357: Chapter 349 A Clash Between Ordinary People and Saints

The daily training of the Special Squad, besides mastering firearm formations, consisted of various exercises on how to conceal their tracks.

For instance, during field operations, how to thoroughly clear the traces left by movement—trampled weeds, broken branches, footprints on the ground, and so on.

In this subject, Damu had the deepest attainment.

This was reflected not only in his top-ranked assessment scores but also in the keen instincts of a 'special Soldier' he had formed after repeated training.

Seeing sand residue in the crevices of a team member's boot treads, he immediately understood that they had exposed a significant amount of information.

The footprints left by the team members on the sandy bank of the stream would certainly be discovered by the Allied forces searching the scene.

Normal Professionals, especially those capable of killing a Magister, would never leave the scene by 'walking'.

Damu wasn't sure exactly how much intelligence the Allied forces had extracted from the footprints, but one thing was clear: they had surely deduced that he was not a High-tier Professional.

In any case, they were definitely not Saint-level; he had never heard of a Saint-level who needed to use their legs to run away after killing someone.

As such, the combat strategy had to change.

Without these footprints, the Allied forces could only infer based on common sense that a Saint-level had struck like lightning, quickly killing four High-tier Professionals before fleeing the scene.

Until they clarified the number and strength of the Saint-level attackers, it was impossible for the Allied forces to send a Saint-level to replace the scout teams composed of High-tier Professionals.

The reason was simple.

The Allied forces would worry that if Lake hadn't just sent a lone Saint-level but their entire army, their own Saint-levels strutting out of their tents and spreading out to guard the perimeter would undoubtedly be seeking death.

So, Damu's original plan was to rely on the fact that the Allied forces wouldn't dare deploy Saint-levels, allowing them to hunt their High-tier Professionals on the periphery with abandon.

Now, that obviously wouldn't work.

The Allied forces knew they were ordinary people and would naturally guess that they relied on 'strange weapons' to kill High-tier Professionals. With their misgivings gone, they would inevitably deploy Saint-levels.

Damu took the sniper rifle handed to him by a teammate and held it in his arms, lowering his head in deep thought. The light from the campfire cast his shadow onto the cave wall, swaying gently with the flickering flames.

The Stealth Core... Mr. Geoffrey said it could definitely evade the perception of the Magister level, but Saint-level... he didn't say anything about Saint-level...

His brow furrowed slightly as he muttered, "I have to test it..."

"Captain Damu."

"Captain Damu?"

"Captain Damu?!" The team member raised his voice.

"Ah?" Damu had been so focused on his thoughts that it took him a while to hear. "What is it?"

"Time to eat." The team member walked over carrying a steaming square stainless steel box.

Reaching out to take it, Damu leaned his rifle against the wall behind him. "Notify everyone, we're having a meeting after we eat."

"Yes!"

Soon, everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, sitting in a circle around the campfire.

Damu poked at the campfire with a stick, and the dim light brightened again. "Tonight's assassination plan is temporarily canceled. Um... one person will come out with me, the others stay on standby."

The team members were stunned and asked one after another, "Why?

We have Stealth Cores, we don't need to worry about being followed. Once we take out the enemy, we can..."

Damu looked at everyone with a calm gaze, and their voices gradually faded.

Once the cave returned to silence, with only the campfire crackling occasionally, he spoke: "Due to certain changes, I've decided to alter the plan.

To see if the modified plan can be implemented, I need to confirm some unknown factors."

"Certain changes..." A team member scratched his head. "What changes? Was there any anomaly during the day?"

Hearing the word "anomaly," the team member who had left footprints on the sandy bank hesitated. Recalling how Damu had looked at the soles of his boots earlier, he had a sudden realization. His face then turned pale as he stood up: "I..."

"Good, it'll be you then. Come with me in a bit," Damu interrupted him.

"Captain, I..."

"Volunteering and then backing out, are you afraid of death?"

"How could I be!"

"Then shut up and sit down."

The team member sat back down, his head lowered so his face couldn't be seen, lost in thought.

The other members didn't notice anything wrong with their exchange and asked, "Captain Damu, what are you going out to check tonight? Can't we go instead?"

"It's very dangerous." Damu rested his arms on his thighs. "We'll set out late tonight. If I'm not back before dawn tomorrow, you are to immediately head back to Keton City and report the situation here to the Marshal."

Initially, the members hadn't paid much mind to the words "very dangerous"; what part of war wasn't dangerous?

It wasn't until Damu gave his final orders in the event of his death that they realized it probably wasn't just "very dangerous," but a near-certain death sentence.

"I object!" A team member jumped up. "You can't go. I'll carry out the mission in your place!"

Damu smiled. "What, you think I'm as good as dead?"

"No matter how small the chance of sacrifice, you cannot take the risk!"

"Exactly. The Special Squad can lose anyone, but it cannot lose..."

"This is an order." Damu's tone was flat and his voice wasn't loud, yet the anxious crowd suddenly choked up and silently sat back down on the ground.

Scanning the members who sat with lowered heads, Damu sighed. "I'm not trying to be a hero. It won't work if you go."

"Why?!"

"Only my sniper rifle model has the sound transmission function. If my suspicion is confirmed, I can definitely send the message back before I die. If you go, it would just be a pointless sacrifice."

"We can use walkie-talkies!"

"Yes, a radio would work too!"

"If the Sa... the enemy won't give you the chance."

The team members were bewildered.

We've even killed Magisters, what else could there be...

Their mouths fell open, and their eyes slowly widened.

Damu glanced at them. "Mm."

"Absolutely not!" The member who had just quieted down jumped up again. "Mr. Geoffrey said the Stealth Core has only been tested against Magister-level perception. For you to go looking for a Sa... that's seeking death!"

"Let's retreat and wait until the Stealth Core is upgraded..."

"Wait?" Damu threw away the stick in his hand and stood up, patting his backside. "You want the Marshal to wait until the Stealth Core is upgraded before sending us out?"

The team member's mouth worked as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

"This is war; no one is going to wait for you to slowly get stronger.

Besides, if the mission didn't have any risk, why would the Marshal invest so many resources into training us?"

The team members were speechless and could only sit down, clutching their rifles.

Damu didn't say anything more. When it was late at night, he set out with the member who had stepped on the sand.

...

The Allied main camp.

Inside the tent, Novak sat at the table, looking at the map as usual.

An adjutant lifted the door curtain and walked in. "Marshal, are we not advancing?"

The main legion had been stationed near the border for several days. Not to mention the massive amount of resources consumed by the Soldiers, horses, and Mutated Rhino-Oxen, the key was that staying stationary was causing morale to plummet.

"You can't rush a war." Novak didn't care at all, even showing a smile. "No matter how many resources are consumed, we can make it all back after defeating Lake.

But if we lose, it won't just be about resources; whether we can even keep our territory will be a question."

Brando, sitting opposite him with his hands tucked in his sleeves, asked, "Marshal Novak, do you... do you plan to find that mysterious squad before advancing?"

"Yes. There's a mysterious squad lying in ambush around our main force. Advancing blindly would definitely lead to a tragedy."

Mysterious squad?

The adjutant was completely confused.

Wasn't there only one footprint found during the day?

"Then..." Brando stared at him. "If you send out a Saint-level... aren't you worried about being ambushed by Lake's Saint-levels?"

A confident curve rose at the corner of Novak's mouth. "I had fallen into a logical trap before."

"Oh?"

"I was afraid Lake would ambush our Saint-levels, but wouldn't Lake also be afraid of us ambushing theirs?

One must realize that although Lake's Saint-levels are stronger individually, we have the absolute advantage in numbers.

If both sides clash head-on, even if I give them one Saint-level, they would still lose."

"So the Marshal only sent out one Saint-level to search for the mysterious squad..."

"Lake will think it's bait and won't dare to act lightly."

"The Marshal is wise."

Novak turned his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the curtain to see the Saint-level flying into the sky.

"Rats in the gutter should stay where there is no light."

...

Damu led his team member through the forest at high speed.

The night breeze was slightly cool, and moonlight filtered through the leaves.

"Captain."

"Hmm?" The team member's voice came from behind, but Damu didn't stop.

"I... I'm sorry."

"Save your guilt for after the mission when we're back in the rear. For now, stay sharp."

"Yes!" The member answered with full vigor, then his voice lowered again. "Just now... why did you help me..."

"I wasn't helping you; I did it for the stability of the squad."

The member only half-understood. He was about to ask more when they burst out of the woods. The Allied main camp was visible in the distance across the open field, its silhouette clear in the night.

There was still some distance to the enemy, but the perception range of a high-tier Saint-level was extremely broad. To avoid being discovered, all their communication from then on would be through hand signals.

They didn't slow down at all, approaching rapidly.

Once they were about ten kilometers from the main camp, they stopped advancing and began to circle the camp.

The Allied commander's arrangements did not deviate from Damu's expectations.

After circling around, they didn't see any scout teams composed of Magisters.

It wasn't that the Allied forces were being lazy and giving up on vigilance, but rather... they were certain no one could launch a night raid on them.

Damu activated the Stealth Core of his sniper rifle and huddled in a thick thicket. His gaze passed through the gaps in the vines, looking toward the thin figure floating high in the sky.

Suddenly, the figure above seemed to sense something and abruptly looked down toward the thicket.

Close your eyes.

As Damu closed his eyelids, he gave a hand signal for his teammate to do the same.

After a few moments, he felt the invisible pressure on him vanish. Only then did he take a breath and slowly open his eyes.

His heart pounded. He looked down at the ground, not daring to peek at the person again.

So this is a Saint-level? To be able to sense a gaze from such a distance... terrifying...

[Move?] The team member, like him, kept his gaze on the ground and raised his arm to signal.

[Standby.]

After replying, Damu fell into deep thought.

From that brief contact just now, he had already gained some insights.

First, the Stealth Core could block a Saint-level's perception, but their perception was more comprehensive. It was currently impossible to determine if the Stealth Core would fail as the distance closed.

Second, there were capable people among the Allied forces; they had deduced that they were a squad of significant size.

Setting the latter aside, as for the former...

Damu took a deep breath and signaled: [I, approach. You, standby. If I'm discovered, you, attack.]

[Understood.]

Tightening his grip on the sniper rifle in his arms, Damu steadied his heartbeat and breathing. He crawled out of the thicket and pulled a hand mirror from the Storage Pouch at his waist.

Turning his back to the Saint-level in the sky, he held up the mirror and slowly adjusted the angle.

The moment the Saint-level's figure appeared in the mirror, the previous feeling of pressure returned.

Bad.

His heart sank, and he quickly put away the hand mirror, preparing to retreat to the thicket.

However, just as he lay flat on the pebble-strewn ground, Damu's whole body went stiff, not daring to move an inch.

That Saint-level was right overhead.

Even though he couldn't see what was behind him, Damu was certain the Saint-level was hovering right above him.

"Strange..." a puzzled voice came. "I clearly felt someone peeping at me. How... was it an illusion?"

The sound of breathing gradually receded, and Damu's tensed muscles relaxed.

Excellent. It was confirmed that the Stealth Core could block a Saint-level's perception. This way, the squad's safety could be guaranteed, but...

While retreating, Damu pondered.

Looking at him with his eyes would trigger his alertness, so how was he supposed to aim?

Ensuring safety wasn't enough; they were here to kill.

Damu felt his toes touch the vines. He took a breath and retreated again.

"Hey, you're here, aren't you?" A voice suddenly rang out overhead, the tone carrying a bit of curiosity.

Discovered?!

No, if I were discovered, I'd be dead already.

Damu maintained his current posture, held his breath, and used the special method Zhang Mu had taught him to slow his heart rate.

"Interesting. Novak said you were all ordinary people, hmm... but I actually can't lock onto your positions.

Hey, hey, hey, you're not actually ordinary people, right?"

Damu naturally wouldn't answer. The surroundings were exceptionally silent, with only the distant chirping of insects reminding the three that time had not frozen but was still passing.

"Tsk, it's boring just talking to myself. Chat with me, and I promise not to kill you. How about it?"

Is this guy's brain not functioning normally?

Damu's face was dark.

After waiting for a long time, the Saint-level floating in mid-air looked around the quiet surroundings and sighed: "This is no fun.

I say, you don't think... that just because I can't lock onto your exact position, I can't do anything to you?"

"Don't look down on Saint-levels," the talkative Saint-level muttered, flying higher into the sky.

Damu heard the breathing gradually fade away. Worried that he might return again, he lay flat on the spot without moving.

After a while, hearing no more movement, Damu turned his head toward his teammate with extremely slow movements and raised his right hand slightly.

[Retreat separately.]

The team member signaled back: [Yes.]

After they finished communicating, they moved in different directions.

However, just as they moved, they were suddenly pressed into the ground by a sudden surge of gravity. The force gradually increased until they were pinned down, unable to move, and blood began to seep from their noses and mouths.

What... what's... going on?

...

High in the sky.

The Saint-level spread his arms, his eyes half-closed. "I have to admit, Lake... oh no, what was that person's name? Zhang Mu, was it?

Hmm, the little toys he's tinkered with are indeed very interesting. Being able to let pure ordinary people kill a Magister is not an exaggeration to call it a miracle.

But... you think Professionals are nothing special just because you've killed a few Magisters?

Heh."

He didn't release a spell, but simply slowly increased his output of Mental Energy. "I want to see how long you can hold out."