Chapter 866: This Is Us

Chapter 866: This Is Us

The clouds of war hung over the sky of Tendu, the bayonets of the Wilant nearly pressing against the throats of the Boro people. Not only the survivors in the city, but even the fish and shrimp in the Eternal River could barely breathe under the pressure.

Yet, in this precarious moment, Tendu unexpectedly saw a major event unrelated to war, bringing a breath of cool air into the stifling room.

The Education Committee of the Boro State authorities suddenly announced the establishment of Tendu University, recruiting students of appropriate age, ranging from 12 to 16 and 16 to 20 years old.

The former would enter preparatory courses, the latter undergraduate programs, covering fields such as engineering, natural sciences, and social sciences.

Since Tendu University currently had only a signboard, with neither teaching buildings nor teachers, and not even the most basic textbooks, these students were temporarily scheduled to study at Mammoth University in Mammoth City.

This recruitment planned to admit 500 students, including 300 for preparatory courses and 200 for undergraduate programs.

The Boro State Education Committee would cover all expenses for the selected students during their studies, including tuition and living costs.

After completing their preparatory courses, students would decide, based on their grades and subsequent changes in the war situation, whether to stay in Mammoth City for further studies or return to Tendu City for undergraduate education.

As for the latter, after finishing their studies, they would return to Tendu to serve as professors at Tendu University, or the Boro State authorities would arrange other professional jobs matching their expertise.

In short, once admitted, one need not worry about the rest of their life—the Grand Commander would handle that worry for them.

The exams would be held in the Heavenly Palace of Tendu. Apart from age, the only requirement was literacy and numeracy.

After all, if one couldn't even write their own name, taking the exam would be a waste of paper and everyone's time.

Although the war was ongoing, making this endeavor seem somewhat untimely, with Abusayek's endorsement, the reform plan proposed by Commissioner Kabaha passed smoothly without obstacles.

Not only did the authorities face little resistance, but the residents of Tendu City were also filled with enthusiasm for this matter.

Abusayek was sending five hundred students to study in Mammoth City!

This was huge news!

After all, going to Mammoth City meant avoiding conscription and leaving the dangerous front lines!

Not only that!

Upon return, Abusayek would arrange official positions for them!

Could such a stroke of good fortune really exist in this world?

Once the news spread, the entire city of Tendu was stirred!

Although the notice didn't say so explicitly, seeing the rubber stamp on it, almost everyone mentally translated the information they read.

Afraid of missing this chance to change their fate, all literate survivors, regardless of age, rushed to sign up.

There were also parents signing up for their sons and daughters.

Especially the latter, who made up the vast majority.

Whether learned or not, all registered candidates crammed for the exams, sparking a wave of learning in Tendu.

All available books in the market were snapped up.

Buyers included well-dressed people in long-sleeved clothes, soldiers in uniform, and old farmers with only a cloth tied around their waists.

Most weren't reading for themselves but buying for their children at home.

Later, when books ran out, even the newspapers at the kiosks suffered the same fate.

Almost anything with writing on it was swept clean.

"…Holy crap, are these NPCs this eager to learn?" Debt-Eyes stared in surprise at the emptied newsstand.

This was completely different from what he had seen in Golden Harbor.

There, people were also studious—almost every girl he met claimed to be a student—but he had never witnessed a scene where even newsstands were looted clean.

"Hmm… nothing to do with us. Let's head back to camp," said Construction-Site-Boy-and-Brick with a subtle expression.

These Boro people always went to extremes in everything, like now.

What they truly craved wasn't knowledge or justice, but the power it might bring.

He couldn't say whether this was good or bad, but for those who had lived under feudalism just a few years ago, it was clearly a form of progress.

Though he hadn't seen the exam papers, it was still far more reliable than selecting talent through animal chess.

The two strolled back to the camp, where several young officers stood at the entrance.

One of them looked familiar, apparently named Isher, who had been quite prominent during the Westport Incident.

After that incident, Old Eagle's posts never mentioned him again, only saying he later became a thousand-man commander in the border army, stationed at the border between Boro State and Westport, and his fate was unknown after the war began.

Unexpectedly, the guy was still alive.

Truly a survivor, like a rat.

Just then, Edge-Drifting also came out of the camp, exchanged a few words with the group of officers, and then turned to look at the ten-thousand-man commander who would accompany them on the march.

"You must be Isher."

"Third Ten-Thousand-Man Corps Commander Isher! Awaiting the general's orders!" Isher stood at attention, saluted, and spoke in a booming voice.

Looking at this spirited young officer, Edge-Drifting smiled.

"I'm no general, just a legion commander. By your ranks, my rank might not even be higher than yours."

In truth, players had no ranks; instead, they had a contribution point system representing their contributions to the Alliance.

Isher laughed heartily at this.

"What are you saying! You are the teacher, I am the student—that's a different hierarchy. Please don't be polite; if you see anything amiss, just tell me, and I'll definitely correct it!"

This fellow had an interesting way with words.

Edge-Drifting laughed heartily and said in a teasing tone.

"I was worried before that the Grand Commander might send someone inflexible with me, but now it seems I was overthinking. Good! Guerrilla warfare needs exactly your quick wit—I have high hopes for you!"

Isher grinned, a hint of pride in his brows, like a student praised.

From his perspective, that was indeed the case.

After all, this was the legion commander of the Death Corps!

It was said that during the Torch War, this corps from the Valley Province, as part the Coalition of Survivors, had rendered great service to the survivor faction, liberating two provinces from the Torch!

In contrast, their predecessors—the rat-race soldiers who had campaigned in Jinchuan Province—had only played a minor role, not even qualifying as third-line troops.

Receiving recognition from the Death Corps' legion commander made him prouder than any medal Abusayek had given him.

"By the way, general, how should I address you?"

Edge-Drifting paused, coughed awkwardly, and said.

"Uh… just call me Edge. That's what my brothers call me."

Some usernames felt fine when typed but were embarrassing to say aloud.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who felt this way; Isher also paused upon hearing the name.

Edge.

What a strange name.

But he had heard that people from the Alliance were like this, especially those from the shelters of the Prosperity Era.

With a keen eye for reading people, he immediately caught the awkwardness on Brother Bianyuan's face, so he smiled and changed the subject.

"...So, General Bianyuan, when do we head to the front?"

Bianyuan Huashui grinned and replied.

"Up to you—we're ready, we can move out anytime."

Yishel: "What a coincidence, so are we!"

Bianyuan Huashui raised an eyebrow slightly, giving the man before him a second glance.

"Alright, since you said so, let's go now!"

...

While the survivors of Tiandu City were busy preparing for exams, a massive army quietly slipped out of the city.

Led by the Death Corps, nearly two hundred thousand troops once again marched to the front lines.

Among them, only the Third Ten-Thousand-Man Unit under Yishel could be considered Abusek's direct force; the rest were mostly commanded by old subordinates of Youduono.

In other words, they were the "defeated army" that had withdrawn from Lion City.

But despite their recent defeat, their morale was not low—in fact, it was high.

Because the brothers of the Alliance stood with them.

They did not see themselves as cannon fodder; quite the opposite.

This was a chance for revenge!

They would repay the humiliation of that day to the Willant people, showing those big-noses that they, too, had backbone!

And at the same time, they would show Abusek and the survivors of Tiandu that they were no cowards!

In this new battle, they would change the strategy used in Lion Province, deploying half their forces to maintain the advance while the other half followed the Death Corps officers to infiltrate behind enemy lines.

Take, for example, the Third Ten-Thousand-Man Unit, which led the charge alongside the Death Corps.

Though most of this unit were new recruits, Yishel did not coddle them or keep them idle in the rear.

The battlefield was unpredictable; sometimes danger could be safer.

Especially if the Legion was eager to capture Tiandu, the fighting on the front lines might be fiercer than Abusek anticipated, making the distinction between front and rear meaningless.

Of course, part of this risky decision came from Yishel's intuition.

His gut told him that staying close to the Alliance would be safer.

And more likely to learn real skills.

Though his young men had no chance to study in Mammoth Kingdom, he believed this experience would still be a bold stroke on their résumés.

Just like the West Sailport Massacre was for him.

As long as they survived and achieved final victory, they would have passed the test...

The Death Corps commander did not stop them; instead, he gladly took them and these brave young men along.

Thus, after three days and nights of marching, the two forces arrived at the border of Niu Province and Lion Province, at a place called Akale County.

This was the bend of the Eternal Flow River, a strategic point neither side could ignore.

The river, originating from the western side of the Zhuobar Mountains, spread like a dense spiderweb, pouring into western Niu Province, winding and meandering at the junction of hills and plains like a coiled python.

Upon reaching Akale County, the river's flow shifted from north-south to west-east, cutting through the central plains until it emptied into the eastern estuary of Bolo Province.

As the flooding river constantly eroded the western bank and plains, a vast floodplain and alluvial plain formed on the lower western side.

On the eastern side of the winding river lay a near-primitive forest, its dense trees stretching northward along the rolling hills until merging into the Zhuobar Mountain range.

After aerial reconnaissance and on-site surveys of the terrain, the Death Corps decided to camp on the eastern bank, dispersing 155mm field guns and 20mm quadruple anti-aircraft machine guns within the forest.

The floodplain on the western bank would effectively slow the Legion's mobile units.

If the enemy wanted to enter Akale County, they could not ignore this thorn lodged across the river—unless they planned to completely abandon their supply lines.

After completing the strategic deployment, Bianyuan Huashui found Yishel and instructed him to scatter the various combat units into the forest to dig L-shaped foxholes, each large enough to hide a single person.

The logistics units would deliver supplies every three days.

At other times, if there were no tasks, each unit would stay in their holes and await orders.

This was only part of the preparations.

Besides these "rat holes" scattered in the forest, they also needed to set up fixed firing positions, such as light machine gun nests, to ambush Willant soldiers who ventured deep into the woods.

Though the new recruits were clumsy, with help from the Death Corps players, they managed not to make too many mistakes.

It took them three full days to complete the fortifications.

Now, all that remained was to wait patiently...

Given the Willants' impatience, they wouldn't have to wait long.

The day after the fortifications were finished, the player Bianyuan Huashui had sent ahead for reconnaissance quickly reported back—

The Legion's troops had arrived!

...

Crouching on a hill near the river, [Yang Youbao] raised his binoculars and glanced at the distant floodplain, then suddenly blurted out without warning.

"This place would be great for farming."

[Midnight Umbrella No Knife] looked at him in surprise.

"You know about that?"

Yang Youbao grinned.

"Of course I do—food +3."

Midnight Umbrella No Knife: "…?"

What the hell?

Before he could figure out what the guy was talking about, Laplace beside him couldn't help but chime in.

"...What version are you on? If you don't build a Great Bathhouse nowadays, it's trash—floods keep eating your population, and the bonuses are negligible."

Yang Youbao: "Ah... I think it's okay. Anyway, if the National Park isn't within three tiles at the start, I reroll."

Laplace: "Damn, wouldn't you be rerolling all day?!"

Yang Youbao: "Gotta do something while waiting for the respawn cooldown."

Laplace: "..."

Seeing his buddy go silent, Yang Youbao grinned and coaxed.

"Let's play together when we die—reroll together."

Laplace: "Get lost."

Midnight Umbrella No Knife stared at them blankly.

"What the hell are you two talking about?!"

It wasn’t just midnight that was dumbfounded; Isher, who happened to overhear their conversation, was equally bewildered.

Not because of what they were talking about, but because he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

“Did you make up your own language?” Isher asked, turning to the Edge beside him, curiosity piqued.

The Edge’s expression was subtle; he nodded.

“You could say that…”

If it wasn’t self-made, could it have been given by aliens?

Isher nodded, his face betraying no emotion, but inside he was fiercely envious.

Having a shared language—that too was a sign of cohesion, wasn’t it?

Ever since he realized that “Awakener Bohr” couldn’t save the Boro Province, he had been pondering a new path, and now he finally had a spark of inspiration.

If the survivors of the Boro Province wanted a way out, they truly needed their own culture…

Just as he was thinking this, a rolling cloud of dust suddenly appeared on the edge of the horizon, clearly kicked up by vehicle tires.

Spotting the situation, Edge Paddling immediately raised a hand, and everyone quickly hid behind cover, pressing themselves flat to the ground, leaving no trace of vulnerability.

Isher did the same, every muscle in his body tensed, instinctively holding his breath.

Just as that billowing dust appeared on the horizon, a towering steel fortress at the same moment pushed aside the thick clouds, revealing its oppressive form in the sky.

The “Horn”!

Isher’s eyes widened, his pupils half-filled with fear, half with hatred and rage.

He clenched his fists, wishing he could tear that thing apart with his gaze!

That was what bombed Lion City!

He would never forget the raging flames that day in the city, and his compatriots fleeing in despair amid the fire.

A player lying beside the cover raised binoculars, but lacked such rich inner turmoil; he simply gazed at the distant vehicles, calmly observing the enemy.

“Three ‘Greyhounds’!”

“That’s a Valiant reconnaissance team; behind them is probably a mechanized infantry brigade…”

“Wonder if it’s the 30th Myriad Corps—would be great if we ran into them.”

“Hey, didn’t their recon teams used to come with ten vehicles?”

“Their ‘supplier’ isn’t cutting it.”

“Or maybe our ‘Laken’ is just too effective.”

“Haha.”

Staring intently at the approaching dust cloud, the players lying in the positions chatted and laughed, as if they didn’t take the enemy seriously at all.

“Don’t worry, brother.”

Noticing Isher’s tense expression, Edge Paddling placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, grinning.

“Trust me, there’s nothing to fear from that thing.”

Back when they faced MacLenn, half their gear was self-made, half was captured, even the life-skill players had to fill the line—and in the end, they still took that thing down, didn’t they?

He had always believed that people were the decisive factor in victory.

Isher’s Adam’s apple bobbed; he took a deep breath and calmed down.

“Mm… Is there anything I can do?”

Edge Paddling looked back at the rolling dust ahead, narrowing his eyes.

“What you can do is stay hidden.”

“We’ll teach you how to conceal yourself under enemy fire, how to survive, and then when they think we’re all dead, we’ll jump out and hit them hard.”

“This war has just begun; there’s plenty more to come. If one day we’re gone, you pass on what we’ve taught you to your other compatriots, and carry our banner forward.”

Carry it forward…

Isher’s eyes flickered with emotion.

“…Is this the Death Corps?”

“You could say that—this is us.”

No sooner had Edge Paddling spoken than the slowly moving airship suddenly lowered its gun barrels, spitting flashing bursts of fire toward the east bank of the Eternal River!

Watching the rain of shells, Isher’s pupils contracted violently.

“They’ve found us?!”

Edge Paddling laughed.

“No need to find us—in such an obvious spot, anyone knows we’re here… That’s why I told you to spread out and dig your shell-scrape pits first.”

Firing on the move, rather than dropping anchor chains first, meant the enemy clearly hadn’t pinpointed their location.

And just as he predicted, the shells had no accuracy at all, doing Brownian motion in the sky before crashing into an empty mountain wilderness.

The whole mountain range had at least thirty or forty peaks; hundreds of shells hit like toothpicks stuck into bread.

The roar of explosions came almost simultaneously with the thunder from above, shaking the entire forest.

Edge Paddling frowned, suddenly sensing something unusual in the smoke of the blasts.

“Gas shells,” he realized, quickly grabbing a spare gas mask and tossing it onto Isher’s chest. “Put this on.”

Isher didn’t hesitate; he immediately put on the mask the Alliance brother had thrown him.

But then he remembered—the brothers crouching in the foxholes didn’t have any yet.

“My men…”

“We left gas masks in the supplies for them… My brothers taught them how to use them,” Edge Paddling said quietly, staring at the airship above.

The things weren’t expensive; they each carried two, and seeing the 3rd Myriad Corps brothers didn’t have any, they gave half of theirs away.

The 3rd Myriad Corps had only two thousand-man units deployed on the front line, while the Death Corps here had five thousand—sharing some was more than enough.

But what he hadn’t expected was that the Legion would pull out gas shells.

He thought they’d burn the mountain, but it seemed he’d overestimated their bottom line.

Yellow-green gas spread through the forest; some trees withered visibly.

The gas was clearly denser than air and didn’t drift away immediately.

If not for the gas masks, the consequences would have been unthinkable!

Just then, a wind blew, scattering some of the gas lingering over the hill.

Probably thinking anyone in the mountains was dead, the reconnaissance vehicles patrolling near the riverbank circled once, then reluctantly moved forward under their commander’s orders.

At the same time, rows of armored personnel carriers rolled in from the distance.

The unit was sizable—by its formation, it looked like a thousand-man corps, equivalent to an Alliance regiment.

Sheep Again put down his binoculars and turned excitedly to Edge Paddling.

"They seem to be preparing to cross the river!"

"It looks like their commander still lacks confidence in his own artillery."

Edge Paddling chuckled softly, pressing his hand on the communicator hanging from his shoulder.

"All units, attention—the enemy is preparing to cross the river!"

"Wait until they finish laying the bridge and get ashore before engaging!"

A series of crisp acknowledgments came through the comm channel.

"Roger!"