Chapter 215: A 60-Year-Old Young Girl

Chapter 215: The 60‑Year‑Old Girl

Before the crossing, Chen Jian had always been haunted by a single question.

If a technological gap were truly insurmountable, could the outcome of a battle be as immutable as destiny itself?

He had studied countless battle reports, and he had himself run countless war‑games.

Yet every answer he reached was shrouded in uncertainty.

The so‑called “generation gap” cannot be neatly defined, and the human factor can never be ignored in a fight.

Even with obsolete weapons, a unit can, through will, tactics, and human ingenuity, forcefully bridge the chasm that technology creates, tipping the scales in its favor.

But is that the answer?

Not necessarily.

Now, after battle after battle, Chen Jian finally arrived at a relatively credible conclusion.

That the so‑called generation gap has never been truly traversable.

Only, that gap does not refer solely to weapons and technology.

It also encompasses tactical proficiency, organizational cohesion, fighting spirit, and even the quality of the individual soldier.

All of these, together, forge that seemingly “simple” notion.

The reason that army could win despite a weapons gap was that its organization and mode of warfare were generations ahead of its opponent.

Thus the collapse of Huadu now becomes easy to comprehend.

They were comprehensively backward.

Such total backwardness not only condemned them to defeat, it stripped them of even the most basic capacity to resist.

Is it hard for a handful of men to face a thousand?

Deprived of full electromagnetic control, the Huadu fighters didn’t even know where their enemies lay.

And lacking a complete friend‑or‑foe identification system, they ended up fighting themselves; when the reserve arrived, both squads—each originally over a hundred strong—had inexplicably dwindled to fewer than fifty.

The battlefield was torn apart; Chen Jian’s unit never faced an enemy force exceeding a hundred at any moment.

The enemy’s offensive could not coalesce into any real scale, not even achieving basic cover or suppression.

Often, the moment they met, the frontline Xingtian robots shredded the defense line, only for precise, restrained, rhythmically timed bullets to reap the lives.

By the end of that fight, Chen Jian’s objective was no longer “to annihilate as many living forces as possible.”

It had become “to eliminate the enemy’s living forces as much as possible while conserving ammunition.”

He deliberately paced the combat, luring the enemy into relentless attacks, then, like a farmer waiting for his rabbit, he cut down the rescuers who arrived still blind to the unfolding battle, one by one.

Finally, two hours after the opening salvo, Huadu’s armed forces collapsed entirely.

No one dared to charge to their deaths any longer, and the city’s inhabitants began fleeing outward.

“Should we block them?”

Watching the residents melt into the night, Lei Jie asked.

“No need to block them; they can go wherever they wish.”

“This city has been abandoned; we lack the capacity to manage these residents, almost all of whom are addicted to toxins.”

“Whether they die at the hands of monsters or elsewhere, it matters not to us.”

“Now, clear the battlefield and report the casualties.”

At Chen Jian’s command, a flood of data streamed onto his PDA at once.

He need not glance at ammunition expenditure; his primary concern was the loss of unmanned combat units.

Fortunately, they had only lost two slow‑moving, lightly armored Iron Wolf robots.

That fell well within the tolerable margin.

Other unmanned units suffered varying degrees of damage, yet all retained combat capability and could be repaired.

Chen Jian exhaled deeply, then issued his orders:

“Withdraw to a new position and advance toward the enemy command post.”

“We can now confirm their queen lies buried in the ruins.”

“Whether she still carries anything remains uncertain for now.”

“Fuxi, plot a route and eliminate any risks.”

“Received, route plotted.”

“Move out!”

The command rang out, and every soldier sprang into action.

The rear rocket‑support team maneuvered trucks and cat‑carts around to the north, linking up with the assault squad; after the rendezvous, Chen Jian saw the smoke‑streaked warriors whose faces shone with fierce excitement.

“How’s everyone? Any injuries?”

“Report, commander: Huang Bao is wounded!”

“A mortar shell from the enemy struck him; shrapnel nicked his calf, but it’s nothing serious—we’ve already bandaged it.”

“Very good!”

Chen Jian nodded in approval.

Knowing how to fire a gun or launch a cannon is merely the most basic element of warfare; to withstand enemy fire and still execute the planned tactical moves proves that this unit’s combat effectiveness is truly taking shape.

He patted the shoulder of the soldier named Huang Bao; the man instantly stood at attention and saluted, Chen Jian withdrew his hand without lingering, and led the squad northward toward the enemy command.

The distance closed; when the squad reached within a kilometer of the command post, they encountered the first enemy support team.

A force of fewer than thirty, clearly elite troops of Huadu, each clad in body armor and wielding standardized weapons.

They even deployed aerial drones for reconnaissance while moving covertly through the forest.

When Chen Jian saw them abruptly appear at the edge of the woods, less than a hundred meters from his position, his heart leapt.

He had expected an ambush.

But the next instant the enemy unit turned and fled, vanishing into the trees in an instant.

“They’re afraid of us.”

Chen Jian let out a soft breath and then said:

“It’s fortunate they’re scared; otherwise, a clash at this range would have—”

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

Beside him, Lei Jie added with a grin:

“It wouldn’t be that troublesome, actually.”

“Indeed.”

Ji Xing murmured:

“It won’t be a bother at all, merely a pity—they could never dare to act.”

“Of course they must fear us.”

“When this war ends, no one in the wasteland will be unafraid of us.”

At the same time, within the collapsed ruins, an arm thrust a heavy timber beam aside with a sudden force.

Then a pallid, almost ghostly face emerged from the debris.

The queen gasped violently, struggling to shove away the bricks and stones that smothered her; after finally lifting the heaviest stone from her leg, she found herself utterly spent.

In that instant she loathed her frail, feeble body with a burning hatred.

Why am I not the so‑called “Holy‑blooded” one?

Why do I lack the mighty physique that a true Holy‑blooded possesses?

Had that been so, I would not be trapped here now.

Even in death, perhaps I could die on the battlefield against those so‑called “Huaxia troops,” could I not?

A self‑deprecating smile flickered across the queen’s lips.

She lowered her gaze to her broken, twisted leg and at last relinquished any further struggle.

Death loomed ever nearer.

Those Huaxia soldiers would surely find me, and would cruelly force me to reveal the secrets of Flower City.

Perhaps, for me, ending my own life before they arrived would be the wiser choice.

Yet it is absurd that the very gun that could grant me a final dignity lay only a few meters away, and I no longer have the strength to grasp it.

She lay on her back amid the ruins, staring at the clear sky that followed the blaze of war.

The sun was beginning to rise, and she realized this might be the last sunrise she would ever see.

——

But why, after all, has everything spiraled to this point?

Everything had seemed to go so smoothly.

Controlling Spring City, founding Flower City, forging the divine elixir, mastering a power that was uniquely ours.

Then came a series of experiments—studies of terror demons, of the Holy‑blooded, of those mimetic heresies.

Though those researches yielded no breakthrough, she believed the answer lay before her eyes.

Give her a little more time, and she could grasp that final result.

Yet the Huaxia troops appeared, launching an unprovoked assault upon her.

All the painstakingly built foundations crumbled in Anqing, shattered by their hands.

Now they even pursued her to Flower City, consigning her sole “home” to the inferno of war.

She could not fathom why they would do this.

What baffled her even more was how they wielded an invincible force.

They were like an iron wall.

Every soul that dared to strike it was reduced to splinters.

Herself included.

The queen let out a long sigh.

She closed her eyes, striving to steady her breath.

She did not wish to die here.

Since a dignified death was impossible, she thought perhaps, before the end, she should hand over everything she possessed to those Huaxia soldiers.

She would make them understand that what she had done was wrong.

She would make those war‑mad men see that what they had destroyed might have been humanity’s last hope.

Seconds slipped by, and the queen’s vision grew ever more blurred.

Yet just as she was about to succumb to faintness,

a roar of machinery burst into her ears.

Immediately, a voice spoke:

“High‑value target identified.”

“The sole female—this must be the queen, right?”

“She’s still alive!”

The queen snapped her eyes open.

A mocking grin curved her face.

Then she spoke:

“Indeed, I am still alive.”

“You have won, yet you have also shattered humanity’s hope.”

“How does that feel? Happy?”

“Delighted.”

Chen Jian removed his helmet and looked straight at her, saying:

“I wasn’t that thrilled before, but seeing a drug lord still consider himself humanity’s hope makes me think I’ve done the right thing.”

As his words fell, the queen’s expression froze.

Then, she stared wide‑eyed at Chen Jian, incredulous, and asked:

“Just because of that?”

“So your justification is… this??”

“What this…

…that?”

Chen Jian furrowed his brow, while the queen pressed on:

“So the reason you keep attacking us is merely because of the medicine we use? That’s all?!”

“Not only that.”

Chen Jian shook his head slowly, replying:

“And the human experiments you conducted in Anqing.”

“…just those two reasons?”

“Those two aren’t enough?”

Chen Jian retorted.

The queen exhaled a long breath, spitting a froth of blood from her lips.

Then, with a bitter smile, she shook her head and said:

“How utterly ironic.”

“I have always believed that an irreconcilable clash of interests lay between us.”

“At first I thought it was because of the Jinling ruins, then I blamed the treasure of the Spring City.”

“But I never imagined that you would wage an endless war against us merely for those two absurd reasons.”

“It is simply too ironic.”

“So, you truly have no idea what I am doing, do you?”

“You also genuinely cannot fathom the magnitude of value my actions hold for this world, for all of humanity, can you?”

“Indeed, you could never comprehend it.”

“War‑mad as you are, you are no different from the lunatics of the Mechanical Cult.”

“Only that you are stronger than they are.”

“I have nothing left to say.”

“Kill me, then.”

“All the data lies within the ruins; how much you can retrieve is a measure of your skill.”

“Of course, I could also tell you that you would have no interest in those things.”

“Perhaps you have no need to dig at all.”

“It matters not; this is not for you to judge.”

“Chen Jian raised the grenade launcher in his hands and aimed it at the queen’s head.”

“Yet at the very instant he was about to pull the trigger, a shadow darted out from behind him.”

“Immediately after, that figure shouted loudly:”

“You must not die here!”

“Hey, you promised me! Where’s my neural rig?!”

“You said you’d give me more! I must obtain it!”

“Lord Overseer! Don’t die!”

“Right, right, it’s Her Majesty the Queen; I should address you as Your Majesty!”

“You cannot die!”

“Come quickly and save her! What are you still standing there for? All the secrets reside within her mind!”

“Help me, quickly! Help me, quickly!”

“Chen Jian stared in astonishment at Xu He’s frantic movements, his instinct urging him to push the other away and resume his unfinished act.”

“Yet from Xu He’s garbled words, he caught an unusual piece of information.”

“Lord Overseer??”

“Xu He calls this queen ‘Overseer’!?”

“Chen Jian’s finger froze on the trigger; he turned his gaze to Ji Xing, who had just arrived, and she moved forward a few steps, blankly, as if possessed.”

“She stared intently at the queen’s face.”

“After a long pause, her voice trembled as she spoke:”

“I know you.”

“Overseer Lin Jing.”

“I thought you were already dead.”

“The queen opened her eyes.”

“She looked toward Ji Xing, a faint smile curling at the corner of her mouth.”

“I also know you, Ji Xing.”

“It seems you have already left that place.”

“And have become my enemy.”

“How amusing.”

“How could that be!?”

“Ji Xing lunged forward, seizing the queen’s arm.”

“Then, her voice hoarse, she said:”

“You are at least sixty years old—how could you possibly be her?!”

(End of Chapter)