Saiyan stowaways on the Ark

The roof ruins that were pressing down in the main hall were severed in two along with the flames burning on them as his spear fell.

From the smooth cross-section, another blazing flame rose into the sky.

The people around retreated, but the stag giant known as the general remained unmoved.

A pair of hands—more scarred than when people knew them—gradually emerged from the cave formed by the melting flames, gripping the edge as if completely oblivious to the heat, and pulling the body out of it.

"Leader, forgive my lateness, but why didn't you tell me about the situation at Lungmen sooner?"

That was Talulah, whose complexion and temperature were completely opposite.

The magnificent clothes were long gone, but the exposed body could hardly be described as pitiful at this moment.

She stared coldly at the person who had cut the rubble covering her in two, and then responded to the question that was not out of concern but out of reproach.

"I have no intention of hiding anything, I just hope that you, General, can focus on the matters at hand."

"It was that Sarkaz who made it. I heard about it when I came."

The general didn't react much to Talulah's explanation, seemingly just wanting a reason that could convince him.

"As mercenaries, the Sarkaz scattered, and a small number of those who joined the guerrillas continued to serve us."

Then, he explained the current situation—W and Talulah fought for half a day, and the addition of the Kingkiller did not bring much advantage. In the end, W blew up the entire bridge and escaped, and the Kingkiller went to pursue him. The Sarkaz mercenaries no longer trusted Talulah's unconvincing promises. Those who dared to attack them and questioned why they did not help Talulah fight W also died under their blades. No one could stop the entire mercenary force from leaving Chernobog.

Perhaps those people will return to Kazdel, but they may simply be looking for a new employer who can provide them with a better battlefield. After all, they don't really care about the captain's life or whereabouts. Compared to that, they actually have enough romanticism to pursue the life they want, even if what they are pursuing is too abnormal.

Only a small group of mercenaries joined the general's forces early on, indirectly becoming part of the Reunion Movement.

"We have lost too many combatants."

His words once again highlighted this undeniable reality.

"But we still have the Infected Shield, don't we?"

Talulah's tone softened, as if she genuinely trusted the other party's abilities.

However, those who heard this did not feel the honor of being supported by the leader.

"Yes, I will still fight for the infected and for integration."

A more resolute emotion seemed to emerge in the general's hoarse voice.

He is the shield of the infected, fighting against injustice against them, as are his soldiers.

But those were the general's soldiers, not Talulah's soldiers.

They are willing to obey the general's will and fight for the general, for the infected, and for the Reunion Movement.

But they won't fight for Talulah.

He reached out and handed a long, chip-like object, engraved with intricate patterns, to Talulah, whose hands were covered in wounds.

"We've got the key. What's the plan?"

—If Talulah dares to say "Continue."

He then prepared to take W's place and cut off Talulah's head.

"...With the plan shelved, it is not appropriate to continue the activity under these circumstances."

Talulah held the "key" that the other party had given her tightly, responding with a sincere attitude from the bottom of her heart.

"So please put away your murderous intent, General Patriot. I will not repeat the mistake of Lungmen, which would cause my compatriots to die because of my mistake."

The Reunion Movement grew not only because Talulah was very good at "inciting" people—after all, that's what they had done before—but more importantly because they started to use violence, and they used a sufficiently strong form of violence.

Organizations built on violence need violence to sustain them, and Talulah is willing to use violence and is powerful enough, so the Reunion Movement needs Talulah, or rather, can only choose the Reunion Movement led by Talulah.

Of course, their choice did have an effect, making those who were disappointed with the moderate rights organizations for infected people believe that only such violent means could bring a bright future to those infected.

Even Patriots chose the Reunion Movement for this very reason.

But now an even more powerful infected individual has emerged, using rescue efforts to change the current situation.

This was a “powerful aid organization” that they had never imagined and thought could not exist.

Weak organizations are powerless in the face of oppression.

A tough organization is like an egg trying to fight a rock when faced with injustice.

But powerful organizations are not about being tough or weak – their very existence is a deterrent to injustice. Violence is necessary, but it should not be abused, at least not there, without resorting to violence that would make participants question their own motives.

They have more choices.

Now it is Talulah's turn to figure out how to prevent her followers from abandoning her.

Instead of leaving others with no choice but to do what they did in the past.

Patriot, the last pure-blooded Wendigo and the most senior officer in the Reunion Movement, did not easily change his mind about his original decision.

He still retains a degree of approval for the integration movement that is willing to take radical measures.

However, he wanted to use the current changes in Terra to give a slight warning to this "leader" who had disappointed him.

"The right choice, the leader."

The Patriot left behind only brief words, leaving behind a solitary figure amidst the ruins of Talulah.

[Main Text] The Journey to Longmen: Chapter Twenty-One - Night Walk at Longmen (Part 2)

Whether intentional or unintentional, knowing too much is not always a good thing.

For example, Tomat, who has made sensing aura a subconscious behavior—on this planet where the natives do not hide their aura, things that are thought to be well hidden are always clearly visible to him.

For example, another person who is hiding their presence is always following him closely from a distance.

"Qi" and "breath" cannot be equated. The former is a special kind of life energy that changes with a person's physical condition. It is strong when a person is healthy and weak when they are dying. However, to control it freely, to increase or decrease it, or even to separate it from the body, one must undergo special and rigorous training. The latter is different. By walking lightly, slowing down one's breathing, and clearing one's mind, with a little training and maintenance, one can make oneself disappear from the crowd or from the shadows. Of course, the "little training" mentioned here is only based on the comparison of the difficulty of "qi training".

However, even though these people had undergone arduous training that might have resulted in bleeding to the point of being able to conceal their presence, there was still nowhere for them to hide within Tomat's non-deliberate perception range.

They couldn't hide their aura, which was relatively stronger than that of those around them.

Back on Rhodes Island, there was also a nimble red-clad Lupo girl who avoided his sight but always liked to follow him at a distance. However, Thomas Privilege simply thought of her as someone who was curious about him but dared not approach him.

But things are different now. If you're being stared at by a stranger outdoors, you know for sure that person might be looking for trouble.

"Didn't they say there's a Guard Bureau building nearby, so no one would cause trouble in a place like this? When did I become so popular?"

Thomas didn't know or care about the other person's purpose, but the bustling night market wasn't the right place to stop the other person from stalking him.

He first threw away the trash he was carrying, tossing the dozens of skewers of barbecued meat that were stuck between his fingers into the roadside trash can. Then, unusually, he took small bites of the last skewer that he hadn't yet eaten, and ate it as he walked.

He stopped and stood in front of the glass wall of a luxury store, pretending to look at the things that were once commonplace in the display case—rare minerals, jewelry, mountains of gold and silver. Countless nobles and kings had surrendered their countries and handed over their treasures accumulated over thousands of years before his country fell.

However, these things rarely reached Tomat's hands, and often could only buy their lives temporarily.

Whether it has any value to be preserved is ultimately not up to Tomat to decide, but at least through repeated exposure, it has certainly broadened his horizons considerably.

Of course, nothing appealed to him as much as the barbecue he had on hand.

The owner of that aura did not stop immediately when Tomat paused, but continued forward for a distance, getting closer to him. He then pretended to stop and looked at the handbags in the shop next door.

—A man whose race is impossible to discern is eating barbecue while looking at jewelry.

—A simply dressed red-haired Luper girl examines an expensive handbag.

If they intended to enter the store, they would probably be stopped by the staff immediately.

The former was certain that he hadn't seen Luper's face recently, while the latter occasionally glanced at the tail wrapped around Tomat's waist, as if he had also made up his mind about something, and his aura suddenly rose slightly.

This subtle change made Tomat realize that the other party was targeting him.

Before the staff came out to let Thomas eat barbecue in front of their shop, he left his spot and turned towards a less crowded area.

Tomat knew very well where there were many people and where there were few.

Neon-lit alleyways in night markets are not uncommon, and thanks to the good security in the area, there aren't many thugs or strange shops in these alleys. They are mostly upscale underground bars or members-only restaurants that only accept a limited number of customers each day.

This time, Tomat didn't throw away the last skewer of barbecue in his hand.

"We've been discovered?"

Watching the other person quickly walk into the alley, the red-haired Lupo girl couldn't help but lose her rhythm of breathing; tension and surprise shouldn't have been present in her.

She followed closely and arrived at the entrance of the alley, only to find a straight alleyway completely deserted.

"Have you gone inside the store yet?"

She thought quickly, but was interrupted before she could come to a conclusion.

It was the sound of footsteps, but not footsteps approaching from afar; rather, it was the sound of two feet landing suddenly and silently.

Were you outmaneuvered? As an assassin?

The Rupert girl didn't turn around to check; instead, she quickly covered her mouth and nose, took a deep breath, and then exhaled heavily with a whisper—

"Swallow the bitterness of the dead."

But what came out was not clear breath, but thick smoke that spread rapidly.

This is her Originium Arts.

Any Originium perception ability will be useless in this smoke.

Even a king under heavy guard could have his head taken as easily as taking candy from a baby.

This is the origin of her codename—"King Killer".

The dagger he used to use on the battlefield was replaced by an exquisite neck-slitting dagger. Based on his judgment of the target's physique, he could instantly determine the location of the opponent's artery, and without turning around, he could use the thick smoke to strike straight at the neck.

The opponent is skilled in large-scale magical attacks.

This narrow alley and this distance are not suitable for using the combat methods he had previously demonstrated.

Despite encountering another major threat from the Reunion Movement on their way to Lungmen in pursuit of W, the Kingslayer rationally devised a targeted assassination strategy.

Even if the opponent is an artist using terrifying Originium Arts, she is confident that she can deal with them as easily as assassinating an ordinary person.

Assassins are like that, because their enemies are always flesh and blood, and they never need to fight openly on the other side's home turf.

The dagger struck its target as she had expected.

And warm blood should gush out in the thick fog.

But the throat, which should have been torn along with the artery and stopped making sounds, continued to make sounds.