They Are True Warriors!

Outside the Battery Factory. Gunfire roared as bullets whipped wildly across the street. Suddenly, a marauder leaned out from behind cover, aiming a shoulder-mounted Panzerfaust rocket launcher straight at the factory gate. Though concentrated fire converged on him in an instant, he still managed to pull the trigger. "RPG—!" Makka Pakka screamed, throwing himself to the side. Almost the instant the warning left his mouth, a rocket whooshed across the street and slammed at an angle into the factory's exterior wall. Flames detonated in a deafening roar. Concrete fragments sprayed in all directions, exposing large swaths of rebar. Caught off guard, a player near the wall was struck by a volley of bullets and collapsed. A crouched teammate beside him grabbed his collar immediately, dragging him behind cover under the protection of the rest of the squad. Across the street outside the battery factory, scattered fires burned. A pickup truck welded with steel armor plates sat broken down in the middle of the road. The steel plating across its front was badly caved in, and antifreeze dripped from the seam of the crumpled hood, puddling on the asphalt. The marauder in the driver's seat was as mangled as the blown-apart armor plate, with not a single intact patch of flesh left on him. Yet the fixed machine gun mounted in the truck bed remained completely unscathed, chattering wildly as it poured an unrelenting hail of fire into the factory. "Their firepower is too heavy!" The Strength-type player [Construction Site Youth and Bricks] tried to prop up his light machine gun to return fire, but was pinned down before he could even raise his head. Rifle-bearing marauders hugged both sides of the street, pressing steadily toward the factory. Under the suppressing machine gun fire, Edge Slacker had no choice but to pull the squad members who had just pushed out back into the factory, tightening their defensive perimeter. After just one exchange of fire, they had already lost three squad members. Only seven remained in Squad B! Though the marauders had suffered five casualties themselves, against such a ferocious assault, those losses seemed entirely negligible. "Fuck!" Leaning against cover, Edge Slacker cursed as he swapped magazines, glaring at the machine gun technical stalled in the street. That rocket hadn't even blown the damn truck up! Just how thick was their fuel tank?! Or was their luck just that rotten?? "We have to find a way to take out that machine gun!" Seeing his squad leader look over, Construction Site Youth and Bricks, clutching his light machine gun, shouted, "Where's our sniper! Stop fucking lining up shots and start dropping bodies!" [Big Eye in Debt]'s face twisted in exasperation. "Sniper my ass! How the hell am I supposed to snipe with a semi-automatic?! I drew the crosshairs on this scope myself!" Construction Site Youth and Bricks yelled, "Brother Slacker! What do we do now?!" Edge Slacker glanced toward the other squad nearby. "Does your team have any rockets left?" Drum Washing Machine shouted, "Only one round left!" Gritting his teeth, Edge Slacker was about to order the rocket fired when Makka Pakka's shout suddenly came from the side. "Wait, hold on, use mine!" With that, ignoring the bullets whizzing past, Makka Pakka bolted toward the rear and quickly returned from a truck carrying a launcher with a bore wider than his face. To be precise, it could hardly be called a simple launcher—it looked far more like a man-portable rocket pod! Inside were twelve steel tubes, each roughly 1,100 millimeters long with a 20-millimeter caliber, and every single tube held a rocket weighing roughly one jin! Seeing the contraption, Edge Slacker was stunned. "Holy shit, what the hell is that?!" "A Fliegerfaust! Get clear!" With that, Makka Pakka excitedly pulled the trigger. All twelve steel tubes erupted with flames and thick smoke at once! Twelve slender rockets traced parabolic arcs, fanning out in a cone that blanketed the center of the street. Honestly speaking, the weapon had terrible accuracy. But in the face of sheer numbers, accuracy hardly mattered! Half the street covered by the barrage exploded into bursts of flame. At least three rockets struck within three meters of the truck, and one slammed directly into the steel gun shield mounted before the heavy machine gun! A 144-gram charge of TNT wasn't massive, but its blast easily rivaled two to three hand grenades. The gunner standing at the mount was instantly torn to shreds, thrown clear of the truck, and moved no more. The machine gun fell silent. Inside the factory, the pressure on the players and survivors plummeted! Tossing aside the empty launcher, Makka Pakka pumped his fist excitedly, yelled "Nice!", and grabbed his rifle before scampering back behind cover. Lü Bei of the guard corps, along with the local survivors fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the players, stared in complete disbelief. What kind of weapon was that?! Its power was insane. Seizing the opportunity, Construction Site Youth and Bricks mounted his light machine gun and pulled the trigger, raking the street and instantly beating back the marauders' advance. The Administrator had issued him two hundred rounds. He had just over a hundred left now; if he conserved them a bit, he could hold out for a while longer. Watching Makka Pakka crouch down beside him, Edge Slacker's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Holy crap... Was that Mosquito's rocket?" Makka Pakka grinned. "A 20mm twelve-barrel Fliegerfaust! Badass, right? Scored it at the market for twenty silver coins." Edge Slacker said, "Twenty silver coins?! Damn! Got any more?" That was dirt cheap! Makka Pakka shook his head repeatedly. "No more! It's single-use. Word is it cost two hundred silver to make! After Mosquito gave it to me, he swore he'd never craft such a cost-inefficient weapon again!" Edge Slacker: "..." Crouched along the street, the marauders were dazed by the rocket barrage, clearly having never expected the defenders to be hiding such an overpowered weapon. However, the rockets' deterrence did not last long. Under the decurion's barking orders, someone quickly reacted. Covered by teammates, a marauder rushed onto the machine gun pickup to replace the fallen gunner. Yet almost immediately, the marauder cursed, leapt down from the truck, and scrambled frantically into the nearby ruins. Seeing this, Big Eye in Debt, who had been picking off targets with his semi-automatic rifle, shouted in excitement, "Their machine gun is jammed!" "I see it! Hold on, brothers, victory is right before—" Halfway through the sentence, Edge Slacker's face darkened. The other players nearby felt the same. Before they could celebrate, another steel-plated pickup emerged at the far end of the street, pulling up directly behind the wrecked technical. Using the wreckage as cover, it completely shielded its own chassis and driver's cab. A mounted machine gun unleashed its fire once more, raking the players' cover with controlled three-round bursts. Caught off guard, [Construction Site Youth and Bricks], still holding his light machine gun, was cut down by the hail of bullets. Finally freed from suppression, the marauders began pressing forward again. Feeling bullets whizzing over his head, Edge Slacker cursed internally. *Fucking devs! Targeted again!* "How many fucking marauders spawned?!" Big Eye in Debt yelled. "At least four squads! I heard the marauders at the experimental base only had three or four armored pickups in total!" "Damn it! Half of them came here?!" Just then, shouts from the other player squad came from behind. "They flanked around to the back of the factory!" At the same time, gunfire erupted from the south side behind the factory complex as the marauders who had looped around the front engaged in a fierce firefight with Squad A. Dragging the Legion-issue light machine gun off Construction Site Youth and Bricks's corpse, Big Eye in Debt couldn't help saying, "Should we charge? If we make a push, we might still have a chance! If they surround us, we're completely done for!" "Charging now is just feeding kills! Their machine gun is set up right out there!" Edge Slacker gritted his teeth, fixed a bayonet to his rifle, and shouted, "Prepare to abandon the perimeter wall! We fall back into the workshop!" Honestly speaking, this was not a good idea. The more one was encircled, the more one ought to break out; only by pushing out could they create opportunities. Staying trapped behind cover was just waiting to be swallowed whole. These marauders were clever, even employing tactics the players had used before: pinning the front with heavy firepower while sending a detachment around the flank. If they had more men, Edge Slacker would have ordered a squad to break through a gap in the fire and find a way behind the technical. But now, he had no better options. This was unlike the battle from the night before. Though that too had been a fight against superior numbers, back then they only had to hold on—even if only one person survived, it was counted as a victory. But now, behind him were more than a hundred households of villagers! "Fuck!" Cursing under his breath, Edge Slacker shouted at the top of his lungs, "Squad A provide cover, Squad B fall back into the workshop!" "Copy that!" Without radios, command relied entirely on shouting and whistles. Fortunately, these were all veteran players who coordinated with tacit understanding; a single glance or a few simple hand signals conveyed everything. The players along the perimeter wall retreated in good order. Squad B pulled into the workshop and laid down covering fire for Squad A to withdraw. Seeing the defenders along the wall pull back, the marauders did not charge in blindly. Instead, they cautiously sent a few scouts forward to feel out the situation inside the factory compound. Taking advantage of the brief respite, Edge Slacker gathered both squads to tally casualties. Between the two ten-man squads, Squad A was slightly better off, down four men. Squad B, which had pushed out with him earlier, was in worse shape—only four remained, a staggering sixty percent casualty rate! Most of the survivors were wounded as well. Yet even so, not a single person showed fear! "We have twenty rounds of ammo per person. Distribute the bullets evenly. Take off your VMs and pool them together; they have locators, so our people will find them for us." Taking a deep breath, Edge Slacker looked around at the players standing before him, his voice resonant and forceful. "This is our final line of defense! Hold it! To the last man!" The response was a chorus of roaring, high-spirited—even ecstatic—battle cries. "Roar!" "Awoo!" "To the death!" Outside the workshop, the marauders had encircled the building. Edge Slacker instructed the young guard to lead the factory's survivors into the warehouse behind the workshop. Squeezing into the hundred-odd square meters was tight but doable; apart from a single large door, its only connection to the outside was a row of vents. If those holding the line outside repelled the marauders, everyone here would live. If they failed... they were dead either way, and there was nowhere else to run. The evacuation was completed quickly. Still, ten survivors volunteered to stay behind, picking up what few pipe rifles and shotguns they had to fight alongside them. Edge Slacker didn't place much faith in their combat effectiveness; neither their gear nor their training could compare to the cunning wolves outside. In as few words as possible, Edge Slacker had the NPC guard lead them to hold the second defensive line, preventing them from getting confused by orders and causing chaos up front. All preparations were quickly finished as footsteps and babbling shouts outside drew nearer. Pulling the pins on their smoke grenades, Edge Slacker and the other players hurled them onto the open floor of the workshop. Thick smoke quickly blanketed the interior. Almost simultaneously, rifle-toting marauders stormed in. Edge Slacker roared, chucked a lit Molotov cocktail, then grabbed the assault rifle slung across his chest and leaned out from cover, firing away. "Die, motherfuckers!" *** Outside the workshop. Listening to the gunfire echoing from the battery factory, Decurion Beaver, commander of the operation, felt an overwhelming weight in his chest. This should have been a textbook raid. By the plan, they would wrap up combat within five minutes, spend twenty minutes packing loot, and withdraw like the wind before enemy reinforcements could arrive. Yet nobody could have predicted... these survivors had held them off for a full half hour! What was meant to be a swift raid had devolved into a brutal siege. He could not comprehend why these survivors were so tenacious. He had deliberately left two escape routes open, allowing them to flee east or west. Yet they hadn't seemed to consider running at all, leaving many of his tactical dispositions completely wasted. What baffled Beaver most was that he had concentrated two armored technicals and fifty fighters, breached the outer wall, and stormed into the workshop. Yet those people still refused to surrender. In fact, the truly brutal fight had only just begun! A marauder with a severed arm wailed in agony as comrades dragged him from the workshop. Ignoring his pain-contorted face, Beaver strode forward and grabbed him by the collar. "What's going on in there?! Why haven't they been wiped out yet?!" The wounded man was in too much pain to speak. The marauder who had dragged him out was not severely hurt, but his terrified expression made it clear he had been scared out of his wits. No matter what Beaver asked, the man incoherently repeated the same line over and over: "Madmen! Those people are all madmen!" Beaver frowned. Wounded men were groaning all around him. Injured marauders were carried out of the workshop in steady succession. Ten... twenty... Explosions and gunshots never ceased. Even though his men had charged inside countless times, they could not secure the workshop. The defenders inside fought like demons, seemingly devoid of fear. Even riddled with bullets, they would drag someone down with them before dying. Learning the situation at the front from one of his subordinates, Beaver felt his fingers grow cold, briefly forgetting to breathe. What kind of monsters was he fighting? Just then, a marauder sprinted up from behind. "Boss! Lord Steel Teeth ordered us to retreat!" "Retreat?!" Beaver stared at him in disbelief, bloodshot eyes wide. "We're on the verge of breaking through! And you're telling me to retreat now?!" The marauder grabbed by the collar looked panicked and stammered, "It's Lord Steel Teeth's order... Enemy reinforcements are closing in. They'll be here in ten minutes at the earliest." The raid had already failed. Even if they overran the workshop, there wouldn't be enough time left to haul off supplies; instead, they would be encircled and crushed by the enemy main force. One armored technical, twenty-seven corpses, and countless wounded... they had paid far too high a price for this battle! Beaver gnashed his teeth in bitter resentment. Even if they took nothing, even if they only ripped out these people's intestines and hung them on the walls, it would make him feel better than retreating empty-handed! Yet he soon regained his composure. The tribe tolerated defeat, but never insubordination. If he disobeyed, even if he captured this place at horrific cost, a bullet would await him back home. Gnashing his teeth once more, Beaver looked at the smoke billowing from the workshop and the battered expanse before it. Despite every ounce of reluctance, he finally gave the order. "Pull back!" *** Not long after that explosion went off, Commander Spring had received the mission to reinforce the Battery Factory and rushed over with his squad members immediately. He was likely among the first wave of reinforcements to arrive. Yet upon reaching the site, he found that the fighting was already over. His heart sinking to rock bottom, he muttered under his breath and signaled his teammates to fan out and advance. "I hope we aren't too late..." The factory grounds reeked of blood and scorched meat. Stepping through the workshop doors, Commander Spring quickly spotted a mangled corpse just inside. There was no VM on his severed arm—it had probably been taken off and pooled with his teammates'—and his lower body was gone, yet his expression was serene. Unable to confirm his identity, Spring walked deeper inside with a heavy heart, quickening his pace. Following the signs of combat to the warehouse behind the workshop, he saw a figure drenched in blood sitting by the half-open door. Both of his legs were gone; beneath his shredded, blood-soaked trouser legs, two white bones were exposed. Yet he still gripped a rifle, one eye squinting and the other glued shut, either by shrapnel or dried blood. For a moment, Spring didn't even recognize who he was. Hurrying forward, he asked, "Brother, you okay?" He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In that state, there was no way he was "okay." Spitting a mouthful of blood, Edge Slacker chuckled when he saw friendly forces. "What could be wrong... except the connection is shit. I've already DC'd twice." "Hang on, I have bandages—" Edge Slacker stopped him. "Don't! This isn't some minor scratch. Using it on me is a waste!" Commander Spring asked, "You're not saving your progress?" "Ah, it's whatever," Brother Edge sighed helplessly. "Besides, I doubt a roll of bandages could keep me going all the way back. You might as well find a spot and help me..." Just as he was about to ask Spring to finish him off, his gaze fell past the crack of the warehouse door. Rows of anxious eyes were staring straight at him. *Sometimes this game is too realistic for its own good.* Especially the NPCs—they felt so human. So much so that in strange, unexpected moments, he would feel an inexplicable surge of immersion. Speaking of which... smoke filled the air everywhere. It was identical to a fire scene. His Adam's apple bobbed, and Edge Slacker looked at Spring. "Let's change spots." Spring understood instantly and nodded solemnly. "All right. I'll carry you outside." Edge Slacker gave a good-natured scolding, resting his hand against Spring's exoskeleton. "Don't be so damn serious... fuck, you're making it look like I'm actually dying." They were all fifty-yuan brothers. In three days, he'd be good as new. The sooner he died, the sooner his respawn cooldown would reset. If he hadn't been worried that the marauders might return, he would have logged off long ago. *** At the outpost. Through the Hummingbird drone, Chu Guang took in every grim detail of the carnage at the Battery Factory. The survivors had been evacuated from the workshop, and the operation continued with the help of the reinforcing players. According to battle reports sent back from the front line, the two squads responsible for the evacuation plan—twenty players in total—had suffered one hundred percent casualties! Meanwhile, the marauders besieging the factory had numbered five full squads of ten, in addition to two armored technicals mounted with heavy machine guns. After leaving behind nearly thirty corpses, the marauders had briefly breached the workshop, only to be heroically thrown back by the players inside. "They are true warriors," Liu Ding said slowly, holding his breath. "Yes," Chu Guang, clad in power armor, nodded gently. His eyes remained fixed on the tactical visor, his thoughts unknowable. Liu Ding looked at Chu Guang and advised earnestly, "My Lord, they have suffered severe casualties. We should seize the momentum and pursue! The marauders stationed at the experimental base lack supplies. If we surround them on the high ground, they will have to surrender within a week at most!" Chu Guang nodded. "Yes, it is indeed a good idea, but the other side thinks so too." Liu Ding paused, not grasping his meaning right away. Chu Guang paused for a moment before continuing, "The marauders stationed at the Mid-Continent Aerospace Ecological Experimental Base are already retreating. They're heading toward Tianshui City." Just half a minute ago, Chu Guang had received a report from the Ox and Horse Squad. The marauders stationed at the Mid-Continent experimental base were retreating north. To be honest, this was within Chu Guang's expectations; otherwise, he wouldn't have dispatched the Ox and Horse Squad to check on them. In a single day, across the two battles in the morning and afternoon, the marauders had suffered a twenty percent casualty rate. Not only had they failed to plunder a shred of supplies, but they had also lost an armored technical. *It's a pity we lack high-mobility vehicles. Otherwise, right now would be the perfect time to pursue.* Chu Guang lamented silently. Still, the silver lining was that their decision to withdraw meant they had no immediate reinforcements to draw upon; they likely wouldn't return anytime soon. They needed to regroup and draw up a new invasion plan. Meanwhile, his side had bought some much-needed breathing room. Hearing the Administrator say the marauders had retreated, Liu Ding was visibly astonished, quickly replaced by a look of joy. "They retreated?! That's wonderful!" Chu Guang glanced at him. "Don't celebrate too early. At most, we pulled one fang from the jackal. They will return, and they will certainly come back." Fighting was only to open up room for development. And development was the key to solving every problem. A massive wave of refugees was approaching, several times the number of refugees encamped outside Changjiu Farm. Feeding, clothing, housing, and keeping them warm would all be monumental challenges. Only after the first batch of survivors was settled could the second phase of evacuations begin. There was a mountain of headaches waiting for Chu Guang to tackle. And above all, the most critical issue right now... his "silver coins" were about to run out.