In the Name of Empress-Chapter 363 - 249: The President Smiles, Life and Death Uncertain

Chapter 363: Chapter 249: The President Smiles, Life and Death Uncertain

"What did you say? West City was breached?!"

Marco squinted his eyes, his tone carrying a subtle tremor that was hard to detect.

He stared hard at the new intelligence director Dubuka standing before him, hardly believing his ears.

At this moment, he was stationed in Leon City on the Central Plateau of the Jin Yuan Kingdom.

This location is almost equidistant from West City and Ives Port, the geographical center of Jin Yuan Kingdom.

If the land of the Central Plateau weren’t relatively barren, it would have the potential to become the capital.

Unfortunately, the plateau lacks water transport capability, and Leon City can only support tens of thousands of people.

A city with a population of tens of thousands as the capital does not match the international status of Jin Yuan Kingdom.

Using Leon City as a forward base was not a random choice by Marco, but a well-thought-out decision.

The central plateau is flat, advantageous from a higher position, attacks from any direction can be easily detected by the defending army and met head-on.

Here, there are lakes, rivers, grain supplies, even if the battle turns unfavorable, it can be used to counterattack.

As long as he holds the Central Plateau, he stands invincible.

Supplies constantly sent from the Northern Great Plains where West City is located are gathered in Leon City, then distributed by him to the frontline troops.

With control over food supplies, there’s no fear of unrest or defection within the frontline troops.

Just a few minutes ago, he was still placing pieces on the sandbox according to the latest intelligence, plotting how to take down the rest of the old nobility after defeating Alina.

He never thought about losing.

Now, he knows.

Home invasion.

Faced with Marco’s anger, the new intelligence director Dubuka scratched his head and quietly said:

"Mr. President, the city defense at West City is intact, it wasn’t breached, but rather the gates were opened from the inside to welcome the enemy. We have a traitor in our ranks."

Marco remained silent for a long time before bursting into laughter.

He laughed with relief, the intelligence director standing opposite him nearly frightened to collapse.

A presidential laugh, life and death are unpredictable.

Those unfamiliar with Marco fear his stern face; in fact, although he is terrifying, his stern demeanor is still somewhat predictable. When he’s laughing wildly, what he’s thinking even the Great Goddess might not know.

While Dubuka was dominated by fear, Marco restrained his laughter and lowered his voice to ask:

"How many people know about this now?"

"Only I know now. The intelligence officer who escaped from West City was severely injured and died right after reporting."

"Very good."

Marco smiled as he patted Dubuka’s shoulder and softly said, "Dubuka, I will take care of your family, rest assured and go."

With a casual conversation, his hand, like a pair of iron pincers, grasped Dubuka’s throat and gently twisted.

Dubuka’s neck turned one hundred and eighty degrees and was snapped on the spot.

His eyes bulged wide, life frozen in place.

It had been less than twenty days since he took over as intelligence director.

Marco looked around, took a long spear from the wall, and casually thrust it into the ground, silently gouging out a large patch of earth.

In a few moments, he dug a large pit, pushed Dubuka’s corpse inside, and covered it with soil.

Dubuka was, after all, a departmental-level official. If discovered dead in the president’s study, it would surely shake the army’s morale.

After tidying up the scene, Marco put the long spear back on the wall and carefully stared at the sandbox in a trance.

The news of West City’s fall only shocked him for a brief moment; now he was completely calm.

He never cries over spilled milk, and even plans to use this bit of milk to lure new prey.

The fall of West City is a foregone conclusion; he needs to find a way to turn defeat into victory.

The bad news is he lost support from behind; the good news is he still has ample supplies, enough to hold out for a while.

What to do?

From a normal person’s perspective, the fastest approach would be to reclaim West City.

But Marco is not a normal person; he is a madman, a brilliant madman.

Heading north would be a disaster.

In a few days, everyone in the army would know about West City’s fall, and morale would collapse instantly.

Marco is proficient in military tactics and understands the importance of morale.

He personally led eight thousand five hundred elite troops to defeat a conservative army of one hundred seventy thousand, relying on high-spirited new troops trampling over the confused enemy repeatedly.

After careful observation, Marco’s gaze locked onto the south.

Alina was riding high and had already advanced about eight hundred kilometers northwards, now just two hundred kilometers away at Ronald City, aiming directly at Leon.

As she advanced, her followers grew increasingly numerous, now exceeding three hundred thousand.

Marco’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Originally, he planned to wait until Alina gathered all the rebels and then capture them in one fell swoop, but it seems he has to close the net ahead of schedule.

He never considered Alina a threat, even contemplating using her as bait to fish.

This should have been an exquisite layout, yet it’s regrettably necessary to close the net early.

Marco made a swift decision.

He must advance south immediately.

As long as the advance is swift enough, the dire news of West City’s fall won’t catch up with him.

Estimating roughly, the bad news would take at least ten days to catch up with the main force.

That’s enough!

Defeating Alina would only need a week.

No, not even that long. Two days of marching, one day of battle would suffice!

Marco is full of confidence about this.

Once Alina is shattered, Roland will have no choice but to slink away.

Military is an extension of politics; Roland is an excellent politician and wouldn’t mix up priorities.

He might have ways to sneak attack West City, but has no reason to stay uninvited.

Then he could even hold a lavish banquet, thanking Roland for helping him catch all the hidden traitors.

Marco called for his adjutant to relay orders.

"Let the entire army rest, tomorrow morning I’ll personally lead the cavalry unit to depart, the main force will follow at the fastest speed, I will crush the rebels at Ronald City!"

The adjutant dared not question why the president suddenly acted; he was just an adjutant, not the chief of staff. Not asking what shouldn’t be asked could earn him a few more days of survival.

After leaving the tent, the adjutant heaved a sigh of relief and cursed harshly in his hometown dialect.

His curses were incoherent, only he knew who he was cursing.

Working under Marco is exceedingly difficult.

Who knows when he might lose his head?

He just caught a whiff of blood in the president’s room earlier.

He didn’t know who was the unlucky soul killed by the president personally, but it certainly was a high-ranking official.

The president wouldn’t bother to personally handle someone too low in status.

If only Miss Alina could win, it would be great.

The adjutant was startled by his own bold thought.

He hurriedly dispelled this rebellious idea and swiftly skulked away, keeping his head down.

Better not meddle in the affairs of big figures!

Although he inwardly sympathized with Miss Alina, he didn’t think she could win.

President Marco perhaps wasn’t skilled in construction, but he excelled in conflict.

Fighting against him, even having nine heads wouldn’t be enough.

Miss Alina might have some ability, but could she surpass her father?

Mr. Carlo was secretly manipulating the political landscape but was killed by Marco, could Alina with her ragtag bunch really overturn the heavens?

Although he didn’t dare voice opinions in front of Marco, he understood military affairs.

Alina’s forces seemed imposing, but they were essentially a ragtag army.

Her troops consisted of noble private guards, merchant militias, mercenaries, dockworkers, and even farmers.

Can such a group fight effectively?

What a joke.

Once President Marco’s light cavalry arrives, the battle will turn into a one-sided massacre.

Thinking of Alina bewildered, watching her army collapse, the young adjutant couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for her.

She was once the most beautiful iris of West City and the object of admiration for countless young people.

Her neck is so lovely; the blood spurting from its severance must be quite a sight?