Chapter 33: Ninth Fortress

Tonight, a fine drizzle fell. Because the raindrops carried a faint acidity, by eight in the evening, no one in the entire fortress was wandering outside anymore.

“Here, this belongs to you.” An He stood in the shadows, holding an umbrella as she handed over the chip. “Now that war’s about to break out on both sides, figure out a way to send your intel to the organization as soon as possible.”

Lola stood under the streetlamp, her grip tightening slightly on the folder. She looked at An He in confusion, meeting the pair of somber eyes hidden beneath her hood.

“You’re sure?” Lola was the one hesitating now.

“Of course.” An He lifted her gaze. “You’ve been lurking here for so long just waiting for this moment, haven’t you? Now the organization’s making its move—perfect time to give our partners a hand.”

Lola didn’t take it right away. She lowered her eyes to gaze at the tiny chip that would decide the Ninth Fortress’s future, murmuring, “You’ve been working so hard in Thorn Lamp… I almost forgot you’re from the Heroic Spirits Society…”

“Don’t forget our mission.” An He came off as cold and impersonal.

Lola trembled for a moment before finally taking the chip. “I told you before—Heidi’s been monitoring the fortress’s radio the whole time. The second I use an outside channel, she’ll detect it.”

An He remembered. That conversation had happened before they’d allied.

“That was just a brush-off excuse back then, right? I know you have your own ways.” An He said. “The organization sent you here to prove you could handle it. Go all out. If there’s trouble with Heidi, I’ll run interference for you.”

Lola was a crucial link. This chip had to get sent out.

“You look a bit like them now,” Lola remarked calmly.

An He stood in the shadows, her bottomless eyes fixed on her prey like one of those terrifying figures.

An He just smiled noncommittally.

Lola fell silent for a moment. Now, she could no longer question An He’s loyalties—and she sincerely hoped An He wasn’t from the Heroic Spirits Society. A beat later, clutching the chip tightly, Lola voiced her final question: “So, our previous agreement—does it still stand?”

“Professor Su?” An He tugged at the edge of her hood. “Of course it does. I stake my life on it—she’ll be perfectly safe.”

Of course, it would be best if everyone came out safe and sound.

This firm assurance was like a finely crafted key, slotting perfectly into the lock’s tumblers. With a silent click, all her meticulously laid plans began to turn.

“Alright then, follow me.” Lola turned without hesitation. Under the lamplight, her long coat—much like Su Ling’s—flared out, the hem slipping from the umbrella’s shelter and soaking in the drizzle.

An He followed her to Lola’s dorm.

Just as she’d guessed, Lola’s room was impeccably clean and tidy, like no one lived there. Not a single stray hair on the floor, no trace of personal habits—everything meaningless had been rationally discarded. It could be vacated for a newcomer at a moment’s notice.

But the room held secrets.

An He folded her black umbrella and set it on the rack by the door, leaning her shoulder against the wall. She watched as Lola pulled open a drawer in the cabinet, then pressed her palm upward to pry a soft, wood-colored rubber pad from the top edge.

An He betrayed no reaction.

Neither did Lola. She pinched the rubber open with both hands and extracted a plain button battery from inside. The battery consisted of two concentric rings; Lola held the outer one steady with one hand while manipulating the inner metal piece with the other—counterclockwise, clockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise. She repeated the sequence three times, then placed the button battery on the desk.

An He yawned.

Unfazed, she caught a glimpse of a virtual electronic screen materializing above the battery. Some kind of interactive projection tech—not particularly advanced.

The virtual screen’s background showed the outskirts of the First Fortress, which An He had seen once before. The lush green vegetation stood out. An He murmured softly, “I really miss the big green trees of the Hamir Plains. You don’t see foliage that vibrant anywhere else these days.”

Lola reminisced, “Yeah, looks like it left good memories for you too.”

An He shrugged without replying.

Lola first read the chip’s contents, then swiped across the screen. Midway, she glanced up at An He before tapping an icon: “Heidi’s side will log the signal transmission. The monitoring terminal’s in the toolbox under her bed. Later, find a chance to press the first bump on the side—it’ll wipe the last two hours of data like a tape erase.”

“Got it.” An He agreed. To her, it was a trivial matter.

The radio used special encoding and receivers. An He noted that when Lola sent the intel to her contact “Tina,” she inputted a string of numbers.

Lola didn’t hide much from An He. To prove the intel was really going out, she didn’t even adjust the screen angle.

An He memorized the numbers.

Intel sent. Dust settled.

Before heading back to her dorm, An He stopped by Heidi’s room for a bit. True to her word, Heidi had carved out time to craft Little Ravens for An He with full focus—she’d finished five so far.

…

The next day, An He started frequenting Ide’s office more often.

This “frequency” was hardly noticeable, since Ide was summoning Vanguard Team members one by one for meetings—Asta included.

Unlike before, Ide didn’t reveal the full operational plan this time. Instead, she fragmented the tasks, assigning overlapping duties to everyone.

As usual, they set up artillery on the fortress’s front and east sides, but only a few Thorn Lamp members Ide truly trusted knew she’d also fortified the west and rear.

The Underground Shelter at Pit Two had its password changed one late night, and it wouldn’t be put into use.

At the same time, the long-abandoned air raid shelter in Pit One was stocked with countless emergency supplies.

Ide began altering her own combat habits. It was as if she’d truly heeded Su Ling’s advice, instructing her Thorn Lamp team that this operation wouldn’t require everyone to charge suicidally at the front.

Breaking from routine, she split the Vanguard Team into three waves. The foremost one wasn’t even tasked with heavy resistance—if hit by artillery, their priority was emergency withdrawal.

An He was assigned to the second wave.

Everyone gossiped privately: Professor Su must’ve won the argument this time—and won big.

Far from the guesses, Ide’s epiphany had come during her talk with An He. An He had given her a wake-up call.

The young Thorn Lamp member had offered a unique insight: “Commander, habits are dangerous. A static defense system will doom the fortress. Don’t let your enemies know your playbook too well.”

The moment An He said it, even she paused. On second thought, isn’t this Gu Xianqing’s exact strategy? Always keeping me guessing.

So Ide had keenly adjusted her plans. Aware of her own mental ruts, she solicited suggestions from her Thorn Lamp team, then quietly adopted the useful ones that ran counter to her instincts.

An He breathed a sigh of relief. Ide was a formidable warrior and a shrewd strategist—communicating with her was effortless. She even planned more meticulously than An He.

The best example: On the previously weak rear defenses, Ide installed subtle but firepower-heavy traps. No one had ever attacked the Ninth Fortress from behind before—the Northern Strong Radiation Zone was too close.

The First Fortress lay south; only a madman would cross the Strong Radiation Zone to flank from the rear.

Ide planned for the possibility of madness.

They emptied most of their weapon stockpiles, preparing for the worst. And hoped for the best, praying they’d only need a fraction.

Five days later, An He shortened her training sessions and threw herself into fortification work alongside Asta.

During this, Lola visited the outpost on the Iron Wall twice with Su Ling—both times to evaluate auxiliary devices for Asta.

An He was there too, geared up, rifle at the ready, standing alert by the wall. The instant her eyes met Lola’s, An He stepped toward Professor Su and flashed a reassuring smile.

As Lola exited the outpost, she paused with her hand on the door handle. She glanced at An He, then at Asta’s fiery red hair, and finally nodded, silently shutting the iron door.

Bam.

…

Bang bang bang.

The guard by the wall opened the heavy alloy door. Recognizing the knocker, he doffed his cap in salute: “Captain.”

“Out. I need to see the Saint Lord.” The young visitor wore a gold-trimmed officer’s cap. Her white dress uniform was a touch snug, draping her muscular build and contrasting her dark skin.

The guard withdrew smoothly, sealing the door behind him.

At the far end of the vast room sat a dark red armchair, its back nearly as tall as two people. The Saint Lord, reading documents, didn’t lower her papers even with a visitor. Only her steady voice emerged from behind: “Meeting over? Tina.”

She used her code name.

“Over—and I’m dying to ditch this irritating getup.” Tina undid the top button of her jacket.

“You’re used to roaming the Wasteland casually, that’s fine. But not in Babel Tower.” The Saint Lord continued reading. “I’ve taught you: it’s not the clothes, it’s the aura. A beggar and a general command different respect. Don’t let the others mock you.”

“…You’re right, Saint Lord.” Tina toned it down, shifting so her shoes wouldn’t scuff the white flowers embroidered on the carpet.

“Op plan ready?” the Saint Lord asked.

“Ready. Lola’s intel solved our urgent needs—especially the Iron Smelting Plant’s control hub.” As Tina reported, she rolled up her sleeves. “Based on the intel, we’ve got a detailed plan for the last ten days. We can seize the Ninth Fortress’s steel resources without much effort.”

“Intel reliable?” The papers lowered slightly, revealing the Saint Lord’s shrewd eyes.

“I wouldn’t vouch for others’… but Lola’s? Absolutely.” Tina grinned confidently. “Heroic Spirits Society’s vetting was ten times stricter ten years ago. Rising from the Lower City proves her caliber. And like everyone else, she got the belief implantation tech—that kid’s loyal to the Society for life.”

“Besides…” Tina finally got her sleeves rolled comfortably. “Before joining me, she grew up in ugliness and cruelty. No one grasps survival of the fittest like her. She’s like a machine—can’t empathize with human weakness, no emotions. In other words, her readings are spot-on.”

To her subordinate’s eloquence, the Saint Lord replied coolly: “Is that so.” She set the papers down, revealing her full face.

Tina straightened, saluting with her right hand to her left shoulder.

In that bow, Tina couldn’t help but think—the Saint Lord had aged. She teetered on middle age’s end, white hairs sprouting at her temples—sparse, but stark against her neatly coiled black locks. Time had hollowed her cheeks, drained moisture from her full forehead, sharpened her cheekbones. Her face was all hard lines now.

The one constant through the years: those beast-like eyes, deep brown, forever solemn and brooding, inspiring fear.

Tina rose, and looking again, she second-guessed herself—no, the Saint Lord showed no weariness. She still wielded unshakable power; those wheat-colored arms alone could crush a skull. The wrinkles suddenly seemed like badges from three decades of power plays—each victory etched deeper.

In the First Fortress’s rigid hierarchy, rife with intrigue yet ripe for upheaval, holding the saintly throne demanded such marks, undeniable achievements to command loyalty.

“Don’t you trust Lola, Saint Lord?” Tina pulled her gaze away, asking uneasily.