The Old-Timers

Far too many people had seen Second Lieutenant Wu Xu covered in blood, but no one had ever seen Wu Xu with reddened eyes. Just as no one in the past had ever seen Major Qing as frail and powerless as he was today, nor Stream Blades in a state where they could do nothing but flee. That was Stream Blades! Seemingly born for battle, they had fought in Burma, in Shenghai, on Xilang Peak—undefeated in every clash. They had fought tooth and nail toward Zenith in the bloody battle off the Australian coast, and made a desperate charge toward the pole through the hopeless wastes of the lost Antarctic... Yet today, at this very moment, amid the dense swarms of Great Spikes surging across the Martian battlefield, they could only turn their backs on a mighty foe and flee with everything they had. That was a complete Puta'er. Han Qingyu and He Tangtang had already proven to everyone with their desperate strikes: in this era, on this battlefield, that was not merely a power mankind could not resist—it was something they could not even touch. And so, the only option left to Wu Xu, Rusty Sister, and He Tangtang was to run. Even then, the reality was that simply running away was impossibly difficult. First: Puta'er would certainly give chase—and indeed was already pursuing them. It seemed dead set on killing that human warrior who had been critically wounded and collectively rescued. Block it? There was no one left who could stand in its way. And as for outrunning its pursuit, no matter how desperately Xu, Rust, and Tang unleashed their speed, the chances were practically nonexistent. Second: the route back to the human ships for Wu Xu's group was now almost completely covered by dense swarms of Great Spikes. Although humanity's Super-tier combatants had prepared a plan beforehand, spreading out along a line to intercept and provide cover, three Daies had already arrived among the Great Spike swarms, while numerous Red Shoulder clusters were cutting through their ranks. The Supers themselves were locked in brutal combat. Reports of Super-tier combatants being wounded and trapped began to mount. This was precisely why General Yelgena had begged Wen Jifei to do everything he could to recall the Super-tier combatants. What he dreaded and feared was that the Expeditionary Army would bury all its top-tier forces here for the sake of a rescue mission destined to fail. Third: including that unstoppable super dreadnought, nearly forty Great Spike ships still hovered and prowled in the sky, constantly surveilling the battlefield below and airdropping reinforcements to bolster local sectors as needed. At the same time, they maintained a speed and distance that allowed them to strike the airspace above the human defensive lines at a moment's notice. Evidently, this was a three-dimensional encirclement whose tactical sophistication rivaled mankind's own. And at the heart of this death trap was Han Qingyu—the man the Expeditionary Army seemed compelled to save at all costs. "They can't escape." As much as Wen Jifei didn't want to admit it, as the battlefield picture grew clearer and more complete, this final verdict surfaced in his mind, cruel and undeniable. It was impossible for Wu Xu and the others to break out with Qingzi. The sudden tactical shift of the Great Spike swarm and their display of battlefield coordination was the final, fatal straw. It crushed the battlefield's last sliver of hope for surviving amidst the chaos. It was so despairing that even if Qingzi actually made it onto a ship, the vessel carrying him would almost certainly never make it out. "You can't keep running in a straight line," Wen Jifei said urgently to Wu Xu's group, striving for calm without taking the time to explain. As things stood, continuing in a straight line meant Puta'er would inevitably overtake them in short order and bring them into its attack range. The only thing they could do was exploit Puta'er's sole flaw as a colossal war beast—its massive bulk made its turning relatively sluggish. By choosing their timing and routes with precision, they had to weave and veer constantly just to buy a little more time. Yes, even if they executed every step to perfection and pushed beyond their limits, it would only prolong their struggle. And then? Failure and death would still follow. "What if we commit General Jiang to the battlefield?" "What if we mass the Super-tier combatants into a defensive line and try to hold it off for a moment?" "..." Wen Jifei's mind raced, but every idea that popped up was swiftly dismissed by his own reasoning. Even if they committed General Jiang Longchi at all costs, even if they assembled the Super-tier combatants to form a battle line and die trying to stall it, the outcome on the battlefield wouldn't change. At best, it would only prolong the struggle slightly. And dragging out the struggle would not tip the scales in humanity's favor; it would only tilt them further toward the Great Spikes. This was because of the insurmountable gulf in endurance and sustained combat capability between humans and Great Spikes—and because the forty thousand Great Spikes summoned earlier by Puta'er on the periphery were about to arrive. They might originally have been unorganized, shattered remnants on Mars with little fighting power left, but spurred by Puta'er's arrival, they were now rushing over at full speed. Once they entered the fray, they would completely upend the numerical balance, forming a wall of death to finalize the encirclement and slaughter. "...Is it truly over?" Wen Jifei was not a commander meant for frontline slashing and charging, yet over these years, Stream Blades and the numerous massive battlefields they had weathered had largely remained under his overarching grasp. In Burma, he had personally managed and overseen everything for Stream Blades. In Antarctica, he was the one who made the final call to lead Stream Blades in the dash for the pole. On Mars, he was the one who devised the breakthrough tactic led by Han Qingyu and CA117 early on... One could say that when it came to controlling the battlefield, Wen Jifei had always been confident and formidable—until today, until this very moment. For the first time, he felt an utter sense of powerlessness and the suffocating chill of despair. Without another word, as the observation scope on the bridge of the Doomsday Great Wall constantly shifted angles, Wen Jifei watched everything on the battlefield in silence. The colossal behemoth Puta'er was charging across the battlefield, it and its four-sided pillar sword towering above the entire field, above all else. Humanity's Super-tier combatants were still locked in combat amid the swarms of Great Spikes, refusing to fall back. In the sky, the Great Spike ships prowled. Wu Xu's trio continued to weave and press forward desperately, but the obstruction grew heavier, the going harder, their pace slower. At the same time, from the Expeditionary Army's lines, over thirty human source energy ships finally took off in rapid succession. "Let's go." Perhaps it was time to order the remaining Super-tier combatants once again to find a chance to withdraw, whether it would do any good or not... Wen Jifei turned his head and looked at his sniper rifle resting against a corner of the bulkhead. It was useless. Yet Wen Jifei was ready to take it and go down to fetch Qingzi. To fetch Wu Xu, Rusty Sister, and Tangtang. Suddenly— *Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...* The fierce din could be heard crystal clear even inside the mothership. Those were the sounds of source energy devices erupting—not individually overwhelming, but vastly numerous and densely packed. When tens of thousands of source energy surges converged into one, Mars seemed like a colossal engine suddenly roaring to life. "For all that breathes—No Retreat, our bodies bar the sky!" It was a unified shout from tens of thousands, echoing across Mars. Wen Jifei spun around at once and pressed himself against the observation scope again. In his sight... blue light illuminated Mars. Dense human battle formations were sprinting across the ground, surging toward the battlefield like a tsunami's colossal tide... It was the veterans. The old-timers hadn't boarded the ships. They were attacking. Eighty thousand veterans charged forth like a raging flood, crashing headlong toward the enemy lines. It was not a blind mass charge. They were employing the squad-level attack formations that Azure had used for decades before the era of open warfare. This was the battlefield formation the old-timers were most familiar with, and perhaps the only one they had truly mastered. In just this way, through youth, maturity, and into old age, they had hacked at Great Spikes for decades. "You all?!" Wen Jifei quickly patched into the veterans' battlefield command channel and asked. "We're not leaving." "We never intended to leave anyway, did we?" "When we came, we agreed we weren't going back." The old-timers answered nonchalantly as they charged. "Don't worry, we're not about to all throw ourselves at that big monster together." "Yeah, there are so many squads. Spread out, even if it wants to kill us all, it'll take quite a while, won't it?" "We're going to break up their encirclement." "Go give the orders, Second Lieutenant Wen! Don't dawdle, hurry up and issue the command... That thing can't tell so many humans apart. Once we charge in and tear this battlefield wide open and throw it into chaos, let them hide or relocate—slip Major Qing into any squad you like and sneak him out." "Get the Supers out, too." "Right, get them out!" Wen Jifei hesitated for half a second. "Go!" an old fellow roared at him fiercely out of nowhere. "Hurry the fuck up, stop dragging your goddamn feet!" they cursed, sounding just like the arrogant outpost squad leaders, fireteam chiefs, and crusty old veterans of the past, bellowing and dressing down the clueless greenhorns freshly assigned to their squads. "Please don't let us die for nothing, Second Lieutenant Wen," they said. "Get out of here! Go get the remnant bone. When you have it and grow stronger, just remember to come back and hack that bastard to death for us."