312 Silent Nigh

"Next."

A bulky man with rough hands stepped forward after being called out by the official clerk. The official clerk glanced at the man brimming with tight muscles, before proceeding with the paperwork.

"Name?" 

"I am John. Just John, Sir."

"Age?"

"38, turning 39 in 3 months."

"Past occupation?"

"I was a carpenter back in Eastfell City, before all hell broke loose, Sir." The bulky man spoke with lingering uneasiness.

"Alright, that's enough. Follow this man to the back to have your picture drawn, then you will be escorted to the camp for your temporary accommodation. You'll be notified when your residential permit and lodgings in the Capital are approved and arranged." 

The clerk was not interested in the man's story and carried on with his work. After scribbling down the information and passing it to another clerk, he urged the man to move on.

"Next."

"Wait, Sir. What about my family?" The bulky man asked as he glanced back at his wife and two sons lining up in the queue behind him.

"They will rejoin after having their information recorded." The clerk paused before adding, "If you are not comfortable with that, you can wait here and head off together after I am done with recording their information."

"I will do just that. Thank you, Sir."

Towards the bulky man's sincere gratitude, the clerk nodded and called out, "Next!"

A total of ten booths were set up for the sake of processing the group of survivors. As the survivors slowly shuffled forward in line, they were still baffled by the strict regulations as city guards, and palace guards were guarding the area.

"What's going on at the front? Does anyone know why we need to line up here? I heard that the royal family would provide us with new homes and food, is that true?"

"It should be. I don't think there's anything to gain from lying to us common folks, but it has never been this strict to enter a city before."

"This isn't just any city. This is the Capital. I heard it is a new regulation being implemented by the king. The Capital is currently undergoing huge developments and needed a lot of manpower, but they don't take in just anyone."

"Eh? Where did you hear this from?"

"From the city guards. I have a pretty good pair of ears and overheard them whispering about it just a little while ago."

"Eh? That's pretty impressive."

The survivors at the far back of the queue were seen quietly whispering to each other. Suddenly, there was a commotion breaking out upfront.

"Eh, something is happening up ahead. I wonder what it is?"

"We were promised food and housing, what kind of trouble could there be? Could the royal family be going back on their words?" A person said nervously. 

"It seems like a few people are refusing to cooperate." The person said after listening.

In the back of one booth, three hooded survivors refused to lower their hoods to record their facial appearances.

"Please cooperate nicely. If you do not drop your hoods and let me draw your faces, you will not be allowed to enter the camp, let alone the Capital."

The three survivors remained silent as they hugged their hoods tightly and refused to let go. From time to time, their bodies could be seen shivering.

Their commotion drew the city guards' attention over as one of them began to question, "What is going on here?"

After the clerk helplessness explained his dilemma to the city guards, they became alerted and eyed the three survivors with sharp looks and swords drawn.

"Refusing to reveal your appearances? I think the three of you are very suspicious!" A city guard said, before forcefully shouting, "They might be spies! Apprehend them for interrogation!"

"No…"

The three hooded survivors were noticeably shaken by the accusation and made an effort to defend themselves as they spoke feebly, "We are not spies…"

"If you are not spies, then why are you refusing to reveal your appearances?! What are you hiding?!" A city guard interrogated strongly. 

The three hooded survivors bit their lips and removed their hoods reluctantly. Once their appearances were revealed, the clerk and city guards all gasped with surprise and shock. 

"Oh my god, such terrible burns!"

"Their faces are disfigured to the point of being horrifying! Their life is as good as ruined with such appearances!" A city guard made a comment after noticing there were two women among the three survivors.

The disfigured survivors lowered their heads with shame as they quickly cover with their hoods again. 

Smack!

"What's the matter with you? No tact at all." 

The city guard was quickly smacked on the back of the head before another city guard turned to apologize, "Sorry about that, we did not know your faces were ruined. However, we still need to record your facial appearances before allowing you into the camp."

"What's the situation? Did we catch a spy?" A few more city guards were drawn over by the commotion.

"Nah, it was a false alarm." 

The city guard shook his head and urged the others to return to their post as the situation was shortly settled.

Back in the queue, a survivor saw one of the returning city guards. He hurried over and politely inquired, "May I ask what is going on back there, sir?"

"Nothing much. Just a few survivors refusing to show their faces for recording." The city guard answered. 

Shortly after, he gathered all the survivors' attention before announcing, "Everyone must remove their hoods and cooperate with the clerks nicely! Do not delay the process further, or your entry will be refused!"

The announcement did not make too much of an impact on the crowd. Only a few had suffered facial burns, while many had sustained burns and injuries in other parts of their bodies.

Nevertheless, there was still some discontent. 

"Tch." 

A hooded survivor in the queue was disgruntled. 

"Shh. Don't affect the plan." 

"I know." 

A similar disfigured appearance was revealed behind the hood, but it was slightly different from the others upon closer inspection. The disfigured appearance seems to have been caused by self-mutilation, but no one noticed this.

…

Three hours later, all survivors were processed and escorted to the temporary camp. It was not easy for the drawers to sketch a few hundred faces during this time. 

Night arrived, and the survivors were served stew and bread for dinner. After finishing their meals, the survivors gathered and talked about their losses and future plans, while others hit up the camp's older commoners for a chat.

Nothing seemed out of place, but upon deeper scrutiny, a group of survivors was inquiring about the Capital and royal family. 

Their inquiry did not draw any suspicion from the patrolling guards. It seemed perfectly normal for these survivors from the Eastfell Region to be curious about the new regulations and security circling around the Capital. 

When all survivors had long returned to their designated tents to rest, and fewer guards were awake for their patrol shift, a group of survivors from the camp began making their move in the dead of night. 

Without alarming anyone, they quietly killed off all the patrolling guards before killing off everyone else asleep, including the commoners and survivors in the camp of roughly 1500 people.

Despite all the killing, the thick scent of blood was absent from the air, and only dried corpses were left behind. 

After the corpses were hidden, the group of killers regathered at the camp's center and kneeled before another person with an unfathomable aura and pressure that only Transcendents have.

"Sect Master, everyone on the camp has been killed, and their blood has been collected. How should we infiltrate the city without alarming the watchers?"

"Strip the dead guards and use their armor. We will enter the city under the guise of city guards."

"I'm afraid if all of us enter, our large group would still draw their attention and suspicion."

"We will lead a small group to enter and kill off their watchers first. The rest of you will enter after my signal."

"Understood, Sect Master."

This group of killers was the last of the Bloodfiend Sect. They were also the best of the best within the sect. 

None of their cultivation was lower than 5 stars. They were all eligible to become inner elders, but they were not. They were the core disciples. 

The Sect Master faced the direction of the Capital with dense killing intent and resentment and gave a cold, confident smile.

The overseer may have interfered with their plans, but he had long predicted that to happen and made contingencies for it. 

No one would have been able to guess that the Sect Master was willing to use the entire sect as a diversion.

This was a classic example of sacrificing one's own headquarters to destroy the enemy's headquarters (Capital).