Chapter 692: An Accidental 'Melee'

Chapter 692: A Serendipitous "Melee"

On the official website of "Wasteland OL."

Almost as soon as the peak hours for logging in and out arrived, a post that ignited a hot topic was pinned to the top of the forum.

Night Ten: "Big news! There's an event at French Fry Port the day after tomorrow! (LOL)"

Ever since the clearance of Clearwater City, the dog-like game planner hadn't come up with any new tricks for a long time.

As soon as everyone heard about an event, regardless of where it was or how far they were from it, they all got excited instantly.

Edge Paddler: "What kind of event?"

Spring Commander: "Wait, aren't you still in Dawn City?"

Debt Big Eye: "Exactly! I saw you yesterday, hanging out with that NPC from the Academy!"

Night Ten: "Doesn't matter! My bro is at French Fry Port, so I'm there too. (LOL)"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Damn, can you stop messing around and just tell us what's going on?"

Fang Chang: "Based on clues from the Southern Archipelago Federation's maritime patrol, it seems someone deliberately lured them away from their patrol zone."

Mole in Canyon Escape: "Finally, someone with a bit more info shows up. (Squint)"

Spring Commander: "Interesting. So they first get rid of the people who might get in the way?"

Fang Chang: "Yeah. If the identity of the incoming target would be awkward for the Southern Archipelago Federation's maritime patrol, then there's only one possibility."

Spring Commander: "Torch?"

Fang Chang: "Eighty percent sure. Only that explains why the Federation authorities would orchestrate such an exercise and leave such an obvious loophole."

"After all, if it were the Legion or the Xilan Empire—forces with no ties to the Southern Archipelago Federation—even if they suddenly attacked French Fry Port, it wouldn't seem to have much to do with the Federation, right?"

"From there, I can even infer that the group or monsters about to strike French Fry Port might be the same ones that sank the 'Golden Coast' survey ship, or at least using the same weapons... And that's one reason they're so sensitive about it."

Elf King Wealth: "What do you think it could be? Those winged mutants we encountered back in Jinhe City? (Curious)"

Fang Chang: "Why couldn't it be something swimming in the sea? Didn't that NPC named Huang Guangwei and his submersible already hint at it? There are aquatic mutant activities along the southern coastal area."

Sisi: "Makes sense. Though I feel the possibility of aquatic aberrations isn't small either, but the mobility of those big guys seems like a problem."

Spring Commander: "Pfft, I thought it was some big event. I'm out, I'm out."

Mole in Canyon Escape: "So the cards are already on the table? (LOL)"

Trash Picker Level 99: "Damn, did you and Brother Guang have some secret deal?"

Irena: "Confirmed script reading. (LOL)"

Tail: "Whoa! Spread the word! Dolly got cucked by the dog planner! (///ω///)"

Fang Chang: "?"

The post quickly went off-topic.

But most players had no objections to Brother Fang Chang's analysis.

So far, the updates for "Wasteland OL" had been fairly logical, with no cheap tricks like popular NPCs turning dark and then redeeming themselves in turns.

In other words, players could analyze the main storyline of the next version through in-game intelligence, even predicting the big pitfalls the dog planner had dug in advance.

Based on the available intel, it was almost certain that the event two days later was ninety percent a mutant attack—and an attack from under the sea!

At that moment, sitting in the shelter and peeping at the screen, Chu Guang read through the players' discussions from start to finish, feeling a wave of admiration.

Though the logic of the analysis was a bit forced, from a game perspective, it wasn't wrong.

From the players' viewpoint, they could only analyze up to the tactical level.

As for Chu Guang himself, the manager and sole planner, he was naturally more focused on the strategic level.

"...If the Torch Church really pulls out the mutant card, it seems they don't have many cards to play in the sea."

Seeing a faint smile on Chu Guang's face, Xiao Qi, sitting on the pen holder at the corner of the desk, tilted her head in confusion.

"Is there a connection between the two things?"

Taking a sip of milk-laced black tea, Chu Guang spoke unhurriedly.

"Luring away the people who might get in the way because they're afraid of being seen suggests they've used this card more than once. If they had any other choice, I doubt they'd risk unnecessary trouble by reusing the same card."

If that were the case, it wouldn't be hard to understand why those utterly unscrupulous madmen were so unusually cautious toward the survivor factions in the southern seas.

The survivors of the southern seas were their only key to extending their reach into the ocean and breaking their strategic deadlock.

They needed Coral City as a research base, and they needed the mother nest on the Tiangong Space Station.

The problem was, their strength in the ocean was too weak.

Bullying a few civilian vessels might be fine, but once they faced the warships of the Southern Archipelago Federation, those aberrations controlled by psychic interference devices would become a joke.

That was a survivor faction that had developed for two centuries. Even if their strength couldn't match the "fallen empires," they still had a strong start.

At least stronger than the Alliance's start, which relied entirely on "trash picking."

That was why the Torch Church adopted a gradual infiltration model toward the survivors of the southern seas, even offering precious items like psychic interference devices as bait.

But just as Torch was going all out to absorb the southern sea survivors, the Alliance's sudden intervention threw a wrench into their plans.

It seemed the players' series of actions in the Bashi Strait had indeed made the bishop in charge of that region anxious.

A hint of amusement curled at the corner of Chu Guang's brow. His interlaced fingers rested on the table.

This was an interesting feeling.

Though he hadn't met his opponent yet, he had already roughly guessed how many cards they held, what their strategic goals were, and what their weaknesses were.

Now, the only suspense was whether the players' "predictions of the dog planner" would be accurate.

If they really guessed right—that the mastermind behind the brewing attack was the Torch Church, and the attacking claws were the aquatic mutants Torch had raised along the Death Coast—then the battle was already a third won before it even began.

Thinking this, the smile at the corner of Chu Guang's mouth grew even more pleased. He took another sip of tea.

"How interesting."

Sitting on the pen holder, swinging her little legs, Xiao Qi secretly watched Chu Guang without speaking, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

Though she didn't know what was happening, she felt that her master, who seemed to have done nothing, had already won again...

...

On a vast blue sea, the flagship rose and fell with the waves like a lone leaf.

A merchant dressed in luxurious attire stood by the railing, gazing at the frothy white foam split by the bow, letting out a long, leisurely sigh.

Looking back on his busy life, Morgavi felt it had been quite eventful.

As an insignificant nobody, he had first witnessed the Legion's great expedition across the continent toward the Grand Canyon, then personally experienced the Kingdom of Falcon's war of annihilation against the Desert Kings.

During that time, in the distant River Valley Province, the great Bone-Chewing Rebellion had erupted. The survivors united to form an unbreakable Alliance. The residents of Boulder City, unable to bear the oppression, rose up to overthrow the mountain pressing down on them. In the Brahmin Province of a thousand clans and a thousand gods, another dynasty had changed...

So many things had happened in these years.

Each event seemed isolated, yet seemed connected by an invisible chain of cause and effect.

And perhaps at this very moment, standing here, he too was bound by some unseen thread of cause and effect.

He should never have harbored that greedy thought of "making a huge fortune" in the first place.

If he hadn't lingered those days at the port of Silver Moon Bay, drawing the attention of the Xilan Empire, but instead taken the money from selling furs and found that scowling captain to beg him for one more passage, perhaps even if he couldn't achieve his dream of a big score, at least it would be better than this.

Staring at the two cargo ships drawing ever closer, Mogavi wore a mournful expression, as if he were about to step onto the execution ground.

Captain Aqim patted him on the shoulder and gave him a radiant smile.

"Broaden your horizons, don't hang your face like that. Once our soldiers land at the port, you can pick whatever you want there—whether it's people, goods, or money—no less than what you'd make from a single trade."

"Yes... my esteemed lord."

Mogavi forced a smile from his face that was uglier than crying, but as he thought of his possible miserable end, the faint smile crumbled uncontrollably.

In the end, he couldn't resign himself to the fact that years of painstaking effort would only lead to such a humiliating death.

He gritted his teeth and finally couldn't help but offer a word of advice, trying to persuade the captain to pull back from the brink.

"I have no doubt you can crush your enemies like a grasshopper, but have you considered one thing... how will you bear the wrath of the Alliance?"

"Wrath? Who cares about the wrath of a bunch of ground rats?" Aqim picked his ear and flicked the earwax into the sea with disdain. "The moment they refused Duke Garava's demand, they should have realized they'd pay for their arrogance, rudeness, and stupidity. Besides, we're just taking back what's ours, with a little interest on the side."

The Empire's territory is vast, not only with fertile lands blessed by a thousand gods, but also bound in brotherhood with the Legion.

A mere Alliance is nothing to fear.

Though the corporation behind the Alliance is a threat, and even the Legion finds those fellows troublesome, he didn't believe Ideal City would break ties with the Empire over such a trifle.

Moreover, they had the Legion backing them—a battle-hardened two-star chiliarch had already arrived at the Imperial Capital to pay homage to His Majesty the Emperor, accompanied by enough cannons, tanks, and rifles to arm several ten-thousand-man cohorts.

He admitted those blue ground rats had a knack for scavenging, but in strategy and vision, they still fell short, far from being a match for the Empire.

No one would know that this operation was carried out under the orders of the Empire's high command.

Once those two cargo ships from Golden Galleon Port dock at Fries Port, over a thousand elites disguised as pirates would swarm out, quickly land, and seize control of the entire port.

They would loot the camp on shore, take away all the slaves seized by the Alliance, and then frame the pirates. If the Alliance insisted on an explanation, they'd cut off the merchant's head and send it to them.

Thus, they would display the Empire's magnanimity, prove its stance and resolve to the Legion, salvage the face lost by those despicable and vile Moonfolk, and severely undermine the Alliance's prestige at the Cohesion Council meeting—a single stone killing four birds.

As they spoke, one of the cargo ships had already drawn close to the warship.

Mogavi secretly sized up the cargo ship—a narrow deck with a tightly covered shed; undoubtedly, it was nothing more than an ordinary, run-of-the-mill dry bulk carrier, the kind used for transporting livestock.

Usually, merchants from the Boro Province used such ships to transport double-headed cattle, banned for consumption in Boro, and sell them at the port of Silver Moon Bay.

Using civilian cargo ships to transport troops...

Those bastards actually pulled it off.

A man who looked like an officer stood at the bow, saluting Aqim.

"First Thousand-Man Cohort of the Gray Wolf Army is in position! Awaiting your orders, sir!"

Looking at the officer with bulging muscles, blazing eyes, and an aura of deadly intent, Captain Aqim nodded his proud head in approval.

The Gray Wolf Army was the elite stationed in eastern Boro Province, composed entirely of fierce and battle-hardened Wolf-folk, the Empire's ace ground force.

He hadn't expected the Empire's high command to deploy them; it seemed they valued this operation more than he had imagined.

He could already see the gray smoke drifting over Fries Port, the burned ruins, and the bones.

Putting away his approving smile, Captain Aqim adjusted his expression and looked solemnly at the officer.

"Chiliarch Dirang, your superiors should have briefed you on the mission, so I won't repeat it here."

"From now on, you are no longer soldiers of the Empire, but ghosts roaming these seas, demons bringing death and destruction to the Empire's enemies."

"I know this will tarnish your honor, but everything is for the Empire! Your fathers, your children, your clansmen will all be proud of you!"

The chiliarch named Dirang, with a glint in his eyes, straightened his back and swore solemnly.

"For the Empire! For His Majesty!"

His imposing vigor stood in stark contrast to Mogavi, who was trembling like a leaf.

Glancing at the cowardly merchant beside him, Captain Aqim curled his lips into a smirk tinged with mockery.

Patting the poor wretch on the shoulder, he left the matter to his most loyal subordinate, Singh, and returned to his cabin.

Watching his superior leave, the taciturn guard stepped forward, stood behind Mogavi, and said softly,

"Mr. Mogavi, it's time to go."

Mogavi nodded with a grim face and, under the watch of the guard named Singh, tremblingly climbed onto the plank extending from the warship's deck to the cargo ship.

Following him onto the cargo ship, Singh waved his hand behind him, signaling the sailors on the warship to retract the plank.

After the plank was pulled in, the warship slowly raised its anchor chain, then sounded a farewell whistle.

The two cargo ships, now resuming their journey, replied with their own whistles and continued toward the Baiyue Strait.

Watching the warship flying the green double-sword flag fade into the distance, Mogavi completely abandoned any last hope that these fools would pull back from the brink.

Just then, the chiliarch named Dirang walked up to him and said expressionlessly,

"Mr. Mogavi, I've heard your situation from the telegram. You only need to help us dock at the pier. We'll allow you to pick ten slaves first and take away goods worth 100,000 dinars."

Not even listening to the second half, Mogavi glanced at the tightly shut cabin, then at the officer and the few soldiers disguised as sailors on board, and couldn't help asking,

"Do you have a plan? Or are we just sailing straight in?"

Dirang said succinctly,

"Just sail straight in."

Mogavi pressed on,

"And then? How do you plan to take it? Rush straight off the pier?"

"Don't worry about what happens next." To be honest, Dirang despised this coward from the bottom of his heart, so he couldn't be bothered to waste words.

Besides, they were the Empire's elite—two cargo ships packed with a full thousand-man cohort. A single spit from each man would be enough to flood the port. He couldn't understand what this fellow was afraid of.

Not to mention the battle might not even happen; once they stood on the shore, those people would be dumbfounded and obediently raise their hands in surrender.

Looking at these impossible-to-reason-with fellows, Mogavi wore a bitter expression.

He knew it was useless to say anything now; he had no idea what to say to persuade them.

If these guys truly had their Empire's best interests at heart, they'd at least use a bit of their cerebellum when thinking things through.

But clearly, they didn't.

These people had gone mad.

Completely mad...

...

After two days and one night of sailing, the two cargo ships finally entered the western mouth of the Baiyue Strait.

They were less than 500 kilometers from Fries Port, and barring any accidents, they should arrive before eight in the evening.

Staring at the lush green jungle on the shore, Mogavi's Adam's apple bobbed as he said,

"...Do you know why there's no one here?"

The man behind him, Singh, said nothing, utterly ignoring him.

Diran, now in civilian clothes, glanced at him and spoke casually.

"Why?"

"Because no one can conquer this land—not the Hump Kingdom, nor the Southern Archipelago Federation that fled from here... Against wave after wave of alien creatures, mortal resolve and courage are futile."

Staring at Diran, who was watching him intently, Mogavi swallowed and continued.

"But some succeeded. They not only stood firm on this land but built a settlement... You might not think it's a big deal, but I'm from the Hump Kingdom. I know how astonishing it is. They possess more than courage and resolve—they have scientific methods, and things I don't even understand."

Diran said flatly.

"So what?"

Mogavi sighed softly.

"No... nothing. Forget I said anything."

Amid the rustling insects along the shore, two cargo ships packed with soldiers continued onward.

Time crawled. Under the scorching sun, that half-day felt as long as a century.

But unlike Mogavi, who was enduring agony, everyone else on board—whether officers or soldiers disguised as sailors—seemed spirited.

He even saw a few soldiers whispering with lecherous grins, already fantasizing about dividing spoils they hadn't yet claimed, without even a glimpse of the dock.

"Once we're ashore, I'm picking one with a big ass."

"Haha, we know your taste's unique. Don't worry, no one's fighting you for it."

"Can't you aim higher? The women in the shelters are way more exciting than those filthy Moon Tribe sluts."

"Why not try both? We've got three days. The officer said as long as we don't mess up the mission, we can play however we want."

"Damn... I wish this piece-of-shit boat would go faster."

"I'm hitting the head first."

"Pathetic. Get lost."

"Hahaha!"

As if answering their wishes, the sun finally sank into twilight.

The sea, swallowed by night, fell silent—as if sensing the prelude to a storm, even the waves lapping the bow grew cautious.

Judging the time was near.

Diran, patrolling the deck, patted Mogavi's shoulder and turned into the cargo hold.

Soon, the drafty hatch echoed with blood-pumping boasts and fierce shouts in reply.

He seemed to be making a final war rally.

But to Mogavi's ears, it sounded no different from last words.

They had no idea what kind of monster they were up against. They still fantasized that stepping onto the dock would solve everything—that once the guns fired, those cowardly Blue Rats would scurry into their holes.

Touching the silver pendant on his chest, he silently prayed to the Silver Moon Goddess, hoping only that if he fell into the water, the nearby alien creatures wouldn't devour him.

Tucking the pendant back into his collar, Mogavi took a deep breath and walked to the bow.

As always, Singh stayed close behind, offering no chance for solitude.

Mogavi didn't mind. It wasn't time yet. Even if he planned to risk jumping ship, he'd wait until they neared the harbor, not here.

Staring at the increasingly familiar coastline, his heart pounded violently.

But just then, he frowned, letting out an involuntary murmur.

"Strange..."

The sound didn't escape Singh's ears. The latter asked flatly.

"What's wrong?"

Mogavi swallowed, glanced at him, and whispered his confusion.

"I don't see the patrol boats."

Singh frowned.

"Patrol boats?"

Mogavi explained.

"The Southern Archipelago Federation's patrol boats."

Relaxing his brow, Singh returned to his indifferent expression.

"Why bother with them?"

Mogavi paused, looked away from his face, and turned back to the distant sea, muttering.

"True, it's none of their business... but it's unusual. Whenever ships passed here before, they'd come aboard to check for smuggling."

Could the Federation have banned them from patrolling here?

That shouldn't be...

For some reason, Mogavi felt a nagging unease, as if being stalked by a beast.

Instinctively, he let go of the railing and retreated from the bow to the cabin's side.

Almost at that same moment, a violent tremor, accompanied by a deafening crash, erupted beneath his feet, nearly throwing him overboard.

The cargo ship seemed to have hit something.

But Mogavi knew this water was safe—no hidden reefs lurking beneath the waves.

Caught off guard, Singh behind him and the nearby soldiers weren't so lucky.

Not being seasoned sailors, they stumbled and fell. A few unlucky ones leaning against the railing screamed as they plunged into the sea.

Their cries merged with the tide and quickly faded, as if something had grabbed them.

Terrified by the sudden shock, Mogavi lost his wits, clutching his head and trembling on the deck.

Not far away, the cabin door burst open.

Diran, holding his forehead, rushed out with a gun, cursing.

"Damn it! What happened?!"

His gaze dropped past Diran's legs, and Mogavi finally saw inside the cabin—the so-called "Ghost of the Bora Sea."

They were soldiers carrying breech-loading rifles, a few with submachine guns and automatic rifles slung across their chests.

But none of that mattered now.

They too had stumbled and fallen, not panicked but bewildered, unsure how to handle the situation.

Singh, picking himself up from the deck, cursed and grabbed Mogavi, yanking him up, shouting.

"You damned thing! Did you tip off the Federation?!"

Mogavi, with a mournful face, replied.

"Are you joking, my lord? When have I ever left your sight?"

As if realizing that it was indeed the case, Singh gritted his teeth and released his collar.

Staggering back two steps, Mogavi steadied himself against the cabin to keep from falling, struggling to calm his ragged breath and compose his panicked mind.

He had roughly figured out what had happened.

What had struck them was likely a torpedo.

Through the tremors that ran along the deck and bulkheads, he could clearly sense the sound of seawater flooding the hull; this fully loaded cargo ship was slowly sinking.

Yet he did not rush to abandon ship, for he still had not determined what had hit them.

The Alliance?

Impossible...

Those fellows have their limits; they would not deliberately attack civilian vessels.

The South Islands Federation?

Even more impossible, unless they planned to rely on self-sufficiency from now on.

Damn it, what the hell was that?!

That mine couldn't have evolved from some alien species, could it?!

Just as he was both startled and terrified, the others on the ship finally realized the hull was leaking.

At the same time, the other cargo ship following behind them also seemed to have been hit by a torpedo, slowly sinking amid violent tremors and the mournful screech of steel.

There was no time to hesitate.

Seeing that if he waited any longer, his men might drown in the cabins, the officer named Dirang gritted his teeth and decisively roared.

"Abandon ship! Everyone gather on the north shore!"

Upon receiving the order, the men rushed out of the cabins and jumped into the sea like dumplings being thrown into a pot.

Fortunately, they were not far from the shore; less than fifty meters away, a short swim would get them there.

Seeing that everyone was too busy to pay him any mind, Mogavi planned to jump into the sea amid the chaos.

But just as he reached the already tilting gunwale, a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life met his eyes.

Gazing at the hellish scene, Mogavi's face turned deathly pale in an instant; his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground, babbling incoherently words like 'monster' and 'demon.'

The chiliarch Dirang, who had earlier ordered the soldiers to abandon ship, was not much better off.

He was seen gripping the cold railing with both hands, staring wide-eyed at the sea, his bloodshot pupils filled with deep fear and despair.

And it was a despair visible to the naked eye...