Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 239: Chapter Two Hundred And Thirty Eight

Kade listened closely to the General’s explanation. He noticed the certainty in Damon’s voice. Damon spoke as if he knew exactly how the enemy’s mind worked.

Kade tilted his head slightly to the side.

"You sound like you know this person, my lord," Kade remarked quietly.

Damon stood still. A very slow smile pulled at the corners of his lips. It was the smile of a predator waiting in the grass.

"I do," Damon replied softly. "The hooded man waiting in the alley is not the one pulling the strings," He stated coldly, his eyes darkening. "The hooded man is just another servant. The real mastermind is sitting comfortably in a warm mansion, waiting for the good news."

Damon’s harsh smile faded away, leaving a look of cold, deadly anticipation.

"I hope they prove me wrong," Damon whispered to himself, knowing fully well that they would not. He was ready to spring his trap.

Damon turned his body away from Kade. He looked down at the bleeding, bruised spy still kneeling in the dirt. The man looked like he was about to pass out from the pain.

"Seize with the beating," Damon ordered strictly, raising his hand.

Kade bowed his head. "Yes, General."

"Give him some water and bind his wounds," Damon instructed, his voice flat and practical. He did not care about the man’s comfort; he only cared about his usefulness. "We need him alive for tomorrow’s performance."

"It will be done, My Lord," Kade agreed.

Damon did not say another word. He turned his back to the spy. He pushed the canvas flap aside and walked out into the cool, dark night air of the military camp.

He walked slowly through the quiet camp. The fires were burning low. The soldiers were sleeping in their tents.

Damon walked toward his own private command tent. He pushed the flap open and stepped inside. The tent was lit by a single oil lamp on his desk.

Damon took off his military coat. He draped it carefully over the back of his chair. He unbuttoned the top of his white linen shirt, feeling completely exhausted.

The adrenaline of the interrogation and the trap was slowly fading away from his blood. And as the anger faded, the heavy, crushing weight of reality rushed back into his chest.

He sat down heavily in his chair. He leaned his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his large hands.

He closed his eyes.

He remembered the fabric store. He remembered the terrible, ringing sound of the slap. He could still feel a faint, dull sting on his left cheek where Camilla had struck him with all her might.

But the physical pain of the slap meant absolutely nothing to him. The real pain was the look in her eyes.

He remembered how she had glared at him. He remembered the anger and deep disgust on her face. He remembered how she had pointed to the door and told him to leave.

Damon let out a long sigh. The sound filled the quiet, empty tent.

He had made a terrible mistake. He had let his blind jealousy control his mind. He had jumped to foolish conclusions. He had almost killed his own cousin, Allen, over a misunderstanding. He had indirectly accused his own wife of infidelity in a public place.

He had ruined her day.

Damon rubbed his tired eyes. He thought hard about how to fix the situation. He needed to apologize properly. A simple "sorry" would not work. Camilla had already told him that clearly. He needed to show her that he was genuinely regretful.

"What do I give her to soothe her anger?"

Damon asked himself out loud. His voice was low and rough, echoing softly in the empty tent.

He stared blindly at the desk.

In the past, he had never needed to apologize to a woman. He had no experience with romance, gifts, or repairing broken feelings.

His entire life was built on giving military orders and swinging swords. All these were still new to him.

Suddenly, the canvas flap of the tent was pushed open.

Kade walked into the command tent. He had finished his duties at the holding cell.

"My Lord," Kade announced, standing at attention near the desk. "I have done the task. The spy’s wounds are bound. The courier has been dispatched to the address in the lower city with the fake letter. The trap is fully set."

Damon slowly lowered his hands from his face. He looked up at his aide.

Damon nodded his head. "Good."

He looked at Kade. Kade was a good soldier, but he was also a normal man. Kade spent time in the taverns. Kade talked to people in the city. Kade probably knew more about normal human relationships than he did.

Damon hesitated for a brief second. It was highly inappropriate for a General to ask a subordinate for personal romantic advice. It went against his pride. But he was desperate. He did not know how to handle his angry wife.

Damon sat up straight. He kept his face serious, trying to hide his inner embarrassment.

"Kade," Damon asked quietly.

Kade blinked, surprised by the soft tone. "Yes, my lord?"

Damon took a slow breath. He forced the words out of his mouth.

"Do you have a woman in your heart?" Damon asked.

The question hung in the quiet air of the tent.

Kade’s eyes widened in shock. He stared at the General as if Damon had just asked him to jump off a cliff.

Kade’s throat suddenly felt very dry. He choked on his own saliva.

Cough! Cough!

Kade coughed loudly, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. His face instantly turned a bright, burning shade of pink. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

"My lord...." Kade stammered weakly, his voice shaking with pure embarrassment. "I... I..."

Kade felt put on the spot. He was a tough military aide. He was not used to discussing his private romantic feelings with the most terrifying man in the kingdom.

Damon saw his aide’s panic. Damon felt a small pang of guilt for making the man uncomfortable, but he really needed the advice.