The bright moon hung high in the blue-black sky, exhaling mist formed from moonlight.
The light and mist passed through the rustling leaves, casting a layer of gray on the ground formed by moonlight and tree shadows.
The night wind swayed the grass, lifting the hems of the night travelers’ clothes, as Madlan and others crouched low, quickly advancing through the overlapping paths made of countless huts.
In the shadows cast by the stacked huts, they seemed like a bunch of ghosts.
"Ah——" A sound unknown to anyone startled a refugee sleeping on the ground in the open air.
He lifted his head to see two or three dozen robust men with wooden sticks and pitchforks cautiously moving forward.
Upon seeing him raise his head, dozens of fierce eyes gazed at him, making him immediately bury his head in the dry grass.
The footsteps gradually receded, and only then did the refugee dare to take a deep breath. He pulled his head out of the dry grass to see if those people had left.
What met him were still dozens of threatening eyes.
The refugee rubbed his eyes, wondering how in the blink of an eye, these people had suddenly changed their clothes.
They were dozens of tall and robust Armed Farmers.
They wore leather armor and wielded both short weapons like daggers with ornate hilts and long-handled weapons like the Crow Pecking Warhammer. Some also carried flail rings and fishing nets.
"Boss Tommy, I think I just saw a shadow over there."
"Stop imagining things, let’s hurry, we’re racing against time this time."
Scolding his subordinate, Tommy led the team onward.
Among the many Armed Farmers and thugs, he walked in front, protected by two regular thugs in front, followed by a long line of Armed Farmers and his smuggling partners.
Many were drawn from the monastery.
Thinking of this, Tommy couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Quite a few Armed Farmers refused to participate, claiming they feared punishment from His Holiness.
Don’t they know that the Pope Horn was put in place by us?
This Gulag Papal State is carried on my shoulders, Tommy thought, so who are they to judge?
Spitting thick phlegm on the ground, Tommy suppressed his irritation.
These Armed Farmers were united, and although they put Tommy in charge, he was essentially a puppet leader.
The Armed Farmers chose him simply because there was no other option.
The Thousand River Valley People had long learned that the Church always targeted the prominent, so they pushed others forward, avoiding danger themselves.
Among so many Armed Farmers, the only people Tommy could truly command were the original smuggling clique.
Even Chervis and Grampwen sometimes weren’t obedient. For instance, when Tommy made the decision this time, Chervis firmly opposed it and was unwilling to join in the action.
Grampwen, on the other hand, didn’t care about anything as long as he could cure his blind wife’s illness.
These two simply did not understand the depths of my thoughts!
This time, his goal was both to demonstrate power to Horn and to probe.
Tommy had somewhat noticed lately that Horn might not really be part of the Secret Faction.
Whenever he mentioned something related to the Secret Faction or their jargon, our "His Holiness the Pope" either didn’t notice or just laughed it off.
Isn’t it possible that this farmer named Horn merely happened to be familiar with that witch Jeanne, pretending to be in the Secret Faction?
Shaking his head, Tommy looked up again to see Madlan’s hut already in view.
He pulled the others into a thicket, thinking he could see the figures moving inside the hut.
"Check your weapons," Tommy ordered sternly.
This sort of night raid, he had done countless times before when double-crossing others.
Amidst the sound of metal scraping, the Armed Farmers and thugs each confirmed and took up their weapons.
Tommy signaled with his eyes, and the three fiercest thugs grabbed their hammers and tiptoed to the edge of the hut.
Standing in front of the hut’s curtain, they nodded at each other, and in the next moment, the leader charged inside, followed by the other two.
Soon, inside the hut came the sound of crashing and furniture breaking, along with a shrill scream.
As an old smuggler of many years, Tommy knew from the sound that they had succeeded. He immediately led the other thugs out of the bushes, sprinting toward the hut.
"Aha!" Tommy lifted the curtain, leaping into the hut while shouting with pride.
The only response was silence.
What he saw was not Madlan lying in a pool of blood, but the injured and feebly cursing thug, with two companions awkwardly scratching their heads.
"What’s going on? Where is he?"
Frowning, Tommy slowly stepped forward. The hut wasn’t large, filled with all sorts of pots and jars and half-broken furniture.
"No idea," the other two thugs laughed awkwardly. "We didn’t see anyone when we came in, then the second brother suddenly cried out, and I thought..."
"Move him, move him quickly," Tommy waved dismissively, as if swatting away a fly.
"Could he have gone out in the middle of the night?"
Tommy stepped forward, feeling the broken burlap on the pile of hay with his hands, shaking his head, "The bed’s cold, he’s been gone for a while."
"Then what is he doing out so late?"
Without answering his subordinate’s question, Tommy sat on the hay bed, lost in thought, "Where could he have gone?"
Sitting there, Tommy’s whole body suddenly tensed. He shot up, his eyes filled with fear.
"Damn it, it’s a trap!"
Madlan tumbled off the bench Tommy usually used for sleeping, not forgetting to shout, startling Liu Ying, who was sitting wrapped in a quilt on the floor.
"What do you mean a trap, Boss Madlan, what are you talking about?" the young man in short clothes couldn’t help but ask.
"You fool!" Madlan jumped, "Tommy was just here, didn’t you hear what his mistress said?
He was here this afternoon and stayed the night, but he’s not here now, and just left with dozens of thugs. What do you think he’s doing if you don’t know?
Tommy must have discovered our orders from His Holiness to assassinate him, so he sent out false information to lure us into attacking, scattering our forces, and then seizing the position of Pope!"
Frick rubbed his drinker’s nose, initially wanting to argue—this explanation had too many loopholes.
Tommy and his group still needed to rely on Horn to escape, and Horn had two witch guardians by his side. Tommy would be senseless to attack Horn.
Moreover, though it wasn’t explicitly stated, Frick and other keen old-timers could see that: Horn was a scapegoat Tommy pushed out for the Church!
There was no logic in taking the scapegoat out of the pot and jumping in oneself!
In his opinion, it was most likely Tommy had acted ahead of time against Madlan. Maybe going back now would catch them in the act.
As for the reason, maybe the messenger thought it was this evening, but it was actually last night.
However, Frick swallowed his words because there was another possibility that someone had leaked the plan, causing Tommy to act early.
He had indulged in midday drinking; who knew what he might have said when drunk?
Madlan at this moment was like an ant on a hot pan. It was his first time doing something , with no experience, and he’d plunged headlong into a dead end.
The thought of Tommy assassinating the Pope made more and more sense to Madlan, scaring him more and more, as everything began connecting in his mind.
No wonder, no wonder, the news spread so quickly, Tommy made the decision one night and Madlan knew by the next morning.
How is that possible? Tommy was as crafty as a fox, a giant in smuggling, how could he make such a small mistake?
"What do we do now?" the young man in short clothes panicked at this moment.
They dared challenge Tommy because they had the backing of Pope Horn, assuming Tommy wouldn’t go too far with them.
But if Tommy truly assassinated the Pope, it would spell utter doom for Madlan’s group.
With his chest heaving violently, Madlan felt his mind flooded with thoughts, his hands and feet trembling uncontrollably.
He gritted his teeth, spitting out a word from his throat, "Pursue!"
"Pursue, we’re going to save the Pope!" Madlan grabbed the flail leaning by the door, "Maybe we can intercept them."
"It might be too late."
"Send someone fast to notify the Pope’s Guard stationed at the main gate, tell them Tommy is going to assassinate His Holiness, make sure they stop him."
"Our clothes are quite similar, how will they know who’s who?"
"Then say, saviors—bare your right shoulder!"