I, Pangolin, Shall Never Disappoint Your Expectations!

Oasis No. 3. The atmosphere inside the frontline command post was heavy. A gathering of officers stood around a strategic map marked with lines and symbols, maintaining total silence, every face stamped with the same grim expression. A week ago, under General Griffin's command and with the desperate rearguard cover provided by the Falcon Kingdom's First and Second Ten-Thousand-Man Corps, they had managed to retreat to Oasis No. 3 just before the Alliance's armored forces cut off their escape route. Although they held an overwhelming numerical advantage after reorganizing their ranks, the situation before them remained far from optimistic. With a somber expression, General Griffin stared at the map for a long time before suddenly speaking. "How long until the reinforcements from west of the Great Desert arrive?" Hearing General Griffin's voice, the adjutant standing nearby hurried to answer. "At least forty-five days!" Forty-five days... Griffin's brow furrowed. The surrounding officers exchanged uneasy glances, seeing their own dread mirrored in one another's eyes, yet none dared speak. For none of them could devise a better solution. The more than one hundred thousand clone troops currently deployed on the front line were reinforcements that had set out from west of the Great Desert two months ago. The moment they arrived in the Falcon Kingdom, before they could even be reorganized, they were rushed straight to the front lines. In truth, this was not Griffin's original plan. It was a desperate gambit born of necessity—a move meant to deter the Alliance and halt the coalition forces' relentless offensive. Under his original plan, these ten corps were intended to rotate out the Falcon Kingdom's Retinue Army. Once the Lion Kingdom fell, the Falcon Kingdom's retinue troops were supposed to quickly shift from an offensive posture to defense, resting and refitting on the spot while maintaining order across the occupied territories. The offensive duties would then pass entirely to the clone regiments. This would not only consolidate the Legion's wartime gains in Luoxia Province, but also ensure the relentless momentum of their war machine. It would give the desert dwellers no room to breathe, sweeping across all of Luoxia Province at maximum speed before the locals could finish mobilizing. By that time, even if Enterprise and the Great Rift Valley wished to intervene, they would lack the power to alter the fait accompli of the Legion's control over Luoxia Province. And seeing these battlefield achievements, the Legion Commander of the Eastern Legion would provide them with even greater military and political support. Every military deployment Griffin had made in Luoxia Province revolved around this strategic doctrine of "blitzkrieg." So long as they crushed their adversary before the enemy could react, they would meet little real resistance. Therefore, to ensure that the rotating reinforcements arrived in time, he had adopted an aggressive reinforcement strategy: having the one hundred thousand troops march light, setting off before their logistical supply trains departed, and resupplying locally once they reached the Falcon Kingdom. Consequently, these ten corps carried only a single baseline unit of ammunition. In reality, had Operation Thunder gone smoothly, a single baseline unit of ammunition would have been more than sufficient. The problem was that the operation had not only failed to proceed as planned, but had gone catastrophically off course beyond anyone's worst expectations. Not only had they failed to capture the City of Abundance within the expected timeframe, but they had also lost the half of Oasis No. 9 they had already seized, along with nearly every munitions depot that had been relocated into the occupied zone. Compounding their misery, the northern supply lines were severed, plunging their logistics into a nightmare. One hundred thousand troops arrived at the front clutching their rifles, with not a single spare bullet to be found beyond the magazines in their packs. At the end of the day, their vassal was merely an agrarian nation. Even with military reforms, nothing could alter the fact that its backbone was agriculture. Even if the artisans there ran their stamping presses until they smoked, they could never fill the ammunition shortfall for ten entire corps in the short term. Relying on just one baseline unit of ammunition, no matter how strictly they rationed, it could at most sustain the expenditure of two engagements. By the third, they might well be sharing a single rifle between two or three soldiers. Clones were fearless in the face of death, but they were not immortal. They couldn't honestly be expected to charge Alliance machine-gun nests with bayonets alone. Under those conditions, forget one hundred thousand men. As long as the Alliance's logistics held, even a million would not be enough! At present, only one realistic option remained: wait for ammunition to be brought up from the rear. After staring at the map in deep thought for a long while, Griffin spoke slowly. "...The opposing commanders are no fools. We can't deceive them for very long. That ultimatum will buy us thirty days at best, and that's the most optimistic scenario. If things go poorly, even three weeks might be pushing it." The officers broke into hushed murmurs. Three weeks! Even if the supplies flew straight into the hands of the frontline soldiers the instant they arrived, it would still take forty-five days! That amount of time wasn't nearly enough! "If they realize we are bluffing, they will inevitably probe our defense lines. And once they discover that our supplies are truly in crisis, our situation will become far worse than it was a week ago." Once they lost Oasis No. 3, their only remaining foothold in Luoxia Province would be the Falcon Kingdom. Worse yet, once those wasteland survivors gained confidence, and once Gold Lizard and Hump realized that the Legion was merely a paper tiger, their armies would never remain passively sitting on their borders. They would seize the opportunity to swoop in and claim a share of the spoils. Griffin paused for a moment before continuing with emphatic weight: "Thirty days! Thirty days from now, our first line of defense must delay them for at least another fifteen days before gradually falling back to the center of Oasis No. 3..." "By conservative estimates, we should still have over seventy thousand troops left by then. But as long as we hold out until our main forces are resupplied, the vanguard they thrust deep into our territory will become nothing more than minced meat inside a pie!" At this point, a ruthless glint crossed General Griffin's face, and his fists clenched tightly on the command table. "I will make him spit out every single bite he has swallowed!" As for the Heart of Steel, he made no special mention of it. It was simply not something conventional weapons could counter; no amount of planning would change that. In any case, the airship couldn't land to occupy ground facilities. All they had to do was dig their trenches well and let it bomb away—the greatest advantage of the clone regiments was that their lives were cheap. MacLaren had known how to deal with the craft, but unfortunately, the man had perished in the nuclear blast. Still, it did not matter. He had already reported the loss of the airship. Weapons capable of countering it would be dispatched from the rear alongside the ammunition needed by the clone regiments. A single airship could not alter the outcome of the entire war. As long as his clone army was resupplied, everything would turn around! After hearing General Griffin's plan, the officers exchanged glances, conferring in quiet whispers. Just then, an officer spoke up. "General, what if that ultimatum doesn't buy us thirty days... what if it doesn't even buy us three weeks?" The tent fell silent. The silence stretched on for five whole minutes before General Griffin spoke again, shattering the quiet. "That would be the worst-case scenario." "If we cannot even buy three weeks, our only option is to abandon Oasis No. 3 and contract our front lines back to Oasis 2." Yet if matters truly reached that point, he would destroy everything in Oasis No. 3 that could be destroyed before retreating, leaving behind a ruined mess for them to deal with. Several hundred thousand starving refugees should be more than enough to bog down the Alliance's advance. The only drawback was that doing so would cost him a share of the final spoils of war... ... Once Griffin's war council concluded, meetings for various departments and formations followed, conveying the strategic deployments to mid- and high-level officers for their respective units. After the meetings adjourned, Korwei left the conference room without lingering outside, heading straight back to his quarters. Given his rank and seniority, he would never have qualified to attend such meetings under normal circumstances. However, a sequence of recent events had shifted the ground beneath him. First came the death of General MacLaren; Korwei, belonging to MacLaren's faction along with several other officers, was absorbed under Griffin's banner. Combined with the recent shortage of frontline junior officers, Korwei—who had been assigned to training duties in the rear—swiftly received an exceptional promotion. Pushing aside the tent flap, he saw Pangolin seated at the table, gorging himself with wild abandon. Awakened individuals already possessed enormous appetites, but this fellow's hunger surpassed even the norm. When he truly set his mind to eating, he could put away nearly half a calf in a single sitting. Fortunately, the Legion's supply shortage was only in ammunition, not rations. Otherwise, the sheer volume this guy consumed would have earned him widespread resentment. "I really envy your appetite. Over the past couple of days, I haven't been able to swallow a bite." Tossing his officer's cap casually onto the coat rack, Korwei walked over and sat across the table. Glancing at the pile of bones on the platter, he couldn't help clicking his tongue. Good grief. That was at least twenty kilograms of meat. Battlefield Guy let out a burp and chuckled nonchalantly. "Problems on the battlefield have to be settled on the battlefield in the end. Since that's the case, why wear a long face off the field?" *Not like you guys can win anyway. Might as well be cheerful.* Having already reviewed the operational plan hashed out by Brother Spring and Mole, he harbored not the slightest doubt about the outcome. Yet Korwei failed to detect the deeper meaning behind the sentiment. He merely cast an envious look at him, speaking with genuine wistfulness. "If only I had half your optimism." Battlefield Guy asked casually, "Run into something troubling?" Korwei replied, "Still the supply issue. Right now, the front line is short on everything except rations... I probably shouldn't be talking about this, but whatever. It's not like it's a secret anyway." Battlefield Guy shrugged. It really wasn't a secret. They had already debated it for several rounds on the forum yesterday. Brother Spring and a flock of military geeks had been arguing over exactly how many engagements' worth of ammunition these ten corps had brought with them. Regardless of the specifics, everyone agreed on one point: it could not possibly exceed five battles at most. The only trick to watch out for was that they might concentrate the ammunition of multiple corps into a single force while pulling the rest back to wait for resupply, putting on a show of having plenty of ammo. "Let's talk about something happy," Korwei said. "General Griffin promoted me to one-star millennium commander." Battlefield Guy looked at him in surprise, then grinned. "Congratulations!" Korwei smiled. "Congratulations to you, too." "Me?" "Yes." Korwei nodded. "I wasn't the only one promoted. Starting now, you're a centurion." Battlefield Guy blinked. "Wasn't I a millennium commander before?" *Why had his rank gone down?* As if reading the bewilderment on his face, Korwei explained with a smile: "The centurion I'm talking about is a centurion of the regular army." "A millennium commander in the Retinue Army is merely a position without real military rank—its standing in the Legion is lower even than a decurion in the regulars. Normally, only Wilante are permitted to serve as regular army officers, and transitioning from a retinue millennium commander directly to a regular centurion is unprecedented... But with the emergency at hand, there's no time to fuss over such technicalities." What the clone regiments lacked was not just ammunition, but also large numbers of junior and mid-level officers. To solve this issue, Griffin had no choice but to draw from the Falcon Kingdom's officer reserve—young officers trained by the Legion—and integrate them into the regular army to plug the gaps. Korwei did not tell Pangolin that he had originally been assigned as a decurion, but Korwei had staked his own honor as a guarantee to secure him an exceptional promotion to centurion. Such opportunities for extraordinary advancement were rare—perhaps coming once or twice in a lifetime. His loyalty and valor were worthy of the post. Such talent should not be squandered wasting away in the retinue forces. Korwei was confident he had not misjudged the man. A flicker of blankness washed over Battlefield Guy's face before his jaw dropped open in disbelief. It took him quite a while to process the words. Holy crap! He was on the official roster now?! Becoming a centurion meant stepping into the Legion's mid-level officer ranks! Seeing Korwei looking at him with a warm smile, Battlefield Guy's face lit up with delighted shock. Shoving back his chair, he snapped to attention, threw up a crisp military salute, and declared in a slightly stammering yet solemn voice: "I, Pangolin, shall never disappoint your expectations!" "I believe you won't let me down." Looking at the overjoyed Pangolin, Korwei nodded with a smile, genuinely happy for him, though he soon composed his expression. "However, our easy days are pretty much at an end. Tomorrow morning, we deploy to the front to take up our posts." To avenge General MacLaren! And wash away past disgrace! A fierce fighting spirit burned in Korwei's heart, but it did not cloud his judgment. He had already suffered once from carelessness. The survivors from southern River Valley Province were no easy prey. They were not the savages he had once imagined, fighting with spears and pipe rifles. They demanded one hundred and twenty percent caution. Yet contrary to Korwei's sober vigilance, upon hearing the news, Battlefield Guy burst into roaring laughter. The chance to score merits was finally here! To get his hands on that power armor, he had played the undercover agent long enough! If he waited any longer, he might end up working his way up to millennium commander in the regular army! "How could our easy days be at an end?" "Brother, our good days are just getting started!" ... Dawn City. Highway Town Inn. Carrying a basket of laundry, Lisa paused by the hallway window. Gazing out at the clear, bright moonlight, she let out a soft, wistful sigh. Although they had never told her what Pangolin was actually doing, from their behavior she could piece together a vague idea. He was one of the Alliance's people. And he was on a very, very dangerous mission. She only hoped he would return safe and sound... Coming up the stairs, Li Shuyue happened to see the young girl standing by the window. "Lisa? Is something the matter?" Hearing Li Shuyue's voice, Lisa quickly turned around with the wooden basket, offering a bashful smile. "Ah, you're back... Your clothes are dry. I folded them for you and was just bringing them over." Drying machines weren't popular here in the Alliance; most clothes and bedding were hung to dry under natural sunlight. Li Shuyue hadn't been accustomed to it at first, but she had gradually adapted, even growing fond of this "energy-saving and eco-friendly" way of living. Sun-dried clothing carried a pleasant scent. Slipping into them felt like being wrapped in warm sunshine, lifting one's spirits with it. "Thank you." Taking the wooden laundry basket from Lisa's hands, Li Shuyue noticed the melancholy hidden in the girl's eyes and couldn't help asking with concern, "Have you run into some trouble?" Li Shuyue was genuinely fond of this sweet, sensible, and capable girl. Especially after hearing about her past as a Legion slave, her heart ached with deep sympathy. Those beasts hardly deserved to be called human! If it were possible to wipe them off the face of this planet, she would gladly pay out of her own pocket to donate a nuclear warhead! If that wasn't possible, she at least wanted to help those right in front of her eyes. Looking up at Miss Li Shuyue's concerned face, Lisa gently shook her head and spoke in a soft voice: "It's nothing, miss. I haven't run into any trouble. I'm just... a little worried about him." Li Shuyue asked, "That Pangolin?" A flush of crimson rose to Lisa's cheeks as she gave a slight nod. Seeing those blushing cheeks, Li Shuyue wasn't sure how to comfort the young girl. Gently stroking Lisa's soft, fluffy hair, she remained silent for a moment before suddenly speaking. "The business I came here to handle is finished." Lisa's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you going back to Ideal City?" Li Shuyue nodded. "Yes." Her market research report was complete, and cooperation agreements with several Alliance companies were finalized. She needed to return as soon as possible to put the plans into action. Recruiting personnel for the joint ventures, staff appointments, securing supply chains, sales strategies, and a mountain of other matters were waiting for her attention. A fleeting look of loneliness passed across Lisa's face, but she smiled nonetheless. "I hope I'll see you again. You're always welcome back." Li Shuyue was quiet for a moment before finally making up her mind. "Have you considered moving to a different place to live?" Taken aback by the question, Lisa blinked in confusion. "A different place?" Li Shuyue nodded. "Yes. It might sound a bit sudden, but I happen to need a personal assistant, and I'm very pleased with your work ethic and capabilities... If you're interested, I can sponsor a work visa for you. Come back with me to Ideal City. I can pay you five thousand Cr a month, not counting bonuses and vacation stipends. And of course, there will be raises down the line." Lisa stared at her in astonishment. Though she had never been to Ideal City, she had heard travelers say that one Cr could be exchanged for three silver coins. Fifteen thousand silver coins... That was almost forty or even fifty times the monthly wage of an ordinary job! She didn't know why Miss Li Shuyue was offering her such an exorbitant salary, but after a moment's hesitation, she gently shook her head. "Thank you for your kindness, miss, but... I don't want to leave this place." Hearing this unexpected response, Li Shuyue froze, looking at the girl in disbelief. "You don't want to...? Are you sure? Wait, do you know what kind of place Ideal City is?" Lisa nodded softly, smiling. "I've heard about it. It's a wonderful place. I often hear guests drinking downstairs say that if only they could visit it once in their lifetime, they could die happy." Li Shuyue stared blankly at her. "Then... you don't want to go?" Lisa shook her head. "I want to stay here and wait for him to return... There are words I want to tell him with my own voice." Li Shuyue looked at her between laughter and tears. "He might not be happy if he knew you turned down such a wonderful opportunity... And once you receive a work visa and complete enough working hours, you can earn permanent residency. When that happens, you could bring him over with you—" Lisa suddenly interrupted her monologue. "Miss, have you ever met him?" Li Shuyue blinked, shaking her head. "No... why do you ask?" "Then why do you assume he would want to live in your homeland?" Lisa blinked, gazing at her. Li Shuyue fell silent for a moment. "Well, I suppose I'm not certain... It's just an ordinary assumption. No one would turn down the chance to go there." "See? That's only an assumption, and perhaps not everyone thinks the same way," Lisa said with a gentle smile, looking out at the moonlight beyond the window. "Actually, it isn't just about waiting for him... Just staying here has already made me very happy." Li Shuyue looked at her intently. "Think carefully about this. That place is the only pure land left on this entire planet." Lisa gave a soft shake of her head. "To me, this place is." It was the people here who had rescued her from hell, showing her that another kind of life existed in this world. As for Ideal City... Perhaps it truly was wonderful. But what did that have to do with her? Li Shuyue did not press further, but a tangle of mixed emotions churned inside her chest, impossible to describe. She couldn't fathom, let alone understand, why anyone would reject such generous terms—and she had now been turned down twice in a row. If that fellow named Fang Chang had refused because of his status as a Vault resident, she could somewhat understand. After all, every shelter had its own directives; perhaps to him, there were things far more important than a life of comfort. But Lisa... She was just an ordinary wasteland wanderer, wasn't she? Returning to her room, she was about to put her clothes into her suitcase when she noticed the notebook lying open on the desk. She walked over and switched on the desk lamp. Those were notes she had jotted down a few days ago—reflections having nothing to do with commerce, born simply of her curiosity regarding the local culture, so strikingly different from any other survivor settlement. Just as every Ideal City resident who had visited described, the atmosphere here was truly extraordinary. The locals held boundless faith in Dawn City's future, convinced it would one day grow into a world even more prosperous than Ideal City. Because the Administrator had promised it. On this point alone, Li Shuyue scoffed. Physically speaking, it was simply impossible. The creation of Ideal City had been shaped by countless serendipitous factors; a miracle born of the collective choices of myriad souls could never be replicated. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to meet that Administrator during this visit to the Alliance. If she had the chance to meet him next time she visited, that would be wonderful... ... Official Forum. Just past the peak logout hours, Battlefield Guy popped up on the forum. "Hahaha! Brothers! Your boy got promoted!" The thread exploded the instant it was posted. Tail: "Ooooh! So awesome!" Ye Shi: "How did you get promoted again?!" Brother Edge: "Badass! Are you a myriarch now? (Shocked)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Ahem, well, not quite... A centurion!" Jieyan: "What the hell? Why did you get demoted?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Demoted my ass! Before, I was a temp worker; now I've got tenured civil service status! How can you even compare the two?" Ye Shi: "Badass!" Brother Edge: "666!" I'm the Darkest: "Bro, which defense sector are you responsible for? Want big brother to deliver a kill your way in a couple days? (Funny)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "That'd be great! I'll send you the coords in a bit! (Grin)" Commander Spring: "Wait, you're at the front right now?! Exactly how much ammo do you guys have? Any exact figures?" Brother Mole: "Right, right, what about anti-tank weapons? Do they have a lot? Is it all just Panzerfausts or do they have other gear?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "What's the rush? I don't depart for the front until tomorrow! Don't worry, once yours truly gets there, I'll check it out for you guys!" Fang Chang: "Brothers manning the artillery at the front, take it easy. Don't blast our Pangolin to kingdom come. Remember to play the long game and catch the big fish. (Funny)" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Roger that! (Smirk)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Fuck, hearing you say 'Roger that' just made my asshole clench... Don't you dare do anything reckless!" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Relax! Am I that kind of guy?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "I beg you to act like a decent human being first!" Makabazi: "Hahahaha!" The forum was brimming with merriment. Seeing his little players having so much fun waging this brutal war, Chu Guang felt genuinely happy for them. Earlier today, Brother Spring had shown him his offensive plan: if the Legion was trapped in logistical straits, they could wear down the Legion's ammunition through continuous feints. Once the Legion showed signs of exhaustion, they would concentrate all armored units and firepower to tear open a breach in the Legion's lines, pushing motorized infantry through to infiltrate behind the enemy rear. Working in concert with the frontal assault by the royal armies, they would pull up the Legion's positions one by one like a pair of dental forceps. Brother Spring had christened this plan "Plan No. 3." It required deploying one hundred and twenty tanks and five "Cloud Dragonfly" ornithopters. Although the Alliance couldn't muster that many tanks in time, the batch captured earlier at Camp 530 was still in the hands of the Honey Badger Kingdom's Restoration Army. The frontal armor of the Conqueror 10 tanks was exceptionally tough; the Legion's own Panzerfaust rockets hitting them were like scratching an itch. They could serve perfectly as the vanguard. As for the Alliance's No. 2 tanks, they could trail behind as self-propelled artillery, providing coordinated fire support with their monstrous 155mm guns. Preparations for the offensive were already underway. Chu Guang didn't need to micromanage the tactical details on the battlefield; this game had plenty of professionals, and everyone was eager to show off their skills. At present, the only remaining issue lay with Enterprise. Presumably catching wind from the pilots of the "Orca" transport planes, the top brass of Enterprise had learned that MacLaren was captured by the Alliance. Perhaps it was just an impression. From the rumors Yi Chuan had been leaking lately, Chu Guang couldn't shake the feeling that these friends from the Far East were looking to quit while they were ahead...