Chapter 281 — The 25th Squad in Action

Gao Yang was grateful for all the education he had received in his last life, and for his habit of leafing through books whenever he had a spare moment (and of shooting the breeze with people online), but he was just as grateful that in this life he had first transmigrated into a satellite spirit—and that something like a mutation had occurred in the process. He suspected that when he became a satellite, he had undergone some manner of "restructuring" or "compilation" on the mental or spiritual level, and that this restructuring, rooted in the satellite mainframe, must have combed through the entirety of his memories and sorted them into categories. In the end, this had brought him two exceedingly important changes: first, a willpower that was hardly human; second, a memory like a hard drive.

He could remember things very clearly. Even matters from his last life that he had thought long forgotten could be recalled, so long as he made the effort to think back on them.

Now he was delighted to pass on the good things he had dredged up from memory to Rebecca—and, while he was at it, to Hetty, who stood nearby looking thoroughly bewildered.

While the lord of this land and his officials of every rank busied themselves planning postwar production and future development, everyone else in the territory was also occupied with their own affairs: Hammer, studying with his apprentices how to further raise the efficiency of the magical-energy smelting furnace; Norris, contemplating next year's land reclamation; and the 25th Production and Construction Squad, which had just returned to the residential district and was now holding a meeting to hear the work plan for the following day.

Before the monster attack, the 25th Production and Construction Squad had been building a new industrial zone in the southwestern part of the territory. When the alarm came, the whole squad, like the other engineering teams, temporarily laid down its work; they were assigned to sections of the city wall to help haul supplies and reinforce the masonry. Now the battle alarm had been lifted, and the entire squad had returned to its own station. As a special "unit," they were kept apart from the other production teams—likewise when production tasks were assigned and work reviewed. Several dedicated overseers and soldiers were responsible for managing the 25th Squad, and the man addressing them now was a veteran from the Cecil Combat Corps who was said to have served the Cecil family for ten years.

Hall was a member of the 25th Squad and, at the same time, a new arrival in this territory. He sat dutifully in his place, listening as the tall, powerfully built veteran before them relayed the lord's orders to the men. He strove to behave like the most ordinary laborer of all, though it still took some effort to adjust before he could fully inhabit the role he was meant to play.

The "laborers" of this land were different from those elsewhere—that was what made him a little uncomfortable—but fortunately he was a man of strong adaptability and a keen reader of faces, so after living here only a short while he had learned more or less how the common folk of Cecil spoke and behaved.

After confirming that those around him were all listening attentively, Hall lifted his head as if by chance and swiftly swept his gaze over the soldier at the front.

It was normal for a laborer crew to be managed by overseers, but beyond the overseers this squad also had three soldiers keeping order—that was not so ordinary. At first Hall had been nervous about it, thinking he had already drawn the lord's suspicion, but he soon realized that the soldiers managing the squad were not aimed at him in particular but were watching over the whole crew, and so he settled down.

Once reassured, he even felt a considerable secret delight: this squad was special, overseen personally by the lord's private soldiers—which meant he had luckily insinuated himself into a place where secrets could be touched. There was coincidence and luck in it, but wasn't the spy's trade itself a matter of luck?

He had heard before that several spies had been caught at the city gates, the docks, the checkpoints, and the like, and had been flogged and driven out. That he could still sit here safe and sound meant he was undoubtedly fortunate.

And it was precisely because he had been lucky enough to slip in and lie low that he had the chance to see so many unimaginable things in this land.

Without question, that Duke Gao Yang Cecil, risen from the dead, was truly no ordinary man. Leading his descendants and several hundred refugees into the Dark Mountains had not been the act of a muddled mind but part of some scheme. The speed and scale of this territory's construction far exceeded the expectations of his own master, Viscount Carroll; sending him here had been a wise move indeed.

And then there were those monsters—the monsters said to have come running out of the wasteland of Gondor—and the weapons of war built to destroy them...

Even now, recalling that finished battle still left Hall somewhat shaken. True, he had only climbed the city wall in the latter half of the fighting to haul bombs, and had caught but a fleeting glimpse of the battlefield, yet that single scene still turned his legs to jelly. He could not imagine that such terrible things could exist in the world, still less that the duke who had risen from the dead could forge thunderbolts of war machines to fight such monsters. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, who could have imagined that such things were happening at this frontier edge of civilization?

The soldier delivering the orders did not hold forth at length like some noble lord, so while Hall was still turning things over in his mind, the soldier had already finished the important business. He then declared the meeting dismissed, and the members of the 25th Squad rose to their feet one after another.

Hall stood up along with everyone else, brushing down his clothes as though nothing were the matter, working his limbs, and heading for the exit.

He checked the urge to go up to that soldier and strike up a friendship—it was too early for that, and his status was still that of a "lowborn." Though the lowborn seemed to enjoy high standing in this land, to approach a noble's private soldier so abruptly would inevitably invite suspicion; even if he offered money to buy the man, a soldier of such fierce loyalty would very likely sell him out on the spot. He had to go steady, one step at a time.

Under no circumstances could he let anyone see what was peculiar about him.

On the way, someone came over to greet him. The man was also a member of the 25th Squad; they had worked together for several days now. Hall knew his name, but not yet the details of his circumstances.

This was a newly formed production and construction squad (a rather strange title), so it was normal that the men did not yet know one another. But to avoid arousing suspicion, Hall responded to the man warmly and fell to chatting about the recent production tasks, and from there the conversation drifted naturally to the battle that had just ended.

Everyone around them was discussing the same topic—after all, the fighting had only just finished, and it had been an unforgettable battle; any normal person at such a moment could not help but talk it over to ease his own tension.

There was nothing suspicious in that.

But Hall remembered his assignment, so he could not simply make idle talk; he had to use the opportunity to pry into the territory's affairs—asking, for instance, where exactly those monsters had come from, and where the weapons used against them had been made.