Love letters are not allowed in the exorcism notebook!-Chapter 830 - 77: Huitian Organization Bides Its Time

The discovery of bananas, and the subsequent mass extinction event, sounds completely incidental, as if it were God’s gigantic hand whimsically toying with fate—life when it desires life, death when it demands death—shrouded in layers of mystique and fantasy.

But this matter cannot be pondered too deeply. If you think it through, the legendary banana extinction fungus feels terrifying beyond measure, capable of transcending millions of miles of geographic barriers to eradicate banana plantations across the world.

It sounds eerily similar to those apocalypse-themed novels where the author deliberately sets up a biochemical disaster switch—a simultaneous outbreak that ignores physical barriers, turning people into zombies in cities worldwide in a matter of moments.

Don’t ask why—if you ask, it’s just how the premise works.

History is but a lousy ledger, endlessly rewritten and edited at will.

Wang Yunxiao understood the principle of restraining intervention in local affairs.

When the human immune system can operate independently, it’s best not to rely on medicine—most drugs only alleviate surface symptoms, such as reducing fever, relieving inflammation, clearing the lungs, or silencing a cough, without tackling the root of the illness.

Excessive medication leads to drug resistance, and worse, it can even cause drug dependency. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

But now they faced a patient lying in the ICU, hooked up to an untold number of tubes. Issues like drug resistance couldn’t be considered at this moment—they had to prioritize survival.

Once post-surgical infections occur... Of course, we’re referring to Huitian’s interference behind the scenes. Whether their goals can be achieved is uncertain, but in the current semi-comatose state of the nation, this interference could easily send the tides of the era spiraling entirely out of control.

The most prudent approach for now seemed to be enhancing the body’s immune mechanisms.

Even the most effective drugs can only offer temporary solutions—it’s not like anyone has money falling into their lap endlessly to buy medicine as if it were food.

With technical support arriving from the Secretary Bureau, the first secret institution dedicated to addressing Temporal Tide issues was established within this timeline. However, its initial personnel consisted of only three members.

Meng Qing, Nong Zhu, and Huo Dali.

One was an officer from the Imperial New Army, another was an undercover operative for the Revolutionary Party masquerading as a businessman, and the last was purely a Jianghu martial artist.

As for Li Mingshen and his students, since they were entirely focused on academic research at the moment, they were temporarily excluded from recruitment.

This unofficial and non-civilian secret organization’s headquarters was set up in a small Western-style building located at 28 Riverfront Road, which Yan Yu’an had leased.

Riverfront Road was part of the French Concession and had been one of Tianmen City’s thriving commercial districts for over a decade. After the war ended, to alleviate tensions within Tianmen City and stimulate the recessed economy, the French consul renamed the street Peace Boulevard to attract domestic investment.

Overall, it was an ideal location to remain hidden amidst bustling urban life—it could be remodeled into a commercial shop, using legitimate business as a disguise.

As for how it might develop in the future, that would depend entirely on their efforts.

Meanwhile, news of the establishment at "28" was communicated to the ears of certain individuals by some unknown channel.

"So what you’re saying is, they specifically created an organization to oppose us? And you just happened to catch wind of this intelligence and miraculously escaped from their prison?"

Faced with intelligence provided by a subordinate who had lost one foot and was now disabled, Nakamura Ichiro’s first reaction was that they were taking him for a fool.

As the officer in charge of Huitian’s China Division, Nakamura Ichiro wasn’t particularly invested in his work here.

According to intelligence from the organization’s leader, this feudal dynasty could sustain itself for at least another twenty years before collapsing. Even if they won the naval battle, the benefits gained would be minimal.

The real adversary was to the north.

Only by first resolving the military threat from Rakshasa Country could they have free rein to proceed with their plans.

Of course, even this objective was too distant for Huitian—it desperately needed to address its internal issues back home first.

Huitian’s leader, Takahashi Shin, before crossing over to this timeline, was a submarine ship captain in the Sixth Fleet under the Fusang United Fleet, having fought the United States Fleet in the Pacific region for years.

His military expertise was indeed formidable, his eloquence unparalleled—in just a few years after traveling to this era, he had managed to gather a group of like-minded individuals with his silver tongue.

But he wasn’t without flaws—his political aptitude was virtually nonexistent, and he harbored extreme resentment toward the Imperial Army, frequently disparaging them as incompetent fools.

No one knew what might have triggered this sentiment.

Saying his political skills were lacking wasn’t baseless—despite being the leader of a secret organization, he was a proponent of appeasement, rarely scheming for power or influence. Instead, he spent his time wooing Chinese overseas students with talk of East Asian prosperity or cozying up to merchants from the United States.

As a middle-ranking officer within the organization, Nakamura Ichiro, though he respected the leader’s charisma and admired the vision of a brighter future he described, couldn’t support his methods.

Let’s be honest—if you’re forming a secret society, why not indulge in some extremism to galvanize hearts and minds?

Perhaps the leader was indeed farsighted, unwilling to chase after fleeting gains, opting to lay low, accumulate ten or twenty years of resources, and deliver a stunning blow. But for ordinary people, how many decades do they truly have?

It was precisely this ideological disagreement that led to Nakamura’s demotion from the central decision-making team, dispatched to Tianmen to establish a branch—a stepdown disguised as a promotion. Given the promising domestic landscape brimming with motivated reformists, being assigned here left him with only profit-making endeavors—hardly ideal for fulfilling personal ambitions.

Yet now things had taken a turn for the worse—Huitian hadn’t even achieved significant growth, yet its enemies were already circling hungrily.

Though Nakamura doubted the intelligence brought by his subordinate—it seemed improbable for someone missing one leg to escape captivity—it looked more like the enemy deliberately let them go.

If this were indeed a trap set by the opposition, Nakamura himself might already be exposed... No, he was likely compromised from the moment his subordinate was captured.

Nakamura wasn’t a professional spy; prior to joining the organization, he had merely been a postal clerk near Takahashi’s residence and hadn’t undergone any specialist training.

Thus, he lacked the psychological preparedness to handle such urgent scenarios.

Normally, who would believe such gibberish about time-travel anyway? We Fusang people have been embracing modernization for decades—we’re naturally inclined towards innovative ideas; that is perfectly normal.

How can you possibly believe this? Isn’t it absurd?

After much deliberation, he decided to send a telegram to headquarters, passing on the intelligence immediately.