The stone paved roads of Deherim echoed with the triumphant hoofbeats of horses and the heavy tread of battle-worn boots, but the chilling atmosphere did not dissipate with the return home.
The smoke from Wood Elf Village seemed to still cling to the armor, and the soldiers silently escorted the throngs of captives, the air thick with dust, blood, and a hint of imperceptible despair.
Shen Mu walked directly through the noisy prisoner Resettlement Area, not returning to the Council Hall.
His destination was clear.
Deep within the Castle District, a special cell, temporarily reinforced and guarded by both Holy Tree Knight and Lake Rat Gang Destroyers, awaited.
Zhang Bo lay on the cold stone slab.
The holy light from the Eden Garde priests barely kept the penetrating wound in his chest from expanding, its gruesome edges a foreboding blackish-purple, with bones clearly visible beneath his sunken skin.
A uniquely shaped elven dagger, Yang Di's weapon, was still obliquely embedded not far from his heart.
The priests, under Shen Mu's strict orders, performed only basic hemostasis and stabilization, not removing the blade.
This was both to prevent instant fatal hemorrhage and to continuously inflict torture on the prisoner's will.
'Creak—'
The heavy iron door slowly opened, cutting a narrow band of torchlight from the corridor outside.
Shen Mu's figure appeared at the end of the light band.
He had changed out of the smoke-stained Holy Tree armor from the battlefield, wearing a more agile yet exquisitely tailored and expensive black form-fitting outfit, draped with a dark red velvet-lined cloak.
He stepped slowly into the room, stopping silently before the stone platform, his boot heels crunching softly on tiny dried bloodstains on the floor.
The guarding knight immediately bowed, then quietly withdrew, and the heavy iron door closed again, leaving only Zhang Bo's ragged, difficult breathing and Shen Mu's gaze, as calm as an abyss, in the room.
Looking down from above.
Shen Mu's gaze swept over the face, extremely pale and contorted from blood loss and pain, finally settling on the glaring elven dagger.
A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips, not a smile, but a scrutiny akin to admiring an object.
"I thought you would die faster," Shen Mu said, his voice low and even, yet like an ice pick piercing the stillness of the cell: "That stab from Yang Di looked well-placed; I didn't expect you to be so resilient. It saved me a lot of searching."
Zhang Bo's eyelashes trembled violently; he struggled to open his eyes, but his heavy eyelids seemed glued together, allowing him only to see a deep, shadowy outline emanating a cold, oppressive presence in the blurry light.
He could feel that gaze lingering on the knife in his chest, and a cold shame and pain instantly seared his nerves.
"Uh..." He squeezed a broken sob from his throat, thick with bloody foam: "...It...it's you..."
"It was I who sent people to find you."
Shen Mu seemed very patient. He extended a finger, but did not directly touch the cold hilt of the knife, instead hovering very slowly half an inch above it. An invisible pressure seemed to bear down heavily on the wound through the air: "And it was I who had them save you. After all, a living, talking Zhang Bo is always more valuable than a pile of rotten flesh."
Zhang Bo's body trembled violently from this invisible pressure, and a severe cough caused his chest to convulse, tearing at his wound, making his vision darken.
He gasped for breath, saying intermittently: "...You...you want to know...about Green Leaf...Group...everything I know..."
"Green Leaf Group?" Shen Mu's eyebrow twitched slightly, as if he had heard something utterly ridiculous.
His hovering finger finally descended, but did not touch the hilt. Instead, he flicked the rough wooden end of the hilt with his finger.
Buzz—!
A tiny vibration transmitted through the blade precisely into the depths of the wound.
An indescribable, bone-deep agony instantly swept through Zhang Bo's entire body. He suddenly arched his back, then fell back weakly onto the stone slab, letting out an inhuman shriek, and cold sweat instantly soaked his thin clothing.
"Green Leaf Group? Yang Di?" Shen Mu's voice held undisguised contempt: "A fool who was stabbed by his own master as a scapegoat, an idiot who botched his last life-saving card and even attracted 'cleaners' from a higher plane? He and his rotten group now only deserve to be in history's trash heap. What secrets could they possibly have that would make it worth my while to rescue you just to ask?"
The intense pain subsided slightly, and Zhang Bo gasped for breath, his mind a blur.
Not for Green Leaf?
Then why?
Was it just to torment him?
As if seeing through the confusion in his eyes, Shen Mu leaned down slightly, his deep eyes like two cold pools, precisely locking onto Zhang Bo's barely open, bloodshot eyes.
"From the very beginning, I knew what kind of person you were."
These words, like a bolt of lightning, suddenly split open Zhang Bo's dazed mind!
"At the Diesel Company, I knew from the first glance that you, Zhang Bo, were never a Prophecy-type Mage who genuinely defected."
Shen Mu's voice was calm and unruffled, yet every word struck Zhang Bo's heart like a heavy hammer: "You were a mole planted by the Green Leaf Group in the Diesel Company. When the Diesel Company collapsed, you transformed, becoming a 'lost one' who defected to my Deherim for revenge or 'longing for light'? What a clumsy script."
Zhang Bo's breathing stopped instantly.
He stared at Shen Mu in disbelief, his pupils rapidly dilating from extreme shock and fear.
Impossible!
He had hidden so deeply!
Played the role so perfectly!
Even the people from the Diesel Company thought he was genuine...
Shen Mu's cold narration continued, every word like a cold scalpel, precisely peeling away his seemingly flawless disguise: "Zhang Song was very cautious, but unfortunately, those around him gave themselves away. Your method of transmitting information was very covert, but ultimately there were traces to follow. Did you think that through those inconspicuous 'coincidental' pieces of information, you could influence my judgment of Green Leaf? Or did you think that the warnings you, as a 'Prophet,' sent to Yang Di could truly help him?"
Zhang Bo felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, colder than the knife wound through his chest!
His lips trembled violently: "You...how could you...no..."
"How could I know?"
Shen Mu straightened up, hands behind his back, looking down at the dying spy, his tone carrying a hint of all-knowing mockery: "It's simple. Because you needed to 'demonstrate your value,' you needed to prove to your master that you were still alive and useful. So some insignificant trivialities you 'prophesied' in Deherim would 'coincidentally' have subtle overlaps with the intelligence Yang Di received. These 'overlaps,' which you saw as signals proving your identity and ability, were, in my eyes, merely the crawling tracks left by two venomous insects."
"You were using me?!"
Zhang Bo's consciousness briefly cleared due to the immense shock; anger, humiliation, and the despair of being toyed with instantly overwhelmed the pain.
He shrieked hoarsely, his chest heaving violently, and more black blood seeped from the wound.
"Otherwise?"
Shen Mu retorted, his tone matter-of-fact: "From the moment you stepped into Deherim, you were already a chess piece on my board. Would an excellent chess player not make full use of their resources? Keeping you in the position of a 'Prophecy-type Mage' not only reassured Yang Di, making him self-righteously believe he still had an eye on me, but also subtly guided his judgment of Deherim through the 'smoke' you released. You thought you were helping him? No, you were merely helping me lead Yang Di step by step into the abyss of self-destruction."
Boom!
Shen Mu's words, like a final judgment, completely crushed the last shred of support deep within Zhang Bo's heart.
He trembled all over, not from intense pain, but from a tremendous sense of absurdity and the sorrow of being completely manipulated.
His loyalty?
His infiltration?
Everything he had sacrificed, including the knife Yang Di had plunged into him without hesitation...
"Was it worth it?"
Shen Mu's cold voice rang out again, like a devil's whisper, laced with sharp sarcasm: "For a Yang Di who, when higher plane forces interfered, immediately thought of using you as bait and a scapegoat, desperately wanting to sever ties? For a lunatic who, even as you desperately conveyed information and were ultimately pinned down by his knife, was still thinking of using Wood Elf Plane power to turn the tables?"
"Pfft—!"
The pent-up indignation, immense grievance, and pain of betrayal finally reached their peak, surpassing his body's limits.
Zhang Bo suddenly spat out a mouthful of scalding black blood, tears mixed with bloodstains, gushing out uncontrollably like a broken dam.
He was no longer the calm spy, no longer the Green Leaf 'sleeper agent' who held beliefs; he was merely a pitiful wretch abandoned by his own faith and object of loyalty, and then mercilessly torn open by his opponent, exposed to naked pain.
"Not worth it... not worth it at all..." He seemed to be talking to himself, and yet accusing fate, his voice choked and broken, every word carrying blood and tears: "...Yang Di...he deserves to die...he deserves to die!"
He stared fixedly at Yang Di's knife in his chest, as if seeing Yang Di's indifferent, even disgusted, gaze as he fell.
All his sacrifices, all his infiltration, all his suffering, in the eyes of that selfish, vicious master, were less than a withered blade of grass!
The violent emotional fluctuations caused the light of the life-sustaining spell chain to flicker wildly, and an alarm sound faintly echoed outside the cell.
Shen Mu watched it all silently, watching the collapse of this dying pawn. There was no pity, no schadenfreude, only an indifference of "resource value utilized."
He slowly raised his hand, and the knight standing outside the door immediately and silently reopened a narrow slit in the heavy iron door.
"Your life was a tragedy co-directed by Yang Di and me."
Shen Mu's voice, like a final judgment, clearly entered Zhang Bo's ears: "Your self-righteous loyalty was a tragedy, your meticulously acted betrayal was a tragedy, and even this knife in your chest is the final footnote to your tragedy. And the reason for directing this tragedy—"
Shen Mu took a step, walking towards the open door crack, the hem of his dark red cloak drawing a cold arc under the light, his figure about to disappear beyond the light and shadow.
"—was simply because, to me, you once had a tiny bit of value as waste to be utilized. That's all."
The moment his words fell, he vanished outside the door.
The iron door closed heavily, completely isolating inside and out.
Zhang Bo's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the cold stone ceiling, tears silently flowing.
The elven dagger in his chest, illuminated by a faint blue light, reflected a cold gleam, like an unhealing brand of shame.
Everything, it turned out, was merely a phrase from Shen Mu: "waste utilization."
And the loyalty for which he risked his life, and the betrayal that pierced his heart, were, in the eyes of this high and mighty lord, merely fleeting jokes and dust on a cold chessboard.
Beneath the dagger's tip, only a completely shattered heart remained, filled with despair and regret.
The iron door of the cell closed heavily behind Shen Mu, sealing off Zhang Bo's world of silent despair.
The stone corridor was cold and oppressive, permeated by a mixture of disinfectant and a faint, lingering scent of blood.
Shen Mu had only walked a few steps when two figures emerged from the shadows—Steward Manid and James.
They had clearly been waiting for a while.
Manid bowed, his voice low and cautious: "My Lord, it has been arranged. Also, regarding the handling of Zhang Bo and Yang Di, some attendants have expressed opinions, privately wondering why these two's lives were spared."
James interjected, his tone carrying a physician's caution: "Especially Yang Di, his injuries are extremely severe, and keeping him alive requires a significant amount of potions and effort. The knife wound in Zhang Bo's chest is also quite tricky to manage."
The hint of mockery that had appeared on Shen Mu's face in the cell had not yet completely faded. At their words, he merely curved his lips slightly, his gaze fixed on the flickering torchlight in the depths of the corridor, his voice calm yet carrying undeniable authority: "Wonder why? Then let them understand."
Manid understood perfectly, stepping forward half a pace and saying in a low voice: "My Lord's foresight is profound; we naturally comprehend its deeper meaning. Not killing these two, the primary strategy, is what Blue Star Humans call 'buying horse bones with a thousand gold pieces.'"
James nodded in agreement, adding: "That's the point, My Lord. Keeping these two alive, especially Zhang Bo, who was once influential in both Long City and Wood Elf Village, and even had a life-and-death entanglement with the great enemy Yang Di, holds crucial symbolic significance. We are about to fully integrate the Eight Mile River region, and even cast our gaze towards the broader Twilight Realm. How many anxious eyes are watching Deherim from outside? How many exiled factions, indigenous tribes, and even observing Blue Star compatriots are there?"
Shen Mu did not turn around, merely gesturing for him to continue.
Manid's voice became clearer: "Keeping them alive is tantamount to declaring to the entire Twilight Realm: even those who oppose me, Shen Mu, even spies and leaders of hostile forces, as long as they 'repent' or still possess a shred of exploitable value, as long as it aligns with Deherim's overall interests, the 'merciful' liege Lord Shen Mu will not hesitate to grant them a chance to 'turn over a new leaf'! This will give hope to future newcomers, greatly reducing the resistance and suspicion encountered during future territorial expansion. They will think: 'Look, even figures like Zhang Bo and Yang Di can find a glimmer of hope in Deherim; wouldn't we be even more secure if we sought refuge there?'" (End of Chapter)
