In the orc territory, somewhere hidden deep within the bustling black streets, in a narrow alleyway.
At the end of the alley, an inconspicuous wooden door is tightly closed, isolating it from the filth and noise of the outside world.
Rita's figure appeared at the door without warning, like smoke blending into the shadows.
She didn't even glance at the door, walking straight through it as if the solid wood was merely a reflection in the water.
Inside the gate was a small courtyard that seemed out of place in the dark street; it was so clean it looked almost deliberate.
The two guards, dressed in gray, were like stiff wooden stakes, but they were activated the moment Rita appeared, their eyes flashing with ferocity.
Two poisoned short blades silently tore through the air, carrying a deadly ruthlessness, aimed straight at Rita's seemingly unguarded back and neck.
Pfft! Pfft!
The blade pierced through Rita's body without any resistance, as if it were piercing into a void of light and shadow.
The guard's ferocious expression froze, turning into unbelievable horror.
Rita didn't even look back, her steps unwavering as she walked straight into the depths of the courtyard. To her, those two deadly weapons were nothing more than annoying flying insects.
The commotion inside the courtyard clearly alerted the people inside.
With a creak, the door to the main room was pushed open.
A figure appeared at the doorway.
The newcomer was dressed in a perfectly pressed black tailcoat, over which was a snow-white shirt with an exquisite floral collar.
His full head of silver hair was combed until it was shiny and smooth, and his stern face was covered with a meticulously trimmed square beard. He exuded an old-fashioned and cold elegance.
He is the most active puppeteer at the Qizhi Association in the past six months.
Seeing Rita strolling leisurely through the courtyard, ignoring the attacks, a very subtle ripple flickered in the puppeteer's usually calm eyes.
He immediately bowed slightly, his movements so precise they seemed measured with a ruler, his right hand on his chest, performing an impeccable ancient greeting, his voice low and respectful:
"Greetings, Chairman."
Rita waved her hand casually, as if brushing away non-existent dust, her languid tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible mockery.
"The third brother is boring, and the people he hires are just as boring."
She stopped in front of the puppeteer, her ruby-like eyes sweeping over his impeccably groomed appearance. "You're already a legendary level; you don't need to bother with these fancy things. How are the preparations going at the Lor Swamp?"
The puppeteer straightened up, his face showing no embarrassment or dissatisfaction at being called "boring," only absolute obedience and efficiency: "Everything is ready, Chairman. We're just waiting for the actors to lose their composure and take the stage."
He paused briefly, then reported the cold, hard plan in a steady, deliberate manner:
“I have dispatched ‘Shadow Puppet’ to place ‘evidence’ of two high-ranking members of the Holy Knights of the Holy Light Church secretly funding the Corrupted Vine Alliance and using this as a pretext to maintain a long-term presence in the Lor Swamp at the Corrupted Vine Alliance’s ambush stronghold in the Blackwater Shallows. This ‘evidence’ will be delivered to Alfonso when necessary, enough to ignite anger and suspicion within the Holy Light Church.”
"At the same time," the puppeteer's voice remained completely flat, "using the 'confession' of a traitor within the Corrupted Vine Alliance, he was made to 'confess' to the orcs that their high command had secretly reached an agreement with the Church of Holy Light to deliberately lure the main forces of various tribes to the Blackwater Shallows for an ambush after the 'Heart of Bloodvine' was stolen."
"I have subtly passed this intelligence on to the Orcish Royal Court and the shamanic councils of several major tribes. I believe that, given the nature of the current Orc King, he will inevitably be tempted to launch a counter-encirclement!"
“Blackwater Shallows…” Rita’s red lips curled slightly, revealing a dangerous yet satisfied smile. “That is the place where the necromancy of the Lor Swamp is most concentrated and resentment lingers. The terrain is open but hides deadly dangers. It has always been a ‘dead ground’ that both armies avoid at all costs.”
"How can you be sure they'll go there? The orcs and humans have been fighting for so many years without a clear winner. Why would they take this risk?"
"As for the Church of Holy Light," the puppeteer continued, a cold calculation flashing in his eyes, "after receiving evidence of 'high-level treason,' the pressure for internal purges has increased dramatically."
"To prove their 'innocence' and to strike at the framers, the Supreme Council will inevitably order the Thirteenth Knights to take the toughest stance and enter the swamp at all costs to trace the source of the 'evidence' and 'protect' the Rotten Vine Alliance stronghold that may be retaliated against by the orcs."
"Alfonso Lin had no choice but to lead the main force deep into the swamp... Moreover, he came to the Lor Swamp to carry out the mission of clearing away the fluctuations of necromantic energy. The mission we designed for him originally pointed to the Blackwater Shallows."
"The Heart of Bloodvine has fallen into his hands as planned. Without the Withered Wood Tribe, the Orcs will never be able to create a new Heart of Bloodvine again."
"If the orcs don't seize this last chance to obtain the Heart of the Bloodvine, once Alfonso leaves the Lor Swamp, the Heart of the Bloodvine will be converted by the Church of the Holy Light, and the orcs will never again have the possibility of surpassing the Epic realm and reaching the Mythic realm! They must go!"
Rita let out a laugh like a viper's hiss, her gaze seemingly piercing through space, as if she could see the shallows about to be completely soaked in blood and fire, necromancy and resentment.
"Very well. When two foolish forces collide in a deadly battle, when enraged orc warriors fight 'holy' knights in the Blasted Lands."
"Their flesh and blood, their souls, their despair... will all become the best sacrifices to awaken our Lord. Remember, Puppeteer, what we need is not a temporary victory. The Enlightenment Society will ultimately usher in a new chapter for the Holy Dragon Continent." She turned around, her figure slowly dissipating into the air like smoke. "Don't let me down."
The puppeteer bowed deeply until Rita's presence completely disappeared from the courtyard.
————
Alfonso's adjutant led Mark, Kyle, and their group to the Grey Falcon team's hidden camp. Shortly after, without lingering, he said, "The follow-up mission will be relayed by the recorder," and hurriedly left.
The camp was rudimentary, filled with the mixed smells of adventurers' sweat, leather, and herbs. The diverse crowd had different gazes, creating a subtle atmosphere.
As the adjutant said, this so-called "squad" was essentially a disorganized mess.
Without a designated team leader, daily management is practically nonexistent.
The sole "manager" is a high-ranking recorder from the Holy Knights headquarters.
A thin, middle-aged man named Elliott.
He was taciturn, like a shadow, quietly observing and recording from the corner, turning a blind eye to the factionalism and mutual dislike in the camp.
His responsibilities were limited to assigning tasks and recording each person's performance in those tasks, nothing more.
As for who leads the team, how they fight, and internal conflicts, they don't care about any of that.
The camp quickly formed two distinct circles.
On one side is the "Outliers" group led by Mark.
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