Chapter 928: Chapter 928: Disintegration!
The towering and solemn concrete fortress, with a spacious and empty hall, has a red carpet laid on the cold stone steps.
This is Norton Castle, located in the very center of Norton City, where the numerous Ten Thousand Leaders hold meetings and conduct master of ceremonies and priest activities.
In the classical language of the Norton Province, "Norton" means conquest.
The Eastern Legion built this military fortress named Norton to commemorate Marshal Julius after occupying it.
Over the next century, this fortress on the plains gradually developed into a large settlement with a population of over a million.
Here, not only does the oldest military and engineering school of the entire army reside, but it is also the capital of the Eastern Legion and the place most committed to tradition.
Of course, discussing these matters now seems to stray a bit off topic.
At this moment, a group of Weilant people dressed in golden armor and draped with new red cloaks are holding candles, solemnly and reverently expressing their admiration to the ten-meter-tall statue of Marshal Julius.
While the glittering gold color and the new red cloaks don’t quite seem fitting for a mourning ceremony, it is, however, the unique Waylander’s way of mourning and the highest standard of etiquette.
All of this is because their Marshal once said —
"Do not fear and mourn death, as it is the ultimate destination for all life."
"If one day I should rest in slumber, you should don golden armor and crimson cloaks, raise torches to see me off, scatter flowers for me, just as you would cheer my triumph."
Perhaps Julius merely said this offhandedly in a whim, but for a long time afterward, the Weilant people held funerals in this manner.
Until later, when a few fires broke out in Triumph City, local survivors then combined the torches and flowers into warm yet not overly intense candles.
As for the tradition of wearing golden armor and crimson cloaks, it was retained, and even the weight of the golden armor and the purity of the gold became a matter of considerable attention.
Generally speaking, the value of the sacrificial vessels used is proportional to the honor of the deceased during their lifetime.
It is precisely because of this that those commemorating Marshal Julius here are almost all bearing armor weighing two hundred kilograms per person.
Without using exoskeletons, perhaps only the virtuous Waylanders can bear such a heavy load.
Standing in front of the crowd, Salen, clad in golden armor, solemnly and respectfully placed the solid gold candlestick in his hand gently on the stone steps in front of the statue.
Until now, the ceremony has been conducted halfway through.
Next, the Ten Thousand Leaders would successively come forward and place candlesticks in front of the statue, "keeping vigil" for Sir Julius, until all the candles extinguish.
Salen quietly stepped aside, gently stretching his shoulders, slightly sore from the gold’s weight.
Just then, a confidant approached him, speaking in a low voice.
"...The alliance’s border shows no movement, it’s still the same as before, but Bister Town is somewhat tense, including the Honey Badger Kingdom’s troops, which have also gathered."
Salen tilted his head slightly, replying in a low voice.
"Ignore them, just keep watching the alliance’s actions."
Both Bister Town and the Honey Badger Kingdom are nothing but ants to the Eastern Legion.
It appears the alliance understood his intentions, and indeed, has no plans to take advantage.
As long as troops are deployed all to the east, Triumph City’s reform can proceed uninfluenced.
By then, they could smoothly gain independence, and possibly maintain a good relationship with their old associates in Triumph City.
After all, that place is where the Waylanders set out, and he doesn’t wish to strain relations with the folks back home.
No internal warfare.
This would be the best outcome for everyone, as even today, many Waylanders regard Triumph City as a spiritual homeland, even many of his own Ten Thousand Leaders.
Though smiling at a funeral may be inappropriate, he still couldn’t help a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Indeed, playing chess with smart people is always enjoyable.
The confidant standing by continued speaking in a low voice.
"There’s another matter... The Southern Legion has sent a messenger."
Salen replied casually,
"Let him wait for a while."
The confidant hesitated momentarily, continuing in a low voice.
"But... it’s a messenger from Legion Leader Teil, and he brought a real-time communication device, claiming he represents Teil himself."
Hearing this, Salen impatiently sighed.
"Have him wait for me in the side hall."
The confidant respectfully replied,
"Yes."
...
In the hall at the side of the castle, a weary messenger stood not far from the door.
Seeing Salen, the Legion Leader, enter, he hurriedly bowed in salute.
Yet Salen, striding directly to him, did not even glance, snatching the silver tray from his hand, pressing a button before tossing it onto a nearby cabinet.
A pale blue light appeared in the room, and soon a mighty figure appeared not far from him.
It was Teil’s holographic image.
Seeing Salen clad in golden armor, Teil was visibly stunned.
"What are you up to?"
Salen opened his arms and replied matter-of-factly.
"As you can see, I’m mourning Marshal Julius with brothers from Triumph City. I should ask you, what are you doing?"
Seeing him in such a nonchalant manner, a surge of anger flared in Teil’s heart.
This guy had the mood to hold a funeral!
Not only did the Alliance and corporations, but even the Grand Canyon’s tagalong Free State had declared war with the Southern Legion.
Watching the Eastern Legion finally showing some backbone, deploying troops to Falcon City east of the Great Desert, he thought things were looking up, only to wait forever for further action.
Those troops were like ornaments, making the Southern Legion’s upper ranks rejoice for nothing.
Yet remembering he was in the position of asking for help, Teil still suppressed his inner wrath, merely questioning with strong terms.
"Is now the time for this?"
Salen looked at him with a smile, his curious gaze like watching a comical clown.
In the past, he would need to maintain a false decorum between them.
But now, the two sides were no longer in the same league.
He was about to mock this guy with a few words, but unexpectedly, this Legion Leader Teil spoke before he could.
"Listen... Our legion is facing unprecedented threats, Triumph City has fallen to aliens, and our kin are mired in war. If, at this time, we harbor ill will, no one can save us—"
"It’s just an alien chief officer, why are you so frightened, is it that big a deal?"
Salen sneered, interrupting his words, continuing leisurely.
"As for the quagmire, did I push you into it?"
Teil’s eyes widened.
"You!"
"Enough, Teil, I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t fall for it."
Salen’s face showed disappointment, losing interest in him.
"Let’s not mention friends from the New Continent, just tell me, even if I lead troops forward, capture Triumph City, and restore your so-called legitimacy, would you acknowledge me as the legion’s marshal?"
Teil was at a loss for words momentarily, just about to speak, but was interrupted by Salen raising his hand.
"No need to answer me. You know very well what the answer is, not only you, but also our friends from the New Continent and the North... There is only one Marshal, and that is Julius. But now he is dead, and there will never be another."
After pausing, he added in a cold, emotionless tone.
"The Legion is already history."
Dragging him down with him?
Don’t even think about it!
As he spoke those words, he moved to the side of the cabinet and turned off the silver-white disc.
The pale blue holographic beam quickly contracted into a line and then disappeared from the empty room.
Throwing the item back into the messenger’s hands, and seeing that the latter had not moved for a while, Salen impatiently scolded.
"What are you waiting for here? Waiting for an invitation to dine? Go back to where you came from."
"Yes..."
The messenger reluctantly lowered his head but eventually turned and left.
Watching the messenger’s departing figure, Salen’s lips curled into a mocking smile, but soon he frowned again.
Something didn’t seem quite right.
This guy didn’t quite resemble the Teil he knew...
At least in his memory, Teil wasn’t someone who would bow his head and plead.
Not even for pleading.
The silent guy actually bore patience and tried to reason with him, like the Sun suddenly setting in the west.
But Salen didn’t take it to heart; after all, people change, maybe that guy was truly pushed to the brink?
Lightly stretching his sore shoulders, he strode arrogantly back into the main hall of the Castle.
The Ten Thousand Leaders who came forward had completed the ceremony.
Bright candle flames swayed beneath the over ten-meter-high giant statue.
The funeral had entered the latter half.
Once those candle flames were extinguished, Julius’s spirit would be completely sent off.
Salen ultimately did not force out a few fake tears as Chu Guang had speculated.
However, he did put away the smile on his face and walked under the swaying candlelight of the statue with a compassionate expression.
This was the final moment.
"Infinite glory to Sir Julius, thank you for granting your citizens endless bread, milk, and land. We will remember your teachings, moving forward with loyalty and courage as before..."
"As the first emperor and prime minister of the Eastern Empire, I will bear the mission that history has bestowed upon me."
"May your spirit find eternal peace in the Glory Court—"
"Your children will forever remember you."
...
It wasn’t only the Eastern Legion—or rather, the newly established Eastern Empire—that declared independence.
At the same time Triumph City announced the funeral of Marshal Julius, to be held three days later, both the Northern Corps and the Western Legion also declared independence.
The former established the Northern Empire, supporting Legion Leader Walter as emperor, while the latter established the New Continent Federation, unanimously appointing Legion Leader Pompey as prime minister and "First Citizen" by the Citizen Assembly and Protectorate.
By now, the Legion was effectively defunct, and the more than thirty million square kilometers of land had split into several fragments, yet among the utterly loyal Ten Thousand Leaders, there were barely any who reminisced about it.
After all, they had only ever been loyal to Marshal Julius alone.
Even Marshal Julius had found peace in his final words, so they naturally had no reason to persist.
Moreover, after so many events, they had long grown tired of this insincere and awkward situation.
Although Triumph City has yet to take further action, based on the preliminary intentions reached by the Leader and various factions, the formal establishment of the "Weilant Alliance" seems to be a matter of time as well.
As for the only ones left without action, it seemed to be just the Southern Legion.
Aside from condemning the "Triumph City traitors," the Southern Legion authorities had taken no further steps.
Clearly, they had focused solely on the gamble in Poluo Province, completely unaccustomed to expecting developments to turn out like this, and even less foresaw the decisive and thorough abandonments by the other three Legions.
Until now, they’re the only ones left aboard this speeding train...
Meanwhile, to the west coast of the vast Poluo Sea, black landing ships were being escorted by the South Sea Alliance Fleet, navigating the waves toward the western coast of Poluo Sea!
The troops packed into the landing ships were specifically the 100th Mountain Division of the enterprise.
Previous participants in the Torch War, they were among the few fighting elites of the enterprise.
Now that the Southern Legion had launched a nuclear bomb, they had thoroughly touched Ideal City’s inverted scale; even the members of the Endpoint Group sitting at the far left of the board were no longer talking about the value of peace.
They would use the most thorough method to make those snarling beasts yield!
In the shaking ship cabin.
Seated in the chair, Tang Feng was calibrating the Exoskeleton Armor on him, and trying to establish connections with the three individual drones in his backpack and testing the normalcy of the data ports.
Since battling the Torch Church, their equipment had undergone further upgrades by the board.
Now, they were no longer merely armed to the teeth, but had become full-fledged War Machines!
To exaggerate, they used to still need to raise their gun barrels to aim a bit, but now they could kill opponents with just a thought!
Of course, this was just theoretically, anything could happen on the battlefield.
Sitting next to Tang Feng, a soldier chewing gum couldn’t help but smirk.
"I never thought there’d be a day where we’d fight against friends we once fought alongside."
Tang Feng said nothing but instead a gunman in the team chimed in.
"There’s still a bit of a difference between the Southern Legion and the Eastern Legion, right?"
Another young man sitting opposite everyone spoke.
"Like the Alliance and the South Sea Alliance?"
A soldier nearby laughed.
"Haha... Doesn’t seem like much of a difference really."
Everyone chatted casually, dispelling the oppressive atmosphere of the cabin.
At this moment, an officer stepped into the cabin, joining the conversation among the young men.
"Precisely because we once fought alongside each other, when our friends fall into the swamp, we must reach out to pull them out of the mire."
A soldier laughed raising his hand.
"You’re right, sir, but I only have one question, why can’t we let them crawl out themselves?"
"Because if we wait longer, they’ll drag us all through the mud. Next time, remember to file a report before cutting in, or I’ll make you swim across there."
The officer glared fiercely at that chatterbox, then looked toward the young men in the cabin, continuing to shout loudly.
"Alright young men, idle chatter stops here. The Alliance’s Jungle Corps and the Vellante Expeditionary Army’s First Division have already dismantled the defensive line in the port area of Evernight Harbor and secured the dock for us!"
"Using a division’s strength, they stalled five divisions’ counterattacks. These guys are fierce, but now it’s time for the real tough ones to get on stage!"
"Your mission is only one! Immediately open your Battlefield Guidance System after landing, coordinate with our Self-propelled Armor along the offensive line, advance! Advance! Keep advancing—!"
"Until that gang of demons is sent back to Hell!"