"Charge! Shove your gun barrels right up their nostrils! They don't even have enough men to make a full century—crush them with your titanium-steel will!"
Just as Killing Dagger ordered to open fire, Chiliarch Dhiraj roared at the top of his lungs to order an attack. In an instant, gunfire erupted across the beach, and a boiling storm of bullets rained into the woods.
He could sense that there couldn't be many blue moles hiding in the woods—probably just ten or twenty people.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have hypocritically dissociated themselves from the blue-skinned bastards in the sea and pretended they were here to rescue him; they would have just drawn their weapons and opened fire right away.
That was certainly what he would have done in their shoes!
Though most of his subordinates were exhausted and their morale was low, right now was their best chance to shatter the Alliance in one fell swoop!
Once the monsters in the sea caught up and formed a pincer movement with those blue moles on the shore, they wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance!
Precisely for this reason, Dhiraj shouted recklessly, urging his soldiers to storm forward.
Yet to his shock, the firepower bursting from the woods far exceeded anything he had imagined.
Streaks of tracers swept toward the beach like driving rain. The kicked-up dust and grit formed an impenetrable wall, pinning every soldier trying to charge into the rainforest flat against the sand. No matter how loudly he screamed and prodded, not a single soldier could advance a single step.
The bullets whizzed past as though they cost nothing, leaving the imperial soldiers huddled on the sand utterly bewildered and stunned.
What was even worse than the whizzing bullets was that their rifles felt like useless fire pokers, completely ineffective against those bastards armed to the teeth in exoskeletons.
Was this really the Alliance that had been founded less than three years ago?!
Why was this totally different from the propaganda posters...?
...
On the beach roughly six to seven hundred meters from the battlefield.
Standing atop a reef with binoculars raised, Rou Rou stared dumbfounded at the beach in the distance where gunfire was roaring. Only after quite a while did she mutter blankly:
"Have they lost their minds?"
She had clearly seen a swarm of scaly blue mutants sink their ships, so what on earth were they doing shooting at the people on the shore trying to pull them out?
"Not necessarily. They might have been coming for us all along, and just had some bad luck and ran into an accident..."
Comparing the coastline's contours, Sisi set coordinates on her VM as she spoke casually.
Taking her eyes off the binoculars, Rou Rou looked over in confusion, her furry face full of incomprehension.
"...Coming for us?"
Sisi nodded, putting it concisely:
"How could normal freighters carry so many soldiers? Do they not haul cargo? I can only conclude their motives weren't innocent in the first place."
One had to admit, these fellows really picked a great time to show up—crashing right into the mutant forces sent by the Church of the Torch to stir up trouble, and feeding them full ahead of time.
Tail, holding binoculars, suddenly let out an excited shout.
"Whoa! That's the sound of a Ripper rifle! Could it be our friends from the Legion?!"
Sisi gave a subtle expression.
"...I don't know, but probably not. I don't think the Wilantes would be this pathetic, and they shouldn't have any reason to pick a fight with us. The Xilan Empire, on the other hand, is a real possibility."
Standing beside them, Sesame Paste glanced curiously at the VM on Sisi's arm.
"By the way, what were you typing on your VM just now?"
Sisi replied, "Oh, that? Artillery coordinates..."
Rou Rou looked at her curiously.
"Is that even necessary?"
Even as they spoke, the battle on the shore had practically ended.
Faced with machine gun strafing and rifle grenades raining down from the jungle, the one or two hundred stragglers huddled on the beach were no match at all, pinned down so hard they couldn't even lift their heads.
After all, they weren't amphibious troops to begin with. Many didn't even know how to swim, barely making it ashore by clinging to dinghies and washbasins.
On top of that, Ripper rifles were never designed for amphibious operations. After being thoroughly soaked in seawater and rolling across the damp beach, their malfunction rate was through the roof.
The soldiers had to clear their receivers while firing, leaving them without even a chance to fight back against the Alliance's automatic fire.
At first, bolstered by confidence from heaven knew where, they had managed a brief burst of fighting spirit. But within five minutes, that blustering bravery vanished into thin air.
Many even stripped off their sea-soaked trousers on the spot, hoisted them on rifle barrels and bayonets, and waved them over their heads to beg for a ceasefire, entirely stripped of their ferocious demeanor from moments before.
Honestly, they didn't look like people here to cause trouble; they looked like clowns here for comic relief.
Sisi raised her binoculars and glanced into the distance.
"...It's delayed fire, not meant for them. The men in the sea are almost all dead. Those scaly things will be coming ashore soon."
...
Meanwhile, at the front line of the skirmish.
Seeing pairs of underpants rising one after another from the distant beach, Hanbagui, who had been firing the machine gun, released his finger from the trigger and shouted toward the squad leader not far away:
"Boss, they're surrendering!"
Glancing toward the beach in the distance, Killing Dagger lowered his rifle and gave the Strength-type brute beside him a look.
"Go yell over to them. Tell them our artillery has zeroed in on their position. If they don't want to get vaporized by 155mm shells, toss their gear onto the beach and drag their asses over here to surrender!"
The Strength-type brute nodded with a cheerful "On it!", dashed forward excitedly, and, reading the sentences translated by his VM, bellowed toward the beach a hundred meters away:
"Listen up, you over there! You're surrounded!"
"Anyone who doesn't want to be blown to bits, drop your weapons and ammo immediately, put your hands over your heads, and come surrender!"
"Otherwise, we'll treat you as accomplices to the mutants and blow you all to kingdom come!"
Hearing this, the soldiers on the beach panicked, but even so, nobody dared crawl out of cover.
For one thing, they feared an Alliance trick; for another, they worried about being shot by their own officers.
Right then, an artillery shell whistled down and slammed onto the beach. The blast wave threw dust over a dozen meters into the air, leaving a shocking crater in the ground.
It was merely a registration shot from the Alliance artillery position, not a full barrage.
Even so, that muffled, thunderous boom terrified the drenched dogs hugging the sand. Their lingering dread broke completely. One after another, they dropped their weapons and packs, raised their hands high, and sprinted for dear life toward the rainforest ahead.
"Come back! Damn it! You cowardly mice! You're a disgrace to the Wolf Clan!"
Dhiraj glared fixedly at the soldiers throwing down their arms and running toward the enemy positions, his bloodshot eyes ready to burst.
These useless brutes!
The enemy clearly had only twenty or thirty men. So what if they had exoskeletons? Even if it were fucking power armor, it would break down if hit with enough lead!
If only they had been a bit braver and charged with their weapons instead of fleeing with their heads in their hands like scurrying rats, they would have overrun the enemy position long ago!
The guards huddled beside him trembled as they looked at their commander.
"Sir... those cowards betrayed us."
"We have no one left. Do we still keep fighting them?"
They weren't afraid of dying.
But this couldn't be called war at all.
Along the way, everyone they met had told them that those blue moles were nothing but hollow, pompous bullies who relied on others' backing—driven all the way to River Valley Province by a mere branch of the Legion, barely surviving thanks to Enterprise shelter and biased interventions by the Academy.
Yet what stood before them now was clearly nothing of the sort. They were downright more terrifying than those Wilantes whose veins ran with gunpowder.
Looking at the terror-stricken faces of his guards, Dhiraj knew these cowards wanted to back out. Fury washed over his mud-streaked face, his teeth grinding audibly.
He was an officer personally decorated by His Imperial Majesty! His valor was the pride of the Gray Wolf Army!
Surrender?
He would rather die here!
Yet at that exact moment, the corner of his eye caught the blue, phantom-like silhouettes surging toward the shoreline. A bone-chilling dread instantly crawled up his spine.
He had seen with his own eyes how those creatures held his soldiers underwater to disembowel them, ripping out hearts and livers to swallow alive.
Given a choice, he would rather be executed by Alliance artillery than caught by those abominations.
"...Meaningless sacrifice is not loyalty. The Wolf God will forgive our temporary humiliation," he ground out through clenched teeth.
Hearing this, the guards finally breathed a sigh of relief. Dropping their weapons, they supported their officer out of the entrenchment and limped toward the woods ahead.
Everyone inwardly rejoiced that their commander had agreed...
Otherwise, they would have had to tie him up and drag him over.
Seeing their commander surrender, the few remaining imperial soldiers still holding out gave up resisting as well, tossing aside their weapons and stepping out of cover.
The group of prisoners was quickly rounded up. Covered by three players with raised guns, they were marched to the edge of the battlefield.
Over a hundred men squatted in a row in the woods with hands behind their heads. Officers and soldiers alike wore crestfallen, dirt-covered expressions.
A full-strength thousand-man unit had been reduced to a remnant that couldn't even fill a company; their state was pathetic beyond words.
Looking at this bunch looking so thoroughly whipped, Hanbagui, sporting a patch of hay on his helmet, couldn't help but grumble:
"Damn it, beating these guys gives zero sense of achievement."
The player named Blastoise shook his head.
"Too weak."
Finding it boring anyway, Squirtle slung his LD-47 rifle across his chest, walked in front of the prisoners, and struck a sentry pose.
Glancing at the show-off, Hanbagui asked:
"Whatcha doing?"
Squirtle urged:
"Cut the chatter, take a pic of your daddy quick! Make me look badass."
"Holy crap, are you for real?"
Though he complained, Hanbagui still opened the screenshot function on his tactical helmet's action recorder and snapped a close-up of him.
Looking at the photo sent to his VM, Squirtle loved it more the longer he stared, grinning cheekily:
"Who cares if you think it's lame? As long as I think it's cool!"
Three guys capturing a whole company.
Later, he was going to post it on the forum to flex!
Seeing this, Blastoise got envious and walked over to pose as well.
"Damn it, take one of me too!"
Dhiraj roughly understood what these guys were doing. Veins bulged on his forehead, but with no recourse, he could only look away in humiliation and swallow his rage.
At this moment, little did he know that because his expression was so hilariously priceless, the guy taking photos had also taken a close-up of his face.
Even if it couldn't make the front page of the Survivor Daily, headlining the Goblin Observer wouldn't be an issue at all.
On the other side, the blue mutants, now seventy to eighty percent full, finally finished off their prey in the sea. Driven by the ferocity ignited by blood, they stormed ashore and pursued toward the rainforest.
They had seen with their own eyes the prey escaping into the forest. Not yet having killed their fill, how could they allow caught prey to slip away?
At this moment, Killing Dagger and his teammates finally wore serious expressions.
They wouldn't let their guard down just because these creatures were crudely equipped.
The technology behind mutants was itself practically on the level of a Singularity, with a baseline exceeding ordinary human limits.
As biochemical soldiers, they possessed immense vitality and resilience. In other words, they were weapons themselves, rendering the crudeness of their arms irrelevant.
Even if they held only tree branches in their hands, no one would dare take them lightly.
"Fire!"
At Killing Dagger's command, over thirty barrels spewed tongues of flame in unison.
Struck by the concentrated volley, the chests of the mutants in front burst into clouds of blood mist, yet they didn't halt their headlong charge.
A few mutants with shattered skulls collapsed onto the sand, only to be quickly trampled under the tidal wave of mutants surging ashore.
Watching the swelling hordes of mutants, Killing Dagger felt his scalp tingle.
Just then, deafening artillery booms crashed through the rustling jungle, and incoming shells rained down onto the beach in front of him.
Boom—!
Pillars of explosive dust soared into the sky. The foremost blue mutants were instantly wiped out in swathes, severed limbs and shattered reef rocks hurled into the air together.
"Beautiful!"
Witnessing this brutal scene, the players cheered excitedly, whistling in celebration for the gunners who had hit the bullseye.
Also witnessing the barrage, the Xilan Empire soldiers squatting with their heads in their hands went pale, lapsing into dead silence.
At this moment, they could only rejoice that they hadn't stayed on that beach to die.
Looking now at the commander who had urged them to commit suicide, there was only hatred in their hearts—no longer the faintest longing for non-existent spoils or glory...
Having taken a round of artillery, the blue mutants' offensive momentum visibly stalled.
Many not caught directly in the blasts were also stunned silly by the earsplitting detonations.
Right then, the second artillery salvo followed in rapid succession.
However, this round did not inflict many direct casualties, nor did it unleash world-shattering flames. Instead, palm-sized discs rained down across the water-lapped beach.
These were artillery-delivered landmines newly developed by Goblin Tech, fired via 155mm howitzers.
As it turned out, aside from his unreliable wild ideas, Mosquito could occasionally produce something useful when he had real-world references to go by.
At this moment, the mutants still surging ashore had no idea their retreat had been completely sealed by a dense minefield.
After the two artillery salvos, the thirty-man squad led by Killing Dagger received orders to withdraw. Escorting the hundred-plus prisoners, they pulled back to the north, letting the mutants advance into the rainforest.
Before the mutants could celebrate breaching the prey's defense, gunfire echoing from all directions froze the ugly grins on their faces.
Unbeknownst to them, two centuries had flanked them on both sides, snapping shut on their vital spots like red-hot iron tongs.
Leading the vanguard of this attack was none other than the Alliance's elite—the Jungle Corps!
Under concentrated fire, the mutants could clearly feel that the pressure had more than doubled. Both the firepower and accuracy of these reinforcing human soldiers were far superior to the thirty-odd people who had only scratched their itches before.
Moreover, what was flying at them was no longer just the 7mm pea-shooters, but 19mm armor-piercing bolter rounds!
When that slammed into a body, it wasn't a question of leaving a hole, but how much of the body was left at all.
Their frames were nowhere near as sturdy as those green-skinned creatures in Jinchuan Province, and to maintain mobility, they hadn't worn thick armor. In practically the first contact, they left behind over a hundred corpses.
As casualties mounted, terror finally showed on those scaly faces.
Facing humans even more brutal than themselves, fear had conquered them at last.
"Retreat!!"
Someone shrieked, and the swarm of blue monsters that had poured ashore turned and fled toward the coastline.
The sea was their home turf!
As long as they escaped into the water, no matter how tough those iron lumps wielding chainsaws and gripping cannon barrels were, they could never defeat those blessed by the ancestors!
At this moment, they hadn't realized that their escape route had already been sealed off by mines.
The first mutants to reach the beach hadn't even caught the salty scent of seawater before plumes of sudden flame blew off their calves. They crashed to the sand in agony, rolling and wailing while clutching their shattered knees.
Seeing the gruesome fate of their kin, the swarm of blue mutants braked in panic, staring in terror at the beach painted red with blood, not daring to advance another step.
Over five hundred scaly monsters clumped together on the beach.
Meanwhile, split into two columns, the Jungle Corps stepped unhurriedly from the edge of the rainforest.
Those green-painted K-10 exoskeletons stood like iron towers, their hip-mounted bolters forming an iron wall radiating chilling lethality.
The brothers of the Burning Corps hadn't even lifted a finger yet.
The Jungle Corps alone was enough to trample these small fry.
Looking at the beasts with despair written all over their faces, Midnight Chicken Slayer sneered maliciously. He ejected the 19mm bolt round from his barrel and revved the chainsaw welded to his arm.
The remaining small fry were trapped like turtles in a jar; there was no need to waste precious ammunition.
For beasts that had abandoned their humanity, only the cruelest death was fitting.
"Killing time!"
The two iron walls advanced together, bringing suffocating death to deliver the final blow to the wretched creatures trapped on the beach.
Those blue mutants were either cleaved in two by broadsword-like chainsaws or had their legs blown off by mines as they fled blindly.
Watching the shredded flesh and blood spray flung skyward by chainsaws, Chiliarch Dhiraj, crouching with his head in his hands, turned pale as a sheet, his lips trembling uncontrollably.
He felt like a child.
Not only weak, but ignorant, foolishly trying to trip a giant with a twig.
And the outcome was obvious: before they had even touched the giant's leg, an idly outstretched toe had crushed them half to death...
He had already begun to regret taking this mission from his superior.
Yet it was too late for regrets...
...
From the first shot fired to the last, a full hour passed.
And Mogavi had remained face-down on the beach, playing dead for that entire hour.
Fortunately, the section of beach where he lay was not the center of the battlefield.
Neither the Gray Wolf Army's First Millenium rushing to meet their maker, nor the mutants howling and charging into the rainforest after the scent of blood later on, had paid any mind to this guy playing dead on the sand.
After heaven knew how long, footsteps sounded beside him. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him up from the sand like a chick.
"Don't kill me! I—I'm not with those guys!"
Feeling this face looked familiar, Qingdeng Gujiu clicked on his flashlight and shone it on the mud-streaked face. Looking at those eyes, he was suddenly startled.
"Holy crap? Aren't you that... pelt-peddling profiteer?"
"..."
Looking at the person before him, Mogavi's mouth fell open, too shocked to speak for a moment.
Astonished to run into an acquaintance by pure coincidence, Qingdeng Gujiu let go after pulling him to his feet and brushed the sand off his shoulder.
"Hey, remember me?"
Mogavi nodded nervously, then asked in bewilderment:
"Wait, I remember you... weren't you a butcher? What are you doing here?"
Qingdeng Gujiu looked at him strangely.
"Isn't it completely normal to have three classes at Level 20? It's not like I'm only a butcher. Having a primary life class and picking up a soldier class to take quests is standard procedure, isn't it?"
Mogavi: "...?"
Seeing the blank look on this NPC's face, Qingdeng Gujiu quickly remembered that the guy wasn't from the Alliance. Snapping out of it, he patted Mogavi's shoulder.
"I almost forgot you're not from our parts. Never mind... By the way, didn't you head to Silver Moon Bay to stock up on goods? How'd you end up lumped together with those morons?"
Hearing this, a wave of grievance welled up in Mogavi's chest, and a bitter smile appeared on his face.
"...You think I wanted to? I was kidnapped by them."
"Kidnapped?!"
Qingdeng Gujiu looked at him in surprise, then glanced toward the figures tied up like zongzi crouching at the edge of the woods in the distance, asking with an odd look:
"By those guys?"
Mogavi nodded nervously.
"Yes..."
Sensing there was more behind tonight's events, Qingdeng Gujiu grew intrigued.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Mogavi looked at him with a wry smile.
"That's a long story."
"No problem. We're done fighting anyway, we've got all the time in the world. Spill it."
Qingdeng Gujiu grinned playfully. Seeing the commotion, other players clearing the battlefield gathered around out of curiosity.
Looking at the pairs of eyes fixed on him, Mogavi suddenly felt this might be a golden opportunity for revenge.
And so, swallowing hard, he gathered his thoughts for a moment and began speaking in a mournful tone:
"It was a bright and sunny morning. I had been drinking all night and was just getting up to pay my tab, when a squad of imperial guards banged on the tavern door and hauled me right out of my chair..."
...
While Mogavi was pouring out his woes, denouncing Captain Achim's unreasonable tyranny and broad-daylight kidnapping, Chiliarch Dhiraj and his battered, bruised guards—now escorted to a military base several kilometers away—were still putting on a brave face and acting stubborn.
At first, they even refused to admit they were soldiers of the Xilan Empire, obstinately claiming they were people from Silver Moon Bay who were merely passing through.
It wasn't until the players brought in a Moon Clan girl that his clumsy performance was shattered.
"He's a Wolf Clan member! He and all his subordinates are lapdogs of the Sun Clan and the Bull Clan!"
The girl spat the words through clenched teeth, paying no heed to Dhiraj's glaring warnings. Then, turning respectfully to Fang Chang standing nearby, she said, "Sir, I am certain the Empire sent them here!"
"Very good, thank you for the identification. Go get some rest, we'll take it from here."
Giving the girl a reassuring look, Fang Chang saw her to the door before turning back to the stubbornly tight-lipped chiliarch and continuing:
"I advise you to come clean. We aren't unreasonable people. I'll ask you one more time: why did you fire upon us, and who put you up to it?"
"How many times do I have to tell you?! I thought those mutants were with you! Who asked them to run into me on your turf? I admit I made a mistake, but you're hardly blameless either!" Dhiraj clung stubbornly to his excuse, refusing to give up a single detail.
Fang Chang narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Do you take me for a fool? Over a thousand men, loaded with weapons and ammo, packed with two weeks of dry rations—did you go to the Southern Sea just to feed the fish?"
"..." Dhiraj kept his mouth shut, attempting to evade interrogation with silence.
Fang Chang's brow twitched faintly.
Just as he was pondering whether to turn up the heat, a knock sounded at the door, and Killing Dagger pushed it open and entered.
"We picked up a survivor on the beach named Mogavi. According to him, he was kidnapped and brought here by these Xilan Empire soldiers. Aside from that, he spilled quite a few interesting details, including how Captain Achim abducted him onto the ship, and how our prisoners here belong to the First Millenium of the Xilan Empire's Gray Wolf Army."
At the name Mogavi, Dhiraj's eyes widened in shock.
That guy was still alive?!
Surprise crossed Fang Chang's face as well, though for a different reason.
"Why does that name sound familiar?"
Killing Dagger chuckled:
"He visited us before and made a nice profit off our life-class players—the merchant who bought several bundles of pelts."
Understanding dawned on Fang Chang's face.
"Ah, that guy."
Killing Dagger continued:
"According to his testimony, this thousand-man force boarded ships at Port Jingalun in Brahma Province, rendezvoused with Achim's warships in the Brahma Sea, and sailed toward the Baiyue Strait. Their target was Port French Fries. Just like those scaly bastards, they came right for us."
Fang Chang asked, puzzled:
"When did we ever cross them?"
Traversing the entire Brahma Sea and traveling two thousand kilometers just to deliver their heads on a platter.
How deep could this grudge possibly be?
Killing Dagger made a helpless gesture.
"Beats me. Mogavi couldn't explain it clearly either. He only remembers Captain Achim mentioning that the Empire wanted to make the Alliance's Administrator pay for his arrogance and disrespect, extract some interest from his settlement, and host a seven-day, seven-night orgy at the port..."
"Of course, while doing their dirty work, they planned to cover their eyes with a leaf and claim they were marauders, so no one would know who actually did it, and even if the Alliance wanted to throw a fit, they wouldn't know whom to direct it at."
By the end, Killing Dagger couldn't help bursting into laughter himself.
Hearing this comical scheme, Fang Chang almost lost his composure too. Then, with a faint smirk, he looked at the only person in the room who wasn't laughing.
Unnerved by that gaze, Dhiraj swallowed hard and reflexively blurted out:
"Not seven days and seven nights! It was... three days... No! I never said that! That bastard is full of shit!"
Fang Chang smiled faintly.
"So you're saying the part about 'the Empire will make our Administrator pay' was indeed said, then?"
A drop of cold sweat trickled down Dhiraj's forehead. He swallowed hard again, his scalp prickling.
He had an ominous premonition, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
Walking over to the trembling chiliarch, Fang Chang patted him on the shoulder and said in an almost comforting tone:
"Don't worry. We won't punish someone just because they uttered a few foolish, disrespectful words. Count yourself lucky—you aren't worth the effort."
Hearing this, Dhiraj breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet before he could fully relax, the man patting his shoulder changed his tune.
"Still, you came all this way only to get hammered for nothing. It really does look quite pitiable."
Watching the chiliarch stare blankly back at him, Fang Chang's face curved into an unkind grin as he continued unhurriedly:
"How about this? Courtesy demands reciprocity.
"Since you boarded your ships at Port Jingalun, we might as well go out of our way to take a trip and escort you right back there."
Chapter 693