Chapter 290: Intertwining Company, Attack!

Chapter 290 Interleaved, Attack!

“Zhang Tao has agreed to our demands, but only with limits.”

Standing before the newly completed nitric acid production line’s catalytic furnace, Lei Jie turned to Chen Jian and said:

“This kid is certainly no good—He Shuo’s judgment was correct; he indeed intends to use monsters to balance us.”

“They do not wish either side of the Beast Tide to win; instead, under limited intervention, they hope we both fall.”

“Devour the tiger, swallow the wolf; what he seeks is no different from what Jin Cheng wanted before.”

“Only perhaps he will do it more covertly, or—more gently?”

“Indeed.”

Chen Jian nodded.

“Once one sits upon the saint’s throne, all preset premises cease to apply.”

“We once thought Zhang Tao might be a revolutionary, yet now it seems power and status have corroded him as well.”

“If there is a next time, if we still intend to control the Mechanical Cult through ‘agents,’ we must consider this aspect.”

“We must strip power from reward entirely; he may hold power, but he must no longer reap its benefits.”

“That’s difficult, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.”

Chen Jian smiled.

“Not only in this wasteland, even in our own era, no person or organization has ever truly achieved a complete, thorough separation.”

“That is, in itself, an act against humanity and against logic.”

“But then again, isn’t progress itself a rebellion against humanity?”

“Moreover, in this world the relatively barbaric environment grants us more strategic possibilities.”

“By the standards of our time, the arsenal we possess, the toolkit at our disposal, far exceeds that of any ‘ordered society.’”

“What are the specifics?”

Lei Jie asked curiously.

“It’s simple: on one hand, pave the way with ideals, subjectively limiting the ruler’s selfish intent.”

“On the other, employ the most straightforward ‘extralegal authority’ to suppress, objectively preventing self‑serving acts, or, should they arise, punish promptly and confiscate all gains.”

“That is why I say our toolkit will be richer.”

“Because in our era, only under the most extreme circumstances could we take a life.”

“But now… it’s no longer such a hassle.”

“It is pure authoritarian politics.”

Lei Jie furrowed his brow, paused a few seconds, then continued:

“This hinges heavily on the purity of the top‑level organization—if one day even we, even the Huaxia army, lose that purity, this system will naturally collapse.”

“That is indeed the case.”

Chen Jian sighed.

“So this is merely a short‑term transitional plan; I have not yet figured out the long‑term course of action.”

“It’s truly intricate.”

Lei Jie clicked his tongue and shook his head, then said:

“Compared to that, the question of how to climb the tech tree is simpler.”

“That said, the nitric acid line is now complete; next, shall we begin forging our own bullets and shells?”

“Yes.”

Chen Jian eased his slightly sore neck, then said:

“My assessment is that, since Zhang Tao has shown clear intent to stall, it is highly likely that before our ammunition supplies are entirely exhausted, we will no longer receive the munitions they provide.”

“We must solve it ourselves.”

“Now the problem arises: if I ask you to produce enough shells for our use in a short span, do you think it will be difficult?”

Lei Jie pondered briefly, then answered:

“Not difficult.”

As his words faded, a tree‑diagram streamed onto Chen Jian’s smart visor, its contents clearly listing every material and piece of equipment required to forge artillery shells.

“Our early preparations are relatively ample; the materials are essentially complete.”

“Copper, steel, mercury, nitric acid, abundant natural oils.”

“Even calculating from current stockpiles, it suffices to produce three to four hundred 152‑mm howitzer shells.”

“And the rear‑line production at Base 011 has never truly ceased; each day we still generate fresh raw material.”

“If the equipment arrives promptly, a conservative estimate is that our daily output could yield thirty to forty shells.”

“That figure already essentially meets our ammunition reserve needs.”

“Frankly, we could hardly ever reach that point—if we truly ran out of shells and had to forge on the spot, we might as well drop a few nuclear warheads and finish the job.”

“Indeed.”

Chen Jian nodded in agreement, then asked:

“But regardless, thirty shells is far too low, isn’t it?”

“Manufacturing shells isn’t the same as forging barrels; as far as I know, even the most complex shell fuzes can be substituted with a suggested M739‑type solution.”

“In theory, those tiny precision parts shouldn’t be hard to make with metal 3D‑printing technology.”

“So what limits output?”

“Glycerol.”

Lei Jie spread his hands.

“We lack petroleum, so we must produce glycerol from natural oils via saponification.”

“But we have little natural oil, so—”

“Damn!”

Chen Jian let loose a profanity, and Lei Jie, puzzled, looked at him and asked:

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a waste!”

Chen Jian was heart‑broken.

“Did you forget? We just incinerated the corpses of over a thousand monsters!”

“Those bodies can’t be all protein; surely a substantial portion must be oil, right?”

“We've burned everything now; isn't that a colossal waste??”

“I'm going.”

Leijie stared dumbfounded.

“So you mean we should also make use of the corpses of the monsters we killed?”

“That's inevitable! If they're useful, we absolutely must not waste them!”

“So, in truth, our most pressing task right now isn’t to erect the artillery production line.”

“What’s so hard about an artillery line? By the method used over at Baishawa, even a hand‑powered hammer could forge it.”

“The most urgent matter now is to construct the incineration tower.”

“Incineration tower”

Leijie instinctively repeated the term, inhaling a sharp breath as he said:

“Honestly, I'm starting to feel a little scared.”

“The incineration tower is understandable, after all, the bodies need to be dealt with.”

“But building an incineration tower to harvest natural oils feels… somehow off to me.”

“Don’t let your imagination run wild.”

Chen Jian quickly cut Leijie off.

“We only intend to burn monsters; we have no plans to torch anything else.”

“Then you’d need something to burn. Never mind, let’s skip that topic.”

“Shen Yue’s guerrilla operation is about to launch; I think you should go take a look.”

“You’re truly scared.”

Chen Jian gave a mildly teasing smile, then said:

“Fine, I’ll go over there and have a look.”

“But regardless, the incineration tower must be built.”

“After all, we’re truly short of glycerin and soap right now.”

A few minutes later, Chen Jian approached Shen Yue, who was selecting new recruits on the plaza of Base 011, and stood behind him.

He did not step forward immediately, but waited quietly in place, watching Shen Yue call out names one by one.

“Chen Shu!”

“Present!”

“Fall in!”

“Li Shiyi!”

“Present!” “Fall in!”

“Yu Qian!”

“Present!”

“Fall in!”

One name after another rolled from Shen Yue’s mouth, and one silhouette after another stepped out of the line.

When the roll call ended, the number of people standing outside the formation had reached thirty.

Each of those thirty was a “battle hero” who had performed bravely in earlier fights, yet today they stood there not to receive medals or rewards of their own.

On the contrary, they were granted a “chance to keep fighting.”

Those thirty would be assigned to the newly formed Interleaved Company, accompanying two Huaxia Army infantry squads on interdiction and assault missions against the beast tide.

Their duties would be far more than mere reconnaissance.

They would, under the support of heavy gear—tanks, towed artillery, automatic grenade launchers, 107‑mm rocket launchers—strike with devastating force at any monster they could see, targeting the beast tide’s critical gathering points far from base and supply lines.

Their aim was to swiftly eliminate leader‑grade monsters with high‑efficiency strikes, disrupt the tide’s overall coordination, and thereby delay its massing.

Undoubtedly, it would be an extraordinarily arduous and perilous undertaking.

Even their meager supplies could only be delivered by mosquito‑type bombers.

Should any battle leave supply deliveries slower than expected, plunging the Interleaved Company into an ammunition shortage, they would face the very brink of being completely out of ammo and provisions.

Thus, given this harsh reality, Shen Yue’s criteria for selecting members of the Interleaved Company were crystal‑clear.

One iron rule:

Must be voluntary.

What surprised him was that even under the banner of “complete voluntariness,” thirty individuals still stepped forward to enlist.

The number seemed modest, a small fraction of the hundreds of youths, yet Chen Jian knew that by any metric, the result was already astonishing.

His gaze swept over the thirty fresh recruits from the “Militia Reserve” at the front of the line, gradually fixing on the newcomer named “Yu Qian.”

He had to admit, Chen Jian was deeply impressed by him.

When cornered, he remained calm; when in a dire bind, he struck back brazenly; once he held the advantage, he delivered a measured finishing blow.

Though he still lacked many basic warrior skills, he already possessed a temperament that many could only envy.

That is a rare quality.

Such a trait is far rarer than any skill that can be honed through training.

Perhaps, in time, he will achieve great deeds?

Perhaps he will become the second Huang Yu?

Chen Jian dared not assert it, yet his look toward Yu Qian was already brimming with expectation.

Of course, there was also doubt.

In his memory, Yu Qian had family.

And a pair of young children.

Could he truly abandon his own children to join such a perilous mission?

It seems utterly contrary to human nature, doesn’t it?

It’s incomprehensible.

Chen Jian’s stare was nearly locked on Yu Qian, and evidently Yu Qian had noticed his focused gaze.

Yet when facing Shen Yue, he could only keep his eyes straight ahead.

Shen Yue’s exhortations echoed across the plaza, and in the final portion of his speech he declared with resolute vigor:

“You are now but raw iron.”

“But you will become the sharpest swords of the Huaxia Army!”

When his words fell, thunderous applause erupted, and cheers rose in succession.

With the speech concluded, what followed was a weapons‑bestowal ceremony akin to a commissioning rite.

As brand‑new arms were handed into the hands of the Interleaved Company’s soldiers, and as the tank that served as the steadfast anchor of Base 011 rolled before them, the proud gleam in the eyes of these brave, fearless warriors could no longer be concealed.

When the ceremony drew to a close, the soldiers of the Interleaved Company exchanged remarks about the freshly acquired weapons, their excitement tinged with speculation about the tasks ahead.

Chen Jian failed to catch a word with Shen Yue—he had already been surrounded by the veteran soldiers of the Huaxia forces within the Interleaved Company.

Thus, Chen Jian simply walked toward Yu Qian, who stood at the fringe of the crowd, looking a little solitary.

Yu Qian noticed his approach, hesitated a moment, then stepped forward of his own accord.

‘Captain!’

Awkwardly mimicking the stance of an old soldier, Yu Qian stood at attention and saluted Chen Jian; Chen returned the salute and then spoke:

‘You are Yu Qian, aren’t you?’

‘I remember you.’

‘That night, you and I together put down that level‑two monster.’

‘You were impressive—though, to be frank, you moved a touch too swiftly.’

‘I had intended to leave its corpse whole, but you drowned it in a flood of molten iron.’

Chen Jian’s final words carried a clear note of jest, which Yu Qian naturally caught.

So, after an embarrassed chuckle, he answered:

‘If next time I may still fight side by side with you, Captain, I will first listen carefully to your orders.’

‘At that moment I was indeed panicked; I thought I would die right there.’

‘Human nature.’

Chen Jian nodded, then asked bluntly:

‘Logically, the feeling of cheating death must not be pleasant, is it?’

‘You have already lived through it once; do you wish to endure it many times more?’

‘You have a son and a daughter, both still young.’

‘Why did you apply to join the Interleaved Company? Do you not know what its mission is?’

‘I know.’

Yu Qian let out a long sigh.

Then he replied:

‘Precisely because I know what the Interleaved Company’s task is, I must join.’

‘Captain Shen Yue told us plainly: if we cannot halt the gathering of the beast tide, if we cannot, by interleaving, split them into small clusters we can handle, the fate of New Jinling City will be far from good.’

‘Someone has to do it, and someone will inevitably do it.’

‘Look, we already number thirty now, do we not?’

‘But, I cannot, because they went, ’

‘But, I cannot, because they went, I will not go.’

‘Because it is my own choice.’

‘I am asking about your choice.’

Chen Jian waved his hand, cutting Yu Qian off, then said:

‘No need for such empty words; I only see that in the end you chose to abandon your children.’

‘I did not abandon them.’

Yu Qian said solemnly:

‘If the Interleaved Company fulfills its mission, even should I die, those who survive will care for them well.’

‘If the Interleaved Company fails, even if I temporarily live, I will not be able to live long.’

‘Captain, you may not know, but I have always wanted to be a merchant.’

‘Now, I have simply made a merchant’s choice.’

‘Understood.’

Chen Jian nodded and pressed no further.

He knew Yu Qian had not been entirely forthright with him.

But that mattered not.

From the moment he chose to join the Interleaved Company, he had already proven his stance.

After parting from Yu Qian, Chen Jian spoke with each of the other Interleaved Company soldiers, one by one.

Some received a few extra words; others merely a ‘Well done, keep at it.’

When he finished his conversation with the last man, the newly formed Interleaved Company had completed its roster.

They were about to claim victory in their first mission.

It was both training and real combat.

Weapons in place, gear ready.

Facing a blood‑red setting sun, they left Base 011, marching toward distant, unknown perils.

Watching the plume of smoke recede, Chen Jian lifted his radio.

He then spoke into it:

‘All comrades of the Interleaved Company, heed my command.’

‘Base 011 has established an electronic beacon and will set up an aerial physical beacon.’

‘If in future battles you lose your bearings, or if danger demands a swift withdrawal—’

‘Remember, move toward the beacon!’

(End of Chapter)