Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1407 (Part 1403) - Educational Methods (Combined)

A good commander must have a comprehensive view and ensure that he has enough information.

The outcome of a war is often determined before it even begins. When the quality and equipment of both sides are roughly equal, the abundance and speed of effective information transmission, and even the commander's personality, can determine success or failure. In pre-war preparations, commanders must have a clear understanding of the battlefield situation, know the enemy's generals, and be familiar with the planetary cycles, weather conditions, seasonal changes, day and night lengths, etc. They must also maintain strict secrecy regarding troop deployments and actions, and strive to understand the enemy's movements as much as possible to seize the initiative on the battlefield.

When war begins, all informational advantages will become the key to victory.

——————《Rules of Engagement: Information Advantage》

Commanders must exercise initiative. Whether a general overseeing the overall situation or a frontline officer in the trenches, from the moment they receive the first battlefield information, they must adjust their tactical plans based on the enemy's actions, constantly maintaining the initiative on the battlefield. Both generals and frontline officers must clearly understand the battlefield situation before the war begins, seizing every possible opportunity for victory rather than rigidly adhering to the classic tactics learned in military academies. Tactics taught in military academies should serve as nourishment, not dogma. Once an attack is decided, there should be no hesitation; withdrawal should be absolutely without excessive delay. Only in this way can the army move with lightning speed and be as fierce as a storm.

Do not be afraid, do not be cowardly.

Hesitation is the beginning of failure.

——————《Laws of Engagement: Subjective Initiative》

"More than two thousand years ago, there was an outstanding strategist named Zhang Liang. As a top strategist, he possessed an exceptional strategic vision and was often able to provide Liu Bang with correct advice at crucial moments, playing a significant role in the establishment of the Han Dynasty. Even in the later palace coups and family struggles of the Han Dynasty, Zhang Liang was still able to protect himself amidst countless bloodshed and turmoil, all thanks to the knowledge he had acquired."

He tapped the notebook in his hand.

This manuscript of *Rules of Engagement* was a set of war guidelines he compiled to educate officers in Latvia. Most of its content was printed in *Unity of Truth: Rules of Engagement*, and he continues to add to it to this day. Some parts were destined to remain unprinted because they too explicitly revealed the entire system's operating model; anyone could build a large yet highly resilient military organization from scratch simply by following the book's instructions step-by-step.

"The Book of Military Strategy of Taigong, also known as the Six Secret Teachings, covers various aspects such as governance, military strategy, military organization, weapons, tactics, and army training. My book, The Rules of Engagement, is extracted from the central ideas of the twenty-sixth volume of The Dragon's Secret Teachings, which discusses military organization."

Whether breakfast would extend into noon depended on how busy the manor owner and mistress were. Today, they clearly didn't have much work to do; even the manor owner showed no intention of leaving. Only the giant in magnificent golden armor occasionally entered the dining room to hand over some documents—the whole world breathed a sigh of relief today, because the Emperor of Latvinia hadn't shown up—when a person's power is so great that they can disregard all the rules and regulations of the human world, it's easy to worry whether they will cross the line of the system and pursue personal desires. Even in the pursuit of justice or with a kind heart, excessive power will inevitably breed atrocities.

The existence of the Latvian emperor kept NATO on edge, with an increasing number of soldiers in military camps resorting to drugs to numb themselves. Religion had lost its effectiveness; the Vatican hadn't even denied that the television footage of the Latvian emperor's overly divine aura was not a coincidence. But for the Latvians, the emperor's public appearances actually decreased after the war. Although still a dictator, he practiced the ideals of the "United Truth"—returning substantive justice to the people through sound regulations, believing in the power of humanity itself. The spirit represented by the emperor was their shield—dictatorship was a necessary means, not an end. Only efficient vertical management, boundless energy, and unparalleled military strength could give Latvian time for reform and growth. Before a truly efficient and incorruptible system of governance was fully established, a relatively correct form of totalitarianism could actually prevent the tyranny of the majority and corruption, and counter the influence of oligarchs and external pressures.

Without an emperor, NATO troops would cross the border in the next second, the era where ambitious individuals could become warlords with just a few hundred men would return, and tragedies like the Siege of Serrajevo would repeat themselves. As for the online rumors about the emperor disguised himself and appearing on the street, they are a mix of truth and fiction. Personally entering the world he rules, seeing all its shortcomings, and correcting them is also essential for him as the "philosopher-king" of Latvia. Even if he is criticized as a totalitarian ruler by liberal philosophers like Karl Popper, he doesn't care; after all, liberal philosophers are merely "annoying pebbles that must be constantly kicked away from the road."

But the whole world can breathe a sigh of relief today, because the Titans will not be walking among us today.

The human Titan is eating brunch at the table because he doesn't want to work.

"I don't think Milia can understand any of this. She hasn't even studied Chinese. What you're teaching her now will just flow out of her head like water." Joan yawned and stretched. Milia, sitting beside her, had the same expression, as if drowsiness had crept over her since Salomon started the lesson. The white-haired witch seemed to have rekindled her interest in teaching—an interest that only appeared when she had plenty of sleep. The regular teaching job, which required her to get up early, made her extremely irritable, which was why her teaching jobs usually didn't last more than a week.

Now, several secondary schools in Oxfordshire and London have suffered at Joan's hands and have made it clear that they will not accept her again. If she still wants to satisfy her desire to be a teacher, Salomon has no choice but to choose a good school and become a member of the board of directors. No other school would accept a teacher who is always late and absent. Joan knows the consequences of her behavior, but she doesn't care at all. She continues to sleep until almost noon, and even fights with Bayonetta for a pillow when she wakes her up.

Finding a school that could accommodate Joan of Arc was not difficult for him.

The digital games of financial capitalism were as fragile as a wet sheet of paper in the face of his software. His manipulation of both long and short positions made him incredibly wealthy, ruthlessly plundering productive value with meaningless currency. Even without other worldly positions, even without insider trading in high society, his annual dividends and speculative profits were enough for him and the witch to maintain a very respectable life. Bayonetta was even considering buying another estate and connecting it to the existing one using magic.

"Give Milia to me; she needs exercise right now. She's been sitting at her desk for too long."

"This is the dining table, and I think it's a good time for her to hear some wise advice while she's eating bacon. Wisdom is as easy to digest as food, but she's clearly a bit malnourished right now," Salomon cautioned. "People can learn knowledge, but they can't learn how to think. Her way of thinking needs to be shaped, and now is the perfect time."

"What's the difference?" Joan of Arc laughed dismissively. "Her close-combat training isn't even finished yet!"

Bayonetta smiled broadly.

Breakfast was more pleasant than she had imagined. First, she heard the sound of her weapons supplier with a sword to his neck, on the verge of death, and then she discovered that her friend was even more adorable than she had expected, like discovering a new and wonderful toy. "You didn't even realize he was slandering you, my silly friend," the witch, whose name was as sweet as a cherry, laughed crisply. She first kissed Milia's forehead, then patted Jeanne's arm with elegant grace. "It's alright, Darling, he wasn't entirely speaking with his voice."

Joan of Arc finally understood Salomon's irony.

As Milia's nominal teacher, Salomon claimed the girl hadn't received any wise advice, and for an educator—or a self-proclaimed educator—no accusation could be more serious. However, she couldn't afford to protest in the usual way, not only because the restaurant had undergone multiple renovations and reconstructions, but also because Milia's mental progress far exceeded her expectations. Although she couldn't yet speak in a way that most people could understand, the black, flexible metal collar Salomon had placed on her acted as a firewall, filtering out harmful information from the Aether Sea, excluding indescribable whispers and seduction, and protecting Milia's mental health.

"Did you understand?"

Joan of Arc stared wide-eyed in disbelief as the "stupid, lazy, ugly girl" she had spoken of nodded. Even though Milia hadn't studied Chinese and couldn't understand certain words through vocalization, she still possessed some basic concepts. These were incantations used to intuitively convey thoughts; Milia used her spiritual power to access the images and intentions depicted by Salomon. Even though she hadn't learned how to interpret them, she instinctively absorbed information from the ethereal ocean. It was a language beyond language, the language of the Tower of Babel in religious stories, a mystery etched into reality with symbols.

"Do you really think I'd educate her with the violence and savagery of taming wild dogs and horses?" Salomon said calmly. "We eat, excrete, fuck, kill, and die, but those things aren't suitable for her right now. Milia needs to see love, she needs to see human architecture, music, and poetry. It's time to fill her with some of the cold logic of the real world, lest art be too hot and burn her heart, lest reality be too cold and freeze her soul. Even with utopia, you should read Plato, not the Marquis of Sade; *The Republic* is more suitable for minors than *The 120 Days of Sodom*."

He glanced at Milia again; the question mark above the girl's head almost floated out.

"To be precise, it refers to children no more than ten years old."

"Have you ever considered picking up a quill pen, poet?"

Joan of Arc pointed to the fresco on the ceiling, where crimson flames surged from Phoenix's body. This fresco was one of Salomon's own artworks, depicting the passionate, kind, and loyal Phoenix's desire for him to ascend the seventh throne, like a clingy child yearning for companionship and recognition. Although it still had missions to perform and couldn't be by his side all the time, Salomon's connection with it had never been broken, even leaving its image on the fresco.

“Don’t call me that. You just know I’m right, as always.” Salomon raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m an educator, at least a better one than you.” He looked at the girl. The fried bacon made her lips glisten, but her fingers were just as oily. As if to teach Milia how to cut a steak, Bayonetta shoved a sharp chainsaw into her hand—the chainsaw was already activated, the hot monomolecular chainsaw edge flashing a reddish glow—judging from their carefree manner, they seemed to be cutting the steak and the plate together, while the small motor made a very loud noise, even with a hint of heavy metal rock. If you weren’t careful, the table where the witch had been would be littered with weapons, as if bullets and guns were also a kind of tableware.

Or a musical instrument?

Bayonetta tapped her foot on the marble floor to a drumbeat while loading Milia's Kimber M1911A1, seemingly wanting Milia to learn how to cut meat chops with a saw-wielding dagger in one hand and a pistol in the other. This was definitely not a technique meant for the dinner table, but rather a tactical skill for close combat. But what could Salomon and Joan of Arc say? Milia would have to learn this tactic sooner or later. All he could do was make Milia's tactics more standardized, more "old-school." So he tolerated Milia's excited close-range shooting at the ceramic plate at Bayonetta's urging, even though it was extremely dangerous. He trusted Bayonetta to make safety preparations and prevent shards from flying into anyone's face. He truly didn't know what kind of person Milia would become under the influence of the witch; he only hoped that his adopted daughter would be someone who wouldn't cause him any trouble.

"This is a reduced charge." Seemingly noticing Joan of Arc and Salomon's gazes, Bayonetta offered a symbolic explanation, "This amount of kinetic energy wouldn't even penetrate a table."

“If you have a preferred dining table, I hope you’ll offer your suggestion directly,” Salomon said. He glanced at Joan of Arc sitting opposite him. “The same goes for you; nothing in this manor will end up on the secondhand market, but will go straight to the incinerator.”

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)