In the Sky City, there was no natural rain, yet most inhabitants felt a deep connection to it; phenomena like lightning and thunder had long been woven into every facet of human life, becoming indispensable.

Consequently, every space city possessed an artificial weather system, scheduling two or three days of rain each month, with planned snowfall during winter, particularly around the Winter Solstice and Christmas.

Moreover, the rain served a functional purpose beyond mere aesthetics, washing dust from the ground and building facades, ensuring the city remained cleaner. The water recycling systems in the existing space cities represented centuries of human effort, achieving complete self-sufficiency, rendering wastewater recycling a non-issue.

“Right, how much do you know about the terrorists who attacked Lehai?” Yang Ying asked, turning back after glancing at the simulated rain view.

“Very little. We only heard a loud explosion that morning from the hotel where the Lehai delegation was staying. We only learned about the terrorists later when we sent people to investigate,” Christina replied, a look of puzzlement on her face, unsure why Yang Ying was asking.

“As long as it wasn't your people, that’s fine—I need them to take the fall. Also, do you have any inside contacts in Lehai or Bosne?” Yang Ying pressed, moving to a more sensitive topic.

“If anyone else asked, I’d say no, of course, but since we’re allies, I can tell you we do. However, our contact in Lehai was severely injured in the explosion and is currently unconscious in a Bosne hospital, unable to be of use for now,” Christina hesitated slightly before telling the truth.

“I don’t actually need their help; I just need to know their identities so we don't accidentally harm them during operations,” Yang Ying shook his head.

“What operation?”

“An operation to weaken Bosne and win over Lehai.” Yang Ying instructed her directly. “I need you to draft a document persuading Lehai to join your faction. The conditions should be reasonable; there’s no need to concede too much. Print several copies; I’ll arrange for Kussen’s goodwill to be conveyed to the Lehai people. As for the Bosne Guard...”

Yang Ying explained his plan to Christina, glossing over or skipping sections that touched upon classified protocols.

Though Christina didn't grasp the plan's precise details, she was captivated by the prospects Yang Ying painted and supported his implementation. After all, things couldn't possibly get any worse than they already were.

That evening, the leader of the Lehai Mercenary Group returned to his hotel after receiving medical treatment. He was about fifty, with thinning hair showing signs of baldness, and he held the majority of Lehai’s resources in his grasp. His decisions alone dictated Lehai’s stance at the Tri-City Conference; the Lehai Mayor was merely his puppet and a designated scapegoat.

The morning’s bombing had given him a cold sweat. Over the years, having devoted his time to power struggles and revelry, his body had grown sluggish, losing the reflexes of his youth. Had he not been separated from the blast by several people, he would have been utterly annihilated.

Upon returning to the hotel, he nervously directed his subordinates to lock down the entire floor and impose strict martial law, fearing the terrorists might launch a second attack against him.

Every person entering or leaving the floor was subjected to the most thorough inspection. Anyone carrying suspicious items was not only barred from approaching his suite but also subjected to rigorous interrogation, sometimes involving severe beatings. Many hotel staff members suffered this treatment. After several such incidents, no one dared approach that floor anymore.

The other residents on that floor quickly checked out or requested room transfers, refusing to stay any longer.

The Bosne Guards grumbled privately about the commotion, but since the leader was still useful for pressuring Kussen during the conference, they kept their complaints quiet.

Late at night, the bald leader paced his luxurious suite’s bedroom, one hand bandaged. He couldn't sleep; every time he closed his eyes, he was instantly transported back to the scene filled with soaring flames, deafening explosions, and scalding heat waves.

“In tomorrow’s meeting, Kussen will absolutely be no match for Bosne. Bosne has a heavy cruiser; even if Kussen’s Corps sacrificed their entire fleet, they couldn't win, especially since Kussen’s light cruiser was crippled by the Ape-men’s warship and is still under repair. The gap is immense.”

“If only Lehai aligns with Bosne, Kussen won’t be able to make waves. It’s just a shame about the terms Kussen offered,” the bald leader mused naturally about the coming meeting.

“If it weren’t for that bombing, things might have been settled today. Those terrorists really ruined everything,” he exclaimed resentfully, gesturing wildly as if he wanted to tear the terrorists limb from limb.

Feeling thirsty, he walked to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, and returned to the bedroom.

“Huh? What is this?” He suddenly noticed a small envelope resting on the nightstand.

“That wasn't there just a moment ago.” The bald leader cautiously scanned his surroundings. He found nothing amiss; only the envelope on the nightstand. There were no signs of any intruders.

He approached, picked up the envelope, and tore it open, pulling out a document inside.

“This is from Kussen,” the bald leader said in surprise, recognizing the terms Kussen had previously offered him—proposing he abandon the alliance with Bosne to join Kussen instead.

“Someone! Get in here!” Startled, he yelled hysterically. He had never heard of the Kussen Corps possessing such ghostly methods of infiltration.

Footsteps sounded quickly, and a group of black-suited bodyguards rushed in.

“Sir, what is it?”

“Where are your eyes? Huh?!” The bald leader waved the document he held. “Someone invaded, and you didn’t notice! Go search! They might still be in the hotel, waiting to take my life!”

“Yes!” Two bodyguards remained to search the bedroom, while the rest swarmed out to sweep the entire floor for the intruder.

The commotion lasted for half an hour. The bodyguards knocked on every door on the floor, searching every nook and corner, yet found nothing.

When the bald leader was informed, he ripped the document to shreds, tossed it into an ashtray, and burned it, before ordering the bodyguards to regain their composure and double their vigilance against further infiltration.

However, just as he ushered the bodyguards out and returned to his bedroom, he found another envelope on the nightstand!

The envelope was identical to the previous one; it was the document Christina had drafted at Yang Ying’s instruction—one of over a dozen copies printed, clearly enough for one night’s work.

The bald leader’s face immediately went pale, his eyes wide with horror. He summoned the bodyguards again, ordering a search of the entire floor, even harassing the floors above and below. The search only concluded two hours later, still yielding nothing.

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