Section Nine

In the dead of night, a long, serpent-like column was galloping forward. Fortunately, much like the journey thus far, perhaps even the likes of the Jade Emperor in the East had grown weary of Comrade Jehovah’s persistent tyranny. At any rate, the weather continued to favor the expeditionary force, and tonight was no exception—the moon was bright and the stars were sparse. According to certain Eastern legends, such weather might pose some obstacles to undertakings contrary to the Heavenly Dao, but for the expeditionary force marching through the dark, it was a rare and fine night.

Moreover, marching to this extent had long become second nature to the soldiers of the expeditionary force. Yet within this formation, which ought to have remained orderly, a trace of chaos had somehow emerged.

As the commander of this unit, Murong Wu was the first to sense that something was amiss. Without a wasted word, he rode straight to the scene of the disturbance and hauled out the root cause of the trouble.

"General Murong, I admit my mistake, but I do not believe the blame rests entirely upon me!" said Dinozzo, a man astute enough to have risen rapidly from a captive to commanding his own independent reconnaissance squad.

"General!" Before he had walked far, Dinozzo called out to him again. Without waiting for Murong Wu to speak, Dinozzo continued, "May I ask you a question?"

Murong Wu slowed his pace, allowed Dinozzo to catch up, and replied coolly, "Speak."

Murong Wu knew this scout leader well, having chosen him personally. Although Dinozzo was of the clever sort, cultural differences meant he lacked the implicit restraint of the ancient realm. While he naturally employed a degree of indirectness in conversation, he fundamentally belonged to the type who spoke their mind. For him to hesitate so much before speaking piqued Murong Wu's curiosity.

"I am filled with admiration for the combat effectiveness and adaptability of the Huben troops. I cannot even imagine what conditions are required to train such a force." Just moments ago, Murong Wu and his subordinates had proven their strength, demonstrating that their forces held an absolute advantage on the European continent.

Dinozzo had been selected for this mission not merely for his agility. His current reaction was part of the ongoing test for those chosen. "General, as a soldier, I agree with your assessment. But as the captain of the reconnaissance team for this operation, I need a detailed explanation. In my dealings with you Huben folks, I have heard an Eastern saying: 'A general away from home is not bound by the sovereign's orders.' Now that we have already altered the original operation plan, why not go all the way and change the objective of this mission as well? That way, we could teach these ugly Spaniards a lesson just the same."

Dinozzo’s persistence did not elicit excessive annoyance from Murong Wu. Having spent so much time with old Trapero, Murong Wu had come to realize that after thousands of years of evolution, the differences between Eastern and Western civilizations were far from negligible.

However, expecting Murong Wu to patiently and fully articulate his inner thoughts was virtually an impossible task. He had always been a man of few words, and after such a long journey, having experienced much and broadened his horizons, his inner thoughts had naturally multiplied, making his demeanor even more introspective. Still, regarding Dinozzo, who now served under his command, even though Murong Wu wished to avoid tangling over the issue, he replied with a faint, calm statement: "Seville must be destroyed!"

Faced with an answer indistinguishable from the ones before, Dinozzo, regardless of any lingering dissatisfaction, had no choice but to shut his mouth and press on into the dark. In truth, Dinozzo's doubts simply reflected his integration into the collective body of the expeditionary force. He was neither greedy for life nor afraid of death, nor did he harbor doubts about the combat prowess of these Chinese soldiers within the expedition.

This city, blending Islamic and European architectural styles, well deserved the title of the Pearl of Spain. The centuries of Moorish rule had left an indelible Islamic imprint upon it, while the various gold, silver, and luxury goods shipped back to the kingdom from colonies across the Americas and Southeast Asia lent this ancient city a unique and dazzling luster. Today, however, this city was destined to bear the wrath of a powerful monarch from the other side of the Earth. The reason Lin的风 (Lin Feng) had set his sights on Seville was not merely because of the later world-famous Seville Football Club, but also because of the globally renowned opera *Carmen* and passionate flamenco—representing the most potent and deterrent target the Han army could currently strike.

Diego was an ordinary patrol officer in the city of Seville. Having completed his routine duties as usual, he passed by the Alcázar—a palace from the Muslim era—on his way back to his quarters to enjoy the first meal of the day.

Alongside him were several subordinates, discussing yesterday's fierce bullfight, lamenting when they might ever witness such a high-caliber performance again. Right at that moment, however, Diego distinctly felt a slight tremor beneath his feet. He looked perplexedly at his colleagues; could this be the earthquake his cousin, who had gone to the New World to pan for gold, used to talk about?

His colleagues offered no explanation for his suspicious gaze. Instead, from a tall tower nearby built for fire prevention, a terrified voice cried out, "Cavalry! Cavalry!"

Diego felt quite displeased with this display. It was merely cavalry, after all. As the financial transfer hub for all of Spain at the time, Seville itself stationed a considerable number of troops; Diego himself belonged to an elite musketeer unit, and cavalry detachments were hardly few in number. What was there to make a fuss about? Even so, Diego summoned his companions and hurried toward the watchtower. After all, even among cavalry, few dared to gallop so uninhibitedly in the vicinity of Seville. If they disturbed the noble lords within the city, who knew what kind of punishment might follow.

Before Diego could even climb the watchtower, the guard on duty had already rung the fire alarm bell. This thoroughly angered Diego. As the highest-ranking officer nearby, ringing the fire alarm without his consent and without a genuine fire was nothing short of causing disorder. He quickened his pace accordingly.

When the sentry on the tower, whose face was distorted with terror, caught sight of Diego, he frantically waved his arms and shouted at the top of his lungs, "The enemy! There is an enemy!"

An enemy? The mere appearance of this word felt absurd to Diego. Where was this? This was Seville! Even England, currently so arrogant on the seas, and France, that land-based powerhouse entangled with it, would not dare harbor any improper designs on this Pearl of Spain. As for the Moors, who had been driven out long ago, they were out of the question; in Diego’s eyes, they were entirely a group of filthy, evil, weak infidels whose only capability was cowering on the barren continent of North Africa to harass passing kingdom vessels. Across the whole of Europe—or even including the infidels along the Mediterranean coast—who could possibly appear before Seville under the guise of an enemy?

Pondering this, he rebuked the sentry, telling him to shut his mouth, while rapidly ascending the watchtower. He wanted to see just what on earth this pathetic wretch had seen to lose his mind and utter such nonsense.

When Diego finally witnessed the scene beheld by the sentry, he gave up all hesitation and immediately took over the sentry's task, vigorously striking the alarm bell on the tower while instructing his subordinates below, "Go quickly and report to the commander! Assemble the troops! We are in big trouble!"

Diego swore he had never seen cavalry like this. The cavalry of the kingdom or other nations wore gleaming armor, and even light cavalry had ornate uniforms. Yet the cavalry appearing in his line of sight wore unfamiliar black armor of a style Diego had never laid eyes on before. As a patrol officer in the prosperous port of Seville, Diego had seen plenty of weapons and armor, but never anything like what was before him.

Based on the armor alone, Diego could not yet ascertain the intentions of these horsemen. Much like the honor guards belonging to noble lords, their appearance might be flashy, but in the eyes of a real soldier like Diego, they were utterly worthless scum. Yet this cavalry before him was different. Even without battle experience, Diego could tell that their uniform movements and the overwhelming momentum rolling in like a wave demonstrated that these horsemen were extraordinary. The appearance of such an inexplicably powerful army made their hostile intentions glaringly obvious. Diego’s decision in response was entirely correct.

Yet as for where this cavalry had come from, Diego’s mind was a blank. He simply could not imagine where such horsemen could have crawled out from. Looking at their murderous aura and pitch-black armor, a single thought flashed through his mind: Could it be... they had come from hell?