Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 238: Chapter Two Hundred And Thirty Seven

Kade did not ask any more questions. The aide bowed deeply. "Yes, General."

Kade turned around quickly and walked out of the holding tent. Damon remained alone with the trembling spy. Damon did not say a word. He simply stared down at the man. The heavy, suffocating silence was more terrifying to the spy than another physical blow. The spy kept his head pressed against the dirt, praying for his life.

A few minutes later, the canvas flap opened. Kade stepped back inside.

He was carrying a smooth wooden writing board, a blank piece of rough parchment paper, a small glass bottle of ink, and a feather quill.

Kade walked over to the spy. He placed the wooden board down onto the dirt floor right in front of the kneeling man’s knees. He set the paper flat on the board, opened the ink bottle, and placed the feather quill beside it. He took out a dagger and cut the spy’s wrist free.

Damon took a slow step forward. His boots stopped just an inch away from the spy’s shaking hands.

"Pick it up," Damon ordered. His voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable threat of death.

The spy gasped softly. He reached out with heavily trembling, bloody fingers. He clumsily picked up the quill. He dipped the sharp tip into the black ink. His hand was shaking so badly that a tiny drop of ink fell onto the dirt.

"You will write exactly what I tell you to write," Damon commanded smoothly. "If you make a mistake, or if you try to leave a hidden warning in the text, you will not live to see the sun rise tomorrow."

The spy nodded his head rapidly. "Yes, My Lord! I will write exactly what you say! I swear it!"

Damon looked at the blank parchment. He needed to craft a message that would completely satisfy the person hiding in the shadows. He needed to give them exactly what they wanted to hear. They wanted to hear that Damon’s marriage was destroyed.

Damon began to dictate the false report. He spoke very slowly, making sure the terrified spy could write every single word clearly.

"Write this," Damon said coldly. "The General received the letter at the camp. He stormed out immediately."

The only sound in the tent was the sharp, scratchy noise of the feather quill moving across the rough paper. The spy swallowed hard and wrote the words.

Damon continued, his voice empty of emotion.

"He rode to the fabric shop in the lower city," Damon dictated, forcing himself to say the terrible words. "He stormed into the shop angrily. He found the lady inside."

Damon paused, watching the black ink form the letters.

"He mercilessly beat the man entangled with the lady," Damon said, his voice dropping into a dark, rough whisper. "He destroyed the shop."

Kade stood nearby, watching the General.

Kade felt a slight shiver run down his own spine. The story Damon was creating was dark.

"And finally," Damon concluded the report. "He dragged the lady out of the store. He took her back to the Benson mansion to await her strict punishment."

The spy’s hand shook as he finished writing the last sentence. He placed a dot of ink at the end.

The spy gently put the quill down on the dirt. He kept his head bowed, terrified to look up.

Kade quickly stepped forward. He reached into a small leather pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of fine, dry sand. He sprinkled the sand evenly across the wet black ink on the parchment paper. He waited for a few seconds to let the sand absorb the excess moisture. Then, he lifted the paper and gently blew the loose sand away, leaving the dark words dry and clear.

Kade held the paper up to the light of the oil lamp. He read the short report carefully. It looked exactly like a rushed, secret message sent from a spy in the field.

Kade lowered the paper. He looked up at Damon. His face was filled with genuine confusion.

"My lord," Kade asked respectfully, holding the letter. "What are your plans with this?"

Damon looked at the finished letter. A very dark look entered his brown eyes.

"Whoever is behind this will meet me their self," Damon replied smoothly. His voice carried a tone of chilling certainty.

Kade frowned deeply. He did not understand the logic. If the enemy was smart enough to hire spies and use anonymous letters, why would they ever reveal their true face?

"Who would be stupid to do that?" Kade asked honestly, shaking his head. "They have stayed hidden this long. They know you are dangerous."

Damon looked into Kade’s eyes.

"This one is that stupid," Damon stated firmly.

Damon knew exactly how arrogant nobles operated. They loved to gloat. They loved to see the results of their wicked schemes with their own eyes.

"Collect the address from him," Damon ordered, pointing a finger down at the trembling spy on the floor. "Find out exactly where the drop-off point is. And send our own trusted courier to their meet-up place to deliver this letter."

Kade looked at the paper in his hand. He still had serious doubts about the plan’s success.

"Won’t they be suspicious that he didn’t hand it himself?" Kade asked carefully, gesturing to the spy. "If a completely different courier shows up at the alley, the enemy will know something is wrong."

Damon let out a short, quiet breath. He shook his head slightly.

"No," Damon responded smoothly. "This one doesn’t care about anything other than the outcome."

Damon analyzed the enemy’s psychological weakness perfectly.

"They are completely blinded by their own greed and their own hatred," Damon explained to his aide. "They only care about hearing that my marriage is ruined. They only want to read the words that say I beat a man and dragged my wife away in anger. When the courier hands them the letter, they will be too eager to read the good news to care about the face of the man delivering it."