Chapter 379 The Stain On His Name

• Before the assassination kicked off, the arms business kept rolling. Conservatively, it had already made that Eagle Nation top brass a few hundred million. Mark was generous with the cash. Some orders actually came from him, not the mercenary group. With that kind of profit dangling in front of him, the Eagle Nation official grew bolder and bolder. Mark started asking for specifics—certain guns, including Eagle Nation’s most famous ultra-long-range sniper rifle, the YM-479, nicknamed Thunder. That rifle’s got insane deterrence power, with an effective range of three thousand meters. Last time the world was shocked by an assassination, the shooter used Thunder. At first, the other side hesitated. In the end, when Mark bumped the price up to one hundred and fifty million, they finally agreed. After tight planning, Mark personally carried out the hit. When that Wolf Nation bigwig finished his meeting and headed back to the city, Mark waited on the roof of a moving high-rise, eyes on the hunt. Bruno and Oliver lined up a riot to funnel the Wolf Nation official’s exit down to a single route. Finally, twenty minutes later, the target slid into Mark’s scope. “Ten seconds until the shot. Everyone, prep to pull out after the mission,” Mark said into his earpiece, locking in. The guy was cautious. Mark was too. Even after the target entered range, he waited a beat longer. The convoy’s special car ran the toughest bulletproof glass. A round could skew after punching through. Mark wanted one clean kill. “Ten, nine, eight… three, two, one!” Mark’s face tightened. He breathed steady and pulled the trigger. The suppressor choked the sound to a whisper. The bullet snapped free, dropping like thunder from the sky toward the Wolf Nation official’s skull. Through the scope, Mark watched the round punch straight through the man’s head, then he stepped off. “Target down. Move,” Mark ordered. The riot crew led by Oliver had already mapped their retreat. They ghosted out as soon as the call came. The hit on the Wolf Nation official lit up Eagle Nation’s military. They rushed to lock down the area. Mark and the team bolted to the lawless zone and immediately set the exit plan from Eagle Nation in motion. The Robinsons had paused their business two days earlier. Trish had been moved one day ahead of schedule and was already on the road to Yantara. Mark’s crew couldn’t just stroll out. With Damon’s mercs running cover, they slipped out of Eagle Nation by boat. By the time they made it back to Yantara, ten days had passed. In those ten days, the assassination shook the world—especially because the weapon used was Thunder, the Eagle Nation special ops standard. The mess cracked the unity between Eagle Nation and Wolf Nation, slowing the two nations’ joint push to break Qin Haiguan. During that stretch, Mark pushed the army straight at Eagle Nation. Axedomin and Calasia moved at the same time, cutting the six-nation alliance clean from outside Qin Haiguan. Without backup, Eagle Nation fell back, again and again, and surrendered in less than a month. With Eagle Nation gone, the remaining five nations showed their weakness. Still, wiping them out head-on wasn’t happening overnight. This was a long war. It had to be fought to the end. No breathing room allowed. Win this one, and you buy a hundred generations of peace. Mark carried the heaviest load of all. War is brutal. He watched strong, loyal generals die as heroes. His hatred for the enemy sometimes pushed him over the line. Four bloody years later, North Sea became the last stand. Both sides bled. Mark clawed out of piles of bodies again and again, driving the shattered troops to chase the broken enemy. On the wind-whipped shore, he fought the five core warlords from the five nations. One versus five. He cut them all down. At that point, the alliance still had five hundred elite troops left. Mark led the remnants and boxed those five hundred in on an island’s edge, but he didn’t storm the place. The outcome was set. No need to waste lives smashing a door that was already coming off its hinges. He waited for the international news: the five nations’ surrender. On day three, the surrender finally came—and those five hundred all killed themselves, diving into the sea. Just when Mark thought he could finally go home, the International Military Court branded him a war criminal. In those four years, Mark had almost died more than once, but the court twisted those brutal battles into tales of him slaughtering surrendering enemies. The last North Sea fight got painted as Mark torturing prisoners. Worse, someone showed up to testify in every single fight—pinning fake charges on him. Among them were star generals from Calasia and Axedomin. These were men who’d fought shoulder to shoulder with him. After months of trial, Yantara fought to shield Mark, but under pressure, they stripped him of the title the Defender. “This isn’t over. Our top brass already set up a special task force. We’ll pull the evidence and clear your name.” “They’re scared. As long as the Defender stays in our army, they won’t sleep easy. That’s why even Axedomin and Calasia, our allies, smear you, General.” The Yantara officials were furious, teeth clenched. Mark just smiled, cool and distant. “Titles? Honors? So what. I’m wronged today, sure—but isn’t this another kind of proof from the world? Two bloodbaths, and the name of the Defender makes them all afraid. That’s not a bad thing.” “The flames are dying down now. Time for me to step away.” “My wife and daughter… I’ve already missed too much.” Mark took off the uniform of the Nine-Star Supreme General and walked away with easy grace. Watching him leave, Yantara’s generals had tears in their eyes. They dropped to their knees as one. “We honor the Defender!” Yantara had won big. The whole nation should’ve been celebrating. But when they prepped the Three Armies Victory Ceremony, the question of who sat at the head dragged on with no answer. “Celebrate what? Every day the Defender’s name isn’t restored, we delay the ceremony one more day. Besides him, who’s qualified to take that seat?” “No Defender, no attendance from me.” “I’ve been made a Nine-Star Supreme General, but I won’t steal the Defender’s credit. Delay it.” One after another, the top brass from the bureau refused to attend any victory ceremony without the Defender. Yantara’s leaders respected the army’s stance and canceled the ceremony for now. It had been nearly five years since Mark last saw Laurel in the hospital. She’d been eight months pregnant at the time. “The kid… almost five now, huh?” On a regular flight back to Skyrion state, Mark touched the photo Laurel had mailed him—a shot of mother and daughter—and sighed. This time home, he carried a stain on his name. He wasn’t the unmatched Defender anymore. Fate had a dark sense of humor. “Sir, please hold on a moment.” The plane touched down. Mark was about to file out with the other passengers when a flight attendant stopped him. Mark frowned a little but stayed seated. The airport started clearing out—completely. Empty, echoing halls. Then came a drumroll of boots, crisp and synchronized. Thousands of soldiers in uniform, rifles ready, marched in tight formation into the terminal…