MPWATMBC Chapter 112

Fan Lanting, who had metaphorically capsized in a gutter, truly felt too ashamed to face Ryan. He stammered, “I underestimated the enemy.”

Before admitting his underestimation, he could have come up with a host of excuses: the tents all looked the same, making the terrain confusing; the pirates were so incompetent they didn’t seem like a threat; and so on. But ultimately, these were just excuses—reasons a soldier might give to justify his mistake. No matter how many excuses he made, they couldn’t hide the fact that he had been captured.

As an excellent soldier and a skilled scout, underestimating the enemy and getting captured was already a grave mistake. To make excuses for it would be an even greater one. Having the courage to admit his error was the right thing for Fan Lanting to do.

Ryan, with a stern expression, said, “When we return, a 30,000-word self-reflection essay, and double the physical training.”

Fan Lunting accepted the arrangement without objection. “Understood!”

With just a few words, the matter was brushed aside—there were more important things to attend to. Time shouldn’t be wasted on blame or apologies.

Now what?

Take it step by step. Since the strategist has been dealt with, there’s no need for regret or self-reproach. The strategy can be changed, and with the strategist’s identity in hand, things would be even easier. After all, what could be more effective than “capturing the king to subdue the bandits”?

The stacked cushions were swept aside, revealing a bloodied corpse lying flat on the ground. The layers of clothing wrapped around the body were peeled away, exposing a frail and emaciated figure. The ribs were sharply defined, each bone standing out distinctly, and the joints were starkly prominent. Descriptions like “skin and bones” or “skeletal thinness” were the most fitting.

Despite the gaunt frame, the strategist was not short, standing a full head taller than Fan Lanting.

Fan Lanting thought to himself: Short stature, my fatal flaw.

“Do we have enough disguise materials?” Ryan asked.

They had hidden numerous items within the linings of their clothes: lightweight portable weapons, tiny capsules containing lethal poisons or antidotes, and tools for disguises and transformations. It had to be said that the pirates inside the walls were so confident they bordered on arrogance. They didn’t bother inspecting the belongings of those coming from “the east,” which had given Ryan and Fan Lanting considerable convenience.

Fan Lanting retrieved five disguise capsules from the hidden lining of his clothes. “This is all we have—just enough to disguise the head and hands. The rest will need to be covered up. But since the strategist always kept himself wrapped in clothes, we can skip disguising the body.”

“Understood. I’ll leave this to you,” Ryan said as he sat down in front of a glowing screen. With a light touch, the display revealed that unlocking the terminal required a password, an iris scan, and voice verification.

“I saw the password—it’s a 36-digit number, nothing too complicated.” As a scout, Fan Lanting had undergone memory training; one glance was enough for him to memorize it. A 36-digit password wouldn’t pose any obstacle.

With the body right here, scanning the iris was also a simple task.

The only issue was the voice verification. The strategist was dead—getting him to “speak” was impossible.

But the difficulty was minor at best. The key lay in the two AI units that had entered from outside. Ryan once again felt justified in his decision to bring along Yuan Chu and Code Zero.

Hacking the terminal’s data was handed over to Yuan Chu and Code Zero. Meanwhile, Ryan assisted Fan Lanting with the disguise. About half an hour later, a “new” strategist emerged, wrapped in heavy clothing that concealed any potential flaws.

Meanwhile, Yuan Chu and Code Zero were nearing the end of the process to bypass the voice recognition on the terminal. Once it unlocked, the contents were revealed… well, a collection of highly disturbing images.

Fan Lanting grimaced. “What the hell? This guy was a total freak—all these gruesome dismemberment photos.”

Ryan asked, “Have you heard of the ‘Killer Cat Demon’ case?”

“Yeah, I remember. That happened when I was still in school. Even the blurred-out images on the news made me sick.” Fan Lanting’s expression twisted in disgust. “I recall a bunch of organizations claiming responsibility for it afterward, but no one ever figured out who actually did it. Was it Red Spider’s doing?”

Ryan glanced at the corpse they had stashed in the corner of the tent. “It was carried out on her orders.”

Fan Lanting raised an eyebrow. “She actually managed to keep her name out of the public eye? Talk about restraint. That’s impressive in its own twisted way.”

After filtering out the gore-filled photos and videos, the terminal revealed a treasure trove of information—all about the Red Spider pirates. Following the Beland Incident, the Honor Legion had staged an operation to annihilate the pirate group. The official reports claimed they had wiped out Red Spider’s core forces. But based on the data from the strategist’s terminal, the reality was far from that.

The pirates under Red Spider’s banner were scattered far and wide. The so-called “core forces” eliminated by the Honor Legion had only been one fragment of her sprawling network.

“We can send an email,” Yuan Chu said.

Ryan asked, “Directly call the pirates back?”

Yuan Chu shook his head. “No, all emails are encrypted, and the cipher changes every time. Without knowing the current codebook, sending a message would only raise suspicion. If that happens, this entire operation will be ruined.”

As Fan Lanting adjusted the disguise on his face, he silently thanked his luck that the strategist had a “lollipop-shaped” build—a large head on a skinny frame. If not, the disguise would have been impossible. He couldn’t shed weight instantly or surgically alter the size of his head in time.

“What codebooks were used before?” Ryan asked. “Can you figure it out from earlier emails?”

Yuan Chu replied, “Give us some time.”

The pirates knew exactly what the strategist usually did inside the tent. By the next day, they would expect something to be carried out—likely a body or remnants of their grisly work. However, being normal people despite the mission, Ryan and Fan Lanting couldn’t stomach the idea of mutilating the corpse. Instead, they sliced open its veins, letting out a large amount of blood to create the appearance of a gruesome scene.

The metallic scent of blood grew even thicker in the enclosed, windowless tent. Without ventilation, the smell lingered and fermented in the heavy air.

Yuan Chu suddenly announced, “Got it!” Then added, “There’s no fixed pattern. The leader makes it up on the fly. It could be based on a random news issue, a novel, or even a school textbook.”

“Someone’s coming,” Ryan murmured, standing near the edge of the tent entrance. Through a small gap, he caught sight of a figure hurrying toward them, their destination unmistakably the strategist’s tent. He quietly relayed the warning to those inside.

Everyone sprang into position. Fan Lanting settled himself among the cushions, adopting the strategist’s characteristic posture, while the glowing screen switched to a screensaver. The two AI units, Yuan Chu and Code Zero, slipped into hiding, and Ryan moved into a shadowy corner of the tent.

The pirate outside called out, “Strategist, the leader wants to see you.”

Fan Lanting glanced at Ryan for confirmation before responding in a faint, weakened tone that mimicked the strategist’s demeanor. “Understood.” His impersonation wasn’t perfect—he captured the frailty well enough to fool a person, but not any advanced detection system. “I’ll be there shortly.”

The pirate at the door hesitated, catching a strong whiff of the thick, metallic scent of blood. They hunched slightly, their voice laced with unease. “Strategist, I’ll wait for you here.”

Fan Lanting replied curtly, “Fine.” His tone carried just enough aloofness to maintain the act.

With someone stationed at the entrance, Fan Lanting and Ryan couldn’t exchange words, relying only on eye contact to signal their understanding before moving into action. Whatever came next, they would adapt on the fly.

Fan Lanting, disguised as the strategist, stepped out of the tent, lifting the flap with practiced nonchalance. He gestured for “Rennie” (Ryan) to follow him. However, the guard at the entrance braced themselves and said nervously, “Strategist, the leader specifically requested that you come alone. He wants to speak with you privately.”

Fan Lanting’s pupils contracted sharply for a brief moment before he blinked, resuming his composed demeanor. His response carried the faint excitement of someone indulging in decadence—a fitting touch to the strategist’s persona. “Alright,” he said. That single syllable carried layers of subtle emotion, from indulgence to irritation, showcasing Fan Lanting’s acting prowess. He was determined to right the ship after his earlier blunder, ensuring there would be no more slip-ups.

Back inside the tent, Ryan waited, and the hours dragged on into the dead of night. Outside, the pirates’ celebration grew louder, with raucous laughter and boisterous singing filling the air. Their revelry hadn’t abated; if anything, it had reached its peak.

Ryan didn’t remain idle during the wait. Collaborating with Yuan Chu and Code Zero, he analyzed the information retrieved from the terminal. They worked to decipher patterns in the data, attempting to identify a method to break the codebook’s randomness.

Notably, they discovered the strategist’s personal journal buried deep within the terminal’s files. It wasn’t about invading privacy but uncovering critical intelligence. The entries revealed the distribution of Red Spider’s scattered pirate factions and detailed connections with other closely allied pirate crews. This newfound information could prove invaluable in the long run.

“With these coordinates for the strongholds, we can wipe out the pirates in one decisive strike,” Ryan said, outlining the ideal scenario.

Yuan Chu, ever composed, offered a dry comment: “Keeping a diary isn’t exactly a wise habit—just look at this strategist. Or… a certain someone.”

Ryan paused, letting out a faint sigh. “…” Indeed, thanks to his journaling, Qin Feng Anderson’s past was laid bare before the public, leaving little to no privacy.

Several hours later, the tent flap was lifted again. A pale-faced “strategist” stepped in, moving with a chilling resemblance to the real one, as though brought back to life. Fan Lanting had executed the disguise flawlessly.

Once inside, he let out a deep breath, immediately peeling off the sweat-soaked clothing and disguise. He was drenched, the uncomfortable sweat pooling beneath the prosthetics from hours of playing his role under intense scrutiny. Every interaction with the leader had pushed his mental faculties to the brink, but at last, he was back.

“Ryan,” Fan Lanting called softly, his voice subdued.

Ryan stepped out from the inner tent and asked directly, “What’s the situation?”

“The Bandner siblings met with the leader before us,” Fan Lanting began. “Bandner used their so-called ‘observations’ from their supply runs to convince the leader. He’s now fully committed to gathering all the scattered pirate factions.”

While the outcome was simple, the path to reaching it had been fraught with danger. Just recalling the tension made Fan Lanting’s back shiver, and beads of cold sweat rolled down his spine like a steady stream.

Fan Lanting continued, his tone tinged with disbelief: “The leader wants all the pirates to regroup in some star system they discovered. Their grand plan? To found a nation. Pirates founding a country? What kind of joke is that?! It’s utterly absurd! And to top it off, they’re talking about ‘liberty, equality, fraternity,’ claiming they’ll create the nation Emperor Anderson envisioned. It’s absurd.”

Ryan chuckled. “Ambitious pirates, indeed.”

Fan Lanting groaned. “Stop laughing. This isn’t the time for jokes! What do we do now? The leader ordered me to send an email to the high-ranking pirates scattered across the galaxy. Sure, I’ve got the codebook for this round, but how am I supposed to send the email if I don’t know the starfield coordinates?!”

Ryan sat down next to the terminal, a faint smirk still playing on his lips. “It’s a shame that our diary-keeping strategist didn’t jot down the coordinates in her journal.”

Fan Lanting muttered, “She’s a fan of the Emperor? Makes sense. The Emperor never wrote down secrets in his diaries either. They only ever wrote about mundane daily life.”

The mention of the Emperor’s journals made Ryan wince. His awkwardness was palpable—he’d unwittingly set a terrible example for posterity. Clearing his throat, he redirected the conversation. “Coordinates can mean many things—not just Starfield locations, right?”

Fan Lanting stared at Ryan, his eyes lighting up, growing brighter with each second. “You’re right!”