Chapter Ninety-Four: Tactical Persuasion

From their conversation, several conclusions could be drawn. First, these three individuals originally intended to attack a catapult crewed by a dozen or even twenty people, indicating considerable strength. Second, their own abilities were not overwhelmingly powerful—Kevin had been hiding beneath the vehicle for quite some time without being detected. Third, before leaving, they planned to hang a “damaged” sign on the catapult.

If it were merely a standard decoy installation, placing a “damaged” sign would suffice; their side wouldn’t even need to remove it later—no further action would be necessary. Usually, decoys serve only to mislead aerial or long-distance reconnaissance, and a damaged sign is nearly invisible from afar. Up close, anyone would know it’s a fake regardless of any sign. It was no surprise that one of them remarked the sign was entirely pointless.

However, if it were a genuine piece of equipment, once marked as damaged, the current military exercise could not be restored. Such matters were supervised by the directorate, and no amount of deception could bypass their scrutiny.

Kevin’s heart raced. Listening to the steady footsteps nearby, gripping his sword tightly, he knew that hanging a sign was a trivial task for them. If they managed to mark the catapult, Kevin’s greatest advantage in this exercise would vanish.

Gritting his teeth, Kevin rolled swiftly out from the other side beneath the vehicle. The adversaries immediately heard the noise, halted their steps, crouched down, and silently observed without speaking.

The two others still arguing at a distance noticed the disturbance simultaneously, fell silent, and slowly approached. In the darkness, uncertain of Kevin’s true strength, they dared not act rashly.

Kevin pondered briefly, then pretended to be a passerby. He leapt onto the catapult, swung his sword randomly a few times, then, as if perplexed, touched here and there, inspecting.

“Brother!” the foremost opponent suddenly called out.

Feigning surprise, Kevin immediately jumped down and fled. Seeing this, the others laughed, “Don’t be nervous, we’re on the same side.”

“Huh?” Kevin was taken aback, then suddenly realized, “Oh, you’re from over there?” In the darkness, it was unclear which direction he meant.

“Yes,” they seemed to understand and confirmed, “What’s your role?”

“Demon scout,” Kevin adopted the identity of the one he had killed earlier.

“Then you’re one of us,” one relaxed and stepped forward. “Brother, are you alone?”

“Wait!” Kevin remained cautious. “I don’t even know who you are. Just because you say ‘same side’ doesn’t mean I’ll believe it.”

The three sighed, “We’re elves. One mage, one archer, and one… mage-archer combo. Ha!”

Kevin understood that “mage-archer” referred to a magic archer—a unique class among elves. Their fighting and training methods were a closely guarded secret never leaked. The phrase was a low-grade joke; Kevin smiled politely.

“You three arrived first, so this catapult is already taken care of by you?” Kevin inquired.

“No, there’s no one on the catapult,” they replied. “We’re puzzled too; it must be an enemy decoy.”

“Oh.” Kevin replied vaguely, carefully calculating the odds of facing three alone. Although close enough for a surprise attack, to kill all three instantly was uncertain.

“How about it, brother?” one invited. “Join us. That way, if we encounter a squad, we can take them out together.”

Kevin hesitated a moment: “Is that allowed?”

“Tsk,” one scoffed. “Although scouts spread out to cover more ground, sometimes at night, things aren’t so rigid. In the end, the credit is yours. What can one person do alone?”

“Exactly,” another agreed. “The Blue Army headquarters can’t monitor us here. The directorate watches day and night, but for trivial things like this, they won’t report to Blue HQ. One must be flexible.”

“Hmm… makes sense.” Kevin seemed convinced.

“Let’s go then,” they replied cheerfully. “We’ll look for stragglers. If we stumble upon the enemy command post, our merit will be great.” They laughed, revealing lofty ambitions.

Kevin smiled along but lingered near the catapult. “I feel something’s off. Let me check again.”

“Ah, if there’s a problem, no matter,” one brought a sign. “Hang a ‘damaged’ sign, and everything’s solved.”

“True,” Kevin nodded, producing a board from his belongings and hanging it on the catapult’s throwing arm. “Done. Let’s go.”

Seeing Kevin had already hung the sign, the others said no more. One reminded, “Call down the Yellow Ribbon Parrot and inform the directorate. If the enemy sneaks back and removes the sign, we can’t deny responsibility.”

“I’ll stay and call; you all go ahead.” Kevin looked up at the sky. “This parrot makes noise; if it attracts enemies, I’ll be the one to pay.”

They exchanged glances and agreed. Waving to Kevin, they said, “You stay. We’ll head that way. If we can, we’ll catch up, and the four of us can scout together.”

“No problem,” Kevin replied.

The three nodded and disappeared into the darkness. Estimating their travel distance, Kevin loudly called to the sky: “Requesting directorate confirmation, requesting directorate confirmation.” The act had to be done properly.

Soon, the Yellow Ribbon Parrot swooped down. “Commander, what’s the matter?”

“Uh… I just… wanted to see if any directors were nearby.” Kevin embarrassedly fabricated an excuse. “You can go back now.”

The parrot was silent, clearly displeased, and flew off. Kevin, paying no mind, breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, the night was dark, and these three were not very astute. He had successfully deceived them.

Kevin needed rest. It was late, and he was exhausted after a long day. Sitting down, fatigue overwhelmed him. The three donkeys also refused to move, and beating them might cause noise attracting enemies. For safety, Kevin decided to prepare bedding and sleep under the vehicle.

The weather remained cold, especially at midnight. On the battlefield, comfort was secondary. Wrapping himself in a blanket, Kevin was about to crawl underneath when he suddenly heard rustling nearby.

“Hey, I see you!” a voice called out from the bushes.

Kevin’s heart jumped but quickly recognized the voice. “You guys? Elves?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “You’re still that demon scout, right?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Kevin tensed. “Why are you back?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” they countered. “Why didn’t you follow us? We thought you were dead.”

“Ahem,” Kevin’s mind raced. “Well, honestly, I just wanted to slack off.”

The three chuckled, understanding his honesty was genuine.

“Fine, we’ll rest here too.” One climbed atop the catapult and sprawled out.

“Huh? Aren’t you going for glory?” Kevin asked.

“Halfway there, stepped into a mud pit, soaked my leg,” one shook his leg. “It’s miserable. I remembered there might be supplies here, so I came to clean myself.”

As he spoke, he grabbed Kevin’s blanket and rubbed it on his leg. Kevin frowned but said nothing.

“To be honest, we’ve been at this all night. This is a good spot to rest,” another yawned, leaning on the throwing arm.

Kevin reconsidered their combat strength. These were elite troops sent here; even their apparent carelessness might be feigned. He remained uncertain.

“Brother, any findings?” one asked Kevin.

Kevin scoffed, “What could I find? I’m just a hanger-on, waiting to die.”

“Sigh, we’re all the same,” one sighed.

Kevin added, “But honestly, for scouting, strength is secondary; intelligence matters most.”

“Hah! Strength secondary?” one scoffed. “Without strength, you’d be spotted instantly. Strength is both guarantee and necessity.”

Kevin smiled. “No argument. How about a test? I’ll pose a few puzzles to assess your intelligence. They’re from the Royal Academy’s tests I’ve seen.”

“Sure, we’re bored anyway,” they agreed.

“All logical problems. For example: There are two people, you and me. One day, our souls swap. I occupy your body; you occupy mine. Suddenly, the ‘you’ in my body hits the ‘me’ in your body. Then our souls swap back. So, was I hit?”

The three were silent.

They counted fingers, weaving hands, then concluded: “No. The body that was hit was yours, so it was your soul hitting your own body. It has nothing to do with me.”

Kevin replied, “Not quite. When hit, I was in your body, so I felt the pain. You bore the aftermath. So, I was hit.”

The three protested: “That’s not right.” “That works.” “That’s sophistry.”

“Alright, you have a point,” Kevin conceded, “Here’s another: There are three— you, me, and him. You and I swap souls; then the ‘me’ swaps with him. Then the ‘you’ tries to hit the ‘him,’ but the ‘me’ stops ‘you.’ Suddenly, ‘him’ hits ‘me,’ and ‘you’ starts hitting himself. Then the souls return. So, who really tried to hit me?”

The three were silent.

“You three can act it out. I’ll go relieve myself.” Kevin hopped off the catapult, walking to the roadside.

Moments later, finished, he returned. They were still confused. “You… me… you… him… sigh, better to write it down to understand.”

“Forget the nonsense; this tests logic,” Kevin laughed and approached the front of the vehicle. Suddenly, as if noticing something, he said, “Hey? What’s this?”

“What?” They were still stuck on the puzzle.

Kevin emphasized, “Look, this seems unusual. There’s a magic array on it.”

Mentioning the array, the three took it seriously. Jumping down, they crowded around the vehicle’s front, examining closely.

“Looks like a cup.” “There really is an array.” “Maybe this is special.”

In the pitch-black night, they closely studied the cup, eyes wide. Suddenly, Kevin infused it with energy, releasing a brilliant white light. Their night-adjusted eyes were instantly overwhelmed by the brightness, eliciting screams, “Ah!”

Kevin swung his sword, swiftly striking all three. Concerned they might deny death, he struck twice more.

“Hey, hey…” they covered their eyes in terror. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I’m Red Army,” Kevin explained calmly.

The three were speechless.

Fearing exposure, Kevin quickly covered the cup with a shield, returning to darkness. Their eyes gradually recovered. Shaking their heads in disbelief, they said, “So you’re impersonating Blue Army?”

“Of course. Tactical deception.” Kevin answered casually. “Besides, you’re definitely dead. Those few strikes— even if you were undead zombies— you’re gone.”

“That’s not it,” one objected. “You’re a demon. You shouldn’t be able to impersonate one.”

“True, you’re exploiting a loophole in the exercise. Everyone looks the same, but demons and humans are distinctly different. Without other magic, you can’t fake it.” Another protested. “You had issues from the start.”

“How could that be?” Kevin rebutted. “In the dark, can you see my face? Even on a real battlefield, I can impersonate a demon.”

“Impossible. Demon language is different,” they argued. “Your accent would give you away.”

“Do you elves speak Elvish?” Kevin countered. “Say a few words. If you can, I’ll speak it too.”

“That’s just a setting.”

“You can have settings. Why can’t I? I introduced myself as a demon scout, and you didn’t doubt me. So what? My setting is that I’m a demon fluent in the Royal Language. What’s wrong with that?”

Whenever Kevin killed opponents by unconventional means, they always disputed. Eventually, they resorted to asking the directorate for judgment, who promptly declared: Three elven scouts killed; Kevin survived.

The three Blue Army members, hearing this, lost interest but then laughed, “Whatever. Let’s go eat barbecue.”

“Wait!” Kevin called. “Let me check the bodies first.”

The three were speechless.

(To be continued.)