Chapter Eighty-Two: Order Is Justice

What sets humans apart is their empathy for others. Everyone knows that the person before them could pose a threat, but when it comes to raising a gun and preparing to shoot, any normal person will hesitate. Unless it’s a battlefield gone mad, the soldiers of the Xuan Law Army simply cannot bring themselves to shoot a mother and child without a second thought. A woman and her infant—this strikes directly at the soldiers’ softest spot. These are people’s soldiers, sworn to defend the populace, not imperial troops from distant lands.

By order, they now had the right to open fire on the mother and child, even the baby, for they might possess some supernatural power that could endanger the base. Everyone understood the logic, yet who could act without hesitation in reality? What if they truly were just an ordinary mother and child?

“Leave the base perimeter at once—one hundred paces.”

The words were as cold and emotionless as frozen ice, reaching the ears of every guard on duty. All turned to see two towering men, nearly two meters tall, with powerful builds and expressionless faces, striding to the main gate. At the sight of these imposing figures and their deathlike countenances, a single word surfaced in everyone’s mind: Vanguard.

“If you do not leave the gate within ten seconds, we have the authority to engage. Ten, nine…” The vanguard’s voice was chillingly indifferent, devoid of the slightest feeling.

Though the vanguard spoke in the common tongue, awkward and accented, the woman managed to barely understand. Yet, rather than retreat at the warning, she gently set her child down in front of her, bowed her head to the ground, and let the sharp stones cut her forehead, blood masking the grime on her face.

“Please, master, take in my child, I beg you, please…” The woman knocked her head against the ground again and again, uncaring of her wounds—or perhaps the pain simply no longer registered; all her strength was spent on protecting her infant.

The acrid scent of blood made the baby cry with its remaining strength. The woman’s desperate pleas and the baby’s feeble wails were met only by the cold, unyielding barrel of a gun.

“Five, four…” The vanguard raised his weapon, aiming at the woman’s head, ready to end the potential threat when the countdown reached zero.

Humans have empathy, but the vanguard are weapons.

“Wait!” A voice called out from behind. At once, the vanguard felt a rush of wind and instinctively spun, gun raised. The next instant, recognizing the approaching figure, the vanguard relaxed and lowered his weapon, returning his aim to the woman.

Olina sprinted forward, covering several meters in a single breath, and arrived at the gate in moments. She glanced at the kneeling woman and the weak infant, a flicker of worry in her eyes, then turned to the vanguard and said, “By Qin Le’s order, receive all refugees.”

After some time spent among them, Olina had come to understand these people’s ways and knew exactly how to speak to them.

Orders and missions—so long as you grasped these two keys, they were easier to reason with than anyone.

One of the vanguard, his face still blank, replied, “Miss Olina, we have received no such mission. Please provide the order in writing. If you do not have the document, please step aside and do not interfere with our duty, or we may have to consider you a hostile.”

“Uh…” Olina looked awkward; in her excitement to rush ahead, she had forgotten to bring the relevant order. “I don’t have it at the moment, can you wait just a bit? Qin Le will be here soon, I promise! Please, just give me a few minutes!”

She pressed her hands together, bowing her head slightly. The vanguard was silent for several seconds, then said, “Miss Olina, please have this person move away from the base gate.”

Though cold and impassive, the vanguard was not without feeling. For Olina, with whom they had a decent relationship, they were willing to grant some leeway. But that could not supersede their mission, nor compromise it, so he chose a middle ground: have the woman move a hundred paces from the gate, as per protocol.

“Thank you.” Olina breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief, then stepped to the iron gate, reaching through the bars to gently stroke the baby’s head.

“There, don’t cry. You’ll have a full meal soon.”

Her gentle words soothed the infant, and the despair in the woman’s eyes was replaced by a glimmer of hope.

“Princess Olina, please, take my child in.”

She had heard much about Princess Olina—tales that seemed incredible, but now she prayed they were true. That the princess truly loved her people as her own and would help the common folk unconditionally.

“The Republic will take him in. For now, carry your child back and wait; I’ll open the gate for you in a moment.” Olina’s warm smile shone bright in the sunlight.

The woman hesitated, then finally gathered her child and, bloodied and limping, left the gate. She chose to trust the princess of legend—such nobility would surely not stoop to deceive someone as lowly as herself.

The woman’s safe return, and the princess’s words, were like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through the black-clad crowd of refugees. Some rose again, eyes listless and wild; others gazed longingly at the neat rows of houses behind the wire fence; still others drew closer to the mother and child, eager to question them. Some even cast their gaze on other parents with infants, thinking that holding a baby might grant them entry.

As a third-rank Grand Knight, Olina saw all of this. In that moment, she seemed to enter a strange state, able to sense everyone’s emotions and desires.

Why are people so ugly? Why is this world so ugly?

The thought came unbidden. Olina shook her head, trying to dispel it.

“They are not the problem. The problem is this world, this twisted society, this monstrous nation. When even the basic right to life cannot be guaranteed, how can I expect them to be kind? Only those with full bellies can afford to speak of kindness.”

Raised in the slums, Olina had once used a simple rule to judge good and bad people: the more neatly dressed and well-kept, the more likely they were to be kind, for they would occasionally offer her alms. The poorer and rougher-looking, the worse they were.

Yet after becoming a princess, she found her childhood logic inverted; those she thought were good proved even worse.

Pushing aside her tangled thoughts, Olina took a deep breath and called out, “Attention! If you wish to enter the base for shelter and food, men and women form two lines. We will take in everyone, but not those who break the rules. I will be here the whole time—do not try your luck, or you will die of hunger in this wasteland!”

Her clear voice rang out among the refugees. Those who had been restless froze in place, their faces a mix of disbelief and joy. In their muddied, numb eyes, hope was kindled once more.

No matter how harsh life becomes, so long as there is the faintest glimmer of hope, the downtrodden will grasp at it with all their strength. In this world, they are as humble as wild grass, and just as tenacious.

Olina vaulted over the wire fence, landing before the refugees. Her sword, gleaming coldly, thrust into the earth, and her presence, far surpassing that of a third-rank Grand Knight, radiated transcendence, holiness, and majesty.

“Qin Le once said: human nature cannot withstand temptation, only powerful rules as a baseline can foster kindness.”

Her refined features were stern; at this moment, she looked not like a princess, but a king.

Order is justice.

Under her transcendent, majestic, sacred aura, the refugees seemed compelled by some unseen force, their bodies moving of their own accord.

A quarter of an hour later, Qin Le arrived at the gate with a battalion, ready to process the intake.

By then, the refugees had formed two ragged lines, with Olina standing before them, motionless.

After hearing the full story from the vanguard on duty, Qin Le punished the guards: a week’s solitary confinement apiece, and a ten-thousand-word written reflection.

Qin Le understood their reaction; after all, soldiers are just people, and these were people’s soldiers, raised under the new era’s ideals. They could not be as cold and unfeeling as the vanguard, able to act without a qualm against a defenseless woman or child. Of course, that was only because the woman had moved slowly and made no threatening moves—had she tried to force her way in, the soldiers believed they would have pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Still, it was a basic mistake, and discipline must be maintained.

“Begin intake.”

The massive iron gate swung open, and an infantry vehicle bristling with heavy machine guns rolled out. Under the watchful aim of heavy weapons, the refugees entered the base to undergo a full search and receive work clothes.

As they stepped onto the concrete, the ragged refugees were instantly moved to tears; some collapsed to their knees, weeping.

Among them, an old man, filthy and bent with age, looked around at the black-haired humans in amazement. They truly all had black hair and eyes, and not the slightest trace of magic—just as if they had been born that way.