155: Isn't this the leader of the saints?

In the evening,

at a hotel recommended by a guard.

Recalling the “anti-extremism education” those guards had just given her, Baili Ying lay sprawled on the bed in frustration, her head still dizzy—

“Why is the atmosphere in a Police Station so serious?!”

White Shark sat beside her, flipping through the search records of the shipboard ai.

The more he read, the darker his face became:

“Damn it, we were tricked by that AI.”

“We asked about common clothing here, but that AI searched for traditional clothing.”

“And as luck would have it, the most representative traditional clothing here is for winter.”

Baili Ying instantly bristled, grabbing her hair and complaining loudly:

“So, we rode motorcycles for several hours under the sun, wearing the thickest winter clothes here?”

“It’s a miracle this clone wasn’t roasted to death.”

White Shark covered his face, also full of black lines.

“No wonder they thought I was some kind of Fundamentalist.”

“The clothing here consists of wide-sleeved robes, designed to ward off wind, sand, and scorching sun.”

“Only those Fundamentalists would make their loved ones cover their faces with thick cloth.”

“Because they believe a wife’s face should not be seen by others, nor should she excessively come into contact with air breathed by others.”

Baili Ying curled her lip in disdain:

“I think that guard at the post was making a fuss over nothing. Those Fundamentalists are clearly their enemies, right?”

“What kind of enemy would swagger in like us, with easily recognizable features, to be inspected by guards?!”

White Shark shrugged and said:

“We’re also unlucky. According to the shipboard ai’s information, they have some big event these past few days, so the city is under martial law.”

“Originally, the guards were on duty, but they were replaced by their Protectorate Army these past few days—and we just happened to run into them.”

“Didn’t you notice? Their service stripes on their chests, their epaulets—and their discipline, all lean more towards a regular army.”

Hearing White Shark’s explanation, Baili Ying rolled over and asked in confusion:

“Protectorate Army? What’s that?”

White Shark tapped a few times on a Flexible Tablet and held it up to Baili Ying:

“Look, these people,”

“They’re like a group of Faith Warriors composed of Ascetics.”

“Think about it, like that person who wrongly apprehended us, constantly talking about the lord of the sand sea.”

“Have you read imaginative literature describing pastoral planetary landscapes? They’re like the Paladins in those stories.”

As he spoke, White Shark saw that Baili Ying had almost finished reading, so he put away the tablet.

He changed the subject and asked:

“By the way, it’s been a while, have you recovered?”

“We’ve initially located the Abnormal Server, it’s under that white spire over there.”

“The other five groups have also infiltrated one after another, we’re almost ready to act.”

Listening to White Shark, Baili Ying stretched lazily and jumped off the bed onto the floor.

“Bang!”

After being jolted on a motorcycle for several hours, she really felt like she was falling apart. After rubbing her waist and standing steady, she still felt her legs were weak.

“Let’s go… What’s all that in your hands?”

She looked at White Shark, only to find that he was frantically stuffing things into two black bags.

White Shark zipped up the bags under Baili Ying’s confused gaze, handed her a smaller one, smiled mysteriously, and said:

“These are our handy tools that we might need later.”

...Ten minutes later.

“This is it.”

That White Tower seemed to function like a church here.

It was open to the public, and White Shark planned to explore it first to get familiar with the place—

After all, this place was so traditional that let alone being connected to the internet, there weren't even cameras.

The only server couldn’t be hacked into at all.

So, taking Baili Ying with him, he walked straight through the main entrance into the White Tower.

A person who was cleaning saw the two walk in and immediately came over:

“Sirs, may I ask if you wish to conduct something under the witness of the lord of the sand sea?”

White Shark didn’t react for a moment.

“Huh? Me?”

At this moment, another person who also appeared to be a Follower walked over, patted the one still holding a broom, signaling him to go back.

Then he looked at White Shark and said:

“Excuse me, sir, please forgive my abruptness, but I must remind you,”

“It’s almost time for the five-yearly Return of the Heroes; we will be very busy recently. If you have anything, please speak after it’s over.”

White Shark asked upon hearing this:

“Heroes?”

The man looked at White Shark, then at his even more traditional clothing, and smiled.

“You must have just arrived from some settlement, right?”

“The heroes we speak of are those who, a hundred years ago, brought hope back to this planet—”

“The heroes led by Lord Muldra.”

White Shark was listening,

but the moment the name “Muldra” entered his ears,

his mind buzzed and exploded, and he couldn’t hear anything else that followed—

Isn’t this the leader of the “Saints”?!