When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

After returning from the workshop district, for safety reasons, Grellebane didn’t leave the house for an entire day.

He hid in the inn, only sending De Wangbei downstairs to buy bread and water.

Not until the whole day passed did the returning people say there was no reaction from the Holy Alliance, which slightly put him at ease.

After confirming that the Holy Alliance wasn’t making any moves, he immediately had De Wangbei distribute the code and message, requesting an immediate meeting.

By the late night, four secret Knights gathered in a black inn on the outskirts of the Holy Alliance’s court barracks.

Two were absent, but this was normal; either they were busy, or they just didn’t dare to come.

In a secret battle front, all unexpected events seem particularly dangerous.

But Grellebane couldn’t worry about so much now; if they didn’t act now, there would be no chance later.

The flickering, yellowish light of the kerosene lamp illuminated the faces of three men and one woman.

They were all secret Knights from the Lorenzo Royal Family’s Intelligence Bureau, with some disguised as merchants, others as blacksmiths, and even some cross-dressed as the opposite gender.

"Grellebane, you called us here in such a hurry, what happened?" The man dressed as a blacksmith was the first to speak, dissatisfied. "Don’t you know the Holy Alliance’s inspections are strict lately?"

"Exactly." The man in the skirt complained next, "Didn’t we agree not to contact each other before the exposition starts?"

Grellebane ignored their grievances and threw a report in front of them: "See for yourselves."

They were all literates. Approaching to look, their expressions changed immediately.

"Is it true?"

"Absolutely!"

The secret Knights quickly understood that something big had happened.

The dial was indeed created, the precise parts were indeed processed, and the Holy Alliance’s "Pilgrimage Management Law" wasn’t holding them back.

In other words, the news on the newspapers was all true.

"The Holy Alliance’s spring machine reconstruction has entered the assembly stage; we have to do something."

The atmosphere in the attic instantly became tense, and everyone frowned, staring at the report intently.

The woman in men’s clothing rubbed her hands: "How about... setting another fire? Burn it one more time?"

"Do we still have the Dragon’s Breath? It has to be used during the exposition parade to attack those dignitaries." The one dressed as a blacksmith immediately opposed.

"Then what do we do?"

"Are the dignitaries more important, or is the machinery? Besides, you’ve already burned it once. Can the Holy Alliance fall for it twice?"

"Let’s consider it a backup option," Grellebane tapped the table with his nail, "Anything else?"

"How about kidnapping the key engineers?" the blacksmith suggested.

"Kidnap whom? Who will be responsible? Time is tight; can you promise there won’t be any slip-ups?"

"Trying whatever we can, do you have a better idea?"

They argued back and forth, from arson to rumor spreading to disrupting the transportation convoys, fiercely discussing until they barely settled on a division of labor.

The woman dressed as a man was responsible for spreading rumors, the man in a skirt for attacking the dock, and the blacksmith for kidnapping.

As for Grellebane, he had to make a bold attempt to assassinate those key Dwarf blacksmiths.

"It’s settled; we’ll start acting first thing in the morning." Crude as it was, there was no better plan, and time was running short.

At this moment, Grellebane hated his earlier self for sitting idly at the inn—if only he’d checked earlier, he’d have known.

He slapped the table, just about to announce adjournment, when he felt a tickle on his nose.

Reaching out to touch his nose, he found dust covering his hand.

He was stunned for a moment, instinctively looking up—there it was, wood shavings and dust from the ceiling and beams.

"Quick! Escape! Scatter and run!" In the blink of an eye, Grellebane realized, his voice altered.

He was just about to reach for the short sword at his waist when "crash" sounded, and the attic window shattered violently.

Glass shards scattered everywhere, embedding into the walls, tables, and the arms of the secret Knights.

Blood immediately gushed out, soaking through their clothes.

A dozen Cheka in black leather armor descended on ropes from the rooftop, smashing through the window.

As soon as they landed, they lifted spring-loaded guns, aimed at the people in the attic: "Cheka! Open up! Don’t move!"

But the secret Knights didn’t comply; the blacksmith shouted, turning a table into a shield and charging at the Cheka.

The others drew weapons or short bows, attempting to fight back.

Bullets flew wildly, kicking up splinters everywhere, and the attic was immediately plunged into chaos.

The bullets shattered the glass of the kerosene lamp, spilling lamp oil on the floor, and flames burst up immediately.

The yells of the Cheka, the cries of the spies, and the cracking of wood mixed together, making ears ache.

Grellebane immediately crawled under the table, using the chaos as cover to crawl toward the door.

But just as he touched the doorknob, he heard a gust of wind behind him, felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and lost consciousness.

As he fell to the ground, he saw the Cheka slowly retracting the iron rod.

"Take him away!"

His vision went black, and he completely lost consciousness.

It’s over; this was the last thought that echoed in Grellebane’s mind.

......

"Cough, cough, cough—"

Amidst the violent coughing, Grelerban woke up. His eyes were blurred, and he sat up, shaking his head.

It took him almost half a minute to understand his current predicament.

One oil lamp, one wooden table, no bed; he was lying on a cold, damp stone floor.

He moved his body and discovered his wrists were locked in heavy iron chains, the other end fixed to an iron ring on the wall.

"Interrogation room..." Grelerban’s heart sank to the bottom.

He struggled to sit up, looking around the room. It was a small room, about ten square meters.

The walls were built of blue bricks and mortar, and there were still wet stains on the floor.

"Who betrayed me?" He shook the chains, confirming there was no chance of escape, so he stopped struggling altogether.

Yet, there was still a question lingering in his mind; the meeting place was decided last minute.

The other two secret Knights didn’t know, and their loyalty could be trusted—

Their families were in the hands of the Royal Family; impossible to betray recklessly.

Then who could it be?

Old Acorn, although timid, would never dare to betray.

The few informants under his command either communicated with Old Acorn or with De Wengbei; none had met him.

Could it be De Wengbei?

He suddenly clenched his fist and then quickly relaxed it. De Wengbei was the one who sent Kapen away; he would’ve betrayed long ago if at all...

Then who was it?

Just then, footsteps came from outside the iron bars on the other side of the room.

Grelerban looked up and saw two burly men in Cheka uniforms standing behind the bars, with a short stout man standing behind the guards.

"Is it him?" A Cheka wearing round glasses walked over.

"Yes, it’s him."

Grelerban’s head felt as if it had been hit by a heavy hammer; as a spy, a major skill is to remember people’s faces and voices.

Although he couldn’t achieve Edwin’s Witch-like precision, he could still recall and distinguish people he’d seen within a week.

If he’s not mistaken, this voice and appearance were clearly those of the mover who borrowed fire that day.

Mad, you’re a Cheka too; Cheka’s informants are everywhere!

"Thank you, friend." Round glasses shook hands cordially with the mover, "Once the exhibition ends, we’ll give you the reward bonus as well as a five-star good citizen medal."

"Really, five stars?"

"Of course, you’ve made a great contribution. This time we’ve captured four secret Knights; rest assured, if not fulfilled, you can come directly to me!"

"Wow!" The mover raised his hands and jumped up.

Numbly watching the mover leave cheerfully, it wasn’t long before Grelerban saw a woman enter once again.

She was tall, nearly two meters, her left hand was a brass-crafted spring mechanism hand.

Despite being a mechanical hand, its streamlined shape was hardly different from a real hand.

At the joints, tiny gears could even be seen turning.

The woman walked up to Grelerban and looked down at him, a mocking smile at the corner of her lips: "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Jia Li, Holy Alliance Purification Chief."

Grelerban raised his head, his eyes numb as a puppet; he recognized this woman.

Jia Li, Moliat...

How come Saint’s Grandson’s women all love playing dual roles?

"Not even a greeting, Falabov?" Jia Li bent down, using her spring mechanism hand to lift Grelerban’s head.

"Falabov!"

The word struck Grelerban like a bolt of lightning, shattering his resistance not to utter a word.

Eyes wide open, Grelerban’s voice trembled: "How... how do you know this name?"

This name was his real name, known only to the core members of the Falan Royal Family’s secret bureau.

Could there be a traitor within the secret bureau?

Damn it, what would happen to his family then? If Cheka were to assassinate his family, wouldn’t it be over?

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. Who was betraying him!

Seeing his reaction, Jia Li couldn’t help but laugh.

Amidst her laughter, the gears on the spring mechanism hand spun faster: "Falabov, do you think your comrades are all iron-willed men?"

"F***! (Falan’s curse)" Grelerban’s eyes nearly filled with blood, "These cowards!"

"Alright, Falabov, your companions have said everything. Do you have anything to add?" Jia Li’s eyes slightly squinted, "For instance, where did you send Kapen? Or, where are your remaining comrades?"

"......"

"You’re not talking? That’s okay, the night is long..."