strike with lightning speed and silence, how to eliminate the foe in the shortest time—it had never prepared him to lead a column of the old and the young through jungle and grass. This left Leiding feeling deeply frustrated.

And it was only because his mind was so wholly occupied with ensuring the group’s safety that he had forgotten to set the now-recovered Shuiyao Xian down sooner.

Fortunately, Mr. Cao Jingren had stepped forward, using his powerful and rousing rhetoric to rally a ten-man escort squad, who helped the elderly, carried the children, and maintained order, preventing any accidents as the group advanced.

“This can’t go on…” Watching the struggling, stumbling column and the deep furrow in Leiding’s brow, Shuiyao Xian felt an inexplicable pang of sympathy. She shook her head, quickly suppressed the strange, fleeting emotion, and said softly, “Can you tell me your plan?”

“Of course.” Seeing the question in Shuiyao Xian’s eyes, a fleeting smile crossed Leiding’s face. In truth, he had always hoped to make use of Shuiyao Xian’s shamanic arts—if she truly possessed such abilities—to help carry out his plan. But this notion smacked a little of squeezing the last bit of value from her, and he was embarrassed to voice it aloud.

Though his smile was barely visible beneath the camouflage paint, Shuiyao Xian nonetheless felt that in that instant, Leiding’s eyes—dark as black gems—blazed with a sudden, dazzling light.

Fortunately, as Leiding explained the plan, she soon found herself drawn in, forgetting the confusion that had momentarily stirred her heart.

The operational plan had been proposed by Lang Tianyu, discussed by the group, and finally refined by Leiding.

Based on the intelligence available and their understanding of the enemy’s usual tactics, they predicted that the Minia Federation’s company-sized assault force, upon arriving at Holy Emperor’s Bright Island, would parachute in at multiple points, launching multi-pronged attacks to rapidly seize the island’s strategic positions and control the situation. This would allow them to use their overwhelming numbers to compress the defenders’ space and options, culminating in a final, crushing blow.

In the face of such tactics, their own side would inevitably have two glaring vulnerabilities the enemy could exploit—potentially with fatal consequences.