Did the Dog Dev Pull Another Stunt?

Under the clear sky, a W-2 Mosquito attack plane skirted the edge of the clouds, cruising toward Ruigu City. Roughly thirty kilometers behind it in the airspace followed a Dragonfly transport plane carrying a "hydrogen balloon" communications system. Tail had indeed guessed correctly; their esteemed Administrator naturally would not leave his little players to fend for themselves, generously sending over a second set of communications equipment. However, generosity aside. Equipment of such "high technical density" was by no means cheap for the Alliance either. Before dropping the second supply crate, Chu Guang needed to figure out what had happened to the communications base station that had just bitten the dust, so as to keep the new one from suffering the same fate. Sending ground forces would be far too slow. Without a road network, vehicles couldn't speed along, and even if every member of the Storm Legion were equipped with basic exoskeletons, a day's march would only cover thirty kilometers. Although player corps possessed formidable combat power and the buff of "locked morale," their discipline plummeted drastically when faced with sheer boredom; expecting a forced march of over a hundred kilometers was simply unrealistic. Therefore— The task had to fall to the air force. "This is Luo Yu... Approaching target airspace, searching for ground signals." Glancing at the VM strapped to his thigh and watching Ruigu City draw near, Luo Yu pushed down on the control stick, guiding his aircraft out from the clouds. According to the mission parameters, he needed to make contact with the players on the ground, learn what had gone wrong with the communications station, report the news back to the Dragonfly transport behind him, and snap a few reconnaissance photos along the way. It was an easy mission. It was so leisurely that he couldn't help letting out a yawn. Yet, just as he was about to establish contact with the players below, a dark silhouette against the distant horizon caught his eye. "Holy crap..." "What the hell is that??" A towering iron airship, like a giant Peng bird spreading its wings. What stunned him was not only its pure metallic hull, but also the dazzling array of weaponry bristling across its entire body. It was hard to imagine how such a colossal behemoth managed to stay suspended in midair. Even harder to imagine was that its propulsion came from a long row of parallel propellers. Two utterly divergent concepts—primitive and advanced—were miraculously blended into one. Luo Yu's eyes widened, his face filled with shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Soon, all that shock transformed in an instant into intense excitement and awe. This is freaking awesome! However— It seemed to be in some trouble. In the distance, Luo Yu could faintly see sparks and flames flickering from one of the propellers on the airship's wing. It looked as if it had caught fire. Just as he thought of flying a little closer to investigate, he suddenly noticed a thick, long gun barrel on the top of the airship slowly swiveling, pointing straight at him. That caliber... At least a hundred millimeters! The moment his gaze locked onto that muzzle, Luo Yu's expression changed instantly. "Holy shit!" There was no time to hesitate. He immediately jerked the stick hard, attempting to dive beneath the airship. At the same time, he switched his comms channel to the Dragonfly transport thirty kilometers behind him to relay the situation to the rear: "Airship! Unidentified armed airship spotted over Ruigu City! Suspected—" Before he could finish his sentence, a burst of orange-yellow flame sheared through his thoughts. He didn't even hear the blast before a blue pop-up reading [Connection Lost] materialized against an abyss of pitch darkness. Slowly taking off his helmet, Luo Yu sat on his bedroom bed, blinking in bewilderment as he looked around, taking quite a while to come to his senses. Fuck! Firing without even saying hello! They have no sense of sportsmanship at all! ... "An airship?!" "Wait, suspected what?" "Hello? Bro, you still alive?" High in the clear sky, Unprofessional Anti-Bun sat in the cockpit, trying repeatedly to confirm the situation ahead with Luo Yu. Yet the severed voice offered no reply. Listening to the static crackling through the comms channel, Unprofessional Anti-Bun gradually realized that the situation might be far more serious than he had thought. At this realization, he hesitated no longer. Pulling back the throttle while banking the stick to the left, he guided the plane in a wide arc across the sky, turning back toward the airfield north of Dawn City. A three-engine transport plane forged entirely from A3 aluminum alloy and fitted with a full instrument suite was far more precious than a corner-cutting W-2. From the cargo bay in back, Bing Yu Huo Zi Ge called out: "...Why are we turning? Weren't we heading to Ruigu?" "Situation changed... Luo Yu said he saw an airship." "An airship?!" Bing Yu Huo Zi Ge was baffled. What was there to fear from an antique that had practically been phased out during the World War I era? Pity their 37mm gun was mounted on the other Dragonfly. Otherwise, give him an angle, and he was confident he could gunship that thing right out of the sky. "No idea... But I doubt it's an ordinary airship. Shooting Luo Yu down the moment he spotted it means they probably had eyes on him way earlier." "You mean that airship has radar?" Bing Yu Huo Zi Ge asked in surprise. Unprofessional Anti-Bun thought for a moment and said, "Probably. Radar isn't rocket science. If they have an airship, they can't be mere marauders... Still, I'd bet they don't have guided weapons, just anti-aircraft guns or something similar." After all, if they had missiles, he probably would have been shot down before getting within visual range. World War I aviation tech with World War II fire control systems... what breed of industrial garbage was this? Still, even if it was industrial garbage, this beat-up transport plane was in no shape to tangle with it. Give him a CJ-6 at least! No need for air-to-air missiles; two 7.62mm aircraft machine guns would be plenty... assuming nothing went wrong. Without a second thought, Unprofessional Anti-Bun shoved the throttle to the max, gunned the engines, and made a clean getaway... ... On the Heart of Iron. Inside the bridge. Looking at the pinch of pitch-black residue on the table, Macklen was briefly stunned, but anger quickly flared in his eyes. "What the hell is this?" "General, this is what fouled our propeller. It was hanging beneath a balloon—it seems to be a line..." Standing before General Macklen in high-altitude work gear, the engineer kept his head lowered, swallowed nervously, and spoke at a rapid clip. The military technical officer stepped forward half a pace, pinched a tiny sample between his index finger and thumb, and studied it thoughtfully for a long moment. "...Contains traces of carbon and silicon. It looks somewhat like optical fiber." Such material was commonplace in the wasteland; it could be found in almost every concrete building. It was said that in the distant Prosperity Era, human beings were creatures that would die if they couldn't speak, each person bristling with speakers and every wall paved with radios or similar gadgets. These optical fibers made of silicon carbide composite were fine as strands of hair, creeping like capillaries into every corner of the cities to form vast, intricate information matrices. Though the technology itself had been systematically lost, those hair-thin "strings" had survived alongside the concrete rubble. They were light, tougher than ordinary cordage, yet weaker than metal wire and prone to heat damage, so scavengers rarely went out of their way to salvage them. Of course, there were exceptions. Some survivor settlements used them to transmit information, though such cases were uncommon. "...Someone must have tethered this fiber to hydrogen balloons, and our propeller happened to catch it." "A short circuit triggered a deflagration of the hydrogen drawn into the engine, igniting the lubricant on the drive shaft." The navigator offered his assessment based on experience. However, the adjutant standing nearby was dissatisfied with that explanation. "A coincidence? I don't buy that for a second. Who releases balloons into the sky for no reason? This is clearly a deliberate, malicious trap!" "I agree. It's likely a barrage balloon..." the staff officer mused. "We encountered similar things at survivor settlements to the west." Still, the barrage balloons they had seen before were vastly larger than the ones they just hit, and they were linked by sturdy steel cables. Presumably, that was precisely why their radar and spotters had completely overlooked those balloons. "Are there any other things like that nearby?" Macklen asked with a stony face, turning toward the navigator. The navigator hurriedly shook his head. "No, sir! I had the spotters check thoroughly. In this entire stretch of airspace, there was only that one!" Hearing this, Macklen's expression soured. Only one balloon cluster in the whole vicinity, and it just had to collide dead-on with his airship's engine. For a moment, he didn't know whether to mock the eerie accuracy of whoever released the balloon or curse how perfectly his own ship had caught it. "In any case, this trap was set directly along our path. Whoever planted it not only knew we were coming, but also anticipated our flight route..." Resting an index finger against his chin, the staff officer spoke in measured tones, gravity etching his features: "Crude as the trap was, using such a low-cost trick to cause us this much trouble... means these people are not to be underestimated." Macklen asked in a deep voice, "Who do you think did it?" The staff officer pondered for a moment before answering. "The Great Rift Valley is too far away, and we have informants in the Bugra Free State... The only faction nearby capable of pulling this off is Boulder City. Still, I cannot say for certain, given that Enterprise reinforcements have arrived in the area; it could easily be their doing." As for the survivor factions in Sunset Province, he dismissed them entirely. Though the desert dwellers despised them, most dared not voice their resentment. The few who dared resist lacked the means to execute something like this anyway. After all, predicting a flight path was no simple feat. It required constant, real-time monitoring of their position and tracking atmospheric currents, and even then, one could only narrow it down to a few probable vectors. In truth, more than a premeditated plot, he had entertained the thought that it might just be a coincidence. Yet attributing it to chance failed to explain why a string of inexplicable hydrogen balloons would appear atop a desolate mountain in the first place. "Boulder City... Remnants of the pre-war civilization, if I recall." The adjutant pulled a notebook from his breast pocket, flipped through a couple of pages, and muttered, "According to reliable intelligence, the Post-War Reconstruction Committee helped them build a wall and supplied them with weapons to combat the 'Tide'... Rumor has it tens of thousands live there, perhaps hundreds of thousands. Their settlement isn't far from here, only one hundred and fifty kilometers... But why would they target us?" "Perhaps to warn us to stay away? But the likelihood is slim." The staff officer floated the hypothesis, though he too found it improbable. Such foolish conduct looked less like a warning and more like a provocation. Aside from wasting a bit of their time, it carried no deterrent value whatsoever. It would only infuriate them. "Rats that only dare skulk in the gutters." Macklen gave a cold snort. "Whoever did this had better pray I never find them... I swear I'll make them regret being born into this world." Once that person was caught, he would strip them naked, hang them beneath the airship until they froze into a popsicle, and then drop them. Having voiced this ruthless threat, Macklen turned to the engineer trembling beside him. "How long to fix it?" "A week... No, three days! Give me three days and it should be fine!" the engineer stammered, sweating profusely. Hearing that it would take three days, Macklen's face immediately flashed with impatience. Yet he knew badgering would accomplish nothing. There were no towering air terminals here to quickly swap out the damaged components. To make repairs, they had to descend and drop the anchor chains that secured the airship. Then, extend a scaffold from the hatch to dangle the engineer outside like bait on a fishing rod, carefully disassembling the broken parts and replacing them with spares. Alternatively, they could choose not to repair it and simply shut down the corresponding engine on the opposite wing. The remaining propellers could still propel the craft, but losing two engines would slash its cruising speed by a full twenty percent while impairing maneuverability and stability. A reduction in maneuverability was tolerable; after all, a behemoth like this was never meant to dodge attacks with nimble evasions. Cruising through turbulence, however, was something Macklen could never stomach. More importantly, he could already imagine the old fox Griffin mocking him relentlessly if he limped back dragging a busted propeller. Even if the damage was hardly catastrophic. Standing nearby, the staff officer offered a quiet suggestion: "The intelligence in our hands is several years old. It's likely outdated." "Since we have to repair the engine anyway, I suggest pitching camp on the spot and deploying a ground unit to scout the surrounding area. Once we've gathered more intelligence, we can decide our next move." The adjutant chimed in, "My thoughts exactly. I propose capturing a few local natives for interrogation—we might just find out who's behind this!" With a dark expression, Macklen gave a slow nod. "Make it so." No sooner had the words left his mouth than a crewman seated before the bridge console spoke up: "Report! An unidentified flying object has entered our radar detection zone!" "What kind of object?" Having just had a propeller ruined, Macklen was on edge and asked almost by reflex. "It appears to be... a propeller plane," the crewman answered hesitantly. Hearing that it was just a propeller plane, Macklen breathed a sigh of relief and dismissed it impatiently: "Tell it to get lost." "Target is not responding!" "Then shoot it down." "Yes, sir!" A crewman immediately picked up the telephone on the console and relayed the firing coordinates to the weapon control room. Soon, a cannon blast boomed overhead. The thick, elongated gun barrel belched fire. Accompanied by a slight shudder from the airship, a burst of flame erupted in the distance. "Direct hit!" "Kill confirmed! Target is going down!" The crewmen at the consoles called out in turn, though shooting down a mere propeller plane was hardly something to celebrate. Peering through his binoculars, Macklen soon spotted a plane with a snapped wing plunging in flames beneath the distant cloud deck, hurtling straight into the urban ruins below. Though unsure whether the plane had any connection to the balloons, that blooming fireball still brought him a measure of satisfaction. "Send a few men over to inspect the wreckage later," Macklen said impassively. The adjutant snapped to attention and saluted. "Understood, sir!" Then Macklen turned to the staff officer. "You will oversee the anchoring and the establishment of the ground camp." "Also, if there is any word from the 29th Marine Regiment searching for the Enterprise staff, report to me immediately." The staff officer replied, "Understood." Stowing his binoculars, Macklen turned and departed the bridge. Little did he know that the pilot of the plane he had just ordered downed had already departed for another world—and was excitedly uploading photos of his Heart of Iron onto the official forum of a certain game. Luo Yu: "Brothers! Look what I just found!!!" "[Image], [Image], [Image]..." In the split second before being shot down, he had snapped those photos almost by instinct. Fortunately, before his onboard comms gear was destroyed, the data had been transmitted back to the signal tower north of Dawn City, successfully syncing into his photo album. Although most players were logged into the game at this hour, the backseat gamers' enthusiasm for discussing the new update rivaled that of the lucky bastards who had already secured closed-beta access. The replies flooded the thread in no time. "Holy shit? Another fucking expansion pack?! (Shocked)" "An ironclad airship! That deck gun is badass!" "I'm crying... Dammit, you dog dev, the open beta isn't even out and you're already dropping expansions?!" "Bro, you really don't want a closed-beta slot, huh? (Funny)" "Dev Daddy is awesome! (Voice cracking)" In under a minute, the thread garnered over a hundred replies, and soon the entire forum was buzzing with excitement. Judging by the insignia on the airship and the size of its cannons, many backseat gamers speculated that this vessel was likely the handiwork of the Legion. As for how that flying iron hunk managed to stay aloft, theories ran wild across the forum. Some claimed anti-gravity; others suggested some special lightweight alloy; still others theorized that, like the Administrator's sledgehammer, it relied on some unknown technology manipulating gas molecules. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: it had to be some black technology that didn't exist in reality—one without even a theoretical precursor. Nearly everyone was eagerly awaiting this "brand-new version" and wondering what new stunt the dog dev had cooked up. Except for the "dev" himself... On Floor B4 of the vault. Looking at the photos on his laptop, Chu Guang sat on the sofa with not an ounce of joy on his face—only utter bewilderment and shock written in all caps across his features. "...What the actual fuck is this thing?"