Chapter 254: Operating an Excavator Is the Best Way to Dispel Illusions

Chapter 254: The Excavator Is the Supreme Disenchanter

Chen Jian had not anticipated that the refugees of Qiandao Lake would be far more eager to enlist than he had imagined.

He had assumed that after witnessing the grievous casualties suffered by the Huaxia army this time, even if they did not flee on the spot, they would at least steer clear of any high‑risk duties.

Chen Jian had even prepared, arranging a dedicated armed escort for the forthcoming reclamation work.

But fate proved the opposite.

When the order was issued, by the next day the number of volunteers had already surged past forty.

That figure was not the ceiling of Qiandao Lake Town’s population, but the limit imposed by the Huaxia army’s recruitment standards.

Had Chen Jian not imposed age and gender restrictions on the conscripts, the tally could have doubled, enough to cover virtually every able‑bodied adult in the town.

Staring at the list in his hand, Chen Jian, bewildered, asked the nearby Shen Yue:

“What on earth are these people thinking? Did our propaganda work that well?”

“It isn’t a matter of whether the propaganda was effective,”

Shen Yue shook his head and replied:

“Our first wave of residents—especially the Huaxia soldiers—live at a level far removed from that of the newly arrived refugees.”

“The interior conditions of Base 011 are one thing, but even the food alone shows a stark contrast visible to the naked eye.”

“The Huaxia troops enjoy high‑quality meat protein at every meal, while the others receive at most a broth made from scraps and a handful of jerky.”

“Do not underestimate that tiny disparity; for people on the wasteland, that culinary threshold alone is enough to make many die for us.”

“Moreover, you have overlooked a crucial point.”

“Which point?”

Chen Jian asked.

“We won,”

Shen Yue said solemnly:

“What we consider ‘tragic’ casualties are, to those refugees, barely worth mentioning.”

“Against a horde of hundreds of monsters, we lost only seven, with merely two falling in battle.”

“Imagine how absurd that loss‑to‑kill ratio looks to them.”

“And that is on the premise that we were already short‑handed.”

“Thus they can easily conclude that enlisting in the Huaxia army is not an excessively risky endeavor.”

“A minuscule risk exchanged for a chance to be fully relieved of civilian duties and to enjoy superior benefits. What do you say—will you take it?”

“Makes sense.”

Having laid it out, Chen Jian began to understand the newcomers’ mindset.

They were neither particularly noble nor possessed the pure‑hearted conviction of the Huangshi City folk; they simply sought a better bowl of rice.

It may sound utilitarian, but in truth, no regiment ever began without such a motive.

An army should be an educator, not a force assembled only after civilian instruction—a reversal of priorities.

With that in mind, Chen Jian pressed on:

“There’s nothing wrong with that; at least we have indeed drawn them in.”

“Let Huang Yu sift through the list, and then we’ll prepare to expand the ranks.”

“He was worried he had nothing to do; now, it seems he’ll be kept busy for a while.”

“Do you think we should find him a deputy? The matter of unit building should also be on the agenda, right?”

“Sure.”

Shen Yue nodded:

“Let Huang Meng take over; he’s only lightly wounded, so he should refrain from combat for a time, focus on training, and lend a hand to Huang Yu.”

“Aren’t there only three light injuries?”

Chen Jian asked, surprised.

“Ah, the definition of ‘light wound’—if others don’t know, why should you?”

Chen Jian was left speechless.

Indeed, a ‘light wound’ on the battlefield differs from one recorded after a period of recuperation.

On the front, even a broken bone counts as a light wound so long as you can still shoulder a rifle.

But once back, any minor scrape or bruise that requires time to heal is also classified as a light wound.

Thus Chen Jian decisively issued the latest appointments and assignments; within less than two hours, Huang Yu had filtered the personnel and formed the Huaxia army’s first reserve unit.

Watching the reserve troops drill on the open square, Chen Jian felt a surge of emotion.

From a mere four men to this, his force finally began to take shape.

Yet, following that line of thought, he wondered how many soldiers would be needed to set the world back on its proper course.

One thousand? Two thousand? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand?

Chen Jian sensed that his task was far more complex than that.

“Should we start issuing weapons to the base’s residents?”

Chen Jian asked:

“Their sphere of activity is expanding; relying solely on us and the unmanned combat units can no longer guarantee everyone’s safety.”

“We must give them some means of self‑defense, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

Shen Yue instinctively brushed the explosive rifle hanging on his chest and added:

“But the arms given to civilians must differ from our standard issue weapons.”

“My suggestion is to hand them the Type‑75.”

“Conveniently, after fulfilling the Jiangnan Chamber of Commerce order, we have surplus production capacity.”

“Besides stockpiling it as bargaining chips for future trade, allocating it to capable civilians also serves as a way to expend that capacity.”

“Fine.”

Chen Jian nodded again, while Shen Yue, thoughtful, said:

“In this way, our militia is essentially complete.”

“What remains? The paramilitary police?”

“Yes, the police force must be raised swiftly.”

“The influx of thousands of refugees from the Imperial Capital poses a massive security challenge for Base 011; we need a force with enough shock power to keep them in check.”

“That is the first step toward establishing true order—frankly, we are still merely warlords.”

“How one moves from warlord to governance hinges on whether this step is taken well.”

“However, we are short of hands now; the paramilitary sector shall, for the time being, be shouldered by unmanned combat units.”

“To the civilians here, these devices wield a deterrence stronger than that of us ‘humans,’ a sort of consummate utilization of material.”

As the words fell, Shen Yue could not help but laugh.

He looked at Chen Jian, his tone laced with a teasing edge, and asked:

“Do you know, there’s a new creed among the recent settlers.”

“They believe the machines are the true sovereigns of this base, and we are merely attendants serving those ‘angels.’”

“Tsk, indeed it is time to strip them of their enchantments.” “As you wish, see to it yourself.”

Shen Yue lifted his foot toward Huang Yu, intending to inspect the new recruits’ drills and, in passing, convey some nuances of ideological instruction.

Chen Jian, with decisive resolve, raised his hand and called over the radio:

“Jiang Yu, report to me!”

The order issued, and moments later Jiang Yu sprinted from the distant wasteland.

“Company commander, Jiang Yu reporting!”

Her breath came a little ragged; Chen Jian did not speak at once, but let her steady herself before saying:

“I need you to do something.”

“Commander, you speak!”

Jiang Yu snapped to attention. She did not know what order would be given, yet from his solemn visage she sensed the task would not be simple.

Yet Chen Jian’s next words left her rooted to the spot.

“You go operate the excavator.”

“Huh?”

Jiang Yu stared at Chen Jian, bewildered.

“Commander, the excavator you speak of—are you referring to the ones that toil on the ground?”

“Exactly, you go operate it.”

Chen Jian reiterated his command, while Jiang Yu wore a mask of helplessness.

What does it mean to “operate” an excavator?

In the long decay of civilization across the wasteland, the meaning of that word has been all but eroded.

She could roughly infer that “operate” meant to handle.

Yet the question remained: how does one handle that contraption?

Those massive machines have always been steered by the hidden “machine souls” within the fortifications, have they not?

Wait, so this commander’s intent is to make her the machine’s soul?

That does not sound auspicious.

In an instant a terrifying tableau flashed through Jiang Yu’s mind.

She imagined herself trapped in a cramped, claustrophobic cavity, body hollowed, soul extracted, merged with the colossal machine, condemned to feel the endless agony of labor day after day.

She shivered instinctively, fear rising in her chest, yet a strange inexplicable feeling also stirred.

How could she suddenly be tasked with such a thing?

Or perhaps she had misread the situation?

Watching her expression shift, Chen Jian could not quite decipher her thoughts.

Yet that mattered little.

It’s just an excavator, how hard could it be? If you don’t know, just learn!

With that in mind, Chen Jian led her toward the excavator and said:

“I’ll demonstrate once now; follow my example.”

“Afterward, Fuxi will guide you with voice prompts.”

“Once you master it, you must teach the other residents as best you can.”

“After all, not every locale enjoys network coverage; we need personnel skilled in machine operation.”

“Rest assured, as long as you strive to learn, we will not shortchange you.”

“We can even improve the compensation for the technicians.”

“Understood!”

At that, the knot in Jiang Yu’s chest instantly loosened.

The commander himself promised a personal demonstration; what more could go wrong?

She was merely overthinking.

Indeed, the whole religious façade is a lie; in a normal human world, there are no such horror tales.

Jiang Yu followed Chen Jian cheerfully, eyes glued to his movements.

She watched as Chen Jian issued the “disconnect remote control link” command, then swung open the excavator’s door and settled into the cockpit she had never known the purpose of.

Immediately, after Chen Jian pushed the control lever and pressed the throttle, the excavator sprang to life.

“This is the throttle, this retracts the boom, this extends the boom, this is the left turn lever, this the right turn lever.”

Chen Jian’s motions were far from polished; while turning the lever he nearly flung Jiang Yu headlong, sending her scrambling away from danger.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not proficient myself; I’m merely giving you a simple demonstration.”

“Come, give it a try?”

Chen Jian pushed the door open and leapt out; Jiang Yu, still trembling, stared at the excavator’s cooling fan humming, hesitating for a moment.

“What are you standing there for? It’s just an excavator—are you scared of that?”

Chen Jian feigned impatience, urging Jiang Yu back into the cabin.

Since the enchantment must be stripped, it must be done thoroughly.

Chen Jian was determined to let them witness how the so‑called “machine‑soul” apparatus truly functioned; when curious townsfolk from Qiandao Lake glanced over, he not only refrained from stopping them but beckoned everyone to come closer.

At that moment, Jiang Yu finally steadied her mind.

She slipped agilely into the cockpit, tentatively nudging the joystick.

When the excavator moved silently, something within her mind collapsed with a thunderous crash.

—

No, not a collapse; to be precise, the doctrine forcibly implanted by the mechanical cult had long since crumbled in her heart.

And now those broken walls have been pulverized to dust, vanishing in an instant.

Machines are controlled by humans.

The moment that notion sprang up, it could no longer be suppressed; she, thrilled, began to experiment with every possible maneuver, initially cautious, but as she grew accustomed, she eventually let herself go completely.

Forward, backward, spin.

Dig, push, fill, chisel.

Though her handling could never match the precision, accuracy, and fluidity of Fuxi's remote control, there was no doubt that, given a little more time, she could truly unleash the excavator's potential.

After a full twenty minutes of play, Jiang Yu suddenly realized that Chen Jian was still waiting nearby.

She stepped off the vehicle with a hint of trepidation, only to find not a trace of displeasure on Chen Jian's face.

“Anyone else want to play?”

“Fuxi, bring two more over; let everyone have a turn.”

Chen Jian issued the order, and moments later, two brand‑new quadruped excavators were already in place.

Jiang Yu remained eager, ready to leap into action.

——

The previous machine was the simplest tracked design; this monstrous quadruped wheeled excavator, she too wanted to try.

Seeing her intention, Chen Jian waved his hand grandly and said:

“Go ahead.”

Jiang Yu, unpretentious, sprang forward in a single, confident stride.

Under her lead, the onlookers gradually began to approach the excavator, one after another.

At first they only dared to touch.

Soon, someone stepped into the cockpit.

When another excavator roared to life, Chen Jian understood that his work of dispelling enchantment had taken its first shape.

Most of these people would never set foot on a battlefield, nor could they ever feel the visceral thrill of wielding such advanced weaponry.

Now, however, they possessed a conduit through which to truly comprehend the force they were being drawn toward, and what that force possessed.

From their expressions, Chen Jian could see that, while the faith in the Mechanical Cult could not be eradicated in a short span, the question of who truly held the reins would likely cease to be doubted.

(End of Chapter)