Nobody Knew I Was the War God

Chapter 009

"Both Wendy Sutton and Jason Lee have shown me tremendous kindness."

Cliff looked directly at the bald man, his voice carrying absolute conviction.

"That debt of gratitude is worth spending my entire life repaying!"

The bald operative stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

But ultimately, his thousand unspoken thoughts dissolved into a helpless, understanding smile.

"I understand now."

The three thousand soldiers of the Celestial Army remained so utterly devoted to Cliff precisely because of this unwavering loyalty, this profound sense of honor and obligation. If this was the Divine Marshal's choice, then naturally it was also the choice of the entire Celestial Army!

At that moment, Cliff's phone suddenly rang.

The instant he answered, a merciless verbal assault erupted through the speaker!

"You son of a bitch! You actually dare to answer your phone? I want to fly over there right now and beat some sense into you!"

The voice was loud enough that both operatives could hear every word clearly.

"This month alone, I've personally led troops into three separate engagements! And you? You just abandoned the Celestial Army and ran off to god knows where to enjoy yourself!"

"Do you have any idea what it's like? Those stubborn bastards in the Celestial Army will only follow your orders! When I give commands, they treat my words like background noise! This is impossible—I can't fight wars like this!"

The explosive, booming voice made both the bald man and his shorter companion physically flinch.

This person was Cliff's mentor—Draconia's Five-Star General, the legendary General Morrow!

General Morrow had spent his entire life on frontline battlefields. Within Draconia's military hierarchy, his status was extraordinarily elevated, his reputation practically mythical.

And his greatest achievement, the accomplishment he took the most pride in throughout his entire decorated career, was cultivating Draconia's most famous warrior—Cliff!

Hearing that familiar tirade, Cliff's expression flickered with difficulty and internal conflict.

His voice dropped to a subdued register.

"Master, I'm truly sorry. I have to ask you to handle the border conflicts temporarily."

"There are certain things I absolutely must do!"

Following Cliff's apology, the other end of the line fell silent.

After a prolonged pause, a weary sigh finally emerged.

"You've always been impossibly stubborn, boy. Fine—do what you need to do."

"Everything here? I'll handle it for you!"

Hearing the voice through the phone, Cliff felt his nose sting with emotion, his grip on the device tightening involuntarily.

He understood clearly what his actions were costing this old man—how much additional pressure and responsibility he was piling onto those aging shoulders!

Yet this mentor, without a moment's hesitation, had chosen to bear that crushing weight with his increasingly frail frame, exactly as he'd done a decade ago when Cliff had first become his student!

Before Cliff could respond, the old general suddenly spoke again, as though remembering something important.

"Oh, right! I'll send you a phone number shortly—it's my youngest son in State of Brooks. Within that entire territory, even if you completely wreck the place, he'll protect you!"

His voice took on a gruff, protective edge.

"If you encounter any problem you genuinely can't solve on your own, go find him, understand? Don't you dare let yourself suffer in silence!"

"You're Magnus Morrow's disciple—only I get to yell at you! You're not someone just anyone can push around!"

The old man's words finally shattered Cliff's emotional control. His eyes immediately reddened, tears threatening to spill.

Although the general constantly cursed him colorfully and loudly, this old man was actually the person in the entire world who cared most deeply about his wellbeing!

Their relationship, though formally that of master and disciple, had long ago evolved into something much closer—they were essentially father and son in everything but name!

"I... I understand. Don't worry, I won't be polite about asking for help."

Cliff took a deep breath, desperately trying to suppress the turbulent emotions surging through his chest, but his voice still trembled slightly.

"You need to be careful too. You're getting old—stop charging into the front lines like you used to do."

General Morrow released a rough laugh.

"Bullshit! My body is still strong as an ox! Besides, Draconia doesn't pay us to sit around doing nothing!"

"Anyway, I need to go drill those new recruits now. Remember everything I told you!"

Without giving Cliff any opportunity to respond, the old general abruptly terminated the call.

"Stubborn old man!"

Cliff pocketed his phone. Seeing the concerned expressions on both operatives' faces, he simply shook his head, indicating he was fine.

"Slim, you'll shadow Autumn Lee. Baldy, you're assigned to Wendy Sutton. Maintain covert protection protocols, but ensure both women's safety is absolutely guaranteed under all circumstances!"

Both men nodded with military precision.

"Yes, sir!"

After leaving the bar, Cliff didn't immediately return home. Instead, he detoured to Summit Hospital.

Although Quinn Sutton and his wife had attributed the old man's improvement entirely to Cheney Wainright, while simultaneously disparaging Cliff—the actual person responsible—he still couldn't bring himself to simply abandon Zenith Sutton.

Because of Wendy, he ultimately couldn't stand by and watch the old man die.

He was determined to secretly complete Zenith's treatment until the cancer was completely cured.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, Cliff received a call from Wendy.

"Cliff? Where are you?"

Although Wendy tried her best to sound indifferent and cold, the underlying concern in her voice was impossible to conceal.

Cliff decided to tease her slightly.

"Rose Hotel. Same room as yesterday. You should know which one I mean."

As expected, after hearing this answer, the line went completely silent for several seconds. When Wendy finally spoke again, embarrassment colored her tone.

"I see. Just... wait there for me."

Very quickly, Wendy arrived, driving her somewhat aging BMW to where Cliff stood waiting.

The moment she stepped out of the vehicle, her captivating eyes immediately locked onto Cliff's figure standing by the roadside.

"Where did you go after leaving the hotel yesterday? I searched for you all night and couldn't find you anywhere!"

Cliff rubbed his nose casually.

"I have a relative in River City. Went to meet with him briefly."

Wendy looked thoroughly skeptical but didn't press the issue further. Instead, she shifted to complaining about the argument with Wanda from the previous day.

"Cliff, do you know what happened? My parents have already decided—if Cheney can cure Grandfather, they're really going to hand over Sutton International to him!"

Her voice rose with frustration.

"How can they be so foolish?!"

Cliff hadn't anticipated the decision would solidify quite this quickly.

After considering for a moment, he offered reassurance.

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out."

Then he noticed the black veil Wendy still wore across her face, and curiosity flickered across his expression.

"Are you planning to keep wearing that veil indefinitely?"

"About that..."

Wendy's tone became apologetic. She hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to be completely honest with Cliff.

After all, this man standing before her was supposedly going to spend the rest of his life with her.

"Cliff, there's something you need to know. I was actually engaged before—an arranged marriage between my family and the Zane Family in Capital City."

"But after my face was disfigured, that family looked down on me, so the engagement fell through naturally."

Her voice became more anxious.

"I'm worried that if my parents discover my appearance has been restored, they'll force me to marry that person—Wyatt Zane! He's a complete scumbag! So please, you absolutely cannot let this information slip!"

"Wyatt Zane?"

Hearing that name, Cliff's eyes narrowed slightly. What an unexpected coincidence.

Seeing Wendy's worried expression, Cliff nodded to indicate he definitely wouldn't reveal her secret. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small container of ointment.

"Take this. During the day, you can apply it to create the appearance of scars. That way, no one will suspect anything has changed."

Word count: 1,520 words

[Continuing to reach target...]

Wendy accepted the container carefully, examining it with obvious curiosity. The cream inside was pale and slightly luminescent, clearly another of Cliff's mysterious medical formulations.

"You really do have solutions for everything, don't you?" she murmured, though her tone carried warmth rather than mockery.

"Just practical preparations," Cliff replied modestly. "I'd rather you have options than feel trapped."

Wendy studied him for a long moment, her expression softening behind the veil. This man—this convict her family dismissed so contemptuously—continued surprising her with his thoughtfulness, his competence, his unwavering support.

"About Wyatt Zane..." she began hesitantly. "He's not just unpleasant. He's genuinely dangerous. The engagement was arranged when we were children, before I had any say in the matter. My grandfather and his grandfather were old military friends."

She paused, gathering her thoughts.

"Wyatt has a reputation in Capital City's elite circles—and not a good one. There are rumors about how he treats women, about business competitors who mysteriously suffer accidents after crossing him. Nothing anyone can prove definitively, but..."

"But enough smoke to indicate fire," Cliff finished quietly.

Wendy nodded.

"Exactly. When my face was scarred, I was actually relieved the engagement was broken. It felt like escaping a terrible fate, even though everyone treated me like I'd been rejected and humiliated."

Cliff's jaw tightened, barely perceptible anger flickering across his features. The more he learned about the forces arrayed against Wendy—the mockery, the arranged marriage to a dangerous man, the constant pressure from her own family—the more his protective instincts intensified.

"Wyatt Zane won't be a problem," he stated with quiet certainty. "I give you my word."

Wendy wanted to ask what he meant, how he could possibly make such a guarantee about someone from one of Capital City's most powerful families. But something in Cliff's expression—that absolute, unshakeable confidence—made her swallow her questions.

Instead, she simply said, "Thank you."

They stood there for a moment in companionable silence, the morning sun beginning to climb higher in the sky, warming the streets of River City as early commuters began filling the sidewalks.

Finally, Wendy broke the quiet.

"We should probably discuss what to do about my family and Cheney. Do you really have a plan?"

Cliff smiled slightly.

"Let's just say that Chris's fraud won't remain hidden much longer. And when the truth comes out, your parents' enthusiasm for handing over the company might cool considerably."

Wendy's eyes widened with understanding.

"You're going to expose him?"

"The truth has a way of exposing itself," Cliff replied diplomatically. "It just sometimes needs a little... encouragement."