Chapter 479: Brewing Tensions
The thick smoke and flickering flames at the pyre hadn’t fully died down when the priests and the church knights who had carried out the execution turned and left. The acrid stench and the throng of ignorant onlookers had frayed their nerves. Normally, they would have lingered, basking in the crowd’s fear and reverence, but today, they had no appetite for such theatrics.
There were far more pressing matters to attend to within the cathedral district. The fallout from those pamphlets wasn’t confined to the outer city alone.
The common soldiers on the square withdrew as well, and the crowd dispersed in scattered groups. The brief spectacle of the execution had momentarily broken the oppressive siege atmosphere, but it did nothing to lift spirits. On the contrary, the fire only stoked fear and doubt—
The man burned was an illiterate vagrant… The church had just grabbed someone at random… The Inquisition was nothing but intimidation and brute force.
Whether the claims in those pamphlets were true or not, ordinary people might have been unaware before, but now the church had at least tacitly admitted some of it.
Once the crowd thinned, only a few church servants remained to guard the pyre, waiting for the fire to die out completely so they could clear the ashes and prevent any accidental blazes. A small handful of civilians lingered at the edges of the square, but the church servants paid them no mind—just a bunch of idle peasants.
A few men dressed as farmers and apprentice craftsmen slipped away from the square, ducking into a narrow alley where they easily lost any tails. They gathered inside a half-derelict house.
A disheveled man with sunken eyes spat to the side. “Those bastards… they just burned an innocent man alive.”
“They’ve always been like this,” a dark-skinned young man murmured. “Too bad we couldn’t save the poor soul.”
The group sighed quietly. Then, from the shadows in the corner, a vague, flickering silhouette coalesced into a small figure. It trembled twice in the air before solidifying.
“We can’t save everyone,” the figure said. “Our mission doesn’t allow us to risk exposure for rescues. When things happen, the only way to avoid standing idly by is to use the skills we’ve honed, to spread chaos and division among our enemies by any means.”
The gathered men stood and bowed respectfully. “Director!”
“No titles during missions, even when the area is secure. Next time, it’s a demerit for each of you. You still have much to learn,” Amber waved her hand dismissively, causing their faces to shift. Then she scanned the room. “But your actions on the square were acceptable.”
This was a special operations team from Military Intelligence, personally led by Amber.
Luan City had been sealed off; the last entry or exit through the gates was twenty days ago. But for Amber, a master of shadow arts, slipping a squad and supplies into the city through the Shadow Realm was no challenge. Even without her direct involvement, the professionally trained agents had plenty of skills to infiltrate and lay low in the outer city.
The lax attitude of the priests and knights in the cathedral district made things easier for the team. Clearly, those church officials had no experience dealing with espionage or sabotage—or rather, almost no one in this era could stand up to the agents trained by Cecil without showing cracks.
The temporary Archbishop of Luan focused most of his attention on maintaining order within the cathedral district. For the outer city, filled with “useless commoners,” he assigned only minimal soldiers and disciplinarian monks to keep the peace. Given the era’s realities, this was understandable: only the supernaturals and their vassals were truly valuable. The vast majority of common folk lacked the power or will to disrupt order. A show of force was enough to keep them in line—still the most cost-effective approach to governance.
But the intelligence agents specialized in infiltrating these lowest tiers, gradually spreading chaos upward.
For five days, Amber’s team had been embedded in Luan City, distributing the first batch of propaganda and relaying information outside. The cathedral priests were slower to react than expected—only after all the materials were out did they finally take notice.
What followed was citywide searches, arrests, looting, and violence.
All exactly as Amber had predicted. The church knights and exiled knights, under immense pressure, would erupt into shameful brutality at the slightest provocation.
And they saw nothing wrong with it.
Though the situation inside the cathedral district remained unclear, Amber guessed what was brewing behind the walls: some pamphlets directly targeted internal church conflicts, others hinted at Cecil’s preferential treatment of “Awakened Clerics.” While this propaganda alone wouldn’t sway the lower-tier clergy in the fringe areas, it was enough to sow doubt and unrest.
The city had been sealed for sixty days. Internal contradictions were fermenting. Any spark now would ignite unprecedented turmoil.
As tensions rose within the cathedral, the church’s leaders would have even less bandwidth to monitor the outer city—perhaps even believing their “effective purification rituals” had solved the outer city’s problems, leading to complacency.
That would make the agents’ next moves even easier.
Amber stroked her smooth chin—a thoughtful gesture she’d picked up from Gawain to appear more authoritative. “How’s the arcane network terminal working? Is the feed coming through?”
A tall, lean agent patted a black metal box at his feet. “Working well—and the miniaturized arcane terminal is much lighter and easier to use.”
This was the same lanky agent who had carried the burlap sack at the square.
The black metal box was clearly a magical device—one end tapered slightly, with crystals embedded on the front and top. Less than half a meter in size, wrapped in straw or similar material, it fit snugly inside a burlap sack.
Still sizable and heavy, not exactly pocket-sized, but compared to the original arcane network communicators, this was cutting-edge tech.
“Be careful with it—the mechanists worked hard to shrink it this small,” Amber nodded. “This is key to breaking those fanatics. Our goal isn’t just to dismantle Luan City or drive them out of the cathedral, but to expel them from the Southern Territories entirely. Whether we succeed depends on our next moves.”
The agents rubbed their hands, eager and ready. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Good. Then here’s the next assignment—Slim, you and Hound continue operating in the outer city. Record everything unfavorable to the Holy Light Church and send it back. Bucktooth, you and Rat spread rumors about Bishop Lemont’s strange behavior near the cathedral district, but stay safe. The rest of you, come with me into the Shadow Realm—we have supplies to move.”
The well-trained agents sprang into action. One, summoned to enter the Shadow Realm, asked curiously, “Boss, what are we moving?”
“Pamphlets and booklets,” Amber grinned. “Another twenty thousand just arrived—and more on the way.”
“Whistle—” the agent whistled, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “They burn ’em slower than we print ’em…”
After days of relentless travel, the witch Jipri finally returned to this long-missed land.
She still remembered the scene from a few days ago, passing through the gates of the Rock Fortress in the north—a grand construction site. Scaffolding and machinery crowded every corner as the fortress underwent a complete overhaul. Workers labored day and night reinforcing the northern walls with steel plates and shock-absorbing frames. Arcane engineers and mechanical soldiers installed magical cannons on rails and turrets atop the walls. New arcane network arrays and unfamiliar magical devices filled the view, almost overwhelming Jipri and her companion, Pierce.
Seeing the fortress’s transformation, the two agents, who had been on missions abroad for over half a year, knew returning was the right choice. The homeland’s development was staggering. Living in the slow, backward Ansu capital, watching nobles host balls and social events daily, they could never have imagined how their hometown was evolving. If they stayed in the capital for three or five years, they’d probably return less capable than even children.
Yet, even with this awareness, stepping into the capital of the duchy, Cecil City, left them stunned.
The city had more than doubled in size since their departure, with many streets completely redesigned.
Temporary workshops and shelters had been relocated to the eastern industrial district and expanded into massive factories. Streets once lined with simple brick houses and small buildings had blossomed into bustling neighborhoods. Residential buildings, blending Ansu style with practicality, stood like guardians throughout the city. Between these areas, commercial districts had sprung up rapidly, fueled by the booming economy.
The two agents could hardly imagine that a larger new city district was already in foundational stages north of the Baishui River—due to ongoing population migration and village mergers in the Southern Territories, Cecil City’s population was set to double again.
Jipri and Pierce entered the city with a mix of awe and pride, reporting smoothly at the Military Intelligence headquarters—thankfully, they didn’t get lost in the military district.
“Director Amber is currently on an external mission,” the receptionist said while registering the two returning agents. “But she knew you’d be back soon and has already arranged your next assignments.”
After completing the registration, the young female clerk serving as the receptionist handed new identification cards and a folder of documents to Gipley and Pierce. Then she straightened up and said solemnly, “Thank you both for your contributions to Cecil—your hard work is truly appreciated!”
Pierce and Gipley were momentarily taken aback. They had been away for so long and missed so many crucial stages of the organization’s development that they didn’t quite know how to respond. They could only offer slightly awkward, restrained smiles. Fortunately, the receptionist seemed to anticipate their reaction and returned their smiles, easing the brief tension. “Please don’t be so formal—this is your home. Agent Pierce, you’re free to dismiss and take a rest. As for Agent Gipley… there’s a special assignment just for you.”
Gipley’s eyes widened in surprise. “An assignment?”
She couldn’t help but mutter inwardly: No time off at all, huh…
“Relax, it’s nothing demanding or field-related,” the receptionist said, as if reading Gipley’s thoughts, a faintly mysterious smile playing on her lips. “This task comes directly from the Lord—you’re allowed half a day off. Please report to the Lord’s manor promptly at 4 p.m.”
(Surprise! Delight!!)
(End of chapter)