Street Fighting in Jinhe City!

What Gahn had not expected was that the Alliance's high-intensity offensive lasted for three full days. Over those three days, light infantry clutching rifles infiltrated the city through several entrances across northern Jinhe City, engaging in fierce firefights with the tribesmen under his command throughout the streets, alleys, and stairwells of abandoned buildings. Both sides suffered heavy casualties. According to the reports from his warriors, over a thousand tribesmen had already perished in the street fighting against the human soldiers, including quite a few hulking cyborgs enhanced with cybernetics. Of course, the Alliance's losses were not light either. Corpses piled into small mounds at alley mouths, and blood had dyed nearly the entire roadway red. Yet those humans acted as if they felt no fear at all, still surging forward blindly, firing their weapons while howling unintelligible words. To be honest, Gahn was somewhat baffled. If they were survivors from Jinhe City, that would be one thing—if those sheep suddenly snapped one day, gripped by bone-deep hatred, it wasn't entirely impossible that they would throw away their lives just to kill mutants. But the problem was those lunatics from the north... He didn't recall ever provoking them of his own accord! Except for that incident at Dust Town. Yet that settlement wasn't Alliance territory either, was it? Just as Gahn was brooding in annoyance, the tent flap was pushed aside, and a burly mutant stepped in, cupping his fists. "My lord." His name was Delu, a warrior personally named by Gahn, as well as a chiliarch of the tribe. When the Alliance forces attacked, the clan he led had been the first to engage them. Since the combat zone was precisely where his clan was stationed, Gahn had ordered him to serve as front-line commander. For mutants, whoever commanded made little difference. After all, most of the time those greenskin brutes had no concept of following orders anyway; handing them weapons and pointing out where the enemy was was all it took. Thus, even if the appointment of a commander was somewhat hasty, it didn't really affect the mutants of the Qi Tribe. Gahn looked at Delu standing inside the tent and spoke slowly with an imposing demeanor. "What is it?" Facing the chieftain of the entire tribe, Delu reported in a gruff, resonant voice. "The Alliance's offensive has slowed. Both their firepower and numbers are far less than on the first day. From this morning until noon, we have repelled three waves of their attacks, and our positions haven't budged an inch... I can feel it; they're on the verge of breaking." Hearing this, Gahn felt a surge of joy, but kept his expression impassive, only curling the corner of his lips into a cold, mocking smirk. "Those weaklings, breaking down after a mere three days?" To think he had previously thought somewhat highly of them. It seemed he had overestimated them. Delu nodded and rumbled on, "Chieftain, I believe now is the perfect opportunity for a counterattack. As long as we retake the positions they captured in one fell swoop, those weak two-legged cattle will certainly lose the courage to keep fighting!" Gahn pondered for a moment and found some sense in his words. They had already inflicted severe enough casualties upon the Alliance, and the flagging momentum of the Alliance's assault was the best proof. If they pushed a bit harder now and ripped open a breach in those bastards' faltering line, the humans would soon flee out of the city like a burst dam. Thinking this, Gahn hesitated no longer and immediately said, "I'll give you another thirty armed vehicles, a thousand brothers, and twenty tons of ammunition. You must recapture the positions we lost yesterday before sundown!" Hearing this, Delu beamed with delight. His caterpillar-like eyebrows relaxed, and he pressed his fists together tightly in a show of loyalty. "Understood! Delu will certainly not fail the Chieftain's expectations!" "Repay me with the heads of those two-legged cattle," Gahn said, a cruel curve spreading across his lips as he gazed at Delu. "Go. I want to see their severed heads piled into a mountain." Delu respectfully took his orders. "Yes!" *** Meanwhile, in northern Jinhe City. Beside a half-collapsed elevated highway overpass, the Silver Corps, having pushed deep into the mutants' defensive line, was locked in an intense firefight with the mutants stationed in the area. Compared to the overwhelming momentum of the first-line corps, the Silver Corps, which usually just slacked off and played casually, was naturally much more of a letdown. Still, one couldn't entirely blame the trio of jokers—Silver Sword, Silver Hand, and Silver Dad—for slacking; the main reason was that their corps was packed with too many rookies. Any newcomer who met the entry standards for the Death Corps and could find an open slot wouldn't look twice at their corps. Large corps not only had top-tier veterans to carry you and tons of perks, but small corps had neither—and might even suffer from toxic cliquishness. Not to mention the guild leader was named "Silver Dad"—joining that meant acquiring an unasked-for father out of nowhere, didn't it? Every time he thought of this, Silver Sword gritted his teeth. Before creating his account, that dog had promised to be everyone's shield, only to turn around and swap "Shield" for "Dad"! Was that something a decent person would do?! Of course, he wasn't an honest guy himself. He'd originally promised to build an Agility-type, but seeing everyone on the forum praising the Strength-type monsters, he had instantly chosen Strength. In the end, only Silver Hand had remained an honest soul. Just then, Silver Dad, pinned down by enemy fire, yelled, "Old Sword! The machine gun ahead is too fierce! Think of something!" "Fuck, why don't you think of something?!" "I'm fucking pinned down!" "%¥#@!" Mounted in a broken window, a light machine gun chattered incessantly, spraying bullets at the Silver Corps' position and pinning several rookies—who had struggled just to advance this far—behind an overturned billboard in the street, unable to budge. Silver Dad happened to be the one leading them. Across a distance of over a hundred meters, the players couldn't see where the mutant was, and the mutant couldn't really see them either, merely firing blind sprays guided by where its comrades shouted. When it came to urban warfare, these mutants actually knew a trick or two. Though they looked dumb, they weren't sloppy on the tactical details. However— Their opponents were clearly no pushovers either. Leading a four-man fireteam, Silver Sword gritted his teeth and circled around to the flank of the firing position, crouching beside a crumbling wall some fifty to sixty meters away. He roughly eyeballed the distance. Unslinging the RPG launcher from his back, he deftly loaded a fragmentation rocket, aimed at the muzzle flash flickering through the thick mist, and pulled the trigger. "RPG!" He roared at the top of his lungs, as if willing extra power into the rocket trailing white smoke, watching as it slammed right into the half-hidden window. An orange-yellow fireball flashed through the fog, and he faintly saw something hurled out by the blast. The machine gun fell silent. The troops behind could finally resume their advance. Silver Sword was just about to pump his fist in excitement when he turned around and saw a rookie lying flat on his back in a spread-eagled sprawl. His eyes widening, he quickly squatted down and slapped the guy's face. "Holy shit?! What happened to you, bro?" The guy was still knocked out. The two rookies next to him exchanged glances, and one of them said wryly, "He... took the backblast from your rocket launcher." The other nodded and added, "Right in the forehead. I even heard a loud 'thwack.'" Silver Sword nearly choked on his own spit. Just then, the guy on the ground finally stirred and came to. Seeing his dazed look, Silver Sword said, torn between amusement and exasperation, "Come on... bro, this is a fucking recoilless weapon! Why the hell were you standing behind me?!" He was lucky the backblast hadn't sent him straight to the respawn screen. The guy on the ground rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and giggled foolishly. "I-I-I just wanted to see how you aimed the thing..." "Pffft—" Just as Silver Sword was about to chew him out, a bright headlight suddenly illuminated in the distance. A wide vehicle front bound with barbed wire burst out of the fog, accompanied by the deafening roar of an engine. Catching sight of the six-barrel rotary gun on the roof aiming straight at them, along with the savage green face framed by rolls of fat behind welded armor plates, Silver Sword's expression instantly changed. "Scatter!" Barely had the words left his throat when a howling hailstorm of bullets swept over. Two of the four-man team were instantly torn to shreds, splattered against the scrap car body behind them before they could even utter a scream. Silver Sword broke out in a cold sweat. A dozen tracer rounds grazed past his arm. Fortunately, his reflexes were quick enough. Throwing all his weight forward, he crashed through a broken window and ducked into a storefront along the street. The rookie who had been lying on the ground miraculously survived and crawled in through the display window, his face covered in blood and bits of flesh. Spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva, the rookie said wryly, "Bro, weren't we supposed to be racking up easy kills?" Why did it feel like... They were the only ones having such a miserable time? "I..." Silver Sword was caught between laughter and anger, completely at a loss for words. Their corps leader had indeed said that, no question about it. Still, he hadn't anticipated that this new batch of players truly possessed zero common sense—pure 24-karat greenhorns! Not wanting to be too hard on the kid, he held his temper and offered patient reassurance: "Can't help it. We just happened to slam into the sector with the heaviest firepower. Once we push past this, it'll be smooth sailing." Though to be fair, the mutants of Jinhe City truly were different from those in other places—not only did they wield fierce automatic weapons, but they also had vehicles retrofitted with welded steel plating. Although the roads within the city were in atrocious condition, these greenskin brutes had lived here for years. They knew virtually every passable route like the back of their hands, allowing their vehicles to appear and vanish like ghosts. Furthermore, the foggy weather prevented aircraft from providing effective close air support, forcing them to rely on man-portable anti-tank weapons to fight back. He'd heard that the Skeleton Corps was en route from Dawn City. Once the Alliance's armored forces arrived, the resistance against their advance would probably diminish significantly. The rookie was quite agreeable, nodding excitedly. "All right, bro, I believe you!" Honestly, although fighting alongside this guy was rough, he felt it was pretty thrilling. Ignoring the deadweight, Silver Sword tapped his VM with an index finger and shouted into his headset, "...Silver Hand, Silver Dad, this is Silver Sword! An off-roader just blew past our position—they might be heading for your flank!" "That thing packs heavy firepower, so watch yourselves!" Only static crackled in the comm channel; no response came. Sensing something was wrong, Silver Sword immediately opened the comms list and saw the 'no signal' icon, hanging up while cursing under his breath. "Fuck!" The rookie swallowed hard and asked, "What is it now?" "Signal jamming! Eighty percent chance that buggy has some kind of vehicle-mounted jammer on it!" Silver Sword grabbed his RPG launcher, stepped through the window sill studded with glass shards, and gritted his teeth as he looked toward the direction the vehicle had sped off. "We have to catch it!" Leading his sole remaining teammate, Silver Sword chased after the off-roader's exhaust, racing toward the position held by the main body of the Silver Corps. Unfortunately, two legs could never outrun four speeding wheels. Catching up was out of the question. And then— A brutal scene unfolded. The Silver Corps was huddled behind street barricades, locked in a ferocious shootout with the mutants, when an off-roader suddenly barged into their rear flank. Before anyone could react, the rotary gun roared, sweeping across their lines. Silver Dad opened his mouth to scream "Run!", only to be instantly shredded into minced meat. "Dad!!!" Silver Sword cried out in grief and fury, hoisting the RPG launcher and firing a rocket right at it. The rocket, trailing white smoke, slammed square into the welded steel shield in front of the rotary gun. A bursting jet of molten metal splattered all over the mutant gunner's face. Smoking with black soot, the mutant howled as it tumbled from the buggy. Soon, however, a powerful right arm reached out from the cabin. Replacing the fallen gunner, the mutant seized the machine gun—now missing half its armor plate—and continued spraying merciless bursts into the Silver Corps' position. Howling tracers tore through the thick fog like a storm. Pinned down by converging crossfire from two directions, the Silver Corps quickly suffered catastrophic casualties. Moreover, due to the jamming vehicle, they couldn't call in indirect fire from the Heart of Steel, nor could they request close air support from the air force. Watching the mutant forces surge forward like a tidal wave, Silver Hand, still on the line, dashed forward, scooped up the megaphone dropped by Silver Dad, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Fall back! Retreat!" This was probably the Alliance's only retreat in the past three days. Yet he had no other choice. Failing to intercept the enemy's vehicle was a tactical blunder, but even without it, they wouldn't have held out for long. The enemy was clearly massing superior numbers for a counteroffensive, selecting their sector as the breakthrough point to crack the front. This was a strategic decision. If they didn't pull back, everyone would die here without changing the outcome in the slightest. Hearing the shouts from the line, the rookie behind Silver Sword swallowed nervously. "Let's fall back too." Silver Sword looked up at the sky and let out a heavy sigh. Suddenly, he shoved his VM, the RPG launcher, and the ammo pouch on his back all into the rookie's arms. Taking the pile of gear, the rookie stared at him in utter confusion. "Bro, what are you doing?" "Take my VM back. The rest is yours to play with." "Then... what about you?" "...See you in three days!" Silver Sword chambered a round into his rifle and took a solemn, tragic step forward, leaving the rookie with the sight of his stalwart back. For three days, the Alliance's line had been advancing everywhere; only their sector had been pushed back. Even if excusable, he simply lacked the face to crawl back and look his brothers in the eye. "Long live the Alliance!!" Don't think you can take this position while I'm still drawing breath! He shouted as he charged into the oncoming tide of mutants, vanishing into the vast sea of smoke as a colossal explosion tore through the air... The rookie stared blankly, his eyes welling with emotion. "What a bro... I swear I won't drag you down next time!" Not daring to linger any longer, he scurried back toward the rear positions. Not far from him, Hengchi of the Qi Tribe stared at the puddle of minced flesh spread across the ground, its heart thumping violently against its ribs. It had watched with its own eyes as that human charged out of the fog, killed the tentmate beside it, and detonated the explosives strapped to his body. Scorching-hot blood had splattered across its face, trickling into the corners of its mouth. For the first time, food that would usually make its mouth water burned its lips, so much so that it instinctively spat out the bloody gore. Just then, Hengchi saw their leader, Delu, stride forward, thrust his rifle high into the air, and bellow at the top of his coarse lungs: "Victory!" Deafening cheers erupted along the entire street. "Victory!!" "Awoooo!" After yielding two kilometers of territory over three days, they had finally achieved an exhilarating victory, wrestling back a street from the Alliance. Even if this street was merely a dozen meters wide and a hundred meters long. Whether fresh recruits sent to the front or grizzled veterans who had tumbled in the trenches for three days, all were ecstatic. Yet Hengchi felt not a shred of joy. It couldn't shake the feeling that these humans were different from the ones it had eaten in the past. Watching its howling, euphoric brothers, however, it joined in the roaring anyway, venting its deep-seated dread through its cries. Would things truly go so smoothly? It didn't know. But this was a battle deciding the survival of their species, a war between two different races. There was no other way out... *** On the afternoon of the third day of the Alliance's ground offensive against the mutant tribe in Jinhe City, the mutants who had cowered behind their defenses finally launched their first large-scale counterattack. The Alliance's positions across the board faced considerable pressure. After a concentrated assault, the Qi Tribe's forces finally tore a breach into one section of the Alliance's lines. However, the total collapse of the defensive line that Delu and Gahn had envisioned never materialized. Almost the instant the breach appeared, the Alliance contracted its perimeter backward with astonishing speed and practiced ease, reestablishing a fresh offensive staging ground near an abandoned department store. They seemed to have anticipated this long in advance, even foreseeing exactly where trouble might arise. Silver Hand crouched behind a newly erected sandbag breastwork, his face looking thoroughly down on his luck. Both of his good buddies had bitten the dust, leaving less than ten members in the entire corps including the newbies, so he had no choice but to tag along with the brothers of the Burning Corps for now. Crouching beside him, Jieyan chuckled teasingly, "You guys are really down on your luck. Those brutes were just looking to regain some face, and of all people, they picked on you." "Sigh!" Silver Hand let out a heavy sigh and passed the buck without batting an eye. "Blame those noobs for feeding too hard! If I saw such a soft persimmon sitting there ripe for the picking, I'd squeeze it too." The newbie beside him who had barely escaped with his life bristled upon hearing that. "Fuck! How is that our fault? Who the hell bragged that they'd carry us to victory?" "Exactly!" chimed in another guy whose arm was slung in bandages. Ignoring his own teammates' heckling, Silver Hand acted as if nothing had happened and turned to Jieyan, who was struggling to hold back his laughter: "Anyway, when are we hitting back? Those dog-fucking bastards actually dared to push back—they must have a damn death wish!" Jieyan smiled and said, "No rush. Our corps leader talked it over with the adjacent corps. Since they counterattacked with so much confidence, we'll let them taste a bit of sweetness first." Silver Hand asked, puzzled, "Why not just overrun them in one fell swoop?" Jieyan shook his head. "These guys aren't like marauders; they're more like a cross between mutant xenobeasts and marauders—ferocious and cunning. If we push too fast, they'll hole up in bunkers and refuse to come out, which will make clearing them out later even harder. Better to kite back a bit, give them a glimmer of hope, and lure the pigs into the slaughterhouse!" Silver Hand's eyes lit up. "Now that's a brilliant idea! Which devious bastard thought of that?" How wickedly spiteful! Jieyan gave a low chuckle. "Who in our corps do you think fits the bill of devious bastard the best?" Silver Hand chuckled knowingly. "Say no more." At that moment, Fang Chang, studying a map on the front lines, sneezed, but couldn't help feeling a gentle warmth in his heart. It had to be his darling Dolly missing him. Once this battle was won, he'd definitely head back and spend some quality time with her... *** At the same time, on the bridge of the Heart of Steel. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, Chu Guang looked down upon the dim, hazy battlefield through several holographic screens. Over three days, though the Alliance's front line had only advanced two kilometers—and had even pulled back a few hundred meters just now—the toll inflicted upon the mutants' effective strength was staggering. According to Xiao Qi's compiled report, as of now, they had eliminated a total of 1,207 mutant soldiers, 411 of whom were cybernetic mutants, and recovered 217 modified prosthetics sent to Boulder Military Industries for analysis and research. In addition, a total of 219 captives imprisoned by the mutants had been rescued and were currently housed at the forward operating base beneath the Heart of Steel. A small portion of them were wastelanders, while the vast majority were residents of nearby settlements like Pinecone Farm. Heavily addicted to Na fruit, they resembled puppets with severed strings—a chilling sight to behold. Putting the matter of the captives aside for the moment, the mutant kill count was still rising; some unconfirmed kills awaited verification, which would have to wait until the front line advanced further. For now, the majority of the kills were contributed by veteran players, while most of the newbies who joined the game over the past two months had merely tagged along for the ride. Yet Chu Guang didn't consider this meaningless feeding. If anything, it was precisely because the novices fed wave after wave that the mutants developed the illusion that they could turn the tables. Thus, even while suffering such catastrophic casualties, the mutants maintained an aggressive combat doctrine in defense, even boldly charging the strongpoints the Alliance had established within the city. In the eyes of those brutes, the Alliance's offensive was probably on its last legs. After all, the number of newbies participating on the third day was indeed noticeably smaller than on the first. Gazing at the flickering fires across the urban expanse outside the window, Chu Guang's lips curled into a faint smile. Tomorrow was the fourth day. The players who died on the first day would soon begin respawning one after another—respawning with the hard lessons of death and the burning resentment born of withdrawal symptoms. Soon, these greenskin bastards would discover just how foolish their confidence was. The massive offensive from three days ago would soon repeat itself. And this time— The nightmare was only truly beginning! Perched on Chu Guang's shoulder, Xiao Qi rested her chin in her hand and quietly remarked, "Master, you're smiling like a villain." Chu Guang replied offhandedly, "Doesn't matter. I'm smiling at the window. Nobody can see anyway." "I-I see." Astonished, Xiao Qi couldn't help admiring him silently. Little stars twinkled in her eyes as she looked at his profile, her adoration deepening. As expected of Master! He even planned out minor details like that! That's just way too meticulous!