The Final Operation (End)

Firelight flickered, casting countless writhing shadows across the bookshelves. Fear seemed to hang thick in the air.

"Everyone, we shouldn't go over there. That disturbance just now must have been the Master performing a ritual. If one of us barges in and disrupts it, who among you can take responsibility?"

A crowd had gathered outside the Book Cave. The white-haired old Prefect stood bare-faced atop a raised stone, addressing them with commanding authority.

According to the plan, his job was to delay the Cultists on the south side from heading to the Council Cave, giving the others a chance to act.

Years in officialdom had made the old Prefect an expert at using ambiguous words to sway a crowd and turn circumstances to his advantage.

Keeping the crowd from reinforcing the Council Cave might have been difficult for anyone else, but for him it was easy. Getting things done was hard; muddying the waters and bringing everything to a standstill was simple.

"Something's wrong," Rahu objected loudly, his body towering like an iron pillar. "It's been so long, and no one's come to tell us anything. There's definitely a problem."

The old Prefect gave a cold snort and fixed his clouded eyes on Rahu. "Back during the flood, if I hadn't stopped you from breaking the levee and being used as someone else's weapon, would you still be alive today? What, you don't trust my judgment now?"

Rahu faltered. He mumbled a few words, then retreated to the back.

"Prefect, you used to be an official and we were commoners, but now we're all brothers in the sect. Rank doesn't matter here. How about you step aside first?" said a plump Book Cave guard, his small eyes darting.

The old Prefect narrowed his eyes. He knew he had met a