Huai Shi smiled faintly, put it in his pocket, and looked up to ask, "Is there anything else you'd like to instruct me on?"
"No, I'm an amateur when it comes to conflict. As a scholar, how can I compare to the wealth of experience of a Judge?"
Andrea glanced back at him. "The Great Grandmaster said to let you have free rein. After all, no matter what, it's better than you sulking around with that unpleasant, hard-to-read expression in front of him all day."
Huai Shi was stunned and raised his eyebrows. "Am I that disliked?"
"It's just that no one likes a lion sitting in a cage."
Andrea smiled, stepped back, and nodded farewell. "Then, Head of Operations, sir, have a good journey."
"Yeah, alright."
Huai Shi withdrew his gaze, stepped onto the boarding ladder, and got into the passenger seat.
The truck door closed.
He gazed out at the surging, endless darkness and chuckled softly.
"Let's go," he said. "We're off."
Accompanied by the deep sound of the Gargoyles' bat-like wings flapping the air, the massive truck roared to life, charging into the deep night.
The fiery tail lights gradually faded.
Like the sun sinking into the mist.
.
.
Amidst a long stupor and agony, Pant Delong opened his eyes to the pale ceiling of a hospital ward. Life-support equipment emitted a rhythmic sound.
"Who's there?" he asked.
Across the hospital bed, a man sat on a chair, clutching a helmet.
He was wrapped in thick protective gear. His face was aged and his hair grizzled, but his deep blue eyes were like gemstones, captivating and impossible to look away from.
"Deputy Head Michel."
He said, "The doctor told me you'd wake up soon—you took a little longer than I thought."
"How long have I slept?" Pant Delong asked.
Michel replied, "Three days. Your condition has recovered well; it just cost a fair bit of money."
Pant Delong laughed. "I thought money was no object."
"Money is no object; time is."
Michel slowly stood, tossing the heavy helmet, which artfully spun on his fingertips. He lifted his head to tell Pant Delong, "We must take action now, or this will end up being a total loss."
"Alright."
Pant Delong asked, "Anything you need me to do?"
"You'll take charge of the camp. The Colonel will accompany me," Michel said. "Simply put, you'll oversee daily operations and also handle the commissioners and accountants sent by our investors. If they get angry, let them. Just make sure there are no unfortunate accidents, like someone slipping and falling into water or drowning in a bathtub after drinking too much."
Pant Delong slowly propped himself up. "I will."
Michel nodded and turned to leave the ward.
He traveled along a lengthy corridor, moving through the profound depths underground, then took an elevator straight up, finally arriving in a vast subterranean hall.
The Colonel waiting there had a heavy case on his back, quietly smoking.
"Is everything ready?" Michel asked.
The Colonel removed his hat and replied solemnly, "Twelve Legions, totaling over four thousand Hell Creatures, await your command, sir."
Behind him, high-hung lights flickered on one by one with a low hum, illuminating the Hell formations slumbering in the darkness. Monsters from the Abyss raised their crimson eyes, awaiting the command.
"Good."
Michel calmly gazed at the Abyss Legion stretched out to the horizon before him, raised his hand, and donned the heavy helmet.
"One hundred and twenty years of dissatisfaction and patience since our founding, treading upon the struggles and lifeblood of countless predecessors—we have embarked on this thorny path."
In that trembling silence, Michel's eyes lit up with a fierce blaze. "—This time, we settle it once and for all with the Ivory Tower!"