Nine o'clock at night.
This was right around the shift change for the Fang Clan's patrols.
"Leaving this to you."
Greyhound, exhaustion written across his face, yawned, slung his rifle over his shoulder as usual, and went downstairs to board a raft heading for the outposts on the perimeter of Sixin District to relieve the watch.
Life hadn't been easy for them lately.
The New Alliance's paratroopers seemed to have made contact with the local guerrillas, and gunfire in the eastern sector was growing more frequent by the day.
He could clearly feel that the guerrillas' combat proficiency and firepower had improved drastically compared to before.
Originally, those rats only dared to take potshots at them with pipe rifles; now, they were clutching assault rifles and strafing from windows.
Some were even using rocket launchers...
It was impossible to guard against!
The paratroopers hadn't been idle either. Aside from training the guerrillas, they were planning raids of their own, each larger than the last.
Although the apostles of the Church of the Torch could take out a batch of them every now and then, new ones quickly sprang up from elsewhere.
Greyhound even had the illusion that no matter how many they killed, more just kept coming.
With large quantities of armored units and heavy firepower pulled to the front lines, the Fang Clan was at a severe disadvantage against the guerrilla strikes.
They had already been forced to abandon numerous checkpoints and outposts in the eastern district, effectively losing control of the area.
Even though patrol sizes had been increased to over a hundred men, they only dared venture out during the day.
"I hope we don't run into their paratroopers tonight..."
Hopping onto the raft, Greyhound said a silent prayer in his heart and sat down beside the other marauders.
Tonight was exceptionally quiet.
As the raft was about to leave Sixin District, rain began to fall. Seeing the sudden downpour, quite a few let out sighs of relief.
As everyone knew, the New Alliance's planes only appeared in clear weather.
Rain was annoying, but at least they didn't have to worry about the sky above their heads.
"How much longer is this war going to drag on?"
"Should be soon," a man with a tattooed face replied, resting his rifle butt-down on the deck and looking up at the rain. "Our centurion said the assault will begin when the heavy rain starts."
"The harder it rains, the closer they are to their doom."
The New Alliance's aircraft would be weakened in the rain.
Normally, sending a single tank was enough to conquer a survivor settlement of a thousand people. Now, so many tanks had rolled out to the front line under the command of Lord Dillon—the man hailed as a god of war—so victory should be as effortless as breathing.
At that thought, the men, who had been tormented by guerrillas and paratroopers, found some solace. Although the process was tough, as long as they won, it would all be worth it.
Supposedly, the northern suburbs of Qingquan City were a fertile land flowing with milk and honey, with endless treasures and more food than one could ever eat.
Just as Greyhound was daydreaming about the good days ahead, a sudden *whoosh* sounded overhead. Before anyone could react, a six-story building dozens of meters away detonated with a thunderous roar, erupting in a cloud of dense smoke.
Chunks of concrete blasted in all directions, splashing into the water that flooded the streets and sending out ripples and sprays. Amid shouts of alarm and furious cursing, everyone ducked for cover.
Startled by the explosion, split-claw crabs nearby let out rasping, tooth-grinding screeches, scurrying agitatedly through the shallows.
In the chaos, the marauders' raft veered off course and bumped against the edge of the street.
"Fuck!"
"Artillery shells?!"
"Dammit, are the gunners sleepwalking?! How the hell did they shell us here?!" a burly, scarred marauder roared, cursing up a storm.
Beside him, another marauder trembled.
"N-no... I don't think even the worst aim could be this far off."
As if to confirm his suspicion, another shell came crashing down moments later. This one was further away, landing a hundred or two meters behind them.
Looking at the pitch-black water, Greyhound said nervously, "Let's find somewhere to hide first... There are a lot of split-claw crabs around here."
Everyone immediately agreed.
Mooring their battered raft by the street, they hastily fled into a half-collapsed building nearby and rushed up to the second floor to take cover.
Outside, explosions boomed continuously as shells fell one after another. Some struck five or six hundred meters away; others hit right on the street below them.
Listening to the thunderous artillery, every pair of eyes peering from the darkness was filled with terror and bewilderment.
None of them had any idea what was going on.
This place was at least twenty to thirty kilometers from Qingshi County, with nearly thirty tanks and five thousand-man units stationed in between.
All they wanted to know was: where on earth were these shells flying from?!
***
It wasn't just the patrols scattered across the urban area suffering under the bombardment; the lackeys gathered in the dungeons seeking cruel amusement were too...
And even their bosses and chieftain.
"Where the hell are these shells coming from?!"
A furious roar echoed inside a reinforced concrete bunker.
Because the entirety of Sixin District was submerged in water, bomb shelters were mostly built within half-collapsed buildings rather than underground.
Huddled inside the dark, clammy bunker, Golden Fang's dark, sickly-greenish face was rife with fury and panic.
A few minutes ago, he had been snuggled under warm blankets, playing with a "toy" he'd bought with dinars from a traveling merchant out of the Free State of Bugra.
Yet just as he was getting in the mood, before he could even do anything, a shell crashed into the foul ditch just outside his window.
Soon, explosions rang out one after another.
The deafening detonations frightened him so badly that he fell out of bed. Without even grabbing a coat, he hauled his two-hundred-plus-kilogram bulk and sprinted all the way here.
Huddled with him in this bunker were his trusted lieutenants and confidants.
At this moment, all of them wore shaken expressions, at a complete loss for what to do.
Grabbing one of his trusted men by the collar, Golden Fang roared in his face, "Go south and see what the hell happened!"
"Y-yes, right away!" The man nodded frantically and scrambled out on all fours.
Watching the figure disappear through the doorway, Golden Fang finally managed to calm his nerves somewhat... though lingering terror and suspicion still shifted behind his beady eyes.
Taking clothes from a subordinate to throw on, he found a sturdy chair, sat down, and began to ponder what was really going on.
Truth be told, when the shelling first started, his immediate thought hadn't even been the New Alliance; he had thought his frontline troops had betrayed him.
That had always been his greatest fear.
Although the Legion officers had won him many battles—and Golden Fang readily admitted he couldn't have enjoyed such smooth sailing up to this point without Dillon's aid—he had never dared hand over total military command to them, terrified that they would slip beyond his control.
No matter how dull-witted he was, he could sense it:
The bond holding those former Legion officers together was far tighter than the bond between himself and the other chiliarchs and centurions.
That kind of loyalty was something he had never seen on the faces of his own people.
Once Dillon had full command, replacing the centurions and chiliarchs with his former subordinates would make usurping Golden Fang a matter of minutes.
Marauders adhered to the law of the jungle, where the strong ruled. Not to mention that two-thirds of the Fang Clan were now outsiders who had joined halfway through, possessing zero loyalty to him.
Yet...
That thought lingered in Golden Fang's mind for only a couple of seconds.
He soon realized that the frontline forces he had sent to Pine Valley were not equipped with indirect-fire artillery like 100mm cannons.
In that case, only two possibilities remained.
Either the New Alliance had developed super-heavy artillery capable of effectively striking targets twenty—or even thirty—kilometers away,
or they had pushed their artillery positions into Pine Valley, perhaps even to the northern side of it...
Whichever it was, it was unquestionably terrible news for him.
Several grueling hours passed in tense waiting. Were it not for the intermittent shelling outside and the crushing anxiety weighing on his chest, Golden Fang, slumping in his chair, would have dozed off.
Right then, footsteps finally sounded outside. The confidant he had dispatched earlier scrambled back into the room in a panic.
Seeing the expression on the man's face and his dodging gaze, Golden Fang's heart skipped a beat. He had already faintly guessed something.
Even so, he hadn't anticipated that the reality would be far worse than he had imagined...
"Pine Valley was captured by the New Alliance?!"
*How is that possible?!*
Hearing the report, Golden Fang leapt out of his chair, itching to seize the man by the collar and interrogate him again.
"What about the five thousand-man units stationed there?!"
With his forehead pressed flat against the floor, the subordinate replied in a quavering voice, "All gone..."
The chair let out an overburdened groan.
Collapsing back into the seat, Golden Fang stared with wide, bulging eyes, across which flashed fear, doubt, disbelief... an indescribably complex storm of emotions.
Twenty-seven tanks!
Fifty anti-aircraft trucks!
That was virtually the entire wealth and armory of the Fang Clan!
To counter those little airplanes, Golden Fang had turned over almost every linked 10mm heavy machine gun they had to the tribe's craftsmen for retrofitting.
And now someone was telling him that every last bit of it was...
Gone?
"..."
Faced with this stark, chilling reality, Golden Fang sank into a long, dazed silence.
He still remembered how, before departing, Dillon had solemnly vowed that at the cost of ten tanks at most, they would seize Dawn City's industrial zone and farmlands.
Trading finite equipment for infinite supplies was a guaranteed, profitable deal.
Yet now, never mind Dawn City—they hadn't even caught a glimpse of Qingshi County, and shells were already raining down on their home base!
His teeth ground together audibly, and his chest heaved as Golden Fang spat out a stream of venomous curses between clenched teeth:
"Incompetent, good-for-nothing pieces of trash!"
"Where's Dillon?!"
"Where is that idiot right now?!"
"Tell him to drag his ass over here to see me!"
Hearing the thunderous roars, the subordinate knelt on one knee, trembling from head to toe. Not daring to breathe too loudly for fear of incurring Golden Fang's wrath, he sputtered at top speed:
"Y-your humble servant doesn't know... Near the hollow north of Pine Valley, we saw the New Alliance's army. They had set up artillery there and stationed a ton of troops, with scouts patrolling the nearby woods."
"Knowing you were waiting for news, we didn't dare risk getting too close. We tried rounding up any routed troops who had fled back, but we couldn't find a single one."
Hearing this, the incandescent Golden Fang felt his heart drop like a stone.
A bead of cold sweat rolled down his forehead, dousing much of the rage burning in his chest.
Not even a single survivor had fled back?!
That meant the New Alliance had wiped out five entire thousand-man units in a short span of time...
And that was while they were shielded by massive amounts of armor!
The surrounding chiliarchs and confidants looked at one another, exchanging looks of shock and panic in the heavy silence.
Just then, a chiliarch spoke up.
"Sixin District is a flooded swamp. The underground areas are completely submerged, so we can't dig artillery shelters here, and surface bunkers won't hold up under continuous bombardment... I suggest moving a bit further north."
"North? Do you expect us to fight the guerrillas for their rat holes?"
"The guerrillas are in the east!"
"What's the difference?! The underground tunnels of this city are all connected. They know the terrain like the back of their hand—if we hide down there, it's certain death! Besides, how could over twenty thousand people squeeze into those tunnels?!"
Then someone chimed in, "Why don't we... just retreat north? There's barely any loot left in Xizhou City anyway. Let's just toss this worthless dump to the New Alliance."
At those words, several faces showed signs of agreement.
"Makes sense..."
"Yeah, there's nothing here except rats, endless guerrillas, and never-ending paratroopers."
"...And airstrikes."
"Worst comes to worst, we can head east, meet up with the Snake Clan, and make a detour to the Eastern Provinces..."
Others said nothing, stealing cautious glances toward their chieftain.
At that moment, Golden Fang slammed his hand down hard on the table.
"Enough!"
"Shut your fucking mouths, all of you!"
"Whoever dares bring up retreating again, I'll cut out his tongue and feed it to the dogs!"
The room fell dead silent.
Looking at his subordinates, who had all clamped their mouths shut, Golden Fang slowly calmed his boiling rage and heavy breathing.
He admitted he lacked Dillon's command ability, but that didn't mean he was an idiot.
Retreat?
There was no such possibility!
Setting aside the fact that all their spoils and slaves would have to be abandoned here, retreating meant admitting the Fang Clan's defeat.
The external tribesmen who had flocked to him because of his fearsome reputation would instantly abandon him, striking out on their own or heading back wherever they had come from.
By the time they crossed the tributary of the Tianshui River, barely ten thousand of the twenty thousand men would remain. Since casualties were inevitable either way, they might as well take their losses on the battlefield and fight a decisive showdown against the New Alliance!
He still held over twenty thousand men in his hands.
In an all-out urban battle, he wasn't without a chance!
Gazing at his terrified, silent subordinates, Golden Fang barked his orders:
"Take your men and scatter throughout the city! Keep your eyes glued to every window and every building! Since those shameless mole rats dare come looking for a fight, let them come and try!"
"As for the shelling and bombing... let them waste their shells! I want to see just how much ammunition they have to burn!"
None dared resist, let alone talk back.
Even as they groaned in their hearts, they had no choice but to bow their heads and obey.
Watching them take their leave and filter out the door, Golden Fang slowly relaxed his tense muscles and shoulders, leaning back against the chair.
Looking up at the ceiling that trembled amidst the roaring artillery, a glint of madness surfaced on his face.
*Come on then!*
*Let me see!*
*Who has more men, and whose blades are faster!*
***
"These fireworks sure are pretty..."
Atop a half-collapsed high-rise.
Holding a pair of binoculars, Fang Chang stood in the rain, gazing westward with a faint smile playing on his lips.
A short distance beside him, Lao Bai checked a map, keeping in touch with the Goblin Corps' artillery battery via his VM and a headset equipped with a camera.
"Adjust point of impact five hundred meters northwest... Don't worry, it's all recorded. I'll send it to you guys once we log off."
Just this afternoon, the New Alliance had advanced its artillery units from Qingshi County to a hollow five kilometers north of Pine Valley, bringing the southern and western districts of Xizhou City entirely within range of their indirect fire.
The bombardment had officially begun at nine o'clock.
Working in coordination with the Burning Corps, the Goblin Corps' artillery battery unleashed wave after wave of fire strikes against the key outposts and fortifications erected by the Fang Clan in Sixin District.
Firing artillery, however, was rather dull work.
Especially since the Hummingbirds hadn't been deployed forward yet; far from watching the explosions, the gunners couldn't even hear the shells detonating.
To know whether they had hit anything, they had to rely either on frontline players reporting over the radio or wait until they logged off for their bros to upload the footage to the official forums.
"These marauders are pretty smart, actually knowing to douse their lights," Ye Shi said, rather surprised as he watched the distant fires go out one by one.
Lao Bai replied curtly, "It's normal. Extreme-range indirect fire requires frontline spotters to report firing coordinates and points of impact, constantly adjusting firing data. They guessed we're nearby reporting coordinates; they just don't know where we are."
If anything, it was surprising they had taken this long to catch on.
It seemed Dillon's defeat had dealt a massive blow to the standing of those "advisers" within the tribe.
Normally, the moment the first shell fell, they should have recognized the problem and extinguished all open flames on their positions.
"Cut the chatter, time to work," Kuang Feng said, patting Ye Shi's shoulder while carrying a heavy bundle of wires and loudspeakers. "Give me a hand."
***
In an encampment more than ten kilometers away.
Players standing near the 100mm artillery were studying targets for the next round of shelling.
Over the past several hours, they had fired over a dozen barrages, pouring nearly two hundred 100mm high-explosive shells into Sixin District.
At the same time, inside a tent not far from the artillery positions, a prisoner of war wearing a headset sat before recording equipment, nervously reading aloud from a script in his hands.
"...I am Wabu, a centurion under Bear Fang. I came from the Free State of Bugra, where I used to have an honest job, but in a moment of foolishness, greed clouded my mind, and I was duped into coming here."
"I repent for the crimes I've committed in the past, and I hope those who came from the Free State of Bugra like me, or from other regions, will come to their senses in time... Ahead lies no fertile land flowing with milk and honey, only rivers of blood and mountains of corpses."
"Wake up! How long have we lingered in Xizhou City? How many brothers have died for a pointless war? Sleeping alongside rats, carving flesh from corpses to fill our bellies... How long has it been since we had a decent meal? How long are we going to let that fat pig sitting atop a pile of human bones keep fooling us?"
Reading up to this point, Wabu felt more and more wronged the more he thought about it.
Back in the Free State of Bugra, he could at least get a drink two days out of three. Ever since arriving in Xizhou City, forget alcohol—he'd barely been living like a human being!
Emotion surged within his chest, and he unconsciously raised his voice:
"...Marauders of Xizhou City, the armies of the New Alliance are at your gates, and the artillery fire of last night is your final ultimatum!"
"Your chief of staff, Dillon, has been killed! Chiliarchs like Bear Fang have surrendered! Before the New Alliance's aircraft and cannons, you stand no chance whatsoever! The outcome of this war was decided long ago, and surrender is your only way out!"
"The New Alliance does not execute prisoners of war, and we treat those who surrender voluntarily with leniency! As long as you hold this leaflet, whether you seek out local guerrillas or head south to find a New Alliance patrol directly, the Alliance pledges its honor to guarantee your safety!"
"Should anyone stubbornly persist—"
"Then pay for your sins with your death!"
Having finished reading the script, Wabu turned his head with trepidation, looking toward the azure power armor standing at the tent entrance.
"H-honored sir, I've finished reading the script you gave me... May I ask if you have any other orders? Your most loyal servant is eager to serve you."
Flattery and obsequiousness were written all over his face.
Chu Guang didn't pay him any mind, however, merely glancing at the soldier standing nearby and instructing briefly, "Take him away and keep an eye on him."
Standing at attention, the soldier gave a crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"
There was also a tank commander coming up next. Chu Guang had prepared a script for him as well, primarily aimed at the ears of the former Legion officers.
Once news of Dillon's disastrous defeat at Pine Valley spread, those officers' standing within the Bone Chewer tribe would plummet.
They were also targets for subversion.
Even if they couldn't be turned, it would still drive a wedge between them and the tribe.
Once the H-1 flew over to drop leaflets tomorrow, the dozen-odd loudspeakers deployed by the Burning Corps around Sixin District would continuously broadcast the surrender appeal during intervals between shelling.
After Wabu was led out, a man wrapped in bandages was brought in.
His name was Bagro, a tank commander. Surprisingly, this fellow had managed to bail out just before his tank blew up.
Of course, what surprised Chu Guang even more was that this man wasn't one of Dillon's subordinates, nor did he belong to the 21st Ten-Thousand-Man Unit.
Instead, he came from the Legion Expeditionary Force's 14th Ten-Thousand-Man Unit—a corps formed from armored units like tanks and infantry fighting vehicles.
Seeing the recording equipment, Bagro had already deduced what the man in power armor wanted him to do. He asked bluntly, "Do you want me to improvise, or read from a script?"
Chu Guang gestured toward the nearby table with his chin. "The script is right there. You can improvise first, then read off the script once through. But before that, I'd like to ask you something."
Bagro paused in his tracks toward the recording equipment. "What?"
Chu Guang looked at him with keen interest. "Did all of you plan this together?"
Chapter 328