Darkstone Code

Chapter 1052 - 1050: If You Don’t Want It, Throw It Away

A major, dressed in military uniform, sits under dim lighting, having dinner.

There are two dishes on the table, with several pieces of beef, the kind that’s whole and uncut.

No cooking methods, no butter or oil, and no seasonings, just boiled in plain water.

The other one contains some sprouting wheat.

Beside the dishes is a smaller bowl filled with messy dipping sauce.

The young warlord holds a sharp military knife, casually cuts a piece of beef, grabs it in his hand, dips it in the sauce, then stuffs it into his mouth.

He puts his fingers in his mouth together, sucking hard, then slowly withdraws them.

This ensures that the beef juices and dipping sauce don’t remain on his fingers, affecting the satisfaction of the next bite.

Then he grabs a handful of steamed, slightly sprouted wheat from the other dish, a bit sticky.

He rolls it into a small ball, then stuffs it into his mouth.

Sprouted wheat has always been a delicacy that only nobility in Mariluo could enjoy, but the old rule of Mariluo has been overthrown, so regardless of nobility, whether Mariluan or Mariloran, everyone can eat freshly sprouted wheat.

As long as they can afford it, they can eat.

At this moment, someone knocks on the door, and shadows are seen flickering through the wooden planked door.

Soon, the door opens, and a soldier with a gun stands outside.

"Major, they’ve arrived."

The major doesn’t even lift his head, "Let her in."

About a minute later, Isabella walks into the room.

She slightly furrows her brow; she doesn’t like it here.

The upper half of the walls in the house are white, the lower half is green, with an ordinary roof that looks a bit dated.

The ground is simple, compacted earth, and after adding some special materials, it has solidified into a very peculiar "floor."

It looks like it’s been soaked in some kind of oil, black and shiny, rock-hard.

There’s some household waste in the corners, and a faint sour odor lingers in the air.

The major bares his teeth, wrapping some crushed wheat sprouts with his tongue, leaning back and reclining in his chair, casually pulls out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth.

He strikes a match on his pant leg, igniting it with a hiss, takes a puff in the flame’s light, blows out the match, and looks at Isabella, "Someone has offered a million to get your head, and you still dare to show up..."

He points to the leftover beef and wheat sprouts on the table, "Want some?"

Looking at the food, Isabella feels a bit nauseated, but at this moment she cannot show any discomfort.

In Mariluo, weakness won’t earn sympathy but will only stir greed and destruction.

She moves to the table and sits down, and the major picks up the dagger from the table and places it in front of Isabella.

Isabella shakes her head, takes out her own dagger that she carries, picks a piece of beef she considers decent, and cuts off a piece.

Just like before, the manner of eating isn’t elegant, somewhat unsightly, yet it gives a hard-to-describe feeling, a sort of casualness and freedom.

The dipping sauce is spicy with some sour and salty flavors; the sour comes from juice left after fermenting a fruit, and the spice too.

She chews forcefully, then grabs a small handful of wheat sprouts, molds them into a ball, and stuffs them into her mouth.

"The taste is awful, but I’m not here for a meal!" Isabella places the knife by her hand, looking at the major across the table.

She carefully chooses her words, "I want to regroup the people..."

The major suddenly begins to cough violently, choking on the cigarette, because he inhaled the smoke when he shouldn’t have, and because he laughed, causing the smoke to behave unexpectedly, leading to relentless coughing.

After coughing for a while, he wipes away the tears he coughed out, "You made me choke, next time remember to warn me before telling a joke."

He takes Isabella’s words as a funny joke.

"It’s not funny," Isabella shakes her head, her current short cropped hair adding a touch of valor over seductiveness.

The major shakes his head, resumes smoking, "You still haven’t figured out why the generals died..."

"I heard that many people sent you here, and you’ve sided with the Federation people, right?"

Isabella focuses on other questions, her tone slightly raised, sounding somewhat business-like, "Do you know who killed the general? Do you know who attacked us?!"

The "also" plays a crucial role, indicating the major knows what happened, things even Isabella, the party involved, doesn’t know.

The major retracts the dagger, continues cutting beef, stuffs a piece into his mouth with gleaming white teeth, chewing vigorously, "Forget those things, if I were you, I’d leave now."

"This isn’t your turf anymore, nor your backyard, miss gem!"

"More importantly, now I have my own territory and my own people. I am the ruler here, just like your father."

"May I ask, why should I take orders from a woman again?"

His gaze was somewhat greedy, unabashedly examining Isabella with impulsive intent, "Perhaps you can give me an answer."

This question was also considered by the Gafura Security Committee and the Military Intelligence Bureau. After the General was assassinated, the officers in his territory immediately declared themselves as various independent warlords.

It is very challenging to rein them in. Without a good way to persuade them, they would not willingly surrender the power in their hands.

After all, it is power. For power, a son could murder his father, and relatives could slaughter each other.

This is unrelated to civilization, morality, or ethics.

Savage like the ones in Nagariel, or even more remote and barbaric societies.

Civilized like Gafura, a noble monarchy country.

When disputes related to power break out, no one will spare the other just because they share the same bloodline.

On the contrary, they may become more ruthless and brutal because they share the same bloodline!

Only one needs to be a king.

Isabella, being the General’s daughter, has a rightful claim to inheritance but finds herself in an awkward position right now.

The Security Committee and Military Intelligence Bureau believe that supporting her does not bring enough returns to justify the assistance she requires.

Until, Lynch convinced them.

Confronted with the man she once considered ordinary and not worth her time, who now looked at her brazenly, Isabella felt anger in her heart.

She stood up, "The General fed you, gave you weapons, gave you money, ensured you were well-fed."

"You knew someone was against him but pretended to know nothing, allowing everything to happen. Now you want to seize what he left behind..."

"Have you thought about what consequences this will bring?"

The Major hesitated, finally suppressing the greed in his eyes, "I can pretend you never came. It’s still time to leave."

Maybe it was Isabella’s words that moved him, or maybe he convinced himself. He could not guarantee he would always think this way; he just wished Isabella would leave quickly.

Isabella looked at him for a few seconds, then turned and left.

Watching Isabella’s back, a tinge of hesitation flickered in the Major’s eyes.

Whether it was a million or sleeping with this woman, both were very tempting to him, but he resisted.

This woman was actually trouble; he didn’t want to provoke trouble, especially after hearing she seemed to have Federation support. He definitely didn’t want to provoke trouble then.

He would not follow this woman’s orders, but he also didn’t want to cross her.

Thinking of this, he chuckled self-deprecatingly and continued to indulge in his sumptuous meal.

After about ten minutes, he finished and used the last piece of beef to scrape clean the plate holding the wheat sprouts. As he shoved the beef covered with wheat sprouts and slime into his mouth, he emitted a satisfied but meaningless noise from his nose.

A sound akin to "Mmm...".

"I’m done!" he said, standing up and adjusting his belt.

This was his dining room, and life wasn’t easy now.

After the General’s death, all his money was stuck in the bank, inaccessible to anyone, meaning that the warlords or armed groups in the General’s territory suddenly had no economic resources.

Without money to maintain their previous lifestyle and unable to squeeze anything from the locals, life became considerably harder.

At this point, don’t mention eating beef. Being able to fill one’s stomach was already a great thing, so he had to eat stealthily, or someone would certainly complain.

Having tidied his outfit, he walked to the door, opened it, and an astonished expression just appeared on his face when, the next second, the bloody hole in his forehead halted all his thoughts.

With a thud, he fell straight to the ground.

"Target eliminated...," a soldier, noticeably different from the local soldiers, entered the room warily, confirming there was no one else there.

He looked at the corpse on the ground and fired two more shots.

Subsequently, Isabella returned, casting a sidelong glance at the Major’s body on the floor, and a cold smile appeared on her face.

Early the next morning, locals were surprised to discover over thirty bodies hanging from the utility poles near the city center garden.

Their faces had been stripped away and stuck onto their stomachs by the "murderer." On the chests they had once filled with food was a message —

"If you don’t want it, then don’t wear it!"

At the same time, another piece of news spread rapidly.

Isabella, along with the Federation support, had returned!