After delivering the Commander’s words with a bewildered expression, the messenger stared at the towering figure before him for a moment.
He then gave Mo a solemn military salute before turning around, getting into the vehicle, and driving away in one smooth motion, leaving the equally bewildered Mo standing there in a daze.
Watching the Army rapidly disappear into the distance, Mo finally breathed a sigh of relief.
This was precisely why he had needed to act so aggressively.
What if the other side had actually been scared off by him?
Although it was possible to frighten the Ursus Army, it was unlikely that the Ursus Army would truly be intimidated.
Only after the Ursus Army had completely vanished from sight did Mo put away his weapon and start walking back toward the camp.
Seeing the Army retreat, the Infected in the camp rushed toward Mo, surrounding him and anxiously asking what had happened.
Mo could only try to calm the panicked Infected.
It felt like he was soothing a group of frightened children, leaving him completely at a loss.
Oh no, I’m raising kids in Arknights.
I’ve really become a dad now.
Roman squeezed through the crowd and came over to help Mo calm the surrounding Infected.
Once the crowd finally dispersed, Roman dragged Mo to a secluded corner and immediately began questioning him about what he had done.
“So, your method was actually to challenge Ursus? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!”
After learning what Mo had done, Roman felt as though his brain was about to split apart.
“Are you serious? Do you even understand the difference between you becoming an enemy of Ursus and Ursus becoming your enemy?!”
Suddenly, Roman seemed to remember something.
“Will the Wendigo tribe really come to Ursus?”
“Yes, but I don’t know when they’ll come.”
“…”
Roman sat down on the ground with an expression of utter despair.
What kind of situation was this?
Was there even a way to survive?
“Actually, you don’t need to worry. Based on the intelligence you gave me, I can sense that a massive war is about to erupt. If I remember correctly, the Wendigos should arrive in Ursus within twenty years.”
Mo carefully crouched down, lowering his massive body, and patted Roman on the shoulder to comfort him.
“Are you serious? Twenty years? I’ll already be dust by then!”
Roman stared at Mo with dead-fish eyes before looking up at the sky, his gaze vacant.
Mo looked at Roman thoughtfully, then poked him in the face before seriously analyzing the situation with him.
“Look, I initiated the challenge to Ursus on the condition of submission. In other words, I’m not in any danger of dying. After all, they don’t need the loyalty of a dead man.”
“Secondly, regardless of whether I win or lose, the camp can continue to exist. As long as the Emperor of Ursus possesses even basic political sense, he won’t give up an arrangement that allows him to keep me under control.”
“As for the outcome, it’s nothing more than fighting for Ursus for another twenty years. When my tribe arrives, I’ll join Ursus sooner or later anyway.”
“Ursus only cares about the Wendigos, while the Infected camp can survive regardless. Don’t forget, building a home for the Infected ourselves was our original goal.”
Seeing Roman regain his composure and stop babbling, Mo nodded in satisfaction.
“But you…”
Seeing that Roman still wanted to say something, Mo waved his hand and interrupted him.
Then he dropped one final sentence before turning around and leaving.
“I am inconsequential.”
As always.
…
Three days after the negotiations with the Army, a group of uninvited guests came looking for Mo.
It was a peaceful afternoon, just like any other.
Mo was lying on a rather large recliner at the entrance of the camp, leisurely basking in the sun.
Although the temperature on the snowfield was bitterly cold, he was someone who had already died once, so who cared about a little cold?
Ah, the warm sunlight shining down on his body even made his corpse feel warm.
The recliner had been made for him by that brat Ivan.
Making one to such a massive size must have been quite difficult.
That little rascal was actually quite filial.
It wasn’t for nothing that Mo doted on him.
Mo lay on the recliner, gently rocking back and forth as his thoughts wandered.
In his daze, he seemed to see a black shadow flying toward him.
It looked like a… sword?
“Holy crap, there’s a Perro!”
Mo immediately rolled off the recliner to dodge.
The next second, a massive black longsword slammed into the spot where he had been sitting, blowing the recliner into a pile of debris.
Mo stared heartbrokenly at the remains of his recliner, the corner of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.
He turned around.
Five burly men were walking toward him.
They were clad in heavy black armor, their faces concealed behind hideous metal masks.
Cold, imposing, and oppressive—this was Mo’s first impression of them.
Mo took a closer look.
These seemed to be an early incarnation of the Imperial Guard—the original Emperor’s Blades, before the concept of the “Nation” existed.
At this point in time, the later Imperial Guard had yet to become a reality and existed only in Ursus’s plans.
The title “Emperor’s Blade” primarily referred to the Emperor’s personal guards.
After all, Ursus’s use of demons relied on demon fragments obtained by elite units such as heavily armored Wendigos, Warlocks, and the Emperor’s Blades.
As everyone knew, the true strength of the Imperial Guard came from the existence of the “Nation.” An Imperial Guard without a “Nation” was certainly powerful, but their strength was still limited.
They were far from invincible.
Moreover, according to Mo’s understanding, the most troublesome aspect of the Imperial Guard was that killing them would release the demon fragments contained within their armor, corrupting and transforming the surrounding land.
That was why very few people would attempt to kill an Imperial Guard even if they were capable of doing so.
However, the appearance of the Emperor’s Blades here meant that Mo had already entered the Emperor’s line of sight.
Mo pulled the longsword out of the wreckage of his recliner, casually swung it, and tossed it back toward the Emperor’s Blades.
He then picked up his own weapon from the debris and entered combat mode.
The Emperor’s Blades retrieved the longsword.
After a brief silence, one of them pulled a document from within his armor and threw it toward Mo.
Mo caught it and glanced through the contents.
The general idea was exactly what he had expected.
If he could defeat this squad of Blades, he would have to serve Ursus for twenty fewer years.
As a gesture of goodwill from Ursus toward Mo, the Infected camp would also be allowed to continue existing.
The rest consisted of minor details, such as the amount of taxes the camp would have to pay to Ursus each year.
“So, you’re my opponents?”
Mo put away the document and looked at the Blades.
“Yes. By His Majesty’s decree, only by defeating us will you gain the right to choose.”
“As His Majesty’s Blades, we shall eliminate all invaders who threaten His Majesty. We shall show no mercy.”
The Blades seemed to perform some kind of salute to the Emperor.
In any case, Mo didn’t understand it.
“Since that’s the case, I’ll choose the battlefield. No problem, right?”
The Blades showed no reaction.
Seeing this, Mo assumed they had tacitly agreed and carried his weapon as he walked toward the distance.
The Blades remained where they were for a moment, exchanging glances.
Then, they honestly followed after him.
Mo led the Blades to a flat stretch of snowfield before putting some distance between himself and them.
He entered combat mode.
“Are you ready? If you are, let’s begin!”
Seeing that the Blades had also entered combat mode, Mo couldn’t be bothered to waste any more time talking.
He swung his spear, raised his shield, and charged straight at the Emperor’s Blades.
“Fight! Until everything turns to ashes!”