"I am just a soldier. My responsibility is to propose the strategies I think should be implemented," Vislo took a sip of coffee, looked at the person opposite the sofa, and said calmly, "As for political issues, that’s your business. What I see now is that the consortium and the Central Army are coming aggressively, and their power is stronger than ours. If we don’t seize the initiative earlier, the more we delay, the more passive we’ll become."

"I think you want to incite a civil war and sell out to the war," the figure who had just spoken leaned back on the sofa, tidying up his pilled white silk suit, "If a civil war really starts, as the current Commander of the City Defense Army, you’ll become the actual leader, gaining merit and fame. If you succeed, you’ll be the biggest beneficiary of the war."

He slightly raised his gaze, looking at Christos behind the desk, "But as for us, we’ll be dragged by you into the battlefield, facing the threat of death."

"I said I’m just a soldier, and a soldier’s duty is to propose suitable combat strategies at the right time," Vislo lowered his head and took another sip of coffee, "Clearly, the danger doesn’t come from ourselves but from our enemies. As for political statements and struggles, as I said, that’s your business."

"I don’t see you as a soldier," the man sneered, "but as a warmonger with ambitions. If the Federation truly engages in a civil war, countless lives will be buried by your decisions."

"Are you just afraid of dying?" the short-haired man in simple casual wear spoke directly from the side, "In the end, you still want to surrender."

"You’re not afraid of dying?" The man in the white suit raised his gaze, staring at the short-haired man, "If you’re so eager, why don’t you join the City Defense Army, accept General Vislo’s command, and launch a night raid tonight?"

"If Dawn City needs me, I can go to the battlefield anytime," the short-haired man crossed his arms, "I’m not like those who start transferring assets and preparing to run before the gunfire begins."

"What do you mean?" The man in the white suit’s gaze darkened.

"Nothing," the short-haired man smiled, "I just happened to notice that your family is selling assets, and your younger son has already left Dawn City, hasn’t he?"

"You’ve been investigating me?" The man in the white suit’s face turned cold.

During the conversation, he subconsciously glanced sideways at Christos behind the desk.

At this moment, Christos was flipping through a document, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.

"I just happened to see it." The short-haired man casually smiled, also glancing sideways at Christos.

"Actually, I think General Vislo’s strategy is quite feasible," at this moment, a figure in a brown suit sitting in the middle of the crowd spoke slowly, "Looking at the short-term war situation, if this plan is successfully executed, it can indeed resolve our current predicament."

He raised his head, glanced at Vislo, who was drinking coffee, and continued, "But this can only bring short-term victory. If we are labeled as the initiators of a civil war, in the long term, this is extremely disadvantageous politically,"

He lifted his gaze again, giving another look at Christos who had paused going through the documents, and continued, "Currently, with the consortium and Gray Stone Palace’s forces already stronger than ours, if they successfully label us as the initiators of the civil war, bringing neutral cities under their influence and amassing the whole Federation’s power against us, our future situation will only become more dire."

Vislo drank his coffee, and this time, he did not speak, neither agreeing nor opposing.

"They’re almost pointing guns at our heads," the short-haired man in casual wear said angrily, "Do we have to kneel and beg them? Isn’t this already considered starting a civil war?"

"As of now, what they’re doing is compliant military maneuvers," the man in the brown suit said slowly, "Though they’ve surrounded us factually, it can still be explained within the rules." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"The consortium’s mercenary corps have surrounded us several times, can it only be them attacking us?" the short-haired man said wrathfully.

"The earlier incidents were just minor skirmishes, and the consortium could always explain it away as independent actions by the mercenary corps," the man in the brown suit replied slowly, "Moreover, the war didn’t escalate with the situation. If we act, it will play into their hands."

"So they can attack us, but we can’t attack them?" the short-haired man said somewhat defiantly, "What kind of logic is that?!"

This comment left the man in the brown suit feeling somewhat helpless, "This time with the involvement of the Central Army, perhaps we should watch for their attitude."

"So ultimately, we shouldn’t fight this war!" the man in the white suit interjected.

"Who asked you to speak?" the short-haired man responded almost instantly, staring at the man in the white suit, "Who asked you?"

"Alright," Christos put down the document he was holding from behind the desk, "Let’s end today’s meeting here. Everyone go back and rest, and continue with the basic arrangements. Production should continue, life should go on, maintain the trade routes, and avoid creating panic."

"Alright." "Okay." ...

Everyone paused slightly, glancing at Christos; some nodded, and others remained silent.

Eventually, people slowly stood up to retrieve hats and coats hanging at the side.

"In the end, we cannot bear the label of initiators of a civil war," the man in the white suit said slowly, "Once war starts, it can’t be ended easily."

"Why can’t it be ended easily, isn’t there still surrender as an option?" the short-haired man retorted sarcastically.

"Alright, alright, let’s not argue about this now." The man in the brown suit hurriedly walked over, pulling the two headed out of the office.

Vislo walked last, and after everyone left, he finally finished his coffee. He put the empty coffee cup on the bar nearby.

And at this moment, he happened to see Christos approaching to place his coffee cup down as well.

"If a full-scale war really breaks out, what do you think our chances of winning are?" Christos placed the coffee cup on the table and asked softly.

"In the best-case scenario, if we and our allies stand united, with the Nolanka Group, Yilan City, and Wint City participating, and we find cohesion, then perhaps we can prolong the war, use small forces to fight larger ones, and possibly achieve victory,"

Vislo seemed unsurprised by Christos’s inquiry. He continued in a low voice, "In this way, I think there might be a 30% chance that we can force them to the negotiating table and reach a relatively advantageous condition for us."

He looked at Christos directly, "The worst-case scenario, however, is if our allies are all divided and defeated separately. Then the likelihood of getting them to the negotiating table drops below 10%."

"If negotiation is not an option," Christos looked at him, "what do you think our chances of victory are?"

Hearing Christos’s inquiry, Vislo paused, then sighed long and shook his head,

"I don’t see any hope for victory.

"You know, the gap between us and the consortium, as well as Gray Stone Palace, is too wide. This isn’t just a difference in influence or population, it’s also a gap in technological level and industrial strength.

"The Evis Spatial System is our biggest supplier. Our bullets and cannons are made by the enemy, and once they cut off the supply, we won’t even have a place to maintain our weapons. The entire weapons system could revert to a previous era, and without replenishment, we run through our supplies.

"Although the Nolanka Group can bear a part of the production capacity and has cutting-edge technology, the overall technological gap isn’t so easily bridged. This technological disparity on the battlefield is a difference between life and death."

He paused, speaking in a slow, hoarse voice, "The best outcome I can hope for now is ’negotiation,’ but direct negotiation would be ineffective. We need to achieve certain results on the battlefield before we negotiate."

He gazed at Christos, "What can’t be obtained on the battlefield can’t be obtained at the negotiating table either."

"I understand." Christos rubbed his brow and sighed softly.

He picked up the military cap from the coat rack beside him and handed it to Vislo, "Make sure to stay safe lately."

"I know," Vislo nodded, placing the cap on his head and looking at Christos, "Has the Deputy Mayor not returned yet?"

"He should be back soon; I don’t even know where he’s gone now." Christos shook his head, speaking with a hint of regret.

He shifted his gaze to the city towering behind him, illuminated in brilliance.

Amidst its presence, raindrops began to drizzle down from the sky.

——

Vicat City

Drip—drip—drip—

Gentle raindrops slid along the ribs of the transparent umbrella, landing in the small puddles forming on the worn-out streets, creating a scattering mist of splashes.

A nearby shopping mall’s billboard was displaying his bounty advertisement, the reward had risen from one hundred million to one hundred twenty million.

Compared to the shock of the initial hundred million, the increase of twenty million seemed not as ’exciting.’

Pedestrians were bustling back and forth, hardly anyone paused to discuss the bounty advertisement.

Buzz—

Along with the vibration of his bracelet from an incoming call, He Ao raised his hand and answered the phone.

"Good evening, handsome old man." Medala’s somewhat alluring voice came from the other end, "Have you arrived in Vicat City? I’ve just received the latest news; Wild left Vicat this morning. If you haven’t arrived yet, you might want to stay where you are."

"I’m already here," He Ao replied hoarsely.

"Why?" Medala asked with interest, "Did you miss him?"

"Not entirely," He Ao said nonchalantly, "I handled a few issues."

Then he asked softly, "Can you help me look into someone? I can’t reach my usual intelligence network right now."

Medala chuckled, "In the eyes of your ’old friends,’ you’re quite a catch. One hundred million, in cash too. Not even the big wigs in our family could cough up that much cash in one go. I’m tempted just looking at it."

"Price went up," He Ao glanced at the huge bounty on the advertisement screen nearby, casually remarking, "Now it’s one hundred twenty million."

The other end of the phone was silent for a moment, followed by a subtle intake of breath, "Old man, at this rate, per pound, you might be more expensive than Angel-tier exotic beasts. What exactly did you do? Never mind, let’s not continue this topic. So, who do you want me to look into? Male or female?"

"Female," He Ao croaked, "Her name is Morolin, she’s a black market merchant who stayed in Vitland for a while, dealing in Extraordinary Items, then moved to Selovis. She should be quite famous in the Extraordinary Black Market. Can you find out where she is now?"

"You actually have female friends," Medala’s tone stretched slightly, "Is she your ex-girlfriend? I thought you didn’t like women anymore."

"Not ones like you," He Ao said bluntly, "Morolin did business with me before. I have some matters to discuss with her. Get back to me quickly; I’m leaving this city soon."

"Ah, the heartless man," Medala teased with a hint of playful reproach, "Alright, I’ll investigate for you. Wait for me, I’ll get back to you in half an hour regardless of whether I’ve found anything."

She then promptly hung up the phone.

He Ao lowered his head, gazing at the darkened screen of his bracelet, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Morolin is the black market merchant who sold the ’main material’ of the Hell Manager to Hawke back then.

To be precise, what she sold to Hawke wasn’t the main material of the Hell Manager, but the Talent Sequence Fusion Material extracted directly from the deceased Hell Manager.

Hawke originally wasn’t bothered about such things, nor did he ask where the main material came from, in line with black market rules, Morolin probably wouldn’t disclose.

After all, too many Transcendents die in this world; it’s unnecessary to pinpoint which Talent Sequence comes from which Transcendent. Sometimes, it’s best not to bother oneself with such intricacies.

However, the situation has changed slightly now.

Not only did He Ao witness a part of Wild’s memory, but he also saw the memory of the Death God Priest.

Nevertheless, the Priest’s memory was deleted more thoroughly, unable to find any related memory of this incident, and the imprint on the Death God Priest was even more powerful, nearly self-destructing instantly when He Ao touched his soul.

Back then, He Ao could only retrieve all he could through a few keynotes.

These retrieved memories were sparse and mostly fragmented, with only a small segment catching He Ao’s attention.

That was when the Death God Priest overheard some ’gossip’ from within the Death God Sect.

The Death God Sect originally had a ’Hell Manager.’

But for some reason, the Hell Manager mysteriously died, leaving only the Talent Sequence, and soon a new comer became the new Hell Manager, but he quickly met the fate of his predecessor, mysteriously died, leaving behind the Talent Sequence.

However, there were many who took the Psychic-Makeup Mortician path within the Church, many talented enough to reach B-level, obtaining this Talent Sequence in various ways and completing their promotion.

Thus, this Talent Sequence changed hands four or five times, each holder with varying lengths of tenure, but all ultimately died mysteriously.

Consequently, rumors began within the Death God Sect that the Hell Manager’s Talent Sequence harbored some eerie secret, but no one dared attempt to promote this Talent Sequence again.

Later, the Talent Sequence inexplicably vanished within the Church one day.

Those seeking promotion no longer saw the Talent Sequence.