Brute Force Works Wonders!

At the southernmost edge of the Mid-Continent lay a breathtaking region of lush jungles, vibrant seas of blossoms, and glowing corals and waters. Its name was Haiya Province. It was said that many years ago, this land had stretched far wider. That glowing sea had once been dry land, home to a prosperous city. Then, one day, something plummeted from the heavens, erasing the city and the very ground beneath it. Li Jinrong had never seen what the land looked like back then; he had only heard fragments from his grandfather. Two centuries ago, so the story went, that glowing sea was far more terrifying. Vast sheets of azure arcs blazed together like churning fire. People called it the flame of the Grim Reaper. Anyone who laid eyes on it died. Most survivors migrated north with the help of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, but a few refused to leave their home. After all, the world was already ruined. What difference would going north make? Death came for everyone in the end. Better to depart with some dignity. When he was young, Li Jinrong couldn't understand why people thought that way. How could a creature as resilient as humanity go extinct over something like that? Humans could survive in places where even weeds couldn't grow. And wasn't that the truth? If all those people had truly died out, where would he have come from? He didn't understand the despair of those who stayed behind, and even less did he understand why the others fled. In his young eyes, there had clearly been a better way. "Why didn't everyone just band together and put out the Grim Reaper's flame?" He still remembered asking his grandfather that very question. Yet that wise old man, usually so quick with answers, had looked uncharacteristically troubled. "Not every problem has a solution. Some have none at all, and even for those that do, there is the matter of priorities..." "Then which kind is our problem?" He remembered pressing the issue, only for his grandfather to answer with a helpless look. "I'm sorry, child. I don't know either." Events of two hundred years ago were simply too distant. Forget two hundred years—even things from a hundred, fifty, or twenty years ago would soon be forgotten if nobody made an effort to remember, record, and share them. Just like that glowing sea. Even though it had wiped out tens of millions of lives in an instant, people today still worshiped its boundless might and mercy for no reason at all. Fortunately, those eerie blue arcs had sunk deep beneath the waves, visible only as faint glimmers on pitch-black nights. In truth, rather than the origins of the glowing sea, young Li Jinrong had been far more fascinated by the Post-War Reconstruction Committee his grandfather spoke of. In the old man's stories, that organization sounded omnipotent. Even though Haiya Province lacked any planned settlements established by the Committee, and even though the Committee viewed the survivors here as people who had given up on themselves, they still never abandoned those who had chosen to stay. The signal towers rising across Haiya Province were the footprints they had left behind. For a long time, even after the Committee dissolved, those steel towers continued broadcasting self-help knowledge to nearby survivors again and again, calling upon vault dwellers across the land to fulfill their original oaths. During that era, many kindhearted people wearing blue jackets appeared among the settlements. The knowledge and tools they brought helped numerous communities in Haiya Province build decent lives. It was from that foundation that the Iron Tower organization was born. Locals and vault dwellers who had received aid from the Post-War Reconstruction Committee decided to unite to help even more people, ending the wasteland across a broader scale and rebuilding the collapsed order. Up until twenty years ago, Iron Tower had played a pivotal role in Haiya Province. Li Jinrong couldn't recall the exact day. He only remembered that he was still very young when, all of a sudden, the settlement folk stopped trusting anyone who called themselves Iron Tower, throwing themselves instead into the embrace of the Church of the Torch. First, the steel towers left behind by the Reconstruction Committee were torn down and smelted into liquid steel. Then, invisible high walls rose between village and village, turning settlement after settlement into isolated plantations. He had no idea why things had turned out that way. All he remembered was that from that day on... Everything changed. *** "...Mutants." Binoculars in hand, Li Jinrong stood at the edge of the hills, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he gazed at the rolling dust kicked up across the plains several kilometers away. He couldn't pin down the exact number—at least five hundred, but probably no more than two thousand. They had a substantial number of vehicles. These beasts actually formed a motorized column: half the greenskins rode in trucks and off-road vehicles, while the other half jogged along behind them, panting and huffing. By mutant standards, that level of discipline and gear qualified them as an elite force—not that these brutes relied on such things in combat anyway. Even so, he had to admit they looked less like an army marching to war and more like guests hurrying to a feast. The man leaning against a motorcycle beside him gave a yawn. "Do these greenskins never sleep? It's three in the morning and they're still roaming around." The man's name was Xiao Yue. He was Li Jinrong's subordinate, rescued alongside him that night by an Alliance aircraft. Suspecting a traitor within their organization, Old Li had refrained from rejoining the group. Though Xiao Yue felt Old Li was being a bit paranoid—those people were comrades who had bled together, after all—he couldn't bear to let the man operate alone, so he had stayed by his side. Over the past few days, they had been lingering near the Qi Tribe, investigating leads regarding the Sanctuary across various settlements while coordinating with Alliance personnel to gather intelligence on the Church of the Torch. Those folks from the north were exceedingly generous. With them, intelligence could be traded directly for food and ammunition. If the Church of the Torch hadn't originated from the north as well, and if Qingquan City weren't revered by those lunatics as a holy land, Old Li might have viewed those northern wastelander folks with a touch more warmth. "...They're clearly doing more than just roaming. For this many to deploy together, they must have a definite objective." Lowering his binoculars, Li Jinrong pulled out a map and unfolded it. His index finger traced along the grid lines for a moment before stopping on a red circle, his brow furrowing. He muttered under his breath, "Pinecone Farm." At the mention of Pinecone Farm, Xiao Yue clicked his tongue. That had been their first stop upon arriving in Jinhe City, and it had single-handedly defined his terrible impression of settlements in this region. The haughty farm master hadn't even granted them an audience before driving them away without explanation, barking that Pinecone Farm only collaborated with genuinely powerful factions and had no use for homeless vagrants like them. "Those folks are done for. This is a mutant force of one or two thousand. The settlement's entire garrison might not even match that number... I doubt they'll even make a full meal for those mutants." "Whether it helps or not, we should still warn them so they have some time to prepare." Returning to his motorcycle, Li Jinrong fired up the engine and glanced at Xiao Yue. "Are you coming with me, or staying here?" Xiao Yue sighed and swung a leg over his own motorcycle. "Even though I think you're wasting your breath... whatever. I'll ride with you for a bit." Li Jinrong grinned and twisted the throttle. The thick exhaust pipe belched black smoke. Just as he was about to head down the slope, a muffled roar rumbled from above. He looked up into the pitch-black night sky. Through the gaps in the dark clouds, by the faint moonlight, he caught sight of cross-shaped silhouettes. Beside him, Xiao Yue noticed the anomaly as well, staring upward and murmuring, "...What is that?" Li Jinrong wanted to know too. His throat bobbed. Just as he was about to speak, those black crosses broke through the edge of the clouds, diving toward the mutants on the plains under cover of night. With such a massive racket overhead, the mutants naturally spotted the disturbance. A ripple of commotion swept through the convoy rolling across the plains. Standing half-exposed in an open off-road vehicle, the burly Kulu looked up at the sky, scowling as his sharp fangs jutted past his lips. The droning roar stirred an instinctive sense of threat. Yet at this moment, he clearly failed to grasp the severity of the situation—what it meant for a force on a forced march across an open plain to suffer an airstrike. In that split second of hesitation, the flying crosses began their dive toward the ground. Accompanied by the piercing shriek of dive sirens, they released aerial bombs earthward. Bombs weighing over a hundred kilograms rained from the sky, and blooms of fire instantly erupted across the plains. The explosive blast waves overturned trucks one after another. The mutant warriors riding in the beds were either blown to pieces on the spot or hurled into the air as the vehicles rolled. The concussed mutants had no clue what was happening. Those jogging behind the trucks, choking on exhaust fumes, watched in utter disbelief as the vehicles flipped through the air. Some mutants even thought they had awakened some incredible power, blowing a truck away with a single exhale, until the next second brought explosions to nearly every truck in sight, only then realizing they were under attack. Expressions of disbelief washed over every hideous green face. The moon must have risen in the west! Someone had actually dared to pick a fight with them! And had beaten them this badly right out of the gate! Most survivors in this land were spineless cowards, and had been since birth. Those two-legged livestock had only ever run from them; even if they occasionally pulled out a fancy weapon, the mutants would quickly strip it from their hands. Never had they encountered something so terrifying, and in such numbers. No— Not entirely the first time. In fact, they had tasted an Alliance missile that night, but none of them had taken that weak strike to heart. Hardly anyone had died then, and the sturdy mutants had simply shaken their heads and gotten back to their feet. Nor had Oge's subsequent crushing defeat taught them any lessons. They merely wrote him off as a coward who couldn't even handle a bunch of weak humans and was too ashamed to return. Facing aircraft completely out of reach, the concussed mutants were gripped by utter bewilderment. They couldn't touch them, couldn't aim at them. For a moment, they had no idea what to do. Meanwhile, high in the night sky... One W-2 after another pulled up after completing their dive-bombing runs, returning to a safe altitude to prepare for the next pass. "Hahahaha! Holy shit, that was awesome!" Sitting in the cockpit of one of the planes, Mosquito watched the blooming fireballs on the ground behind him, his face flushed with excitement. Ever since the war in Sunset Province wound down, he, as a pilot, had found himself with nothing to do—so bored he had gone to mess around with life-profession players. Later, he had even been dragged into blowing up the barracks kitchen by his teammates. This time, the guys from the neighboring corps had screwed up, finally giving him the chance to clean up someone else's mess. He had finally gotten his turn to shine! Wind rushed through the comms channel before Feng Qing's voice came through. "...Corps leader, what now? Return to rearm, or what?" Mosquito chuckled. "Rearm? Rearm my ass! Pound the bastards with the autocannons!" "But it's too dark down there, we can't see a thing." Even with flares dropped, the field of vision was quite limited. Without coordination from ground forces, a purely aerial strike was indeed a stretch. Feng Qing estimated that the dive-bombing run had only killed around a hundred mutants at best. As for the light and heavy casualties, there was no point in tallying them. Given the mutants' regenerative abilities, most would recover unless blown apart on the spot. Of course, killing a hundred was decent enough. At least their primary objective had been achieved: disabling the mutants' vehicles and stopping those green beasts from advancing on Pinecone Farm. As long as the mutant column lost its mobility, even if they hadn't suffered massive casualties, the pressure on the friendly forces at Pinecone Farm would be drastically reduced. Mosquito was well aware of this; their mission was already complete. However— Calling it a day just because the objective was met didn't suit his style at all. "Doesn't matter! Who cares if we can't see? Just spray the general area and wipe them out! Brothers, charge with me! Ga-ha-ha-ha—" Letting out a wild, cackling laugh, Mosquito shoved the control stick to the side and was the first to wheel his nose around, diving back in to rake the ground with a burst from his autocannon. Down below, where the autocannon rounds chewed into the dirt, the dazed mutants finally came to their senses and scattered to avoid the returning aircraft. Watching the buzzing flies swarming overhead and the burning scrap metal littering the ground, Kulu, still standing in the off-road vehicle, ground his teeth so hard they nearly shattered. Forty armed trucks! Equipment he had raided over a dozen merchant caravans to gather, wiped out by more than half in a single bombing run! His heart bled, and overwhelmed by fury, he roared at the sky. "Kulu! Fire! Everyone open fire! Shoot down those noisy sparrows!" Blinded by rage, he gripped the roof-mounted machine gun with both hands and sprayed wildly into the night sky. A thick tongue of flame and a rain of bullets chased after the plane's tail. The tracer rounds dancing across the sky looked terrifying, but the muzzle flash had completely exposed his position. Without the slightest warning... The 20mm autocannon rounds outpaced the sound of gunfire. Almost the very moment he heard the whistling tear of the air, a stream of shells clattered and punched into the vehicle beneath him. Massive bullet holes tore from the hood of the off-road vehicle all the way back to the mud-caked trunk. Caught in that whistling hail of lead, the driver in the front seat was killed instantly, followed by his copilot behind him. "Aaargh—!" Mangled flesh and gore splattered across the cabin, showering Kulu from head to toe. Bathed in a rain of blood, he fared little better; the machine gun in his hands was shredded into scrap. Tossed from the out-of-control vehicle, Kulu cried out and was about to curse when he saw his ride roll a short distance before taking another stray burst to the fuel tank, stalling in the open field and detonating in a ball of fire. A bead of hot sweat rolled down between his caterpillar-like brows and dripped onto the ground. Kulu's throat bobbed, and he finally realized he had narrowly cheated death. Struggling to push himself up, he spotted half a severed arm lying nearby. Instinctively reaching out with his right hand to pick it up, he instead saw that what he had raised was only the remaining stump. As the delayed pain surged through the wound and washed over his entire body, his hideous, contorted green face twisted into a knot. Looking up at the shambles of the battlefield around him and the mutant warriors who had fallen in droves within moments, he could no longer hold back the terror and fury in his chest. "Aaaarrrgh—!" Meanwhile, having completed his strafing run, Mosquito pulled up once more. Glancing back at the sporadic flashes of fire on the ground, a look of surprise crossed his face. Even having faced all manner of bizarre opponents, he couldn't help but admire the sheer audacity of these greenskins. "Damn, not bad..." Firing blind into the sky? Were they that worried his eyesight was bad and he couldn't figure out where to aim? *** Meanwhile, beside the hills several kilometers away... Staring dumbfounded at the blooming fireballs across the distant plains and the mutant soldiers scattering in panic, Xiao Yue swallowed hard, finally forcing out a sentence. "...Those are Alliance planes." Li Jinrong stood with his mouth half-open, saying nothing, his gaze glued to the plains. He had heard earlier that an organization called the Alliance had fought a war with the Legion to the northwest, but he had lacked any concrete concept of either the Alliance or the Legion. Now he understood. That clamorous rain of fire left an indelible mark on his soul. A mutant force that had been murderous and overbearing just a moment ago was engulfed in an ocean of flames in an instant, and the surviving green beasts fled for their lives beneath the dancing tracer fire. Seeing that Old Li remained silent, Xiao Yue turned to him and asked with difficulty, "...Do we still need to head to that farm?" It seemed like a pointless question. After a long silence, Li Jinrong nodded. "Let's go." Of course. It wasn't to deliver a warning; those people clearly already knew about the mutants marching out of the city and had no need for their alert. What was intriguing, however, was why these mutants were hurrying toward Pinecone Farm in the middle of the night, and why Alliance aircraft had appeared directly above them. As everyone knew, Pinecone Farm fell under the Church of the Torch's sphere of influence, and the Qi Tribe was an ally of the Church. Faintly guessing the truth, a spark of delight welled up in Li Jinrong's chest. Had the Alliance formally launched a military campaign against the Church of the Torch?! That would be incredible news... *** Pinecone Farm. The brainwashing caused by the psychic interference device had been lifted, yet the chaos within the settlement was far from over. However, the players currently in the settlement had no time to tend to those who had gone mad. Part of the group guarded the Annex, while the other part, led by young Ye Shi, charged toward the settlement's church. "Open up! FBI! Bah, open up for some warmth!" Kicking open the half-ajar doors, Kidney Fighter stormed in with his rifle raised, sweeping the room with a murderous gaze. Seeing a man with only his upper half remaining, the priest hiding in the church was scared out of his wits on the spot. The grenade he had intended to use for a mutual destruction slipped from his fingers and hit the floor, its pin still firmly in place. He knew nothing. The people outside had suddenly gone mad, biting anyone they saw. And right at this critical juncture, the esteemed Apostle had vanished, while gunfire popped outside like firecrackers. Panic had completely overtaken him, leaving him with no idea what to do except pray. Spotting the priest cowering in a corner of the church, Killing Dagger marched forward with his excavator-like fists resting at his sides, planting those massive metal knuckles right beside the man with a vicious grin. "Where's the Apostle here? The Apostle of the Church of the Torch—don't play dumb and pretend you don't know." "I... I—" The priest's lips trembled, unable to squeeze out a coherent word. "Don't waste your breath on him." Ye Shi stepped up, prodding the barrel of his rifle against the priest's forehead and staring into his eyes. "Speak. Where's the basement in this church?" "I... I'll take you there." Staring down the dark barrel of the gun, the priest lacked the courage to keep any secrets after all. Trembling all over, he led the group to the church basement. It was pitch-black. Just as Kidney Fighter was about to pull out a flashlight, Jieyan spotted a switch on the wall. With a press of his hand, incandescent bulbs flooded the dark basement with bright, stark light. Awkwardly tucking his flashlight away, Kidney Fighter gave a light cough. "Is there really a secret passage here?" It looked like nothing more than an ordinary study, roughly seven or eight square meters, with two bookshelves and a desk along the wall. The desk was clean, bearing nothing at all. Ye Shi looked at the priest standing beside them. Caught in his gaze, the priest's face drained of color, and he shook his head like a rattle drum. "I... I really don't know. This is the Apostle's study... I've only been inside a few times myself." "Normally you'd need to find a mechanism to open the door..." Rubbing his chin, Jieyan crouched beside the bare desk, feeling around left and right, but came up empty after searching for quite a while. Seeing him move over to fiddle with the bookshelf, Killing Dagger couldn't take it anymore. Clicking his tongue, he clomped forward, using both hands and feet. "Out of the way, let me do it!" Stepping back instinctively, Jieyan gave him a sidelong glance. "What are you trying to do?" "Heh, isn't it obvious? Brute force works wonders!" Killing Dagger grinned. He had worn this exoskeleton for so long, and he had finally found a chance to put it to good use. Without another word, he swung his excavator-sized fist and slammed it into the wall with all his might. That punch carried serious weight, but the wall wasn't made of clay either. With a dull thud, the impact bounced him right back. The plaster stripped away, and even the concrete underneath cracked, but the wall remained steadfast, showing no other reaction. Judging by the sound, the space behind this wall was almost certainly solid; even if a hidden door existed, it wouldn't be here. Feeling a dozen eyes staring straight at him, Killing Dagger felt a surge of embarrassment. He coughed, wanting to scratch his head, but glanced at his massive metal hands and thought better of it. "Uh... not this one. Let me try another wall." He realized this approach wasn't very clever, but he had already bragged about it. Backing down now would make him lose face. Watching Killing Dagger walk toward another wall, Ye Shi, standing by the doorway, was completely dumbfounded. "Holy crap... if you don't find the door and end up collapsing the passage, what then?!" And if there were traps— Before his words could finish, that iron-pot-sized fist smashed into the wall. This time, however, something was different: beneath the cracked plaster, a seam appeared. Killing Dagger's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "There's something behind it!" Just as he raised his fist to bash it again, a clamor erupted from outside the basement. A player stationed outside shouted loudly, "...Freeze! Drop your weapons!" Along with the shout came two sharp gunshots. Before the echoes of the shots had faded, Ye Shi had already darted out like an arrow, with the other players hot on his heels. A moment later, the gunfire outside ceased. Teammates' voices came over the comms channel. "Targets captured... The bastard came straight through the church's main entrance and ran smack into me, hehe." "Damn, turns out their intel was half a beat slower than our quest. They hadn't even reached the tunnel yet..." "Four Apostles!" "We hooked the big fish!" "Who's heading back to the Annex? Tell Lao Bai to shut off that psychic interference device—this spotty signal is driving me nuts!" Just like that... Quest cleared? Listening to the voices of his teammates over the comms, Killing Dagger stood beside the wall, utterly bewildered. It took him a long while before he finally squeezed out a single word: "Fuck!"