Marshal Bazaine looked at the two men standing before him, his face contorted with fury as if he wanted to devour them alive. He roared, "What on earth are you two good for? You still haven't found out who is behind this? What use are you?" His expression shifted from anger to profound grief. The French Assassination Battalion was something he had built with his own hands; it had carried out numerous decapitation strikes for him, earning a fearsome reputation among the enemies and countless military exploits. Yet now, it was simply gone, wiped out, turning all his grueling efforts to dust and leaving him heartbroken.
Standing with bowed heads below were two men. One of them was the head of the French Army intelligence department, an unremarkable-looking middle-aged man with a well-proportioned build and a face that occasionally flickered with pensive expressions, named Scru. To anyone unfamiliar with him, he might easily pass for an ordinary office worker, given his moderate haircut, plain attire, and lack of any commanding aura in his speech and mannerisms. But those who knew him understood the kind of man he truly was: ruthless, doing whatever it took to achieve his goals, and exceptionally agile. Originally just a regular member of the Intelligence Battalion, he had spent two solitary months deep inside enemy territory during the Franco-Italian War, figuring out every single detail of the enemy's personnel and weapon deployments, thereby helping France secure an easy vict…
Chapter 42