The Gray Wolves Who Don't Play by the Book

Fang Chang's concerns were not unfounded. The premise of besieging a stronghold to ambush approaching relief forces was that the surrounded defenders still had a shred of will left to resist. Yet for the nearly three thousand imperial soldiers trapped in Kelaba Market, whether they possessed such a thing was an open question. Still, rather than merely capturing an imperial prince, he harbored a far greater ambition... *** Rowell Camp. Clad in his exoskeleton, Killing Dagger found Laxi sitting on an ammo crate, tinkering with an LD-47, and cut straight to the chase. "Work's in." Setting his newly acquired toy aside, Laxi vaulted up from the ammo crate, bowed his head, and leaned forward respectfully. "At your command, my lord." Wasting no words, Killing Dagger shoved a tablet into his hands and tapped the screen to bring up a map and the operational plan listed beside it. "Roughly three thousand remnants have fallen back to Kelaba Market. They've requisitioned the residential buildings and every piece of usable cover in the area, establishing a new defense line with their remaining ammunition and man-portable anti-armor weapons. The good news is they drove off all the civilians, so we can unleash whatever fire support we have without holding back. As for bad news, we haven't seen any yet. "Even so, you mustn't underestimate them. I don't want a pack of drowning dogs suddenly regaining their courage mid-fight. You'll do exactly as we say, step by step. First, surround the market, then apply pressure on the trapped force from north, south, east, and west, forcing them to attempt a breakout..." Tapping the map, Killing Dagger paused before continuing: "...Our assessment is they won't head straight north; east and west are both reasonable choices. To minimize variables, we need you to lean harder on the west with appropriate feints, nudging them to pick the east as their primary breakout route." Laxi frowned in confusion. "Why let them leave? I can capture every last one of them for you." Killing Dagger explained patiently, "That ties into phase two. We want to intercept them mid-retreat and drive a portion of the deserters toward the positions outside the settlement. While the ten-thousand-man division out there moves up to assist, we can gobble up both the fleeing troops and the division outside in one go." This plan was an adaptation of besieging a point to ambush relief forces. After shifting one ten-thousand-man division into the frontline trenches, General Alaiyang, stationed outside the settlement, had made no further moves. He appeared content to let the routed troops inside organize their own breakout while his relief force provided covering support. Evidently, General Alaiyang had no intention of throwing more men away on this foolish offensive, which further proved that the attack itself was an unauthorized blunder—much like the regiment that had launched the 'amphibious assault' on Port French Fries. Astonishment showed on Laxi's face—partly at the Alliance brothers' plan itself, and partly at the sheer size of their appetite. That was an entire ten-thousand-man division! And the Empire's finest crack troops at that! Yet no trace of cowardice appeared on his face. After a brief pause to think, he asked an inconsequential question he was genuinely curious about: "If we're letting them flee, why not just let them go north? Isn't that closer?" Killing Dagger blinked, giving him a strange look. "If it were you, would you run straight north?" Laxi blinked in return. *Why wouldn't I?* Ignoring his baffled look, Killing Dagger glanced up at the sky and hurried on: "It'll be dark soon. We expect them to rest overnight, holding their ground until dawn breaks tomorrow. Generally speaking, daybreak is when vigilance is lowest and when breakouts work best... That's the plan. If anything changes, we'll notify you. Right now, we need you moving immediately." A ruthless glint flashed in Laxi's eyes. Reaching out, he snatched up the rifle beside the ammo crate and nodded firmly. "Leave it to me." Watching Laxi turn toward the camp broadcast station, Killing Dagger suddenly remembered something and called him back: "Wait." Laxi stopped and turned around. "Something else, my lord?" Killing Dagger pointed at the tablet in his hands. "There are a few people listed on there we need alive. As for the rest, if anyone surrenders, keep them breathing if possible... Remember, living captives are worth more than corpses." Laxi bowed his head slightly. "Understood." *** Kelaba Market. The largest bazaar in Golden Gallon Port sat squarely in the center of the northern district, composed of hundreds upon thousands of stalls and booths framed by tight, orderly rows of blocky residential buildings. On ordinary days, these stalls would be overflowing with colorful foods, spices, textiles, trinkets, and tethered livestock, as well as scrap electronics and mechanical clocks shipped in from elsewhere. Not only did commoners and the poor frequent the area for everyday supplies, but wealthy merchants and well-dressed minor nobles would also wander through on a whim, hunting for odd curios or scouring stalls to pluck hidden gems from vendors who didn't know what they had. Without exaggeration, so long as something existed within the Xilan Empire—from cheap red soil to gadgets produced in Ideal City—one could find it here given enough time. Usually, the market hummed with activity from sunrise to dusk, and today was just as bustling as ever. The only difference was that the bustling crowd had ceased being hawking peddlers and discerning shoppers; in their place was a swarm of "gray wolves" fleeing in disarray... "Stop! What are you doing?! This is my house, you can't—aaagh, that hurts!" A man in his thirties was grabbed by the arm and flung out the front door by a soldier, driven into the street alongside his disheveled two wives and six children. From the family's clothing and appearance, their social standing was not high, but they were certainly not considered vermin like the rat or snake castes. To a band of routed soldiers fresh off a defeat, however, it made no difference at all. Paying no heed to the furious man's protests, the soldier jammed the muzzle of his PU-9 submachine gun against the man's forehead and barked, "It's not your home anymore! Get out! Right now! Leave! Unless you want trouble!" The frigid metal sent the man's heart plummeting into an icy abyss. His limbs went numb, and his lips trembled, unable to utter a sound. Not far away, in another house: An old woman clung desperately to a soldier's leg, weeping and begging, only to be kicked back through the doorway. Moments later, a burst of gunfire rattled from inside, followed by a squad of soldiers hauling a machine gun across the blood-soaked threshold. The man on the street froze in pure terror as a stream of warmth trickled down his pant leg onto the ground. Casting a disdainful glance at the man who had wet himself, Dilip didn't even bother speaking. He stepped straight over the threshold into the house. The guard trailing behind grabbed the man by the collar, shoved him to the cobblestones, and spat out cold words: "This is for your own good." "Scram!" The man dared not linger. Scrambling to his feet without brushing off the dirt, he dragged his family away in a frantic rush. The entire market was in shambles. Soot-stained residents, given no time to pack their belongings, were shoved and driven out of their homes. A dazed, helpless crowd huddled along a dirt road two streets away from Kelaba Market, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings in despair. Frantic mothers ran around searching for lost children; well-dressed men knocked hesitantly on neighboring doors, begging for a night's shelter; and someone unbuttoned their collar for a crust of bread hard enough to break teeth... Separated children curled on the ground sobbing, devout believers clasped their hands in prayer, and others sat on the dirt muttering in despair. "What are we supposed to do?" "How long are they going to stay..." a soot-streaked man grumbled under his breath. "If they never leave, do we just wait here forever?" An old man beside him sighed, his face etched with sorrow. "...All we can do is wait." At this moment, everyone's fate seemed temporarily identical, no matter what caste label had been stamped upon them. Watching the streets melt into twilight, someone rocked an infant, humming softly; others joined in song, while some closed their eyes to savor the fleeting quiet and equality, weaving a melody through the chaotic noise... In truth, they were relatively fortunate. Most of the soldiers here had tasted defeat for the very first time and still saw these people, to some extent, as imperial subjects. Were they to suffer a few more losses, there was no telling what horrors might follow. The defeated troops who had fallen back to Kelaba Market managed to finish fortifying their line before dusk, by which time gunfire had already begun crackling from all directions. They realized the forces surrounding them were not the demons summoned by the Alliance, but a militia formed of locals. This enraged the trapped Wolf Clan soldiers to no end. To them, it was outright treason. Fortunately, the militia's combat effectiveness was modest at best. Though they attempted several feints under mortar cover, they achieved nothing significant and promptly backed off into a containment cordon, taking occasional potshots. Even so, nobody dared let their guard down. The rampaging giant crab had left an indelible impression; no one could guarantee that the crabs wouldn't join the next assault alongside the militia... Darkness settled in. The twin-scimitar flag on a green field still did not flutter atop the governor's mansion, but the beleaguered Prince Dilip no longer had time for such delusional dreams. Glancing at the comms operator still adjusting the radio, he waved an orderly over and instructed, "I'm hungry. Get me something to eat." The orderly nodded hastily and barked at the accompanying servants to prepare food. Before long, a bowl of turmeric-colored mush dotted with beans was served, along with a basket carrying a small dish of onion chutney and two sesame flatbreads. The guards stationed in the room swallowed unconsciously, yet Prince Dilip's brow furrowed deep. "Why is it just beans?" The servant presenting the food said with a bitter grimace, "My lord, that was all they had in their kitchen..." Dilip's brows twisted like a knotted rope. The sesame flatbread was passable, carrying a buttery fragrance, but beans were feed for livestock—hardly fit for a nobleman to consume. After hesitating for a good while without taking a single bite, Prince Dilip pushed the tray away in disgust. "Search the other houses. I want meat." The servant dared not utter a word, while an orderly nearby snapped a salute and nodded. "Sir!" Watching the orderly leave, Dilip noticed the remaining guards swallowing saliva and ordered the servant to distribute the food among them. Watching them devour the food, a smirk of derision curled his lips. *A bunch of shameless lowlifes.* Having recovered his bruised sense of superiority through other means, Prince Dilip felt his mood brighten somewhat. Just then, the radio was finally repaired, restoring clear communications with the rear command post. Overjoyed, Dilip immediately ordered the operator to connect to the rear command post. Snatching the handset before Alaiyang could even speak, he bellowed, "What the hell are you people doing?! I've been calling for artillery support for hours, and I haven't seen the shadow of a single shell!" Only static hissed through the receiver; no reply came. Assuming Alaiyang was intimidated by his fury, Dilip took a deep breath and continued in a slightly softened tone, "Due to your atrocious support, the front line ran into a minor issue, but it's nothing serious... Bottom line, I need reinforcements. Give me another five thousand men, twelve artillery pieces, and more anti-armor weapons and explosives. The Alliance pulled some iron monstrosity out of nowhere—damn it, we should borrow a few tanks from the Legion!" Alaiyang waited patiently for him to finish rambling, then offered just two words in a deadpan voice: "Come back." Dilip froze, his face flushing crimson. "Are you ordering me?!" Silence stretched across the channel once more. With no response forthcoming, the wrath bubbling in Dilip's chest gave way to an unbidden pang of dread. Only now did he truly grasp his predicament. He was not playing tabletop wargames with His Majesty in the imperial palace; he was on an actual battlefield, surrounded by enemy troops! If this man simply abandoned him— Dilip's lips quivered. After a long silence, he finally squeezed a plea from his parched throat: "Save me." At last, a voice came back across the line: "...At five tomorrow morning, I will attempt an artillery barrage on the districts near Kelaba Market to cover your breakout from the encirclement. A ten-thousand-man division outside the city will receive you. Listen carefully: this is your only chance to avoid being captured by the Alliance and make it back alive." Memorizing every word, Dilip nodded shakily. "Understood!" Alaiyang wasn't finished. He paused, then added: "...Furthermore, do not rule out the possibility that the enemy will deliberately leave an opening to lure you from your positions, drawing you into a pocket to wipe you out in one swoop. Remember: before you move, send out probes with feigned attacks to test their firepower. Never take the easiest path." As soon as the words left his mouth, the call clicked off. Soaked in sweat, Prince Dilip collapsed limp into his chair. Gazing at the final rays of sunset sinking behind the rooftops outside, he felt as if he were watching hope slip into the dark. Despair filled his eyes. He prayed they would survive the night. He prayed... At the same time, in a command post over a dozen kilometers away, Alaiyang slammed the receiver onto the desk and sank into his chair, massaging his temples in agony. The surrounding officers kept silent; not a single person spoke. Retrieving that idiot Dilip was the best possible outcome. Failing that, him dying during the breakout wouldn't be bad either. Anything was better than having him captured by the Alliance. Otherwise, the enemy would gain another bargaining chip. As for the remaining three thousand warriors of the Gray Wolf Army... Their fate lay in the hands of the gods. *** The long night finally passed, and a sliver of pale dawn washed over the docks of Golden Gallon Port. Yet what shattered the night's lingering peace was not the morning's first ray of sunlight, but deafening claps of artillery. "Fire!" Roars echoed across the Gray Wolf Army's artillery batteries as 100mm howitzer shells arced into the sky, raining down upon the urban blocks surrounding Kelaba Market. General Alaiyang proved he was not entirely incompetent. Throughout yesterday, he had been testing the Alliance artillery's maximum reach, and having determined it, dispersed his guns just beyond the effective range of the port's artillery positions. Conversely, this distance pushed the Empire's 100mm howitzers to the extreme edge of their own effective range. Erratic shells scattered haphazardly across the district—only two-fifths fell around Kelaba Market, and a full fifth crashed directly inside the market itself. As for the remaining two-fifths, nobody knew where they would land. "Holy crap... these guys really don't treat the local survivors like their own people, do they?" Standing on the ramparts of Rowell Camp, Killing Dagger stared in astonishment at the billowing smoke rising from the distant district. If Dawn City didn't look completely different, he would have almost forgotten whose territory this battle was being fought on. "Looks like Kelaba Market really does hold someone they're determined to extract at all costs," Shendoushi said helplessly, looking down at the survivors swarming the camp entrance below. "By the way, who's going to explain to them that against indirect fire... this broken wall doesn't do jack? Huddling together just makes them easier targets." To put it bluntly, if a shell hit a roof, the occupants were likely doomed, but the surrounding walls would absorb most of the shrapnel and blast wave. From a casualty-minimizing standpoint, staying indoors was far safer than swarming the streets. Rowell Camp, after all, was a strategic hub; even if it wasn't the Gray Wolf Army's main target today, tomorrow was anyone's guess. Killing Dagger sighed. "I'll give it a shot." Though he doubted it would accomplish much... At the very moment the Gray Wolf artillery opened fire on Golden Gallon Port's northern district, the nearly three thousand trapped troops inside Kelaba Market launched their breakout. Clutching their rifles, Gray Wolf soldiers formed up along the edges of the buildings, surging forward in hundred-man units toward the surrounding militia from north, south, east, and west. Gunfire popped and rattled like strings of firecrackers inside and outside the market, with whizzing rounds flying like horizontal rain. Wooden stalls were shoved into the streets as barricades, quickly riddled with bullet holes. Soon, squads wrapped brick rubble and dirt in bedsheets, piling them into two-wheeled handcarts to form improvised rolling barricades. One soldier shoved the loaded handcart forward while nine trailed behind, returning fire and charging for their lives. Men dropped under fire, only for others to instantly take their place. Driven by raw survival instinct, the Gray Wolf soldiers fought like cornered hyenas, erupting with ferocious combat power that pinned down the vastly more numerous militia. Glimpsing hope of survival, Prince Dilip leaned out the second-story window of a residential building, bellowing at the soldiers in the market with his hoarse voice: "Charge through them! The road home is right in front of you! Those blocking your way are nothing but cannon fodder to pad their numbers! Irredeemable trash! Cowards who betrayed the Empire! Show them with your rifles who the true warriors are—!" Fortunately for him, the unending roar of gunfire and artillery drowned out his shrieks; otherwise, an irate soldier hunkered behind cover might well have turned around and put a bullet through his head. Chiliarch Satish, commanding the fighting nearby, happened to catch the shouting. His brow twitched violently, but he could only choke down his fury and pretend not to hear. *Goddamn it!* *Whose fault was it that they were trapped here in the first place?!* As he cursed inwardly, fresh news arrived from the front line. A hundred-man unit had successfully breached the puppet forces' eastern perimeter, carving open a corridor leading outside the settlement. Hearing the good news reported over the radio by a frontline officer, the chiliarch took a deep breath, rushed to the building where Prince Dilip was holed up, and shouted up at the second-floor window: "...My lord! Our men have punched a hole through the east! Come down quickly—we will cover your retreat!" Prince Dilip was on the verge of agreeing when General Alaiyang's warning flashed through his mind, and he swallowed his response back down. "No! I will not go that way! It's an Alliance trap! Did you forget how devastating their firepower was yesterday? How could they let us slip away so easily?! This is an ambush—they're letting us out to the east on purpose just to wipe us out in one go!" Hearing this willful nonsense, Satish nearly coughed up blood. To be fair, the analysis wasn't entirely baseless. If he were the enemy commander, he too would consider surrounding on three sides while leaving one open—but shouldn't that have been discussed before they launched the damn breakout?! Now that the line was breached and everyone saw a path to survival, this fool decides they aren't going that way?! Are you out of your mind?! Did this bastard truly treat flesh-and-blood troops like wooden pieces on a sand table?! "We have no other choice!" Satish bellowed up at him, straining to master his rage. "We lost over five hundred brothers to punch that hole open! Even if it's a trap, our only gamble is to charge through! This is our sole chance! They can't capture all of us!" "Chiliarch Satish, I will say this once more—this is an order! The troops that breached the line are to keep moving; the rest will break out toward... toward the north! If you refuse to obey, prepare to answer to His Majesty!" Prince Dilip shrieked with fierce bravado over faint courage, his pale face twisted in panic and madness. In truth, he had no idea what to do either. When pushing pieces on a palace map, there were no whizzing bullets or roaring shells. Here, a single misstep meant his life. Perhaps the only thing setting him apart from a total novice was knowing that doing anything was better than doing nothing. He would just do what Alaiyang advised. If they lost, he could pin the blame on him anyway. He was consumed by regret. He never should have opened his mouth to demand five thousand men from Alaiyang to attack the governor's mansion. Yet it was too late for regrets. The plan had derailed from the outset, and every unexpected order since had only made matters worse. If only the enemy would let him hit a pause button so he could think... Better yet, let him peek at his cards again. Satish stared up at the prince in absolute despair. Stumbling back two paces, his lips trembling, he snatched the handset from the comms operator and roared in hopeless resignation: "Units that breached the line, continue advancing! All other units, assault the northern perimeter of the market! Break through at all costs!" Nothing made sense anymore. Showing loyalty to the Emperor would at least protect his family back home. Things had come to this; he had no choice but to let it all go to hell... *** East side of Kelaba Market. The nonstop crackle of gunfire suddenly died down without warning, like a candle snuffed out by a gentle breeze. The remnants of the Gray Wolf Army, having pried open a breach in the cordon, abruptly abandoned their momentum. Except for the hundred-man unit that had already pushed out and was now plunging forward alone, the remaining troops turned their guns and charged toward the north of the market. It was as though they had torn a hole in the line merely for the sake of tearing it, with zero intention of exploiting the breach they had made. Deprived of follow-up fire support, the century that had broken out was swiftly captured, forced onto the dirt with gun muzzles pressed against the backs of their heads. Meanwhile, the eastern perimeter that had been breached was hesitantly closed back up as the militia shuffled back into place. This bizarre spectacle baffled everyone. Had he not been standing right at the front lines, Laxi wouldn't have believed his eyes either. Yet even with it unfolding before him, hearing his subordinate's report over the radio made him freeze. "...They really went north?" "Yes... They gathered all their strength to break out to the north! Damn it, these bastards have lost their minds!" Static-heavy gunfire and ragged panting poured through the radio, conveying just how fierce the clash was. Laxi immediately pressed: "What's your situation? Can you hold?!" Frontline officer: "Should be... fine! They have the numbers, but most are exhausted... Do we let them through?" Relief washed over Laxi. After a brief pause, he issued a decisive command: "Hold your ground! Hold it at all costs! Our brothers in the Alliance want the imperial dogs running east—do not let a single one slip past to the north!" The frontline officer replied resolutely: "Understood!" Ending the call, Laxi turned to the men beside him and ordered those who had plugged the eastern breach to pull back again. He was acutely aware of who gave him his authority, and even more aware that to keep the Alliance's support, he had to demonstrate value equal to it. And to achieve that, following orders was even more important than victory itself. He burned to prove himself. Even if it cost the last drop of his blood, he would twist those hyenas' necks back toward the east! He refused to believe these bastards would rather die than run east! And yet— Even if 'the master's orders' outweighed victory itself, Laxi couldn't entirely shake the bewilderment gnawing at his gut. Staring at the wide-open eastern entrance not far away, he stayed silent for a long while before muttering in a voice only he could hear: "I told him they'd retreat north..." *** Meanwhile, atop the walls of Rowell Camp, Killing Dagger stared blankly at the battlefield through a quadcopter drone's feed. He had watched with his own eyes as the Gray Wolf remnants broke through the eastern line. Yet before he could signal the 3rd and 4th centuries waiting in ambush to spring their trap, the "gray wolves" suddenly gave up their breakout and turned to assault the north. What kind of play was this?! "This makes no damn sense..." He muttered under his breath, eyes filled with utter incomprehension. Just as he prepared to report this bizarre anomaly to the rear provisional command and request further orders, the drone camera caught another twist. Seemingly unable to bear the relentless casualties any longer, the remaining Gray Wolf soldiers concentrated everything they had into one final desperate push against the northern perimeter. The final burst of concentrated gunfire carried the frantic despair of a dying gasp, exacting heavy casualties on both sides. Nevertheless, the militia holding the line fought tooth and nail to maintain their ground. After multiple failed attempts yielded zero progress, the thousand-odd remaining "gray wolves" finally collapsed, shattering into a disorganized mob against the unyielding perimeter. Even then, they still refused to withdraw through the east, despite the militia practically holding the eastern door open for them. They threw down their weapons and walked out from behind cover with hands raised in despair, heedless of their officers' frantic shouts... Eventually, seeing that reprimands were futile, their officers raised their hands and walked out alongside them. Not only was Killing Dagger struck dumb, but back at the provisional command post, Fang Chang and Lao Bai froze in place when the frontline report came through. This crack force they had pinned such "high hopes" on... They had just... surrendered?!