Land, Secure, Street Fight!

At four in the morning, long before sunrise, the sea remained draped in a hazy gray. Sprawled across the shoreline, Golden Gallon Port was like a slumbering bull. The concrete piers thrusting into the water were its horns, and the urban core resting against the coast—densely jammed with sprawling clusters of tall and short buildings—was its bloated belly. Situated along the Yongliu River on an alluvial plain, this settlement was the Xilan Empire's largest bastion on the eastern coast and its premier seaport. According to the forum posts updated by Sisi, an astounding one million people lived here, more than the entire population of the Camel Hump Kingdom combined. In terms of sheer scale, the ports of Silver Moon Bay and Ring Island looked like mere fleas by comparison. Yet when it came to living standards, one only had to look at the suffocating density of the ant-colony-like shanties and tenements to feel the bleak, stifling hardship rolling off them. Naturally, claiming there were only shacks here would be a slander against the Empire. After all, unless you were blind, anyone stepping ashore would never overlook the dead-straight concrete piers or the few districts illuminated by streetlamps. Although the incident from a month ago still gave the nobles near the harbor lingering chills, it did nothing to change the fact that this was the priciest ground along the entire Yongliu River. A single brick here could buy an entire district nearby. Of course, no matter how exorbitant the real estate was, it had nothing to do with Paru, who stood guard on the pier. First and foremost, he belonged to the Horse Clan. Only the noble Sun Clan, Bull Clan, and select foreigners held the right to buy property here. Furthermore, transactions were never conducted in the volatile Xilan paper currency; they accepted only pure gold dinars—the kind that could purchase slaves. Either way, it was something far beyond his wildest dreams. All he could do was drop a few extra copper coins into the temple donation box and pray for a better reincarnation next time. Besides, there were only a thousand gods watching over this land—not that many in the grand scheme of things. Who knew, maybe in the next cycle he would be born into the Sun Clan or the Bull Clan? It wasn't impossible. Staring out into the hushed expanse of the coast, his thoughts wandering, Paru couldn't hold back a yawn. He tightened his grip on his rifle, which felt no better than a glorified fire poker. It wasn't because the weapon provided any real sense of security, but simply because the sea breeze was howling so fiercely that he feared he might be blown away if he wasn't holding onto something. This hour was too early for most of the settlement. Down by the docks, only night-soil workers carrying wooden buckets and patrolling sentries were awake. If one accidentally slipped into the sea, they could drown before anyone even noticed. "...Isn't it time for the shift change yet?" Paru muttered under his breath, glancing around in irritation. He couldn't shake the feeling that relief was already overdue. *Damn it.* *Did the bell ringer fall asleep again?* ... At that very moment, Paru had no idea that the sentry responsible for the bell hadn't fallen asleep at all—he had been clubbed unconscious. The bell tower was the highest vantage point in the area, directly adjacent to the Port Guard Bureau. Taking it afforded a commanding view over at least half the harbor. And it was far from just the bell ringer. In the time it took Paru to yawn, the gates of the Port Guard Bureau had already been secured by force by a squad of figures clad in exoskeletons. The gate sentry had been gagged and shoved beneath the table in the guardhouse. An Intelligence-type player swiftly launched a quadrotor drone, using a neural interface to circle the entire precinct twice, tagging every escape route and potential pocket of resistance. Acting as the squad leader, Corner Camper immediately barked the order to advance. Twenty soldiers equipped with Type 5 exoskeletons breached the front gates in plain sight, splitting into two teams to storm the main building and the barracks. Many snoring guards were yanked straight out of their beds before they even opened their eyes, only to find the suppressor of a pistol pressed firmly against their foreheads. Seeing a gloved index finger tapped against armored lips, not a single guard dared make a sound. One after another, they meekly accepted the fact that they were now prisoners. Herded by these uninvited guests, they were packed into their own precinct holding cells, shoulder to shoulder with the bewildered convicts who were just waking up. Even a blind man could see that these intruders were no ordinary pirates or marauders. They were impeccably trained, moving with clinical efficiency. Every strike was lightning-fast, brutal, and targeted right at the vital points, giving the "victims" no chance to react. It was glaringly obvious. These were regular military forces! And from their equipment to their tactics, they were consummate professionals! Against an elite force like this, resistance was utterly pointless; surrendering was by far the smarter choice. Besides, there was no shame in being captured by regular troops. Their superiors would hardly blame them for failing to fight to the death. Only one question plagued every mind in the precinct. *Just how the hell did we piss off these harbingers of doom?* In under fifteen minutes, without a single spoken word exchanged, the Golden Gallon Port Guard Bureau had been thoroughly neutralized. The slumbering bull had been blindfolded. Now, the Alliance submarine could surface boldly beside the pier, disgorging personnel and hardware onto the docks to slip a noose tightly around the beast's neck. Inside the bureau chief's office, having fully secured the building, Corner Camper pressed a finger to the side of his helmet and reported the situation to the provisional command post aboard the submarine. "...Advance team to Command. Harbor security has been suppressed without a firefight. You are clear to land." After a brief burst of static, Lao Bai's voice crackled through the channel. "Copy that. Maintain suppression and stand by on-site." Corner Camper replied, "Understood." The moment the transmission ended, along the southernmost edge of the piers, a colossal black submarine slowly broke the surface of the sea. The pitch-black hull quietly parted concentric rings of ripples, revealing a broad deck and a massive, curved bow. Crewmen standing on deck threw out pneumatic fenders, using radios to guide the vessel as it nudged gently against the concrete quay. Once the submarine was moored, columns of pitch-black exoskeletons marched in unison out of the hatches, filing across the extending gangways and onto the pier. Pouring into the harbor alongside them were Y-2 Balisong drones with slung gun barrels, accompanied by twenty heavily armed "Hellhound" UGVs. In a mere three minutes, an entire battalion had finished deploying—and it was one of the Alliance's most elite battalions. Not only had every single player reached Stage Three of the genetic sequence or higher as second-tier Awakened, but they were also armed to the teeth with mechanized gear. Staring at the army that had materialized out of thin air on the docks, the patrolling guards in the vicinity froze in their tracks, entirely robbed of both speech and motion. Facing these intruders, who seemed to hail from an entirely different dimension, their Ripper rifles felt like useless little sink pipes. Forget raising their weapons to take aim—they didn't even have the guts to chamber a round. One by one, they dropped their rifles and threw up their hands. At the end of the day, they were just ordinary survivors scraping by on a meager paycheck, not the exalted Imperial Army or the private retainers of the governor's mansion. They had neither the ability to fight to the death nor the courage to try. The leading players didn't bother shooting them. They simply herded the guards into an out-of-the-way corner, posted two drones to watch them, and pushed forward to secure the rest of the harbor. At that moment, Paru, standing watch on the northernmost pier, hadn't even realized what was happening before control of the harbor had completely slipped into the Alliance's hands. On the deck of the submarine, gazing at the port that had fallen without a single shot fired, Fang Chang adjusted his Type 5 exoskeleton and let out an incredulous sigh. "Now I finally get how those four managed to turn this whole place upside down." Before coming ashore, he had anticipated at least a fierce firefight in the harbor district, which would have served as a fine rehearsal for future amphibious landings in the Southern Sea and Haiya Province. After all, they had always dropped from the sky in the past; an amphibious assault from the sea was completely new to them. If the South Archipelago Federation ever turned on them, Port French Fries' coastal defenses would struggle to hold off naval bombardments, and the cleanest counter would be slipping through with submarines to raid the enemy's home turf. Regardless, one always had to prepare for the worst. Yet this sprawling settlement of a million souls had defied all his expectations. The garrison here was as good as dead asleep, letting them seize the port without firing a single bullet. Standing beside him, Lao Bai glanced over. "You mean Tail and the others?" Fang Chang shrugged. "Has anyone else been here?" Sensing his exasperation, Lao Bai smiled faintly. "Don't sell them short. Their straight-up combat strength is debatable, but their knack for stirring up trouble is top-tier." Even if their success rate was low, when they did succeed, the results were usually miraculous. As for the times they crashed and burned, they were probably too embarrassed to post about it on the forums. Turning his gaze toward the still-sleeping settlement, Fang Chang sighed softly. "I'm not looking down on them. It's just..." Pausing, he searched for the right words. "...I think I overestimated this 'Empire.'" Whether their population really exceeded a hundred million or whether the wasteland era had truly ended was something only the locals knew for sure, but the fact that they had unified the entire Brahma Province was undeniably real. Fang Chang had no idea how they had pulled it off. Even now, the Alliance hadn't completely conquered an entire pre-collapse administrative province. While they hadn't deliberately set out to play a map-painting game, pulling off such a feat was clearly no easy task. In the provinces east of River Valley Province, the survivor population was so sparse that one wouldn't even know how to begin uniting them. Civilizational embers left by the Reconstruction Committee, like Boulder City and Singularity City, numbered only twelve or thirteen in total, and their reach could never stretch as far as Brahma Province. Perhaps, just as the Xilan people claimed, they really were favored by a thousand gods... ... Meanwhile, in the Port Guard Bureau office. Watching the uninvited guests conversing in an incomprehensible tongue, Mandal cowered behind the desk, barely daring to breathe. Even so, the exoskeleton-clad figure took note of him, striding forward with sweeping steps to stare down into his eyes. "Are you the director here?" Mandal reflexively moved to nod, but hastily caught himself and shook his head, stammering frantically, "Yes—no! No, I'm not! I'm just the watch commander!" Corner Camper pressed harshly, "Where is your superior? Where is he right now?" "He... he lives right on the street nearby..." Mandal was on the verge of tears, his lips trembling violently. Corner Camper didn't press him further. Grabbing a notepad off the desk, he tore off a sheet, slapped it down in front of him, and tapped it with an index finger. "Street name. House number. Write it down." "Yes, yes!" Having zero intention to resist, Mandal hastily snatched up a pen and scribbled down a line in frantic strokes. Corner Camper picked up the scrap of paper, glanced at it, and tapped his helmet twice. The tactical visor captured the image, and an offline VM application processed the text recognition and translation. Unfortunately, without satellite positioning, they had to rely on a rudimentary terrain map generated by drone aerial photography. Corner Camper took a tablet from an Intelligence-type player nearby, shoved it before the trembling Mandal, and pointed to the address on the note. "Is this it?" Glancing frantically at the aerial map on the screen, Mandal quickly spotted the luxurious three-story manor and nodded vigorously. "Yes! No. 3, No. 1 Tulip Street! That's it!" Seeing the NPC cooperate so readily, Corner Camper nodded in satisfaction. While sharing the coordinates with his squad outside, he fixed his gaze on Mandal once more. "Besides your superior, I need the addresses of this port's governor, the local lord, and any other high-ranking officials in the settlement and the harbor." "The governor is at the governor's mansion... As for the other officials, I really don't know, my lord!" Mandal broke into a cold sweat, terrified that the intruder might lose patience, and frantically explained, "B-But don't worry! Aside from the governor and the lord residing in their own estates, ninety percent of the people you're looking for live on the streets right behind the port! If you knock and ask, you'll definitely find them! I—I'll circle it for you!" With that, he forced a fawning smile, reached out with both hands to take the tablet, and nervously traced a circle on the map with a trembling finger, encompassing the streetlamp-lit district behind the harbor. "They're all right here!" *Damn.* *He's this cooperative?* Seeing how eager to please this fellow was, Corner Camper threw him an astonished look before relaying the intel back to the submarine's command center. Once he grasped the harbor's layout, Lao Bai immediately drew up an arrest operation: the 1st Century, which had landed first, would swiftly advance to the streets adjacent to the port to sever traffic and detain the key figures, while the mission to storm the governor's mansion was assigned to the 2nd Century. Watching the armed intruders linger in the room, Mandal finally couldn't suppress his dread and asked timidly, "Who... who on earth are you people? When did we ever offend you?" Corner Camper grinned. "You'll have to ask your governor about that." Mandal's mouth hung open, his face a canvas of pure bewilderment. He wasn't the only one baffled. Bihari, the director of the Port Guard Bureau, had just had his bedroom door kicked open and been pinned onto his own bed. Looking at the exoskeleton-clad thugs, he was both terrified and furious, screaming like a slaughtered pig. "Get your hands off me! Do you have any idea who I am?! Let me go right now or I'll throw every single one of you into prison!" Glancing at the pale, terror-stricken woman beside him, Killing Dagger picked up a garment from the wardrobe and tossed it over her. "We have business with your husband. Please step into the parlor." Her face deathly pale, the woman nodded hurriedly, threw on the clothes, and slipped out of bed, fleeing the room without lingering for a second. Turning back to Director Bihari, who had stopped his screaming, Killing Dagger checked his tablet to confirm the man's identity against the photo before speaking. "Director Bihari, you are our prisoner." "Pris—" The rest of the word caught in his throat. Bihari swept his eyes over the murderous figures in the room and seemed to realize something. Cold sweat began beading on his forehead, dripping onto the expensive silk sheets beneath him. Swallowing hard, he asked in a trembling, incredulous whisper, "You're... from the Alliance?" Flipping open his visor, Killing Dagger curled his lips into a smirk and whistled at the pinned man. "Looks like we found someone in the know after all." Staring at the mocking grin and the assault rifles practically shoved against his forehead, Bihari trembled so violently he nearly wet the bed. If he hadn't miscalculated the date, Chiliarch Dhiraj and his men should have only just arrived at Port French Fries. How could the Alliance have appeared out of thin air at Golden Gallon Port, two thousand kilometers away?! Yet he had no time to ponder that now. Looking up at the armored figure, his face flooded with terror, and he frantically spilled everything he knew in a stammering rush. "I—I don't know anything... I swear it's the truth! I only saw the men from the Gray Wolf Corps boarding ships at the docks, and I happened to overhear where they were heading! There's no way I was involved! I'm just a lowly port guard director, how could I ever influence the governor's decisions?! You need to find Governor Nihak! It was his order!" Watching the terrified director, who looked ready to piss himself, Killing Dagger replied in an unhurried drawl. "Don't worry, our boys are already on their way to pay him a visit at the mansion. You don't need to trouble your head over it. None of the culprits will escape 'judgment.'" Hearing this, Bihari deduced that the port had likely fallen entirely into the Alliance's hands. A pained groan escaped his lips. "What do you actually want? Are you trying to start a war with the Empire?" Killing Dagger shrugged. "That depends on what your emperor thinks. But regardless of what he thinks, we're going to do things our way." Bihari swallowed nervously. "...Your way?" Killing Dagger nodded. "First, we track down the masterminds who planned that raid, teach them a lesson, and collect some interest from their pockets. On top of that, we consider Golden Gallon Port a prime breeding ground for 'marauders.' To prevent this sort of thing from ever happening again, we're going to do something big here." Bihari asked shakily, "Something big?" Killing Dagger delivered the answer casually in two words. "Abolish slavery." At first, Bihari thought his ears were playing tricks on him. When he realized they weren't, his jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. "...That's impossible. You can't do that." Killing Dagger chuckled. "What's impossible about it? We have you to help us, after all." Bihari's eyes bulged like an ox's. "Me?! Are you out of your minds? Never mind a simple guard director like me—even if the Sun-Bearing Divine Bull were standing right here, it wouldn't be possible! Do you have any idea how many slaves are in this settlement?!" Besides, why on earth would he do that?! Setting aside the fact that his own manor needed servants to clean it, if the slaves were gone, who would do the grueling labor only slaves performed? Within a week, this entire settlement would be drowning in sewage! Yet the man before him wasn't listening at all—or rather, he heard it and simply didn't care. Instead, he grinned broadly. "That's great news. It means we have plenty of work ahead of us. Starting right now, you are the Chief of the Golden Gallon Port Guard Brigade. I hereby grant you law-enforcement authority and provisional judicial power. During your tenure, you will govern all affairs in this settlement using the Alliance's constitution as your yardstick." *What a joke.* *They hadn't come here to run a charity.* Abolition and trials were just tools. Whether it was actually achieved in the end hardly mattered to them. Bihari stared at him in panic, muttering frantically, "You people are completely insane. You couldn't pull this off even if you leveled the settlement to the ground! No... I can't be this chief of yours. Find someone else! The garrison commander handles settlement security, why don't you go find him?!" Ignoring his pleas, Killing Dagger gave a teasing grin. "You won't do it? Are you sure? Really sure?" Bihari shook his head like a rattle. He had figured it out. These people were here purely to wreak havoc. Once they turned this place into a disaster zone, they would dust off their hands and walk away, but he had nowhere to run. He would unquestionably face retribution down the line. He had no desire to take on a job that would cost him his head. Seeing his stubborn refusal, Killing Dagger wasted no more words. He chambered a round with a crisp clack and pressed the muzzle straight against the man's forehead. Feeling the icy chill radiating from the steel, all the color drained from Bihari's face. His expression shifted faster than a traffic light. "I'll do it! I'll do it!! No one is better suited to be chief than me! More than ninety percent of the nobles in this settlement live in my district, and I know every single one of their secrets! This job was practically made for me! Please, leave it to me!" "That's more like it." Patting the chameleon on the shoulder with a smile, Killing Dagger grabbed a peaked cap from the coat rack and set it squarely on his head. "From this day forth, you are the Chief of Police of Golden Gallon Port. We expect you to enforce the law impartially, strictly according to the Alliance Constitution. Do a good job and don't disappoint us. Play your cards right, and we might just make you the Chief of Police of the entire Xilan Empire." With that, without waiting to see what face the terrified man made, Killing Dagger pulled a printed copy of the Alliance Basic Law from his vest and tossed it onto the sheets in front of the pathetic wretch. "Skim through it first." Bihari scrambled to catch the bound stack of printed paper and began flipping through it with feigned diligence, though not a single word registered in his mind. Killing Dagger paid him no further mind. Following the plan, he posted two men to watch him, then led the rest of the squad out of the manor. Outside, the dawn had not yet broken, but a crowd of men and women was already gathered on the street. All of them were residents of No. 1 Tulip Street. Not only did noble blood flow through their veins, but most held prominent offices in the harbor and the settlement, while others were idle aristocrats or foreign merchants doing business here. Among them were even two Wilantes. At this moment, however, their appearance had nothing to do with nobility. Some had merely thrown an overcoat over themselves, while others wore only thick nightgowns. Panic and dishevelment were stamped across their faces, their eyes filled with helpless confusion. They had no idea what was happening before being dragged out of their homes by heavily armed soldiers. Knowing there were undoubtedly innocents among them, Killing Dagger didn't give them a hard time. Clapping his hands to draw their attention, he addressed them in a booming voice. "I apologize for disturbing your rest, and of course, thank you for your cooperation." "We are a unit of soldiers whose identity cannot be disclosed. Because a group whose identity also cannot be disclosed attacked us, we learned through interrogation that they came from Golden Gallon Port. Following that trail, we tracked them back here. Our objective is to drag out the mastermind behind the scenes, and at the same time, use our methods to restore some sanity to this settlement." "Rest assured, we will not harm any innocent people, but we will never spare anyone implicated in this affair. If anyone can provide clues, we will be most grateful, and we will even grant the informant a share of the culprits' confiscated property." "Furthermore, we advise those involved to turn themselves in as soon as possible to seek our leniency. If we have to hunt you down, there's no telling what might happen to you." Pausing, he added, "Fighting may break out here shortly. Please follow us to the harbor's temporary staging area for your own safety." As he spoke, a gunshot suddenly cracked in the distance, followed immediately by a rapid staccato of fire echoing from an adjacent street. The gathered crowd jumped in fright at the sudden burst of gunfire. Some clung to one another in terror, while others shrieked and dropped to a crouch on the pavement. Hearing the sudden shooting, Killing Dagger didn't panic in the slightest. On the contrary, he raised an eyebrow in excitement and muttered under his breath, "Oh boy, the main course is finally served." With such a commotion at the harbor, it seemed the garrison of Golden Gallon Port had finally noticed something was amiss and engaged the players cutting off traffic. Though their reaction time was ridiculously sluggish. Without a second thought, Killing Dagger racked his bolt to chamber a round and bellowed at his eager squadmates behind him. "Mission panel updated! Squad A, escort the 'VIPs' to the warehouse!" "The rest of you boys, on me!" The players erupted into eager roars. "*Awoooo!*" Almost the instant his voice fell, a shell shrieked down onto a building along the street, blasting a gaping hole clean through the roof of a three-story townhouse. Massive chunks of masonry and plumes of dust cascaded down, clattering and rolling across the brick-paved street amidst the screams of the onlookers. The players dove for cover, following the routes mapped out by the scout drones as they surged forward to reinforce the firefight ahead. Simultaneously, the Alliance mortar positions deployed at the harbor opened fire, unleashing counter-battery strikes guided by drone telemetry against the source of the enemy fire. The silence of dawn was torn completely to shreds. This counteroffensive, bridging a distance of two thousand kilometers, had officially begun...