Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 75

Chapter 75: Smoke and Mirrors

“Another one?”

Hoshiguma tossed the manila folder onto the cluttered desk, the heavy thud echoing in the quiet office. She scratched the back of her head, her tall frame casting a long shadow across the room, and cast a strange look at the woman seated behind the towering stacks of paperwork.

Ch’en sat with her elbows propped on the desk, massaging her temples. Her brow was locked in a permanent, exhausted scowl.

“Word is, they’re claiming it’s because the Originium creature populations around Lungmen’s perimeter have spiked,” Hoshiguma said, crossing her arms. “Saying the L.G.D.’s current manpower just isn’t enough to hold the line anymore.”

“I might not know every inch of the outer sectors, Old Ch’en, but don’t you think the sheer volume of mercenary outfits operating near the city is getting a little out of hand? We’ve signed on our seventh group this month alone. Sure, their records look clean on paper, but who knows what kind of dirt they’re kicking up in the shadows?”

“It is excessive,” Ch’en agreed, her voice tight.

“And where did this sudden swarm of Originium beasts even crawl out from?”

Ch’en pulled the latest batch of incident reports and patrol routes toward her, her scowl deepening as she scanned the data.

The summary was damning. Just yesterday, two more mercenary companies had crossed into Lungmen’s immediate vicinity under various pretexts. Following a string of Originium beast attacks on the main highway leading to Chernobog, three entire mercenary groups had been mobilized to handle perimeter defense and road maintenance.

On the surface, this wasn’t entirely unusual. As a massive commercial hub, Lungmen poured vast amounts of capital and manpower into maintaining order in its surrounding territories, particularly along the vital trade arteries. Keeping those official roads clear of Originium hazards often required outsourcing the dirty work to private military contractors.

But the sheer numbers were staggering.

Normally, Lungmen relied on the L.G.D. and internal management bureaus to handle domestic security. To deal with the tangled web of underground gangs, shifting political factions, and foreign intelligence operatives, the city historically contracted a select few mercenary outfits with proven track records. Until recently, those seven core groups—totaling roughly a thousand elite operators—had kept the outer sectors remarkably stable. Combined with the L.G.D.’s armed presence, Lungmen’s security grid was ironclad.

Then the recent war riots had shattered that equilibrium.

Wei Yenwu had personally issued directives to expand the original seven long-term contracts to ten. Throw in the flood of short-term contractors, and the total number of mercenary groups operating in and around Lungmen had bloated to an unmatched twenty-five.

This high-intensity, high-cost management strategy had ironically left the L.G.D. with a sudden lack of field operations.

Meanwhile, the newly established Eternal Life Agency—having siphoned a massive chunk of elite personnel directly from the L.G.D.—was operating with terrifying efficiency, sweeping through Lungmen’s internal investigations without a hitch.

Yet, Ch’en couldn’t shake the creeping dread. These mercenaries were a walking powder keg. A thousand operators was manageable. But three thousand and five hundred heavily armed, battle-hardened killers? And more were flocking to the city every day, desperate for a piece of the pie.

These weren’t standard security guards. They were desperadoes who lived on the edge of a blade, bound by blood and shared combat experience. The security risk was astronomical. Neither the L.G.D. nor the Eternal Life Agency could afford to turn a blind eye to it.

Worse, Ch’en had noticed several mercenary groups quietly overstepping their boundaries, intervening in defense sectors they had no jurisdiction over. They had orders, supposedly, but their true allegiances remained entirely opaque.

Her eyes locked onto a specific entry on the contractor list. A Sarkaz mercenary group designated ‘Blood Rage’ had just been assigned to a critical perimeter security detail.

Ch’en’s frown hardened into a glare. She looked up and gave Hoshiguma a sharp, silent nod.

Understanding the dismissal, Hoshiguma turned and stepped out of the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.

Ch’en immediately snatched up her encrypted receiver and punched in a sequence of classified digits. The line clicked through multiple secure redirects before a smooth, unhurried voice answered.

“Have you run into trouble, Ch’en?”

“It’s about the mercenary groups.”

“Ah. That is fine. It was my personal directive.”

Wei Yenwu’s tone was entirely flat, betraying no emotion over the secure channel.

“The civil war in Columbia has officially ignited, and the fallout is spreading outward at a terrifying velocity. I require a surplus of mercenaries to suppress any opportunistic elements within our walls., using private contractors allows us to accomplish certain… unsavory tasks that are unsuitable for the L.G.D. Comforting displaced refugees, liquidating chaotic military remnants—we are not the only ones making these moves. Other city-states will soon follow suit. We are simply taking the first step. There is no cause for alarm.”

“There is no need to be so tense, Ch’en. The world is merely returning to its natural, chaotic state. The operatives from Blacksteel International are excellent assets to court. As former military personnel and professional contractors, they can maintain order even if they lack the desire for total war. Focus on your work.”

Ch’en gripped the receiver tighter. “Peace… when will it actually arrive?”

A low, dry chuckle echoed through the speaker. “That depends entirely on your perspective. In my eyes, this world has never known peace. Do not disappoint my expectations, Ch’en.”

The line went dead.

Miles away, in a lavishly appointed office overlooking the sprawling skyline, Wei Yenwu lowered his phone. A faint, enigmatic smile touched his lips.

Fumizuki approached from behind, carrying a stack of sealed documents. She tilted her head, her elegant features softening as she took in her husband’s amused expression.

“What is it? Did something good happen?”

“No. Just an immature puppy getting startled by the shadows.” Wei Yenwu turned toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “But the fact that she is thinking for herself is a good sign. Regardless of the circumstances, one must use their brain. Whether driven by hatred, anger, or any other fleeting emotion, nothing can rival the sheer utility of wisdom.”

Fumizuki set the documents on his mahogany desk. “Are our numbers sufficient?”

“Manpower is never sufficient, Fumizuki. Especially not now.” Wei Yenwu’s smile faded into a cold, calculating line. “The original projections and strategic layouts have completely collapsed in the wake of the Columbian civil war. Who could have predicted that such a titan of a nation would fracture in the blink of an eye? From the very beginning, no plan is ever guaranteed. The only true guarantee is preparation. Layer upon layer of it. The one who prepares the most is the one who survives.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Fumizuki murmured, a fond smile gracing her lips. “Still as charming as ever.”

Wei Yenwu swallowed the genuine laugh threatening to break his composed facade. He cleared his throat, expertly shifting the conversation.

“What of that anomaly? Lynn?”

“He is already en route to Kazimierz, traveling with his companions. I must admit, I didn’t expect his social circle to be quite so extensive.”

“Anomalies will always attract other anomalies. Let him wander.”

Wei Yenwu dismissed the thought entirely, his mind already pivoting to his next strategic maneuver.

In the face of a firestorm that threatened to incinerate the continent, who would be foolish enough to rely on rigid plans? Conspiracies, alliances, and backroom deals were all constructed on the foundation of societal rules. When those rules burned away—when raw, unadulterated power became the only true currency—every clever scheme would be reduced to ash.

Having survived the crucible of war himself, Wei Yenwu placed zero faith in fragile political stances. Life and death. Destruction and rebirth. If a conspiracy could somehow transcend the absolute limits of power, it wouldn’t be a conspiracy at all.

Looking at the shifting global landscape, he knew with absolute certainty that petty schemes were meaningless in this rapidly deteriorating world. He needed hard, obvious power consolidated around him.

Decades of leadership had taught him that some things must inevitably change.

“Double our financial investment in the Eternal Life Agency.”

Wei Yenwu picked up his pen and signed his name with sharp, decisive strokes across the top document.

“Bring the other families into the fold as well,” he ordered, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “As long as they aren’t completely stupid, they will know exactly what to do.”