Tang Mo shook his head, rejecting Li'ao's suggestion, "It's no use. Our fleet must stabilize Dorne before it can head south from Hotwind Port. Without Hotwind Port, our logistical support is under too much pressure."
If Dorne falls under attack by Xilun Kingdom and Taren Kingdom on land, then the safety of Hotwind Port is not guaranteed.
At present, Tang Mo's only reliance was on Bernard's fleet, so he couldn't afford to let the fleet venture further south.
Should Hotwind Port fall... his fleet would have no supply station to return to, and the cost of such an eventuality was unpredictable.
Therefore, Tang Mo made his decision in an instant, even if it ant ordering the fleet to withdraw back to Dragon Island imdiately instead of allowing Bernard to take the warships near Taren Kingdom's waters on a risky venture.
Then Tang Mo added, "Moreover, even if we blockade Taren Kingdom, forcing them to compromise, we cannot resolve Xilun Kingdom's issue in the short term."
Li'ao, sowhat irate, complained, "Damn Shireck, they always use such underhanded thods to trouble us."
To Tang Mo, however, it was not a concern; he had seen too many such incidents before he traveled to this world.
Everyone undercutting each other, calculating against each other, setting traps for each other, and slaughtering each other. After all, cooperation is temporary, antagonism is eternal.
Hence, it was only natural for Tang Mo to pull out a cigarette from his case, place it in his mouth, and mutter with an ambiguous smile, "There's nothing surprising about it. If they had more forceful thods, they would have used them long ago. They can only skulk in the shadows because it shows that they have no good options against us, who hold the technological advantage."
"What should our next move be?" Li'ao asked further.
Tang Mo lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and said to Li'ao, "We should focus on ourselves... We must have that confidence! As long as we do our job well, everyone else will end up under our feet!"
"Understood, Master." Li'ao bowed slightly.
"Go now! Send a telegram to our people imdiately, have them prepare themselves, and remain vigilant!" Tang Mo leaned back in his chair, the cigarette pinched between his fingers, appearing to enter a ditative state.
Without a word, Li'ao backed towards the door and left Tang Mo's office as if afraid of disturbing him.
...
In the guardhouse beneath the walls of Dorne's King City, a young man was drafting a new logistical supply placent chart.
He rubbed his temples, showing signs of fatigue by twisting his neck, then looked out at the bright sunshine through the window.
Truth be told, his capabilities had been recognized by many, including the monarch of Dorne Kingdom, a very enlightened His Majesty.
As a young man from Brunas, he had been nad as the captain of the 1st Regint, 2nd Battalion of Dorne, which was quite a promotion.
And he hadn't let down those who trusted him. He rapidly trained the troops into one of the strongest in Dorne, and they were greatly favored by His Majesty.
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Hence, in recent tis, when the atmosphere had been tense, his troops were stationed inside King City, responsible for one of the defensive directions.
"Sir, this is your telegram!" A soldier walked in, handing over a dispatch from Brunas to his superior, "It's from Brunas."
"Hmm?" The young officer was startled, then took the telegram from the other's hand and carefully read its contents.
At first glance, it seed like a telegram offering re pleasantries, holding little substantive value.
However, the young man, whose finger bore a dandelion ring, could read his own specific ssage in those ordinary sentences.
Cryptography is a beautiful thing; it can encrypt the information to be transmitted, or it can hide the ssage in the most commonplace sentences.
After reading the telegram, the young man casually placed it on the desk, waved his hand to dismiss the soldier who had delivered it.
Then, he stroked the ring on his finger, his eyes gleaming sharply: danger was approaching, and now he had to rely on himself to sort out all the problems.
The question was… from where would the trouble co, and just how troubleso would it be? What preparations were needed?
As he contemplated how to deal with the crisis before him, the guard knocked on his door again, "Soone outside wishes to see you, Sir. He's a confidant of the Minister of Military, here to deliver a ssage."
"...Let him in," the young officer smiled, sensing that he might have grasped the crux of the problem.
"Sir, Minister Sur has received a report that there are rioters preparing to assault King City. Minister Sur hopes you can lead Your Troops out of the city and quell those damned rebels!" The ssenger, as soon as he entered, stated his purpose.
"I am under the King's orders to defend King City, and I cannot abandon my post simply because a military minister commands it. Unfortunately, please tell Minister Sur that I am unable to carry out his orders," the young officer, seated at his desk and not even standing up, replied with a cold laugh.
"Sir, let's speak plainly—if you agree to carry out this command, Minister Sur guarantees that you'll be promoted to legion commander, perhaps even higher," the visitor said in a persuasive tone.
"You know, I rember a phrase my teacher once said in class... high places are exceedingly cold," the young officer said, his hands fiddling with sothing under the desk.
"Let's be direct! Even if you stay here, nothing will change," the ssenger said sternly, his tone turning cold as he gazed at the young officer.
"I feel that standing on the side of righteousness, or rather, at a ti like this, standing with His Majesty, seems more in my interests, doesn't it?" the young officer, obviously not swayed by the ssenger's gambit, replied with a smile.
"Minister Sur predicted your choice, which is why... he sent to see you..." The man reached into his coat to draw his Left-Wheel Handgun as he spoke.
It was a very expensive weapon, rarely seen in the market, an original advanced firearm from the Great Tang Group, both high-performing and finely crafted.
His movents were swift, catching his target off guard like an agile cheetah. In an instant, his fingers touched the warm surface of the gun.
Unfortunately for him, fast though he was, there was soone faster—the young officer raised his arm, revealing the handgun already clasped in his palm.
In the blink of an eye, the young officer showed no hesitation and pulled the trigger, a bullet piercing the ssenger's chest.
"Ah!" the man, unprepared for the officer's readiness, scread in agony as the gun he had just held fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Blood splattered instantly, and the gunshot alerted nearby guards. The door was smashed open from outside, and a soldier wielding a rifle charged into the room, pointing the cold barrel at the man lying on the ground.
"The coup has begun! We have already won! Hahaha! You're all going to die! All of you!" The man on the floor, clutching the bloody hole in his chest, scread with all his strength.
"Sir! Are you hurt?" asked an anxious voice as he looked at the still-breathing man on the floor.
"I'm fine!" the young officer, picking up his weapon, walked past his desk to the fallen man and looked down, "I hope Minister Sur won't be too disappointing! Farewell!"
After speaking, he pulled the trigger again, and before more guards rushed in, he finished off the would-be assassin.
"Sir..." An officer who had quickly arrived at the blood-covered office frowned and addressed the young officer.
"Gather the Troops! Head for the Royal Palace imdiately! Protect the King!" The young officer stretched out his hand, took the Longsword from a nearby soldier, hung it on his waist, and commanded, "You stay here! Take charge of 100 soldiers from the first squad and control the city gates and the camp! Anyone who approaches and you don't see the King or ... open fire!"
"Yes, sir!" The officer snapped to attention and saluted, then added, "Be careful, sir."
"I will!" the young officer patted the man's shoulder, picked up his handgun, and walked out.
...
"Soldiers! The King is now in danger! We must go and save him! There is no need to fear! No need for nerves! We are here to defend our country, to protect our King!" said the young officer as he climbed onto his horse outside and shouted to his assembled Troops.
He jerked the reins, making the warhorse turn in place, and continued to shout loudly, "Who's willing to stand with to defend Dorne, to protect the King?"
"Willing! Willing!" All the Dorne Soldiers answered loudly. Though only a few hundred strong, their shouts were thunderous, creating the montum of a thousand n: "Protect the Emperor! Defend Dorne!"
"Then! March with ! To the Royal Palace!" the young officer commanded loudly as he kicked his horse's flanks.
Carrying K1 Quick Guns, the Dorne Soldiers marched out of their barracks in neat rows, heading toward the Royal Palace along the bustling streets, without heavy artillery but with dozens of horse-drawn carriages, which lengthened their ranks considerably.
"What's happening?" A civilian, unaware of the events, pointed at the Soldiers suddenly appearing on the street, ard to the teeth.
"Don't know, but... definitely not sothing good!" An old man at the civilian's side, watching the Soldiers walk by, remarked with an anxious tone.
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