"That is indeed a tricky move." Lynn chuckled softly, but there was no trace of panic in his voice.
"However, that's all."
The Butcher looked up, his eyes filled with confusion.
Lynn turned around, walked to her desk, picked up a personnel transfer order, and threw it on the table.
" Paul Serra, do you remember him?"
The Butcher glanced at the name on the document and immediately realized what it meant:
"Is that the border guard lieutenant colonel? The one from a fallen noble family, who was suppressed for over a decade after offending the St. Garus Family?"
"It's him." Lynn nodded.
"I signed the transfer order a week ago, promoting him to lieutenant general and giving him full authority over epidemic prevention and troop recruitment in the Lower City."
The Butcher's pupils contracted slightly.
To be promoted from lieutenant colonel to lieutenant general in a week, skipping three ranks, is almost unheard of in the Imperial Army.
However, as long as there is the reason of "the highest efficiency in recruiting soldiers", coupled with the governor's full-fledged promotion, although it is shocking, it is not entirely unreasonable.
"From now on, release the news." Lynn's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable determination.
"For example, Paul Serra, eager to claim credit and meet his conscription quotas, secretly colluded with the Plague Cleansing Cult, concealing the cult's heretical nature and using it to quickly screen healthy individuals."
"Furthermore, I will have the peripheral members of the Plague Cleansing Cult intentionally or unintentionally reveal the title ' Paul Paul'."
"All communications with the Governor's Office will go through Paul's military channels."
The Butcher instantly understood.
This is a perfect scapegoat.
Paul Serra himself is an ambitious and impoverished nobleman who will stop at nothing to turn his life around, perfectly fitting the character of "colluding with heretics to gain credit".
Even if Dominic investigates, all the evidence will point to Paul, Lynn will only have to bear the responsibility of "negligence in personnel selection and inadequate supervision".
Removing Paul and giving him a symbolic punishment would be enough to clear the whole thing up.
They could avoid abandoning the Plague Cleansing Cult, not affect the recruitment of soldiers, and clean themselves up completely.
Luna's carefully laid plan was immediately weakened by most of its power.
"Understood, I'll make the arrangements immediately." The Butcher bowed and accepted the order.
As soon as the Butcher left, Lynn spoke to the Ripper in his sleeve:
" Rena, have the Priest keep the core Genestealer ' activities under control. They shouldn't show themselves easily for the time being."
"All screening work should be done by the peripheral human believers as much as possible, and the apostles should reduce their actions."
"That might significantly reduce efficiency," Rena cautioned.
"It's alright. Taking it slow at this point is actually the most efficient approach."
The Ripper nodded, began to meditate, and issued commands to its swarm.
The office fell silent again.
Lynn walked to the window and looked towards the direction of Saint Garus Castle.
It is one of the oldest building complexes in the entire Uptown, hidden in the deep night, like a lurking beast.
" Luna..." he murmured the name, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Since you've come forward on your own initiative, we won't let you off so easily this time."
Outside an abandoned textile factory in the Lower City part of the city.
The towering chimneys emitted wisps of grayish-white smoke, and the air was filled with a strange smell of burnt bits mixed with disinfectant.
The factory's exterior walls were painted a stark white, and a simple wooden sign hung at the entrance, bearing the five large characters " Plague Cleansing Monastery ".
Below the large text is a subheading, number 331.
This is the first location marked on the letter.
Dominic leaned against the shadows at the alley entrance, his right hand hidden under his cloak, the sapphire ring on his middle finger radiating a barely perceptible coolness.
The Sisters of Silence beside him could sense several Psychic Power fluctuations sweeping around the factory, as if they were alerting to any movement in the surroundings.
But each time those ripples swept past their location, they slid straight past like water flowing around rocks, without lingering at all.
This ring truly lives up to its reputation.
He looked up and surveyed the so-called purification monastery.
Two Plague Cleansing Cult, dressed in gray robes and wearing masks that revealed only their eyes, stood at the entrance, their posture upright and ramrod straight.
They didn't seem like ordinary believers at all; rather, they seemed like rigorously trained warriors.
A steady stream of ordinary citizens from the Lower City, their faces sallow and their expressions numb, lined up to enter the factory gates; some were helping the elderly and weak, while others carried children.
Their eyes held fear, but also a sliver of hope.
Every so often, a grey-robed apostle would emerge from the side door, ringing a bell, followed by a long line of commoners.
Their faces were filled with despair, and their steps were hurried as they followed the bell-ringing apostle toward the distant crematorium.
Dominic watched this scene, lost in thought.
Just by looking at this somewhat eerie scene, you can tell that this is definitely not an ordinary folk religion.
He gestured to the two nuns behind him, and the three of them, using the alleyway as cover, silently crept towards the side and rear of the factory.
He wanted to see for himself what secrets this monastery held.
Who exactly is that powerful figure hiding behind the scenes in Uptown?
The ventilation ducts on the side wall were already weathered and fragile; Dominic easily pried off the loose grille with a little force.
The three of them quietly slipped into the narrow pipe. The cloak of the Sisters of Silence covered their bodies, making even their breathing almost inaudible.
They landed with a very soft sound, in a cloister behind the monastery.
The first thing that hits the air is a strong, cool incense, but if you hold your breath and listen carefully, you can smell the putrid stench hidden beneath the fragrance.
It was the smell of rotting flesh and mold, faint as a thin mist, yet lingering.
The walls on both sides of the corridor were painted a stark white, and every few steps there was a relief of an Imperial Aquila.
Dominic glanced at them and initially thought they were ordinary, but when he passed the third statue, he stopped in his tracks.
The edges of the eagle wings in the reliefs have lines that are slightly twisted in inconspicuous corners, and the feathers that should be sharp are bent into strange arcs.
It's as if something is wriggling under the stone, or like a flaw left by a sculptor's unsteady hand.
At first glance, one might mistake it for crude craftsmanship, but upon closer inspection, the heads of the two eagles appear slightly tilted, exuding an indescribable absurdity and eeriness.
It's like... someone is copying the emblem of the Ecclesiarchy, but halfway through the drawing, the details are quietly altered by another force.
Following the corridor forward, you'll find a spacious main hall.
Dozens of civilians from the Lower City sat crammed on long wooden benches, their faces sallow and their eyes vacant.
Standing on the high platform was a gray-robed apostle, whose voice was so calm and even that it had no inflection, as he recounted the ancient glory of the Emperor's expedition to the galaxy.
Dominic leaned against the pillar in the shadows and listened quietly.
The content consisted of passages from the Ecclesiarchy classics, ranging from the Unification Wars to the Great Crusade —all familiar to him. But as he listened, he frowned.
The apostle's narration always seemed to veer off in strange directions.
The narrative of Emperor purging heresy ultimately concludes with the statement that "only the fire of purification can cleanse all defilement."
When discussing believers returning to the embrace of the God-Emperor after death, it is said that "their souls are reborn only after enduring the suffering of cremation."
Each sentence seems to describe the Emperor's glory, but when strung together, it changes its meaning.
It's as if what's redeemed isn't faith, but the flame itself.
The common people listened with blank expressions; some even nodded.
Having witnessed too much death during the plague, "ending the suffering with fire" seemed more like a tangible promise than a vague afterlife.
The main hall was merely a waiting area. Before long, a side door opened, and another apostle emerged, gesturing for the procession to move forward.
Dominic moved slowly under the cover of the crowd and saw the whole process inside.
The room was divided into two passageways by thick alloy plates, with a closed iron door on the left.
A faint smell of burning wafted from under the door, clearly indicating it was an incinerator.
The passage on the right leads deeper, presumably to the safe isolation zone.
Every commoner who stepped forward had his forehead pressed down by the apostle.
The movement was swift; the fingertips touched for only a second or two before the apostle spoke, his voice not loud:
"Clean up, move to the right."
Or, "If infected, go to the left."