Chapter 486: Encirclement

They were the ones who did the dirty work.

Amber had known this for a long time.

After understanding how the Military Intelligence Bureau operated, and grasping the basic concepts of “infiltration, sabotage, intelligence” as described by Gawain, she had already anticipated the kind of work this special department might be involved in.

The Military Security Intelligence Bureau was a comprehensive intelligence agency dedicated to protecting the homeland’s security. But often, the homeland’s safety depended on the enemy’s insecurity. Not all confrontations could be fought openly; those covert operations were the bureau’s responsibility.

What was a righteous cause to Cecil was hardly just or noble to the enemy. Sometimes you needed assassinations, sometimes poisonings, sometimes sowing discord and division within enemy ranks, sometimes theft and stealth… Of course, intelligence work wasn’t always this dark and extreme. Often, openly circulating information was also a vital source of intelligence. But when conflict reached a critical point, the methods inevitably grew shadowy.

Amber didn’t care much about these moral ambiguities—her own profession wasn’t exactly a beacon of light either.

On the contrary, she was glad someone recognized her talents and put them to proper use. Maybe what she and her team did wasn’t exactly aboveboard, but at least she could be sure their actions would bring peace and safety to many.

The Holy Light Church on this land was a cancer. And cancers needed to be cut out with a knife.

Tensions in Luan City were on the verge of exploding.

Rumors spread like wildfire through the city. The civilians, already burdened by hunger and panic, seemed to have lost their reason. They forgot the oppressive presence of the supernaturals and began whispering terrifying things in the darkest corners. Every night, after the knights and soldiers patrolling the town had left, chilling murmurs echoed through the moldy alleys of the outer districts. At dawn, bold slogans attacking the cathedral appeared in certain corners, even blasphemous heretical symbols.

The Church district sent out wave after wave of inspection squads. Monks in black robes bearing holy emblems even barged into homes to interrogate or outright question anyone they suspected. People were suddenly dragged from their houses; most returned barely alive. Fewer than a third made it home unharmed.

Yet, despite the knights and clergy’s frantic efforts, patrolling day and night, their limited numbers barely covered a third of the city.

Even within the Church district, things were deteriorating. The split between lower clergy and priests was almost an open secret. More and more small chapel leaders refused to obey the cathedral’s orders. Some priests questioned the authority of the interim Bishop Flanberon; others began doubting the strange behavior of the former Southern Bishop Lemont before Cecil’s invasion. Rumors spread that Bishop Lemont had been bewitched by the Everlasting Dead, though the source of these whispers remained shrouded in mystery.

Amid this tense and oppressive atmosphere, more and more leaflets appeared throughout the city—even inside churches.

“The enemy has infiltrated! Their destruction is near madness! The threat is beyond imagination!”

At an emergency clergy meeting, Flanberon waved his arms wildly, his eyes bloodshot as he shouted. Known for his piety, steadiness, and authority, the priest had lost his usual composure. Faced with the unprecedented destruction wrought by Cecil’s forces, his heart burned with rage.

“We’ve deployed all the Church knights, monks, and defected exiled knights to the outer districts. Every day, we seize countless leaflets and heretical items,” one priest stood up to report. “We also—”

“That’s useless!” Flanberon cut him off harshly. “Those leaflets appear faster than we can burn them!”

“The saboteurs are hiding within the city. We must find a way to root them out,” a black-robed monk, leader of the monks, stood. “They’re masters of concealment, blending in with the crowd. Every unfamiliar face is suspicious…”

“That includes the defected exiled knights and noble scions, and their retinues,” another priest interrupted. “They’re scattered among the current knight patrols and inside the inner Church district. Should we investigate them too?”

The monk’s voice was as cold as winter: “All are suspect. Maybe the enemy slipped in among them.”

Flanberon slammed the table. “We’re playing right into their hands—they want us divided.”

The priests stirred uneasily; a heavy, tense atmosphere filled the hall.

In the suffocating silence, Flanberon finally spoke again.

“We cannot let this situation worsen,” the interim bishop said grimly. As a powerful supernatural, he had grown tired of the troubles caused by these foolish, weak mortals. “We must take action strong enough to intimidate everyone—house-to-house searches, bring all suspects to the square. I will use the Great Divine Spell to detect their faith. Anyone wavering will be burned at the stake! Also, bring the weak and wavering priests from the small chapels to the square to witness the executions!”

A commotion erupted in the hall. After a moment, a priest stood: “Bishop, are you sure about using the Great Divine Spell on so many? It consumes enormous power, and once cast… I fear many will be judged as faithless…”

Ordinary people were hardly devout clergy. Even in this Church city of Luan, the common folk were just regular believers. After so long under siege, pressure, and panic, even the priests’ faith was severely tested. The commoners’ faith was even more fragile.

The clergy were no fools. Though they often preached the omnipotence of the Holy Light God, they understood human hearts well. Under such dire circumstances, how many commoners would remain devout after a Great Divine Spell?

But Flanberon had made up his mind. “It must be done—we have to prove the Lord’s power to all. And define this clearly: those who waver, who slander the Church, who defame me and my predecessor, are faithless, bewitched by the devil. Their words are madness, not to be trusted.”

The priests nodded thoughtfully.

As the situation spiraled out of control, scapegoating a few targets, blaming all instability on them, labeling them heretics, faithless, mad, and then burning them alive—that was the most effective solution in times like these.

At least, in the past, such “heresy trials” had never failed.

“Announce a citywide state of emergency. Tell everyone their bishop will conduct the heresy trial in the square,” Flanberon stood, scanning the hall to ensure no one opposed. “Don’t hide the use of the Divine Spell—emphasize its power. We want those hiding among us to panic, and those about to be judged to waver even more. The more they waver, the easier it will be to brand them heretics and pin everything on them.”

The priests exchanged glances, then bowed their heads before Flanberon.

The news quickly spread from the cathedral to the small chapel district and the outer city.

In an underground facility in the small chapel district, a tall, thin priest dressed in the gray linen robe worn only by the disciplined walked barefoot on the cold stone floor.

A black-robed monk silently walked beside him.

Faint sounds came from above—many footsteps, mixed with what sounded like orders being passed down.

The priest in linen stopped, tilted his head to listen, then looked up. “Orcott, what’s that noise?”

The monk replied coldly, “It’s probably the announcement of the heresy trial. Don’t think too much about it. This isn’t your concern.”

The priest’s eyes widened slightly. After a moment, he muttered to himself, “They’re still going ahead with the heresy trial in this situation… There’s no way out. None at all… Orcott, you—”

The monk cut him off. “Save your strength. The cathedral has this under control.”

The priest fell silent abruptly.

After a long pause, he looked ahead into the dim, gloomy corridor. The cold underground hallway stretched before him, disappearing into darkness. Ahead, several other disciplined priests in gray linen robes walked under the monk’s supervision.

That dark path was like the city’s future—sliding into darkness.

…

At the Military Intelligence Bureau’s temporary base, all operatives gathered together. Amber looked at her team with a pleased smile.

“The ‘heresy trial’ is finally here. I thought they wouldn’t dare use it. That’s always been their specialty. Those fanatics have held out surprisingly long.”

One operative spoke up, “The situation’s gotten this bad—they’ll definitely use the heresy trial to ‘maintain order.’ And they must have realized we exist. This trial is probably aimed at catching us.”

“Those idiots… If any of you get caught, I’ll dock eighty years’ pay!” Amber sneered, then bent down and grabbed a cloth bag by her feet, placing it on the table. The bag clinked with metal inside.

Curious, the operatives watched as Amber opened the bag and pulled out several small, assembled rune plates—compact, specially designed models.

She handed them out: “Take one each. Keep it close.”

One team member couldn’t help but ask, “Boss… what are these?”

“Good stuff from headquarters—Holy Light Resonance Nodes. Part of the White Knights’ gear, but specially modified to run independently outside their armor,” Amber explained, slipping one into her pouch. “With these, you don’t have to worry about the so-called ‘heresy trial.’”

The operatives clicked their tongues in admiration. “That’s impressive.”

“Of course it’s powerful. In fact, it can even make you come across as a devout saint when you’re hit by something like the ‘Great God’s Spell’ or other ‘Judgment Magic’—well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it’ll definitely fool that Flamberon guy,” Amber said with a sneer. “That guy calls himself a bishop, but honestly, he’s just a half-baked stand-in picked after Lemont and a bunch of high-level supernaturals died. I seriously doubt he can even withstand a single Great God’s Spell intact.”

After saying that, the half-elf’s face twisted into a sly grin. “And… these resonance nodes have some nifty little tricks up their sleeves. When the fanatics see them, they’re going to be in for a big surprise.”

Seeing the curious and expectant looks on her team’s faces, Amber’s smugness swelled with satisfaction. Finally, she got a taste of what it felt like when Gawain pulls out one of his brilliant ideas and gets a room full of admiring gazes.

But she didn’t let herself bask in that feeling for long, nor did she keep teasing her teammates. The operatives needed to fully understand the tools they were equipped with—that was key to the mission’s success. So after a brief moment of gloating, she got down to seriously explaining the effects of those Holy Light Resonance Nodes…

Meanwhile, on a hill outside Luan City, Philip and his team, tasked with monitoring the city and enforcing the blockade, were joined by the Byron knights bringing reinforcements.

“The fanatics inside Luan City are about due for a serious kick-out,” Byron said as soon as they met, his tone rough and casual. “I’ve brought weapons specifically designed to take them down.”

“Weapons?” Philip eyed the supply wagons Byron had brought with some curiosity. “I thought we weren’t supposed to launch a direct attack on Luan City?”

“Of course we’re not attacking,” Byron grinned, trying to look mysterious but actually looking more like a chimp who just swiped a bunch of bananas. Seeing that grin, Philip knew this had to be some scheme cooked up between their lord and this old fox.

He didn’t press further—he knew Byron wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself.

“We brought a hundred thousand leaflets,” Byron said before Philip could say anything else, “stuffed inside the cannonballs.”

(End of chapter)