Unleashing a Massacre, Blood Flowing Until Pestles Floated

In the tactical command room, the Executive Officer watched the surveillance screens, listening to his subordinates' reports with a grim expression.

"The Security Department's first batch of thirty-three security personnel has arrived. A further forty-six are continuing to reinforce them."

The Security Department's minister was highly capable. He spoke without the slightest ambiguity and handled matters without the slightest carelessness.

A subordinate like that was an invaluable helper to any commander.

In truth, the Executive Officer himself knew that compared to ordinary troops, the Security Department personnel responsible for internal security were already elite enough.

They felt no pain, no fear, no hesitation. They could execute superior orders at high speed and with high efficiency, utterly without thinking, and maintain absolute rigor at all times. Whatever the tactical manual said and taught, that was what they did—without the slightest discount, without the slightest deviation.

Even if they fought down to the last man and their last breath, they would never surrender and beg for mercy, nor fearfully flee.

Such an iron army would be the elite among elites, heroes among heroes, in any nation.

And now, they were merely serving as internal security. In other words, security guards.

All of this gave the Executive Officer immense confidence. Even if our country was now buffeted by wind and rain in the international community, our strength was quietly growing. Even our security guards were trump-card elites. It was as though every resident of Ashina Castle was a Sword Saint—what was there to fear?

Though these trump cards were not very bright, it was enough for them to obey orders as subordinates. Being dim-witted was not a disadvantage, but an advantage.

Yet as he watched the scene on the monitor, the Executive Officer's face turned livid.

In an instant, he realized that having