Chapter 205: Northern Expedition!

Chapter 205 – The Northern Expedition!

The next morning, within the war‑room.

On the screen flickered the detailed records of the “Beast Tide” that He Shuo had just transmitted and stored in the Great Archive; after the crew had read every line, they all sighed in unison.

The useful information was woefully scant.

Whoever chronicled the Beast Tide had clearly never drawn near; every description was a distant “scout’s” view stitched together from fragmentary pre‑ and post‑battle reports.

Moreover, the accounts were thick with religious embellishment and distortion, making it impossible to tell what was fact and what was a second‑hand creation born of doctrine.

In the end, only three points could be deemed “useful.”

First, the total number of monsters exceeded a thousand, a scale of unimaginable magnitude.

Second, a tier‑one monster roamed the tide, wielding control over the whole surge, perhaps even issuing commands.

Third, wherever the tide passed, a peculiar influence lingered—electronic devices failed, radios were jammed, and a great many weapons went dead.

The first two items were easy for Chen Jian to grasp.

Monsters are intelligent beings; it is no surprise they can be organized and develop crude “tactics.”

What baffled him was the third clause.

Devices failing, weapons failing?

What kind of conceptual‑level armament could do that?

An electromagnetic pulse?

No non‑nuclear weapon on this world can generate an EMP.

If we step down a notch, the only candidate is a graphite bomb.

Yet a graphite bomb only harms exposed power lines; it cannot affect sealed circuits or electronic components.

That plainly contradicts the Mechanical Cult’s description of “spirit‑core failure” and circuitry breakdown.

Chen Jian rubbed his swelling brow and then asked:

“Fuxi, what do you think this Beast Tide might be?”

“A conceptual‑level weapon, or some composite effect beyond our current speculation?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Fuxi answered:

“Given the data stored in our knowledge base, I believe that achieving a ‘near‑field electromagnetic pulse effect’ could arise from several uncommon yet plausible mechanisms.”

“For instance, a cloud of nano‑scale highly conductive dust, an electron pulse triggered by a strong magnetic field, or an electromagnetic blockage caused by a metallic dust veil.”

“These scenarios demand stringent conditions, yet under Earth’s present environment their probability does not seem low.”

“Especially when we consider the ‘tier‑two monsters’ that emerged in the Jinling Ruins and the surrounding ecosystem they co‑exist with, I can reasonably suspect that the Beast Tide will also provoke localized environmental shifts, spawning a cascade of anomalous effects.”

“However, such anomalies are too intricate and unpredictable for me to devise a sound response plan based on current conjecture.”

“Understood.”

Chen Jian gave a slight nod.

The matter was indeed insoluble; even a mind as powerful as Fuxi had no clear solution.

Of course, it wasn’t that he “couldn’t respond,” but rather that the sheer variety of possible occurrences, each with a fairly even probability, made it impossible to prepare for every eventuality.

That would be a colossal waste of resources.

Hence we could only take one step at a time, watching the road unfold.

Perhaps only when the Beast Tide truly arrives will they be able to enact a genuine counter‑measure.

“…Now the situation is crystal clear.”

Chen Jian exhaled a long breath and continued:

“We lack the capacity to match the so‑called Beast Tide head‑on, so strategically we must revert to the old methods.”

“You fight yours, I’ll fight mine.”

“No matter how mighty the tide, as long as it remains on this Earth, it can never surpass a nuclear bomb.”

“Thus our next objective is simple.”

“Gather and transport back every nuclear weapon we can locate, and discover how to unlock them.”

“Even Fuxi cannot do that.”

“The nuclear arsenal is managed in total isolation from strong AI; to obtain the key we must go ourselves.”

At that point Chen Jian paused, and across from him Lei Jie slipped in a question:

“So we have to make a trip to the Imperial Capital?”

“Yes.”

Chen Jian nodded slowly and went on:

“The problem now is who we send, and how we send them.”

“The Jinling Ruins lie a full nine hundred kilometres from the capital; even with a large convoy at full speed, a round‑trip would take about a month.”

“That span is too long, and Project 011 is at a critical stage of cold‑start and expansion.”

“At the very least we must leave one person here to oversee the whole operation.”

“Wouldn’t that be me?”

Shen Yue laughed and said:

“Can a political commissar ever abandon his men? I stay wherever the troops are.”

“He Shuo must remain in Jinling; the city’s affairs are not yet fully settled, and he needs to monitor the Mechanical Cult’s movements in real time.”

“The only ones who can move are you and Lei Jie. Take a portion of the main force with you; it’ll also give them some training.”

“You’ve already said it, so I won’t waste any more words.”

Chen Jian gave a decisive order, then said:

“This expedition will be led by Lei Jie and me, with Ji Xing, Xie Liu and Li Shi as the three deputies, and a ten‑man Huaxia squad accompanying us to the capital.”

“For transport I plan to field a 30A tank, a Mengshi anti‑lightning ambush‑counter vehicle, a cat‑car, and four unmanned cargo trucks.”

“In terms of armament we’ll bring a suite of gear, including drones and unmanned combat robots.”

“The exact numbers and configurations will be worked out by Fuxi’s simulations.”

“If all goes well we’ll reach the capital in five days and return within thirty.”

“I’ve allotted twenty‑five days for the return because I intend to open every resource node along the way.”

“Those nodes include, but are not limited to, mines, warehouses, factories and the like; the goal is to forge a passage and harvest the vast stores of metallic raw material they contain.”

“Once we clear the hazards around each node and establish a stable corridor, we can draw a steady flow of raw materials through the major guilds and the Mechanical Cult’s own channels.”

“This concerns 011

Of course, should the situation become urgent, we can return without delay.

Whether support is needed, and when it is required, that margin rests in your own hands, Shen Yue.

Understood.

Shen Yue nodded with steady composure.

Since assuming the post of political commissar, in merely a few days his demeanor had altered dramatically.

Though in private he still wore a carefree, joking mask, before the other natives—especially the Huaxia troops—he had begun to cultivate an air of gravitas.

That, undeniably, was a good thing.

Chen Jian cast him a satisfied glance, then spoke:

Then let us set it thus; the operation shall be codenamed—

Northern Expedition!

Meeting adjourned!

An hour later, on the outskirts of Base 011.

The convoy stood ready; Chen Jian inspected each vehicle, cross‑checking the manifest while muttering notes on the equipment.

Weapons—complete.

Ammunition—sufficient.

Spare parts—about right. Fuel—supply stations.

The largest footprint belongs to the stations—fifty of them; whether that will suffice remains uncertain.

Upon hearing him, Lei Jie replied from beside:

Fifty should be enough; according to Fuxi's calculations, in the current electromagnetic milieu a micro‑station can cover twenty to thirty kilometres.

Measured against the total length of our route, that would just blanket the entire path.

In sheer number we are fine; my greater concern lies with the stations' self‑sustainability.

Devoid of cables and generators, powered solely by a handful of solar panels, even under optimal conditions they cannot assure continuous communications.

Fortunately the radios still function; whenever we require a network we shall activate the stations then.

Overall, they should meet the forthcoming demands.

Indeed, we shall make do for now.

Chen Jian sighed, his voice tinged with reflection:

It is easy to slip from thrift into excess, yet hard to return the other way.

These past days near Jinling we grew accustomed to full network coverage; once we leave Jinling, we may find ourselves a little disoriented.

What can be done?

Lei Jie spread his hands, then said:

Who can blame you for not pushing harder then? You are the head of the Fuxi project; if you were to double down and advance the quantum communications technology a step further, we wouldn't be in such a bind now.

This blame should fall on you, Professor Lei, shouldn't it?

Chen Jian said with a wry, helpless smile:

I'm no technocrat; I'm merely a handyman.

If anyone must take the blame, it should be you tech‑folk, right?

I don't even oversee the quantum communications side.

Lei Jie shrugged helplessly, then asked:

Putting that aside—your weapons and ammunition this time are clearly beyond spec; what, do you have designs on Hua as well?

Indeed.

Chen Jian answered without evasion:

Since we must pass through Huadu, if all goes smoothly I intend to launch a decapitation strike on Huadu as we pass.

That faction is a cancer upon the wasteland; left unchecked, one day their narcotics will spill outward.

In the post‑apocalyptic era, such a thing wields lethal force beyond measure.

In a pessimistic view, the outright annihilation of human civilization is not impossible.

Indeed.

Lei Jie nodded, fully agreeing.

All four of them had witnessed a true “drug nation”; compared with the pristine environment enforced by domestic crackdowns, they understood better than anyone what a country ruled by narcotics truly looks like.

And for that reason they harbored an unrelenting hostility toward Huadu, never once entertaining the notion of negotiation.

The reason was simple: as Chen Jian had said, in a post‑apocalyptic world narcotics spread with terrifying ease.

The desperate seek solace within it, the frail seek strength, and for everyone it serves a common purpose.

That purpose is to escape reality.

When the nerves are utterly numbed, everything ceases to matter.

Perhaps in the short term it yields extreme “gains,” yet over the long haul the debts accrued by drug use must be repaid in full.

So, let us end it here.

Lei Jie pondered briefly, then asked:

What do you intend to do?

Once the leaders are eliminated and the facilities razed, the locals will inevitably descend into chaos.

You have also seen the condition of the Huadu prisoners captured in the Battle of Jinling; stripped of narcotics, they possess no capacity for labor nor combat.

If we ignore them, those residents will surely perish.

Yet if we intervene, it will demand an enormous allocation of resources.

How do you propose to settle them?

Do not settle them.

Chen Jian shook his head and replied:

Though in this setting, exposure to narcotics is hardly their fault.

But the apocalypse is a crucible of survival of the fittest; they live if they can, and die if they cannot.

We cannot be responsible for them; grievances have sources, debts have owners—if they seek redress, they should turn to Huadu's higher echelons.

Indeed.

Lei Jie let out a soft sigh, lingered in silence for a few seconds, then suddenly asked:

If—

I mean, if Huadu were willing to trade drug eradication for peace with us, what then?

The words fell, and Chen Jian, without a hint of hesitation, shot back:

“Old Burma said the same back then; look, did they ever achieve it?”

“A task that even a powerful, rule‑bound modern regime cannot accomplish—do you think those Huadu folk could?”

“That, perhaps, is not certain.”

Lei Jie clicked his tongue and said:

“I think they truly might be able to do it.”

“Because a modern regime cannot kill at will, yet Huadu can.”

“Moreover, there is an even more crucial point.”

“These past two days I have seen reports sent back by Fuxi concerning Huadu prisoners of war.”

“In my view, the proportion of prisoners deeply addicted is far too high.”

“In theory, even a force wholly enslaved by narcotics would, due to individual variance, develop differing tolerances and interests toward the drug.”

“You have witnessed that yourself.”

“But the Huadu unit is unlike any other; even the relatively weak soldiers left over exhibit profound addiction, without a single exception.”

“I wonder whether this might actually be a cleansing operation?”

When his words ended, Chen Jian was stunned.

After a moment of contemplation, he asked:

“You mean, a attrition campaign?”

“Exactly.”

Lei Jie nodded, and continued:

“They intend to wear out the already utterly corrupted segment of the populace, then cultivate a new, loyal batch with narcotics.”

“That aligns with their mode of governance; put yourself in their shoes, and I might do the same.”

“Reasonable, but there is no evidence.”

Chen Jian brushed his forehead, about to speak, when suddenly Fuxi’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Commander, nine kilometers northwest, in the direction of the Jinling Yangtze River Bridge, we have spotted someone crossing the river.”

“A drone is maintaining surveillance.”

“Judging by their attire, weapons, and tattoo patterns, they may be Huadu.”

“Huh?”

Chen Jian and Lei Jie exchanged a glance, their eyes brimming with astonishment.

It’s really happening??

(End of chapter)