Chapter 825: Hell and Heaven Are Only Thousands of Kilometers Apart

Chapter 825: Only a Few Thousand Kilometers Between Hell and Heaven

At the same moment Ross’s reinforcements approached the harbor, the Heavenly King’s soldiers stationed in West Sail Port were eagerly waiting, ready to teach those big-nosed fellows a lesson.

Commanding the first line of defense was the Thousand Commander Imran.

At this very moment, he held a pair of binoculars supplied by the Valiants, “secretly observing” the four warships approaching in the distance.

Three seemed to be transport ships, and one dark, nondescript thing should be a warship, but it was too far away to make out the specifics.

Seeing only one warship, Imran felt a bit relieved.

It seemed, as His Majesty Yanush had said, the Legion couldn’t send many men.

In truth, until four days ago, he had been a centurion in the city defense force, living a carefree life—fishing and napping on odd days, bullying and harassing on even ones.

But because his commander had fled the battlefield, they had defected to the rebels almost without firing a shot.

Actually, it wasn’t their fault for not resisting.

Due to the Westland Empire’s unique “ecological environment,” the Heavenly Capital had to guard strictly against local forces, and local nobles had no interest in supporting troops they couldn’t command.

Thus, in the Westland Empire, the city defense force—unloved by both grandmother and uncle—was the bottom of the barrel in combat effectiveness. Though its name included “city defense,” its daily duties had nothing to do with defense—just bullying the mud-legged farmers, street vendors, or thugs like themselves.

Yanush, a former Gray Wolf Army man, actually looked down on them.

Yet perhaps out of a desire for more numbers, or perhaps out of desperation with no one else to use, he ultimately accepted them all without exception.

Not only that.

This benevolent Heavenly King not only retained the original officers of the city defense force but also generously promoted and even entrusted them, even granting them the prosperous West Sail Port!

Imran could see that their Heavenly King had grand ambitions!

This noble Heavenly King truly intended to overthrow that corrupt and incompetent empire!

They weren’t without a chance.

Currently, the empire’s ace troops were far away in Mammoth Province, unable to return in time, and utterly incapable of doing so.

In contrast, their Heavenly King, relying on the legend of the Sky Wolf Devouring the Sun and the proclamation of freeing all slaves, had raised a massive army of two hundred thousand in just a few days!

Though the quality of this army was uneven, with serious issues in equipment and supplies, their sheer size and high morale were overwhelming!

They were like a snowball rolling down a mountain—growing larger and more powerful, eventually turning into an avalanche that would sweep everything away!

And if this guy actually succeeded, then he, Imran, would at least share in the glory of supporting the new ruler!

Maybe he’d even get a count title...

Just as Imran was daydreaming, a sudden cannon blast from afar yanked him back to reality.

He shuddered, instinctively using all his strength to grab the walkie-talkie and shout loudly.

“It’s the Legion! The Valiants! Those big-noses are coming! Everyone, prepare for battle—!”

His loud voice, crackling through the broadcast, instantly spread across the entire battlefield.

Spurred by that hoarse shout, cries erupted one after another along the entire defense line.

“Ooh-ooh-ooh!!”

“Damn Valiants!”

“Fuck them! Show these big-noses some color!”

The chaotic noise was like the squeaking of rats; at this moment, they were still clamoring for battle, utterly unaware that disaster had already struck.

The first to attack was the 380mm naval gun on the shallow-draft heavy gunboat.

A thick, long flame shot up from the dark, grim steel deck, like a sword piercing the sky, or a thunderbolt cleaving the clear air!

When that deafening roar pushed through the layers of waves, the little rats guarding the harbor finally realized, in a daze, what kind of enemy they were facing.

No one had ever dared to provoke these beings born for war like this.

“Boom—!!!”

Boiling lava exploded on the brick-paved road!

Bricks flew up like pulled weeds, and the sweeping shockwave, like a plow, instantly cleared the entire street!

The two 100mm cannons set up at the street corner had no time to fire, not even catching a glimpse of the target, before they were crushed into twisted scrap metal by the scorching blast.

The gunners and loaders crouching nearby didn’t even have time to scream before they were shattered into fragments along with the broken shop windows on both sides.

As for the unlucky ones at the edge of the blast zone, they lay like discarded rags in the rubble.

Half-dead was the worst.

Those wounded by the explosion twitched and trembled, struggling in the debris...

“Ah...”

“My... leg...”

“Aaaah!”

“Help... no... I don’t want to die...”

The entire harbor fell into deathly silence.

Only the crackling of broken beams and the wailing and howling under the thick smoke remained.

Some clutched their severed legs and wept bitterly, some curled up like shrimp balls, and others futilely tried to shove their spilling intestines back into their bellies...

The Heavenly King’s soldiers holding their guns stood frozen in place.

Staring at the street that had instantly turned to rubble, they lost the power of speech in that moment.

What... was that?

It seemed like just a blink of an eye.

The defenses they had spent two days and two nights building were crumpled up and thrown into the sky.

Half a century of men was wiped out in an instant, and they hadn’t even seen where the Valiants were...

“Pat-pat—”

Suddenly, a “black rain” fell from the sky.

The stones and mud flung up by the artillery fire rained down “swish-swish” onto the soldiers’ cover, onto their helmets, even into their collars...

Waking countless people from their dreams!

Standing at the front line, Thousand Commander Imran gaped, unaware that he had already wet his pants.

He finally understood why Yanush had left here in such a hurry.

His thoughts at this moment were exactly the same as that man’s, and exactly the same as his former commander’s!

In the end, his former commander was the truly wise one—that man, who usually kept a low profile, was clearer-headed than anyone.

That man had known from the start that the moment the rebels occupied the harbor district, West Sail Port was doomed, whether they resisted or not, they were dead!

So why resist at all?

Time to flee!

Imran opened his mouth, struggling to mask the panic on his face, and bellowed with a bluster that belied his fear.

“...No, don’t anyone panic! We’ve got numbers here! They’ve only got three—no, four ships! Let them try to come ashore; once they do, I’ll make them pay!”

Even if only to buy himself time to flee, he needed those little rats to hold the line.

Shouting his threats, he edged backward, finally switching off the radio linked to the broadcast, dumping the task of commanding the soldiers onto his equally trembling adjutant.

As for himself, he cobbled together a flimsy excuse and, amid the despairing gazes of his ragtag crew, scurried away from the frontline command post in a panic.

Just as he had prayed, the Verrants indeed had no intention of coming ashore.

At least not yet.

That first shell had been nothing but a ranging shot.

Once the impact point was confirmed, the long, thick cannon barrel flared again—and again and again, spewing tongues of fire!

The roaring shells blanketed the entire harbor, blasting the defenders cowering in the buildings into a frantic, gibbering rout.

West Sail Harbor was no military port; it had no sturdy fortifications or shelters to speak of.

As for the marble structures the Verrants had brought here, they offered not a shred of cover to the rats hiding inside—crumbling at the slightest touch before those 380-millimeter heavy guns.

Like tofu smashed by a cleaver!

By the time the third shell landed, the morale of the Heavenly King’s thousand-man garrison stationed at the port had utterly collapsed.

In the end, most of them had no real idea why they were fighting, what victory would even mean—they’d only vaguely thought they might win.

Not until the thunder of the cannons erupted did they realize how absurd the fog in their heads had been; real war was nothing like their fantasies!

But regret came too late...

The roar of the guns did not cease for their fear or their wails; it rolled straight over their heads, grinding its way into the nearby districts.

Countless defenders fell, and so did the civilians in the city. Just days ago ravaged by rebels, they now suffered the Verrants’ brutal beating anew.

The bombardment lasted a full ten-odd minutes, leaving the once-bustling harbor shrouded in billowing smoke.

“Enough!”

Maclen reached out, gripping Ross by the shoulder, turning the latter’s face toward him.

Ross’s eyes were bloodshot, like a demon clawing its way out of hell, his lips twitching uncontrollably.

“Enough... Enough? Not nearly enough! You saw it too! Look what they’ve done! Those beasts... I’ll slaughter every last one of them! They must pay blood for blood!”

He screamed hysterically, every muscle in his face quivering.

After all, he had no real obligation to obey Maclen’s orders, and in that moment, he forgot all respect for his superior.

Maclen, however, did not rebuke his insolence—his own feelings were the same.

“I agree with you, but don’t forget—that’s our harbor.”

Maclen stared at him unblinkingly, his gaze icy, his hands on Ross’s shoulders tightening slightly.

“Besides, don’t you think a firing squad is too good for those bastards?”