I told you to plant peas, and you summon Mordekaiser?

A brief silence fell over the meeting room.

But this tranquility lasted only a few seconds.

The officer closest to the white-haired man could no longer contain himself. As the white-haired man's right-hand man, he was also unable to understand this behavior.

He stood up abruptly, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to suppress it: "Commander-in-Chief, he's an exiled vagrant! How can someone like that... be fit to sit in this position?"

Refugees.

This is how the native humans of this world refer to humans from other planes.

All the officers present were purebred native humans.

Sauron, naturally, was the refugee they referred to.

With one person taking the lead, other officers also offered their suggestions.

"Commander-in-Chief, the plant card factory production line that he destroyed has only been 50% repaired so far!"

"Yes! How could you let someone like that come back to power? He's the one who caused the human military district to lose a Titan plant!"

Upon hearing this, the young officers sitting at the end of the long table began to whisper among themselves.

"Soren? Who is he?"

"He sounds like a vagrant."

Wasn't he exiled to the border?

"How could someone like that possibly come back? And even become the commander-in-chief of the Southern Military Region?"

Sauron's appearance was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples.

Soren, standing at the door, maintained a smile throughout.

He looked around; among the gazes directed at him were anger, doubt, and wariness.

The white-haired man remained unmoved.

The dark holes on his face had disappeared, and wrinkles had returned to his aged appearance.

“If any of you can produce a plant stronger than Soren,” he paused for a moment, his voice deep and thunderous, “you may decide on this position.”

After he finished speaking, the conference room fell silent.

The officers' eyes shifted from anger to a flickering light, and finally they all lowered their heads.

Soren smiled slightly, walked slowly to the table, and sat down in Oken's original spot.

"I guarded the Tower of Ascension on the border for twenty-seven years, and I thought no one remembered me..." he said casually. "I'm glad that I still live in your hearts."

His smile was so faint it was almost imperceptible, yet it made every officer feel uneasy.

In the conference room, the white-haired man slightly raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.

"Soren, report the results of your investigation."

Everyone was shocked upon hearing this.

This statement has many implications, but what is most difficult for everyone to accept is that their commander-in-chief had already secretly instructed Sauron to do things.

An vagrant, a vagrant who once caused turmoil in human territory, has now entered the high command of the military region—this is an unprecedented event.

Soren simply nodded, raised his eyes, and scanned the room.

"Based on the intelligence gathered by my mobile squad,"

"The fall of the former Southern Military Region headquarters is now beyond doubt."

This sentence was like a heavy stone thrown into the already heavy air.

"The Corpse Cult has not only occupied the Southern Military Region headquarters, but has also completely transformed it into a stronghold. From the current perspective, they have integrated the zombie plants and the zombie horde into a new combat system."

He paused, then continued, "At the same time, during this period of investigation, we discovered something unusual."

"There seems to be a mysterious force carrying out a large-scale massacre and blocking of zombies."

Everyone held their breath.

"What are the details?"

The white-haired man frowned slightly.

Soren carefully selected his words, his voice low: "On the front lines of the former Southern Military District, we discovered a lake. According to the latest updated map, that area should have been a plain."

"Based on my deduction, that lake was not formed naturally—at the bottom of the lake are endless zombie corpses."

"The bottom of the lake?" an officer couldn't help but repeat softly, his eyes full of surprise and doubt.

Soren nodded, his gaze icy: "That's right, the zombie army that attacked the main battlefield on the day of the Corpse Cult uprising."

Whispers gradually rose in the conference room, but Soren did not stop.

“In addition,” he said, his tone growing increasingly serious, “we discovered a mountain of corpses on another route of the zombie army’s attack.”

"A mountain of corpses?" someone exclaimed in a low voice, their face grim.

“That’s right, mountains of corpses.” Soren glanced at the crowd and continued, “All the corpses were cut open with sharp sword marks, the cuts were perfectly clean, as if they were instantly killed by extremely high force.”

“More importantly,” he lowered his voice, his tone chilling, “we discovered the remains of several seventh-tier zombies among these corpses.”

This sentence completely silenced the previously hushed discussion.

The white-haired man slightly raised his head, his gaze deep, as if he were pondering something.

"Therefore, under the influence of this mysterious force," Soren concluded, "the advance of the zombie army in the south was forced to slow down considerably. This allowed us to rebuild our defensive lines 500 kilometers away."

After he finished speaking, the conference room fell silent.

The ability to slay numerous level-7 zombies and create an artificial lake of corpses is truly terrifying.

If they become enemies of humanity, they might become a force on par with the Corpse Cult.

Everyone looked grave. Faced with this unknown situation, the fact that a refugee had become the commander-in-chief of the Southern Military District was a minor matter.

The white-haired man tapped the table lightly, his eyes as deep as the night sea: "Continue the reconnaissance and find traces of this force."

"Yes!"

Soren responded in a deep voice, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

......

......

Oken's mind went blank.

He couldn't remember how he left that conference room.

At that moment, the sounds around him seemed to fade into the distance, and all the noise in the conference room became blurred. He couldn't even feel the soaking wet clothes on his back.

Standing outside the conference room, he thought of the black holes on the white-haired man's face and the drifting purple smoke.

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.

He could no longer stop his imagination—the cold metal tables in the laboratory, the lifeless surgical instruments, and the "samples" that breathed their last in the machines.

His body trembled slightly, his fingertips felt cold, and a chill crept up his spine.

He had to clench his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, trying to use the pain to maintain his last bit of consciousness.

Even though the pain is clear, the despair in one's heart has nowhere to hide.

Or... maybe I should just commit suicide... maybe that would be a quicker relief.

This thought had flashed through his mind countless times.

But he knew that if he escaped this calamity through death, the entire Mondlair family would be facing the wrath of the Commander-in-Chief.

His suffering alone is already the minimum price to pay.

As the meeting ended, the officers walked past him, casting pitying glances at him.

"Come with me."

The white-haired man stood by the door, delivering Death's verdict.