Shadow of the Evil God

"Does she always whisper in your ear like this?"

“Sometimes a whisper,” she shrugged, “but mostly a manic roar.”

Chapter 38 You Can Call Him Cesar

Musali shook his head. "She's only more capable in personal combat. What can she see in an entire city?"

Ajiehe reached behind her, closed her torn thick felt coat, and buttoned it. "I really hate my other self, but you're really underestimating her abilities by saying that.

"

Her voice was as sharp as ever. Every time he heard her speak, Musali felt like she was scolding him from a high place. It was hard to describe the feeling. It was as if she had lived a longer life than him and her horizons were farther than his.

Why? Because she can travel through the dreams of ancient spirits?

Musali glanced sideways, glimpsing the slowly wriggling two-headed snake outside the tent through the cracks in the tent. From here, it looked like a towering wall.

Besides, he didn't feel that he was belittling herself - she took the other side of herself that she had split into too seriously.

"I don't mean to be disparaging, I just draw my own conclusions from history," Mussari said, shaking his head.

"History? Tell me about it."

"During the years when the terror descended upon the east," Musali said. "Do you remember the story of Iskrig? In those years, soulless infants were often abandoned by their parents and cast into the wilderness. Hungry beasts swarmed over them, mauling them, only to die instantly as if poisoned. People saw twisted carcasses piled high, refusing to decay. The tainted souls lingered, gradually filling the empty shells of dying flesh and blood. From these piles a creature with the claws and heads of a beast was born—just as she struggled from your back."

"It sounds," Ajeh said, "like you think the Beastman's earliest origins are like another me crawling out of my back."

"It was your father who thought so," Musali pointed out. "He said you almost made him think he'd gone back a thousand years. They called the beastmen 'Mosger,' meaning disaster and destruction, as if they weren't a race but a natural phenomenon. Iskrig often told me about those things, how the Mosger hated everything with a monstrous obsession, how they slaughtered humans, destroyed cities and villages, and gained strength from endless violence, slaughter, and abuse. And they always managed to mate with beasts and humans to reproduce more of their own kind."

"then?"

"Back then, many people thought those terrifying beastmen would replace humans and become the new masters of the world. But what happened? The former king of the Northern Empire sailed across the ocean from another continent and enslaved them, forcing them into military slavery, a rule that lasted nearly a thousand years. Those beastmen had been slaves for so long, only to gather and riot a few decades ago, launching an uprising to overthrow the empire—like a group of serfs unable to endure oppression. Doesn't this teach you something?"

"That does sound interesting," Ajeh said. "So, after all your long journeys east of the Sanctuary, what insights have you gained?"

"I have learned a lot from the scholars of the Empire, Ajeh. I have read many historical documents and research materials. I have even sneaked into libraries in various cities to understand the civilizations and history of different periods."

"Including the history of the Beastmen?"

"My only conclusion about the history of the Beastmen is that they have no history," Mussari asserted.

This description seemed to move Ajiehe's heart, and she raised her finger.

"You say they have no history?" she asked.

Musali noticed the difference in address—"they" versus "them"—but he nodded and brushed it off. Whatever she wanted to call them was her own business.

"Although many people regard the Beastmen as an intelligent, humanoid race that can speak human language, I've discovered that no matter what era, the documents recording them seem as if they were written just yesterday. From the time Iskrig described until now, the Beastmen have never changed. Even though they killed the Emperor of the Kasar Empire and launched an unprecedented uprising, they are still the same Beastmen who participated in the destruction of the Kuna Empire over a thousand years ago."

"That's a very constructive idea," Ajeh agreed. "But I think the people of the Empire before the Sundering were not much different from those of a thousand years ago."

Musali shook his head. "That's different. Over the centuries, the Kasar Empire has actually changed a lot, but you haven't read their historical records from different periods. The Beastmen, on the other hand, have none of that—they have no real civilization, no history of their own. They pretend to speak human language, but they can't accept any change of thought. The Northern Empire has strengthened its centralization and amended its laws countless times to rule its people, but they still use the same methods they used to enslave the Beastmen back then, without changing even the details."

"And the riot?"

"The Beastmen revolted simply because the Kasar Empire itself could no longer sustain itself, that's all. In fact, even though they're rioting everywhere now, the various parties in the Empire are more concerned with their own internal struggles. This is because the Imperials know that the Beastmen don't threaten their rule like one civilization conquering another. They are simply slaughtering, rioting, and wreaking havoc everywhere like locusts. Once the Imperials' internal struggles are over, they can still enslave these temporarily uncontrolled barbaric races as they did in the past."

Ajeh pondered the meaning of these words and said:

"I understand your perspective, Musali... You believe the Beastmen's strengths lie solely in their individual cunning and violence. Once the struggle reaches a larger scale, they become nothing more than shortsighted beasts, a savage race unable to escape their nature. Furthermore, this perspective also applies to my other self."

Musali glanced at the tent cloth behind her and also

Maybe another part of her was staring back at him, insulting him with all her malice in response to his insults, but he didn't care.

"Now you know I'm not putting anyone down, Ajeh, I just know what she's good at and what she's not good at.

What does it look like?" he explained.

At this point, they both paused. Ajeh reached for the scroll, examining the face depicted on it. She controlled her breathing, exhaling gently.

"I don't deny that your idea does make sense." She said, "but..."

"Just what?"

Ajeh looked up at him, as if examining him. "What do you consider war?"

"Tools," Musali replied calmly, then added, "Generally speaking, the best tools are the ones that work best. If you want to achieve something but don't get the respect of other forces, war is the most effective solution. Senseless slaughter is just an additional decoration, sometimes useful, sometimes not."

Upon hearing this, Ajiehe lowered her head again and pondered over the scroll for a while. "Then who is this person?"

"As I said, he is the lord's illegitimate son, perhaps his only son. You can call him Cesar or the Little Borgia."

"Killing this Cesar was also a tool?"

"It's a relatively important tool. To this end, the Franks will provide us with more assistance and intelligence. Just like now, I have the harvest time of the saltpeter field outside Neuen. I will send a vanguard, cooperate with the insider to capture it, and use it appropriately, using the Franks' gunpowder against the Franks themselves." Musali said this with a smile. "As favorable conditions gradually accumulate, this war will become increasingly smooth. I hope you will remember this face, Ajeh. Every Sassulai has the obligation to complete this task."

Ajiehe tilted her head and glanced at an invisible shadow behind her.

She listened for a moment to the other face's speech, then turned back and said, "She wants me to pass on a message, Musali. You're just a boastful sodomite. Your so-called combat experience comes from leading your tribe to defeat a few bandits. You see war as a battle of wits, or even a game of chess. In the end, you'll only end up watching your own chess pieces take on their own destiny, turning the things you conjured up with a few pieces of paper into massacre, riot, and chaos."

Musali didn't bother to refute.

The results will tell.

......

Cesar woke up sweating, pulled off the wire that was wrapped around him like a spider, and stumbled to the sink. It was already bright, and his morning exercises should have started long ago, but he hadn't eaten breakfast, not even dinner.

He was starving, his head ached, and his stomach reeked of the pungent smell of alcohol. Last night, Phils was curious, so they'd cleaned out the bottle of rosemary wine Garcia had left behind. In their excitement, they'd even fed the dog some. He had no choice but to ask the dog to fetch him some bread and smoked fish. He stuffed a few slices himself, then gave a few to the dazed Phils, then pulled the dog out the door.

Arriving in the courtyard, Cesar was disheveled and over ten minutes late. He expected a rather intense punitive training session, but instead received only a cold stare from Cecia. He had to admit, her gaze was beautiful, and it actually aroused a sense of amusement beyond shame.

"In the box is a half-body armor suited to your body shape. It was specially made for you by the Temple," she said. "Put on the armor and the helmet that conceals your identity, and come with me and the Temple's people. There's some unrest here, and the Temple needs to help suppress it. I have an obligation to come along, so consider this your special training for today."

"Trouble?" Cesar was a little surprised. What kind of trouble could there be?

"A traveling merchant boasted in the tavern that he had seen an army of steppe people."

"Where did you see it?"

"I'm not sure. Some say they're still in Blade's Edge Mountains, some say they're outside the city, and some say the grassland people have already broken through the city gates. The last thing I heard was that the grassland people rode out of the mines on horseback and are forcibly occupying the factory. Right now, the city is full of mobs setting fires and looting. The worst fire has already burned two city blocks."

Chapter 39: She is what she says she is

Cesar summoned two temple servants to help carry the armor box to his hotel room. After closing the door, he asked Gouzi to help him change into his armor. The bedroom was filled with the lingering smell of alcohol, mixed with the scent of incense, making him feel dizzy. He drew aside the curtains for some fresh air and mixed a glass of herbal sobering water for the unconscious Fils, letting her drink it slowly from her hands. Then, shirtless, he put on more suitable clothes.

Although Xiel's Temple didn't pay much attention to his training, this gift was very valuable and could be considered an investment.

He put on his doublet and thick blue cotton armor, then took out a sleeveless breastplate from the box. The armor was split front and back, looking like a split tortoise shell. He held the front part while Gouzi pushed up the back half. Finally, the two of them worked together to buckle the leather straps and hinges on both sides to complete the job.

Considering the need to conceal his identity, he also needs to wear a helmet, and the rest of the armor accessories are unnecessary. They are too heavy and inconvenient to move. Wearing them in a security battle is simply asking for trouble. If he really wants to wear a full set of armor, it will be when the grassland people attack.

.

Cesar certainly didn't believe the steppe people had truly stormed the city. The idea that they'd ridden down the endless steps of the mines into the city was absurd. The current situation was clearly the result of rumors spreading and escalating.

The people of Noien are fierce, and Lower Noien is even more so.

Gangs abound, and the poor, from all walks of life, band together. Smashing and fighting over minor disputes is commonplace. This time, people took advantage of the chaos to riot, with acts like theft, murder, arson, and looting popping up everywhere. It's not hard to understand. Whether there are ulterior motives behind this chaos depends on what the Count's intelligence officers can uncover.

After donning his vigilante armor, Cesar strapped on his one-handed sword, but it felt unsteady, so he strapped on his mace. He sat on the bed, pulling on his boots while Gouzi circled around him, fixing his loose laces and unfastened hooks. Then she knelt on the floor and tugged hard at his belt, tightening the tight trousers the temple had sent him, making him gasp.

"Don't be so tight! Just use the skirt of your armor to cover it!" Cesar shouted, "My morning..."

She raised her head, as if thinking for a moment. "You can tell me directly, Master. Anywhere is fine, okay? I don't care where, even in the forest or by the city wall."

"Uh?"

Before Cesar could get up, Gouzi had already moved over, unbuttoned and unfastened the buttons and drawstrings of his trousers with a flick of his fingers, pulled down the lining, and grabbed his restless thing.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Cesar raised his eyebrows, and the Faceless Man, disguised as a human, blinked. Then he lowered his head, held it with his slender fingers, and kissed it.

At first, the dog simply extended its bright red tongue, licking it gently, causing an unbearable itch. Then, she sat on the floor with her legs together, arched her back, tilted her cheeks up, and with both hands on his waist, pushed him toward her face, swallowing him all the way in. Cesar sat on the edge of the bed, his penis already aligned with her open mouth. With a thrust of his lower back, he instantly stretched her red lips, slid across the soft surface of her tongue, and pierced her throat.

Although her fair neck was bulging from the impact, she wasn't human, so not only did she not feel any discomfort, she couldn't even cough. Her soft golden hair flowed naturally, brushing against his thighs like silk, obscuring the scene. The soft flesh of her throat wrapped around it, swallowing and squeezing, bringing a damp, suffocating feeling. The fingertips of her right hand slid into the open seam of his pants, pinching the two swollen balls and gently kneading them.

Gouzi slapped his thigh with her left hand, squeezing the accumulated pressure with her right. A strange light emanated from her raised eyes. Her tongue forked and elongated, wrapping tightly around him like a wet snake, curling back and forth, the tip of her tongue practically burrowing through his head. Her stretched lips sucked back and forth, her nose gently gliding across his lower abdomen, creating a rustling sound.

Cesar was sure a cool breeze would quell his urges, but she was so aggressive that he had to jump into an ice hole to calm down. He had already filled her mouth, clutching the back of her head, and for an indeterminate amount of time, he felt the urge to surrender immediately, and then he felt her fingers suddenly grab him. Instantly, a tingling sensation shot up his spine and up his head, nearly causing him to faint.

Although it felt incredibly exhilarating, it lasted an inordinate amount of time, more than double what he remembered, lasting almost half a minute before finally settling. He covered his forehead, shook his head, and, despite the dizziness, looked down to find the dog staring back at him with bloodshot eyes. Though his expression was innocent, his fingers were slowly rubbing his numb sac, as if trying to squeeze out and swallow every last bit of slime.

"Should I tell you how quickly you'll die if you become addicted to copulating with a mimic?" Fils's dark voice suddenly rang out from Cesar's ear, startling him. The creature opened its mouth and bit down hard on his ear, causing his heart to skip a beat. A tingling sensation washed over him, and he felt all his strength flow into the wet lips beneath him.

The dog tilted his face innocently, and she held it and kissed it carefully from head to toe, making it clean. He also stretched out his snake-like forked tongue to lick the mucus on his lips. Only then did she pull up his pants and buckle his belt for him. Then, she stood up as if nothing had happened and went to get the gun on the wall.

The scene of them ignoring each other seemed strange, but it wasn't surprising. Just as the Faceless Ones viewed other humans as mere tools, Fils never considered the Faceless Ones human. To the dog, his emotional behavior was likely about interacting with a useful tool, but to Fils, it was probably... playing with a cat or dog.

"How fast?" Cesar replied.

Firth leaned over his shoulder, her tone sinister, "The Faceless One isn't mating, it's absorbing nutrients. If you want to give it a bone, you'd better bleed it directly, just cut your finger, but don't put your piston in it."

"Neither mouth nor hands?" he half-jokingly said.

"It doesn't matter where you put it, idiot!" she screamed, pulling at his ear. "Do you know what it means to be covered in flexible, deadly limbs? The Faceless One is a mimic, a creature that pretends to be human but isn't. Even with its feet, it can leave someone emaciated and dead in their bed."

Cesar shrugged and stood up, carrying her on his back. "By the way, there's a security problem here, and I'm going to go out with the people from the temple to help deal with it..."

"I

I want to go too." Phils bit his lips hard, leaving a canine bite mark, as if marking her private property, "You are my sword-wielding guard, I must watch you and make sure

You won’t have any problems.”

......

Cesar donned a helmet with a visor and walked in front, holding his longsword. Gouzi, donning hard leather armor and a wide-brimmed hat with a feather, walked behind, carrying his musket. Phils, with his hood covering his face, lurked among the group, disguised as a squire. When they followed the temple members and mercenaries through Upper Neuen, the first thing they saw was a crowd gathered at the gate of Neuen's city hall, loudly protesting and demanding they "do something."

The weather was still overcast today, but thick smoke billowed from several blocks of Lower Neuen, reflecting the red glow of the fire. The closer to the gathering square in front of Neuen City Hall, the denser the crowds of people on the street became.

The citizens gathered here were either local nobles or wealthy merchants. They were busy like ants and quacked like ducks, anxiously discussing how the mob riot in the lower city had spread to several streets and whether it had spread to their own areas. At the same time, they ordered their servants to inquire about the news and sent fully armed guards to Lower Neuen to protect their property.

Count Thane's staff, who had remained at the City Hall, rushed out, ordering the guards to maintain order on his behalf and announcing that the temple staff would also contribute. They declared that the mob would not cross the inner or outer city gates and pledged to do their utmost to repair any damage—a "to the best of their ability" that meant it was none of their business. The endless roars and cries of the nobles and wealthy merchants merged into a shrill sound, and some were already calling for the rioters to be hanged in the market place and cut into pieces.

While the upper city was still just a gathering of people, shouting and cursing, the lower city was already in ruins. Just outside the city gates, a massive fire raged from four blocks away, raging all the way to the Joshua River before finally stopping. While the city guard, composed of community personnel, busied themselves putting out the blaze, opportunists took advantage of the chaos to frequent taverns and shops, making purchases without having to pay for them.

Cesar walked a few steps forward and entered a tavern. Inside, he saw the owner and several waiters lying on the ground, having been knocked to the ground. An old woman with greasy clothes knelt beside a motionless middle-aged cook. All around them were various kitchen utensils, furniture, and smashed wine barrels. The old woman screamed, "Please help! My son has been beaten unconscious. Maybe... maybe he's still alive! Please help, take him to the hospital!"

Before Cesar could react, Gouzi raised his gun and aimed it at the old woman's forehead. He startled her and pushed the muzzle of the gun down to the bottom, dragging her against the wall. "Do you remember why you came here?" he lowered his voice.

She also lowered her voice mysteriously: "Just pick some random people and shoot them to death, and then say they are criminals participating in the riot."

"Does this old woman look like someone who could participate in a riot?"

"But isn't this just a random characterization after someone dies? If you say she is, then she is!"

Cesar took a long breath and asked, "Who taught you this?"

"It's a roll of the eyes." said the dog.

"Baiyan is a beast. Don't imitate the way he handles these things. Do you understand?"

Chapter 40: What a courage, Ferriers

The city guards rushed past them and headed straight for the upper floors of the tavern, attempting to control the spreading fire. The accompanying doctor also rushed to the scene and began to confirm the life and death of everyone on the ground.

The doctor pulled the cook's hair apart and saw black, dirty blood seeping from the back of his head. It had already soaked through his hair, leaving it as dry as glue. His eyes were cloudy and unresponsive. The residents of the street, who had been about to help the old woman carry the body, stepped over the cook's body to help the remaining person. The old woman fell silent, as if she had suddenly died.

Cesar forced himself to suppress his emotions and asked Gouzi if there was a window leading to the back alley. After receiving a positive response, he found the low wall leading to the alley and climbed over it. Soon, he saw a sack of loot thrown from the upper window. Those who had looted enough also jumped over the window, clinging to the edge and about to jump.

"Is there someone I can kill this time?" Gouzi said cheerfully, humming softly as she raised her rifle. She didn't use the ground support common among musketeers of the day. She simply held the gun in her right hand, supported the barrel upward with her left, and aimed the meter-long rifle at the window, then pulled the trigger to the floor. From positioning to firing, she took only a few breaths, while human musketeers of the same period took twenty seconds.

The gunshot was heavy and piercing, smoke filled the air, and a large pool of blood exploded from behind the man at the window. The rough lead bullet melted due to the high temperature and explosion, causing violent deformation on the man's back, tearing into a pile of shards in the wound, gouging out a large, disgusting, bloody gaping hole - it looked like it had been gnawed by a rat.

As the corpse tumbled into the narrow alley, Gouzi's musket remained steady, as if recoil hadn't occurred. While musket sniping, which largely relied on luck, was incredibly accurate with her. Cesar thought she handled the musket like a modern hunting rifle; even if she was a mimicking alien, her accuracy was still incredible.

Considering that this matchlock gun only takes ten seconds to reload, it will be even faster in her hands.

Zhong can fire at least six rounds of lead bullets with excellent accuracy.

He thought, Gouzi now looks like a noble lady in disguise. No matter what weapon she uses on the battlefield, people will notice something is wrong, which requires extremely high arm strength.

The longbow was nonsense. A musket would be just fine for her.

As Cesar turned the corner, dragging the sack, he saw a five-man squad approaching, about to dive into the narrow alley. They were all armed with spears and clubs. By the standards of the city guards in the community, they were fully armed.

Before he could reveal his identity, the leading man saw Phils, his eyes turned, as if he recognized her, and immediately turned to bend down to Cesar.

"Thank you for your selfless help, sir. We will never forget your kindness."

It was hard to say how much practical meaning lay behind this man's flattery, but now that he was in the open, more fame meant more assurance of his identity and safety. Cesar nodded slightly, handed him the sack, and without raising his visor, quickly followed the temple team.

From the neighborhood closest to Upper Neuen in Lower Neuen, the houses gradually became dirtier and older, and the streets narrower. The closer they got to Goukeng, the dirtier, older, and narrower they became. People were running and jostling, crowding some alleys. Outside Goukeng, a community-organized city guard was deployed to maintain order. But once inside Goukeng, the massive slum, the situation was a complete mess.

Rumors of a steppe army on horseback bursting out of the mines spread everywhere, and local gangs took advantage of the situation to set fire and loot, further exacerbating the chaos in the dog pit. Families and children fled, and the city guards in other streets were unable to stop them. The workers who frequently went down to the mines were all strong and muscular, and now they formed a panicked crowd. The dozens of mercenaries and temple guards were simply a drop in the bucket. No matter how hard they shouted, they couldn't make a single ripple.

Cesar observed the dog pit for a while before he saw Askelid, Lord Thane's confidant and the commander-in-chief of Noyen's army, approaching from the main road. The bearded blond man, observing the chaos in the dog pit, also stopped, peered down, and then turned to question his entourage.