The Kataya Town is built on a wide gravel plain, with a low sandstone ridge behind it and the old trade route leading to the middle reaches of the Sandora River in front.
The town was much larger than the Limestone Village, and was surrounded by a low stone wall with rebel flags flying on it. Inside the wall, one could see patrols moving their torches in the night.
Several tall buildings in the town center were lit up, their lights shining through the windows like stars fallen to the ground against the desert night sky.
Barlow lay prone on the ridge of a sand dune on the west side of the town, the hood of his desert cloak pulled low and his goggles pushed up over his forehead.
Mila squatted to his left, sketching a defense plan of Kataya Town on a palm-sized sticky note with a charcoal pencil, noting breaches in the city walls, patrol routes, and the locations of major buildings, glancing up to confirm each stroke.
Roy lay on her other side, squinting at her for a long time, then said in a rare serious tone, "The garrison here is completely different from the ones in Limestone Village. Their deployment and patrols are very organized; they should be at the level of the main rebel force."
Barlow did not answer.
He observed from the ridge of the dunes for a full quarter of an hour, watching the torches on the city wall pass the same spot every so often, watching the changing of the guard at the town entrance, and watching the lights on the roof of the largest building in the town center flicker on and off.
The group in Limestone Village were stragglers, a motley crew left at the outpost awaiting orders.
This batch in Katya is different; the changing of the guard has a fixed time, the sentries stand in a standard posture, and the torches on the city wall are evenly spaced.
This is probably a regular army personally trained by Charles.
Mila looked up; the last vestiges of the purplish-red hue of the desert evening were fading from the western sky, and the clouds overhead had turned a deep gray.
She said softly, "It's getting dark."
Barlow retreated from the dune ridge and gathered the three men in the shadows on the back of the dune.
He crouched down and used his dagger to draw a rough map of Kataya Town on the sand: an irregular ellipse surrounded by a low wall, with the largest building in the town center, a villa area to the west, a market and warehouse area to the east, and a barracks to the south.
"Infiltrate, one person per area. I'll take the western villa area, Roy the southern barracks, Mila the eastern market."
The tip of his dagger was aimed at the largest building in the town center. "We'll meet there eventually; if I'm not mistaken, that should be the command post."
Mila scanned the sandy terrain map. "Infiltration rules?"
"Leave no survivors."
Barlow stood up and sheathed his dagger. "Take care of this quietly before we're discovered."
The three parted ways at the foot of the sand dune.
Barlow went west, Roy went south, Mila went east—no more words, no "be careful," no "see you later."
The three figures dispersed into the twilight, disappearing into the darkness of the gravel beach on the outskirts of Kataya Town.
The western part of Kataya Town is a veritable villa district.
The architecture here is several levels above the sandstone houses in the Limestone Village. The two- or three-story villas have off-white lime plastered walls, arched wooden windows, withered potted plants on the balconies, and dead vines climbing the walls.
These villas were originally the residences of wealthy local merchants and chamber of commerce representatives in Katya. After the rebels occupied the town, the merchants either fled to Alubarna or were imprisoned in a temporary jail in the town center.
The villa area is now inhabited by mid-level rebel commanders. Each villa has a rebel- Rapier Sun Flag hanging at the entrance, and military boots and leggings are drying on the windowsills.
Because of its proximity to the command post, the villa area had a higher guard density than the city walls.
Each alley has at least two patrol groups, each with three members: one carrying a lantern and two carrying knives.
The streetlights between the villas had been repaired by the rebels, and the gaslights cast a grid of light and shadow on the stone pavement.
Barlow was squatting on the balcony of a second-floor villa.
He climbed up from the drainpipe at the back of the villa, his fingers digging into the cracks in the sandstone wall, his feet resting on the cast iron supports of the drainpipe, and silently vaulted over the balcony railing into the shadows.
The potted plants on the balcony had long since withered, leaving only a handful of dry branches in the ceramic pot.
He peered into the alley from the frame of the French windows, and a patrol of soldiers was passing by downstairs.
The one carrying the lantern walked at the front, the light casting a shimmering circle of light on the stone pavement.
The two men holding knives were about three steps apart, their pace steady and rhythmic, indicating a trained stride.
He waited three breaths after the patrolmen passed by, then pulled three Shuriken from his waist and held them between his fingers.
There is no sound of wind cutting when the Shuriken is thrown.
Three Shuriken drew almost invisible shadows in the air, precisely embedding themselves in the back of the necks of the three patrolmen.
The tip of the Shuriken pierced the crevice at the base of the skull, severing the medulla oblongata. The three men lost consciousness almost simultaneously. The lantern bearer hadn't even let go of the lantern pole before his body collapsed.
Before they fell, Barlow had already climbed over the balcony railing, his toes touching the top of the low wall across the alley, and then he pushed off and jumped into another alley.
The lamppost bounced on the stone pavement when it hit the ground, spilling lamp oil and causing the flame to lick the edge of the pavement before going out.
The alleyway fell into darkness again.
There were two sentries standing under a streetlamp in the second alley.
They were talking about the newly recruited young men from the Rainbase. One of them laughed and said that those kids couldn't even hold a knife properly. The other was about to reply when he suddenly felt a chill in his throat.
The chilling sensation as the blade slices through the throat is sharper and deeper than mere coolness.
He didn't have time to feel the pain; he only felt something welling up in his throat, silencing the words he wanted to say.
He tried to call out to his companion, but his companion had already collapsed before him.
Barlow wiped the blade clean on the sentry's lapel and sheathed the sword.
He pulled a small cloth bag from his pocket, inside which were a few caltrops the size of soybeans.
He scattered barbed wire in the shadows at the corner of the alley, then picked up a piece of gravel and threw it into the depths of the alley opposite.
The gravel bounced twice on the stone pavement, making a crisp, clattering sound.
"Who's there?" The patrolman in the alley across the street heard the noise and ran towards the corner.
He gripped the knife, its tip gleaming under the streetlight.
As he ran around the corner, his foot stepped on something sharp. The sharp pain made him instinctively bend over. In that instant, Barlow emerged from the shadows to the side and cleanly slashed his throat with a knife.
The patrolman fell to the ground, uttering his last breath, and then remained still.
The number of patrolmen in the villa area is decreasing one by one.
After Barlow cleared out the eighth patrol group, the alleys in the villa area became much quieter.
The remaining patrol groups continued walking along the main roads on the outskirts, unaware for the time being that their comrades had disappeared.
He walked through two narrow alleys and headed back towards the town center, counting the remaining Shuriken from his waist with his fingers, his eyes remaining steady, just as he would when checking inventory.
Suddenly, Kakkō appeared to the south, a bright orange Kakkō, as if something had been ignited in an instant.
Immediately following was a muffled explosion that traveled along the ground to the stone path beneath Barlow's feet. The vibration was slight, but the sound of the explosion was amplified several times in the silence of the desert night.
Barlow stopped and glanced back towards the southern barracks, where Kakkō illuminated half the sky.
The remaining patrolmen outside the villa area were all alerted by the explosion.
Some people peeked out of the alley and looked south, some started shouting, and others ran towards the command post; the shouts and footsteps mingled together.
A patrolman burst into the alley where Barlow was. He saw Barlow standing in the shadows, froze for a moment, and then instinctively raised his knife.
Barlow's knife had already pierced his chest, passing between his ribs and precisely through his heart.
The patrolman looked down at the blade embedded in his chest, his mouth agape, and fell silently.
Barlow wiped the blood off his knife onto the fallen patrolman's clothes and sheathed it.
He continued walking towards the town center, a little faster than before, but his steps remained steady.
He didn't go looking for Roy. He knew very well that there was usually only one possibility for Roy to cause an explosion during an infiltration: either he was careless and exposed, or he realized something was wrong and took action.
The crossroads in the town center were in complete chaos.
Rebel soldiers ran towards the command post from all directions, and some stood on the steps in front of the command post, shouting orders.
As Barlow walked to the end of a dark alley not far from the command post, he bumped into a rebel messenger who had just rushed out of the alley.
The two men collided face to face. The messenger's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout.
Barlow struck him on the temple with the back of his knife, the force just enough to knock him unconscious.
He glanced down at the document pouch on the messenger's belt, reached down, pulled it off, opened it, and glanced at it.
It is a troop deployment map of the Katya garrison, with the various passes and changing of the guard schedule marked on it, and a line of small print in the upper right corner.
"Personally approved by His Highness Prince".
He stuffed the file bag into his pocket, dragged the unconscious messenger behind a trash can deep in the alley, then tugged at his cuffs and continued walking toward the town center.
The command post was a three-story old town hall building. The original Kataya Town sign had been pried off and replaced with the rebels' rapier Sun Emblem.
Barlow stood close to the wall near the command post, glancing at the intersection.
The rebel soldiers in front of the command post were still desperately trying to organize their defenses.