Mo Lin's gaze grew even colder. This no longer had anything to do with so-called nations or status.
He simply wanted to kill these pieces of trash who abused their positions to bully the weak.
Mo Lin poked his head out from the stairwell for a look. The three abducted girls seemed to have been taken into different rooms.
And those deranged officers hadn't even bothered to close the doors.
It was practically as if they had "Come kill me" written across their faces.
After ascending the stairs, Mo Lin swept his gaze across the second-floor corridor, instantly taking in the entire situation.
In the left and right rooms, an officer was respectively pinning a girl against a table and the floor, tearing at her clothes.
And in the room directly facing the stairwell, the situation was even worse—two officers were working together to drag a desperately struggling girl onto the bed.
Mo Lin drew his head back and used a set of simple, clear hand signals to rapidly issue combat orders.
He pointed to the left and right rooms, then gestured to four soldiers, indicating they should split into pairs and handle them separately.
Then he pointed to himself and Corporal Bowman, and then to the middle room.
Everyone nodded in perfect understanding.
Mo Lin took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening. He raised three fingers, then retracted them one by one.
The instant the last finger folded, he swung his hand down sharply!
Six figures lunged toward their respective targets like cheetahs, utterly silent.
In the middle room, the two Kingdom Army officers were immersed in the excitement of their imminent conquest, completely unaware that Death had already arrived.
When one of them sensed something behind him and turned back instinctively, it was already too late.
Mo Lin appeared behind him like a ghost. His left hand shot out like lightning, clamping down over the man's mouth and nose from behind, preventing any sound from escaping.
At the same time, the bayonet gripped in his right hand had already pressed its cold blade against the man's neck.
This "lucky one" needed to be kept alive for the moment—Mo Lin and the others had quite a few questions they needed to "consult" him about shortly.
On the other side, Corporal Bowman's movements were even more direct and brutal.
He pounced like a hungry tiger, slamming the other officer to the ground.
Then, before the man could react, the bayonet in his hand cleanly pierced horizontally through the other's neck.
That officer didn't even have time to scream. His body twitched a few times, then went completely silent.
Just like a butcher slaughtering a pig.
The fights in the other two rooms ended just as quickly.
Under the absolute advantage of two against one, the other two officers acting alone had no chance to resist at all, and were taken down almost simultaneously.
The entire process took less than ten seconds, as fast as a silent film played at double speed.
Mo Lin didn't immediately finish off the captive in his hands. Instead, he tapped the back of the bayonet's blade against the man's neck, signaling him to behave.
The three rescued girls, their clothes in tatters, huddled in the corner, shaking violently with fear, their eyes filled with terror and bewilderment.
Mo Lin had two soldiers take several blankets from the room and drape them over the girls, then had them escorted to an adjacent empty room to be comforted.
He himself, together with Corporal Bowman, began interrogating the officer who had temporarily been allowed to keep his life.
The wheel of fortune turns.
Two days ago, he had been a captive tied to a chair and interrogated.
Now, he was the one holding another's life and death in his hands.
The officer restrained by Mo Lin looked at the miserable state of his companion on the floor, then felt the cold touch against his neck. His body trembled violently, and a large wet patch rapidly spread across his crotch.
"I ask, you answer."
Mo Lin spoke coldly in fluent Aragonese:
"Try any tricks, or fail to satisfy me, and I'll slit your throat immediately. Understood?"
Hearing Mo Lin's words, that officer nodded frantically like a chick pecking at rice, his eyes full of the relief of one who had survived a catastrophe.
"Name, position, unit designation."
Mo Lin's voice held not a trace of emotion. He looked at this officer as if looking at a dead man.
"Juan... Juan de Rivera."
The officer's voice was hoarse and trembling, thick with a sobbing tone.
"Kingdom Army 24th Infantry Division, 48th Brigade, 1st Battalion of the 126th Regiment. Lieutenant Colonel and Battalion Commander."
Hearing this answer, Mo Lin and Corporal Bowman beside him were somewhat surprised.
They had thought they had just eliminated a few ordinary officers; they hadn't expected to catch a big fish—a genuine lieutenant colonel and battalion commander.
However, looking at the man before them who was scared out of his wits, completely lacking any military bearing, Mo Lin felt doubts rise in his heart.
"Lieutenant Colonel and Battalion Commander? You?"
Mo Lin lightly smacked the man's cheek with the flat of the bayonet blade, speaking with some confusion:
"You don't look the part to me."
Hearing his words, Juan's body shuddered violently, and he almost scrambled to answer:
"It was bought! Sir! This commission was bought with money!"
"..."
"I was originally just a noble from the north. I heard that the Holy Britannian Empire's allies were coming to help, and thought the war would end soon! So... so I wanted to spend money to get into the army and pad my resume, planning for the future..."
These words caused Mo Lin to feel relieved about his previous performance.
A speculator who had climbed up through scheming and money—expecting him to have backbone would be a fantasy.
"Very good. You're honest."
Mo Lin nodded and continued asking: "Has the 24th Infantry Division already fully entered Seville?"
"Yes... yes! The entire division is here, stationed in the city and the surrounding positions!"
"What is your mission in Seville?!"
Juan didn't dare conceal the slightest thing, pouring out everything he knew like beans spilling from a bamboo tube.
"We... our mission is to rely on the city, coordinate with the Holy Britannian Empire's allied forces, and block your advance."
"Where are the Britannians? Where are they?"
"They're here too! Their people are right in the city! Seems like two or three thousand of them, supposedly an elite unit called the Northumberland Flintlock Rifle Regiment!"
Speaking to this point, Juan seemed to remember something important. Eager to survive, he urgently added:
"Sir! Sir! The Britannians also sent over a dozen mages in long robes this time!"
"Mages?" Mo Lin's heart sank heavily.
"Yes! Before, when I visited division headquarters to socialize with the senior officers, I saw them once. They seem to be planning to assign these mages to different units to assist in combat!"
"Do you know the specific battle plans?"
"Sir, I'm just a lieutenant colonel battalion commander. How could I possibly know the superior officers' battle plans..."
This captured Kingdom Army lieutenant colonel said with a bitter face. However, after seeing the cold light reflected from the bayonet pressed against his neck by Mo Lin, he added:
"I only know that the superiors told us not to take the initiative to attack, just to defend in Seville. I really don't know anything else..."
"Good, thank you for your cooperation."
Mo Lin walked up to this officer, smiling as he placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it.
"You're welcome, Sir. It is my honor to serve you..."
This Kingdom Army lieutenant colonel forced an ugly smile onto his face. But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest.
He looked down. A slender bayonet had been thrust into his heart.