Chapter 260: Help out the Scene

Chapter 260 – A Helping Hand

“The mercenaries have already arrived at Hanhui City.”

In Base 011, Chen Jian finished reading the intelligence report from Hanhui City.

“These mercenaries really aren’t that strong. We equipped them with so much gear, nearly a hundred of them took on a level‑four monster and still suffered only a dozen casualties. I’m genuinely impressed.”

Hearing him, Lei Jie spread his hands and said:

“Have you considered that, for them, this is already a great victory?”

“They eliminated a level‑four monster at the cost of just a dozen men.”

“If every mercenary unit could boast such a dreadful loss‑to‑kill ratio, the world’s great beasts would already be wiped out.”

“—Indeed, that’s true.”

Chen Jian sighed and nodded, then said:

“Whatever happens, you’re in charge of building the aircraft and increasing the number of balloons.”

“Once the planes are ready, we’ll rush to support Hanhui City. They still have a level‑three monster there, and with their current strength they likely can’t hold it back.”

“Understood, I’ll arrange it.”

Lei Jie replied:

“I’ve already serviced the air‑to‑ground missiles; the vast majority are still functional.”

“The prototype should be able to carry at least two 250‑kilogram warheads, which should be enough to blast a level‑three monster.”

“But the biggest problem now isn’t the aircraft—it’s the pilots.”

“I originally thought of sending Zeng Yi or Ji Xing, but on second thought they might not master it; perhaps I should fly it myself.”

“Isn’t that a bit too risky?”

Chen Jian frowned and said:

“This thing has no ejection seat. Are you sure you can fly it?”

“It won’t be a big issue.”

Lei Jie scratched his head and answered:

“The Mosquito‑type is very light; even if we lose power, we can glide down safely.”

“Our structure is simple, and we built in ample power margin. If all else fails, we can pull the nose up and land vertically, head‑first, keeping the descent rate within safe limits.”

“—Your words sound nice.”

Chen Jian looked at Lei Jie, his expression solemn, and said:

“You must understand that your worth far exceeds that of a single aircraft.”

“Losing a plane is a minor setback; losing you would be catastrophic.”

“Therefore, my suggestion is to sacrifice some payload and install an autopilot system for transitional training.”

“Let others learn to operate with the autopilot’s assistance; you yourself should stay on the ground.”

“That’s impossible.”

Lei Jie shook his head and said:

“This is the first aircraft we’ve ever built; its significance is immense.”

“I have to be the first to take to the skies—no alternatives.”

“Nevertheless, I’m already pondering the autopilot issue. If we remove one ant‑swarm robot, we can achieve autonomous flight within signal range; it’s not hard.”

“Of course, autonomous flight doesn’t mean the craft is unmanned. Our purpose is long‑range combat; adding a signal limitation would render the plane useless either way.”

“So, regardless, we still need to train our own pilots.”

“Any candidates?”

As Lei Jie’s words faded, Chen Jian asked promptly:

“None for now—though the newcomers from Qiandao Lake have been operating excavators these past few days, haven’t they?”

“That’s our preliminary screening. In theory, anyone who can skillfully handle an excavator should manage an aircraft just as well.”

“Good heavens, such a comparison?”

Chen Jian shook his head with a wry smile, but then reconsidered—Lei Jie’s point wasn’t without merit.

Is piloting an aircraft truly that difficult?

In fact, during World War II German pilots averaged only about 160 hours of training, even by the standards of high‑speed fighter selection.

They had to master a host of complex maneuvers—aiming, shooting, maneuvering, disengaging, handling emergencies, taking off, and landing.

Training for these extra actions consumed at least ninety percent of a pilot’s total instruction time.

Yet if the sole requirement is to get airborne and deliver ordnance accurately with a photo‑electric sight,

two hours might suffice.

After all, even take‑off and landing can be delegated to autopilot.

With that thought, Chen Jian felt an instant relief.

“Then make your own selection; by this standard, there are actually quite a few residents who could become pilots.”

“However, I advise you to prioritize candidates from within the Huaxia forces.”

“It’s also a matter of honor, and if outsiders rise later, it could become a problematic factor for our unit’s management.”

“I understand.”

Lei Ji nodded, led Chen Jian out of the 011 fortifications, and continued:

“The synthetic‑ammonia plant should begin its first production batch tomorrow; once we have ammonium solution, we can start manufacturing nitric acid.”

“Platinum and rhodium catalysts are already in place, the equipment is under construction, and we expect the first batch of nitric acid in three days.”

“That fast?”

Chen Jian asked curiously:

“Platinum is easy enough, but where did the rhodium come from?”

“We have a modest stock, but most of it was sourced from the Ring Chamber of Commerce—He Shuo’s directive had them collect a large number of automotive catalysts, which is more than sufficient for us.”

“Clever.”

Chen Jian sighed in admiration:

“I was even pondering whether we should locate a warehouse with a massive rhodium reserve to open a blind‑box.”

“We’ll inevitably have to do that; the larger the output, the greater the catalyst consumption.”

“Instead of recycling spent catalysts, it’s simpler to just dig up a grave and open a blind‑box.”

“But that’s a concern for a distant future; for now we’ll make do.”

“Indeed.”

The two stood side by side on the square beyond the fortifications, and from that vista the entire 011 base sprawled in flourishing splendor.

The steel mill churned out metal day and night, the coke plant exhaled a thin veil of smoke, and searing flames heated the air before the hot currents were blown toward the armaments works and the lumber mill.

Further out, several multifunctional excavators continued to tame the wasteland, while the laborers scattered seeds one by one into the soil.

From Xuanwu Lake rose the sound of fishermen’s songs, a routine of the residents of Qiandao Lake Town as they cast their nets.

The base had already taken shape, its pace of development far surpassing even the four founders’ earliest imaginings.

Chen Jian’s gaze gradually withdrew from the distance, and when he spotted the figure adeptly handling an excavator nearby, he suddenly asked:

“How’s that Jiang Yu?”

“Jiang Yu? A pilot?”

Leijie asked instinctively.

“Yes, isn’t she handling it quite well?”

“She could— the question is, won’t you use her? Didn’t you say at the start you wanted to see if she had the potential to become a core combatant?”

Hearing Leijie’s words, Chen Jian slowly shook his head.

“First, let’s see if she can fly a plane.”

“The people of Qiandao Lake Town need a role model, and she is the finest choice.”

“Enough, I’ll say no more.”

Chen Jian lifted the burst‑fire rifle in his hand slightly, then spoke:

“Do you remember Jin Zhong, the commander of the Guard Brigade?” “He’s currently leading a squad clearing monsters around Jingkou, and the reports say the situation is grim.”

“I intend to take a look.”

“He’s actually more valuable than Zhang Tao; whatever the case, we must go aid the field.”

On the other side, twenty kilometres southwest of Jingkou.

Jin Zhong, panting heavily, leaned against a great tree, a faint blue smoke curling from the scorching barrel of his Conqueror rifle.

Just moments ago they had endured a brutal clash.

More than 150 mantis‑like monsters met his Guard Brigade squad of merely one hundred men; in the instant the battle erupted, the unalerted Blood‑Spear scouts were torn apart by the beasts.

Then, the monsters, having bided their time, used the terrain to launch a sudden ambush from the woods, and within a heartbeat they cut down over twenty of the Guard’s warriors.

The unexpected onslaught threw the entire Guard into chaos, yet most of the fighters were seasoned veterans.

After suffering heavy casualties, they did not flee in panic like ordinary crusader troops, exposing their backs to the enemy.

On the contrary, everyone rallied at breakneck speed, forging a sturdy defensive line.

Gunfire and explosions cracked in succession, while the monsters’ roars formed the backdrop of a grand symphony.

In the clash of iron and blood, the Guard lost another ten soldiers, and at last the attacking monsters were driven back.

The price was heavy, the victory grim.

Jin Zhong watched the medica­l priest weaving through the wounded, staunching the bleeding of gravely injured warriors, a flash of anguish crossing his face.

He could not bear to see his dearest brothers fall away.

For each dying comrade he whispered, “I shall meet you again in the realm of the Holy Trinity,” yet deep within he knew those brothers would never glimpse the true Heaven.

Jin Zhong let out a long sigh, while on the opposite side a handful of Guard soldiers gathered around a Blood‑Spear, their faces seething with accusation.

“What the hell are you Blood‑Spear scum supposed to be? You’re supposed to be scouts—why can’t you do a scout’s job?”

“The monsters are less than fifty meters from us, and you still didn’t notice?”

“Then tell me, what use is a scout like you?”

“The lives of those twenty brothers now rest on your heads; you must repay this!”

With those words, the Blood‑Spear abruptly rose to his feet.

He glared at the Guard soldiers, then barked:

“It’s not only you who suffered losses!”

“We lost two men—two Blood‑Spear!”

“Besides the scouts, that shield‑bearer died covering your laughable, so‑called heavy fire!”

“Do you think the defeat was because of us?”

“I’ve made it clear: this was an ambush!”

“No one can evade an ambush; your heavy losses are simply because you are the weak ones!”

“Don’t you know? The Huaxia army suffered an ambush not long ago, and look what became of them?”

“They not only slew hundreds of similar monsters, they even dispatched several large ones on a whim!”

“You’re merely fighting the stragglers left by the Huaxia army; if you blame us for this, it’s absurd.”

“You damn it.”

A Guard soldier, impetuous, lunged to seize the Blood‑Spear, but clearly overestimated his speed and underestimated the gap between him and a Blood‑Spear.

The latter effortlessly evaded his strike, and before the attacker could react, the Blood‑Spear’s long blade was sheathed against his throat.

“Don’t move.”

He said in a low voice.

The surrounding Guard troops instantly raised their guns, aiming at the cold‑stared Blood‑Spear.

Tension crackled, but at that moment Jin Zhong rose.

“Drop your weapons!”

His voice carried an undeniable authority; even the most enraged Guard soldiers laid down their guns without hesitation upon hearing his command.

The Blood‑Spear exhaled slowly, sheathed his blade, and looked at Jin Zhong, saying:

“Don’t forget, we are merely partners.”

“If it weren’t for the edict of the Blood‑Spear Hall, we would never have come here.”

“Cooperating with you is less safe than aligning with the Huaxia army; I hope you understand that.”

“I understand.”

Jin Zhong nodded and stepped before him.

“I only wish to tell you that the situation no longer permits us to slaughter each other here.”

“The repelled monsters will return, their numbers far exceeding one hundred and fifty.”

“You may leave, but we will never retreat.”

“We are Jingkou’s final line of defense; should those monsters slip into the city, everything there will be effortlessly razed.”

“Choose your path.”

“Whatever decision you make, I will not stand in your way.”

When the words fell away, the lone Sanctified Blood‑bearer exhaled slowly.

After a long, heavy silence, he spoke:

“I shall stay.”

“My comrades have already perished ahead; at least I hope their deaths were not in vain.”

“May you hold the line.”

Having said so, the Sanctified Blood‑bearer vaulted away, while Jin Zhong, still rooted on the spot, resolutely waved his hand and issued his command:

“Do not linger; set up the defenses.”

“Holding our ground is the finest strategy we can choose.”

“Friends, we may die here, but—”

“You shall not die here.”

Before Jin Zhong could finish, a voice crackled suddenly from the radio strapped to his chest.

He frowned, lifted the handset, and the voice continued:

“You fight bravely; that is commendable.”

“But you are, to some degree, lacking in prudence.”

“Move one kilometer east; there lies a ridge.”

“Establish a defense there; we will rendezvous with you.”

“We have discerned the monsters’ habits and tactics; rest assured, this battle will not be overly arduous.”

When the sentence ended, the radio fell silent.

The adjutant beside him stared in astonishment at Jin Zhong and asked:

“Is this the Imperial Guard’s support?”

“Should we obey their orders?”

Jin Zhong drew a deep breath, shook his head, and answered:

“No, it is not the Imperial Guard.”

“But we must follow what they say.”

“The opposition is the Huaxia army!”

(End of Chapter)