Perhaps owing to her frail and youthful appearance, she received only a relatively light beating before being sent back to the dark room for continued detention.
With her back turned to the guard, Lin Yu silently used her healing magic to alleviate the swelling and pain from the assault.
The room now held a bedroll, arranged through the lieutenant colonel’s connections, and a few daily necessities were tucked into a corner, allowing her to sit on a soft mattress instead of the cold, rough concrete floor.
This small comfort offered a slight reprieve to her taut nerves.
What troubled her most now was not the colossal charge of treason hanging over her head, but the bizarre deaths of the wounded soldiers she had healed.
“Could I truly be cursed…?”
As she touched her no longer aching cheek, Lin Yu suddenly realized she had just healed herself too.
‘Oh, so I’m going to die mysteriously too?’
Lying somewhat resignedly on the bedroll, she tried to breathe in the faint scent of sunlight that lingered in the dim room.
“Someone will surely vouch for me,” Lin Yu murmured.
She suddenly recalled that annoying face; if he hadn’t followed the other wounded soldiers to their grave, if he hadn’t been “cursed,” then he could have served as a witness, proving that she had always diligently treated the injured…
Nangong, her seniors, and the lieutenant colonel were too closely connected to testify, leaving perhaps only him among the surviving wounded… No, perhaps even he had lost his “always only getting injured” talent, struck down by her curse.
The more she pondered, the more Lin Yu felt a genuine curse clung to her, causing everyone she healed to eventually meet an untimely end.
इनटू her heart, for besides the wounded soldiers, she had also healed Nangong.
Though it was merely a pinprick wound on the back of her hand during practice, it was still an act of healing.
‘No, not Nangong! Nangong must be fine, there’s no curse, I’m just scaring myself… It can’t be, it can’t be…’
Lin Yu ceased her agonizing thoughts.
****
When she next opened her eyes, she had lost all sense of time, aware only of the growing pressure in her lower abdomen, which likely jolted her from her sleep.
Fumbling in the dark for the toilet to relieve herself, she finally had the presence of mind to observe the situation beyond the iron door.
The small window remained shut, with no meal left there… if that foul-smelling gruel could even be called a meal. It seemed either it wasn’t mealtime yet, or the guard had simply taken it away when she didn’t come to retrieve it.
“Knock, knock—”
“Huh?”
Suddenly, a sliver of light pierced the gloom as the door cracked open.
“Don’t—don’t come in yet—”
Lin Yu, with the swiftest movement of her life, held back the rest of her urine, pulled up her pants, and, face flushed crimson, hid in the shadows. “Now… now it’s fine…”
The guard outside, utterly indifferent to her plight, immediately pushed the door wide open, announcing the upcoming event in his usual emotionless voice: “Your trial commences shortly.”
“A military court?”
The guard offered no reply, simply forging ahead, and Lin Yu noticed they were heading in a different direction this time.
‘What’s happening? A trial after only a few days? This speed is completely abnormal; how could such an inefficient bureaucracy manage this…?’
‘And the investigation into her was equally swift, precise, and thorough. It felt less like they stumbled upon her as a suspect and more like they had prepared all the relevant information beforehand.’
The scent of conspiracy was so potent it didn’t even require a sharp sniff to detect, and the web of intrigue was so apparent it didn’t need conscious thought to recognize.
As a mere medic, holding the rank of private, what leverage did she possess to contend with the machinations of the powerful?
The Crown Prince had died, and the blame for his death was being squarely laid upon her.
Moreover, rumor had it that the Emperor’s offensives had utterly failed. If she were “made” into a “spy” at such a juncture, would the blame be shifted to her for leaking intelligence to the Lanfors? Would it also implicate Nangong, her seniors, and the lieutenant colonel, who knew nothing of this?
Lin Yu’s mind swirled with questions as she walked, wishing desperately for a question-and-answer machine to articulate every query, or even for a “ding” to signal a system appearing to rescue her.
Yet, reality dictated that she could only rely on herself—to appeal, to extricate herself, and to use her eloquence to refute the shameless individuals intent on pinning the crime on her.
Finally, she arrived at the turning point of her destiny: a small courtroom, converted from a mess hall.
Seated in the center was someone who appeared to be the judge, flanked by two individuals who had previously interrogated her, and, most sickeningly, the quartermaster—the utterly despicable imbecile who had reported her.
The rest were uniformed spectators, either in army fatigues or investigator uniforms; the entire assembly comprised only a dozen or so people, a modest gathering.
“Now, the trial of Private Lin Yu on charges of colluding with the enemy and treason officially commences!”
The hammer of this otherworldly court struck, and a barrage of sharp accusations unfolded before her, determined to crush her innocence before the judgment seat.
‘What evidence did they have?’
Primarily, two points.
Ordinary villagers in Diacla could not possibly be fluent in Lanfors; she was unequivocally a spy. As for the villagers who had watched her grow up? They must have been bribed with money! Their homes must be searched and investigated!
While mourning at a grave, she had used a Holy Church prayer gesture! This was a prevalent religion in Lanfors, with virtually no presence in Diacla! It was undoubtedly a habit retained from her time as a spy!
As for all the healed soldiers dying days later, they presented this as evidence of Lin Yu undermining military stability, even bringing it up first. However, Lin Yu knew she could refute it with a single statement.
“Lin Yu, do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“Yes,” she replied, lifting her head to meet the judge’s gaze, then delivered her hastily prepared statement point by point.
“The deaths of the wounded were not my intention, but rather a collective consequence of the lack of medical personnel, the scarcity of medical supplies, and the deplorable medical environment. In the unit where I served, a full complement of twelve hundred men was allocated only five medics; this situation improved slightly after I voluntarily transferred from a rifleman to a medic, yet it still only reached a ratio of 200:1.”
In reality, several senior medics also needed to be subtracted, meaning even with troop reductions, she and Nangong were each responsible for over four hundred men on average.
However, to protect the lieutenant colonel’s budding romance from being utterly destroyed, Lin Yu decided to help conceal the truth, knowing full well it wasn’t her primary means of acquittal.
To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure if this ratio was high or low.
“Regarding medical supplies, we possessed only the most basic surgical instruments; even plasma was scarce, let alone whole blood. Painkillers and anti-infectives were nowhere to be found—no, more accurately, they were supposedly supplied but forbidden for use on ordinary soldiers.”
“The medical environment was appalling: no indoor structures, just a single rigid tent, with no proper flooring, merely hardened earth beneath our feet.”
“Under such dire conditions, even after surgery, who could possibly withstand infection and the subsequent cascade of complications?”
“As for those wounded soldiers who later succumbed to shellfire and gunshots…” Lin Yu glanced toward the quartermaster’s seat. “Sir Prosecutor, you don’t actually believe I possess magic to control bullets and cannonballs, do you?”
The judge struck his gavel, interrupting her digression.
Shrugging, she proceeded to defend herself on the second point.
“Regarding my proficiency in speaking and writing Lanfors, I would like to ask you, when did learning become a crime?”
“The Diacla Empire has prospered to this day by embracing advanced Western magical techniques. I ask everyone present: which of your garments today was not woven on a loom improved by foreigners? Which of your meals was not cultivated with alchemical fertilizers introduced by foreigners? Which of your homes was not constructed with reinforced concrete invented by foreigners?”
“Even for you, who have specially gathered here to witness my trial—which of the engines powering your modes of transport was not manufactured using foreign technology?”
“Since the Great Collapse (TL Note: A catastrophic event in the world’s history), every aspect of the modern life we pride ourselves on today stems from Diacla’s willingness to humbly learn from abroad. Without His Majesty’s exemplary adherence to the principle of ‘learning from the barbarians to control the barbarians’ (TL Note: A historical Chinese strategy of adopting foreign strengths to counter foreign threats), we would not have everything we see before us now—even the magic-powered lamps illuminating you at this very moment are foreign inventions.”
“Learning from external sources has been Diacla’s greatest asset for its continued existence; the previous dynasty collapsed precisely because it clung to old ways and refused to progress! And now, in the flourishing era of Diacla, you dare to level such heinous accusations against an ordinary person who merely learned Lanfors? Even if her original intention in learning Lanfors was to understand and better dismantle the enemy?”
This eloquent speech, filled with praise for the Emperor, garnered some applause, but it quickly died down at the sound of the judge’s gavel.
“Silence!”
Once the applause subsided, Lin Yu proceeded to address the third point of the accusation.
“As for the charge concerning my act of prayer, I believe Article 1 of Chapter 2 of the Diacla Imperial Constitution sufficiently proves my innocence: ‘Any citizen of the Diacla Empire, under the absolute leadership of His Imperial Majesty, shall enjoy absolute freedom of religious belief.'”
This was a rather modern regulation, passed only in recent years due to pressure from foreign missionaries, and unexpectedly, it now proved useful.
“Whether I believe or not is my freedom, and what I believe in is also my freedom.”
“Objection!” The sudden outburst drew everyone’s attention to the speaker. “This issue is unrelated to freedom of belief. According to the defendant’s previous statements, she has never left the mountain village where she was born, and within a hundred-mile radius of that village, there are no Holy Church facilities. This means she could not have learned this religious gesture out of personal faith.”
The judge did not stop their statement this time, appearing to heavily favor the prosecution.
“What if I told you the prayer I performed that day was not in the manner of the faith practiced by the Lanfors people?”
“We request to call a witness.”
“Thud—” Another gavel strike. “Request granted.”
“We anticipated such sophistry and have specifically brought a Holy Church missionary from outside the region to expose your fraudulent lies.”
‘Heh heh… This is it, success or failure hinges on this.’
Lin Yu silently performed the gesture from memory, touching her right hand to her forehead, then chest, then right shoulder, then left shoulder, before bowing her head and closing her eyes in a prayerful stance.
After a few seconds, she looked up at the quartermaster. “That day, I prayed exactly like this, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Then, Your Honor, please observe carefully the difference between the gesture this witness is about to make and mine.”
The missionary was quickly escorted into the courtroom, and after a few whispered words from the Lanfors-speaking individual at the prosecution’s table, he too began to pray like Lin Yu.
[In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen…]
No one paid attention to the meaning of the Lanfors words the missionary uttered; their focus was entirely on his movements.
He raised his right hand, moving from forehead to chest, then from left shoulder to right shoulder.
From left shoulder to right shoulder.
Not from right to left.
With a triumphant smile, Lin Yu questioned the witness brought by the prosecution. “Father, what if I told you the sign of the cross should be made from the right shoulder to the left shoulder?”
After translation, the priest vehemently denounced her as a “heretic of the Orthodox Church.”
“Precisely! As you can see, the Orthodox Church is not the mainstream denomination of the Lanfors Republic. On the contrary, it is the state religion of the Grand Duchy of Siris… a nation that has provided us significant assistance in this war!”
****