Chapter 694: Courtesy Demands Reciprocity

Chapter 694: Courtesy Demands Reciprocity

“Charge! Ram your gun barrels down their nostrils! They can’t even fill a full century—crush them with your titanium-steel will!”

Just as the Murderous Dagger ordered the opening of fire, Dijan the Chiliarch bellowed out the command to attack. In an instant, the beach erupted with gunfire, and a boiling rain of bullets poured into the forest.

He could sense that the Blue Rats hiding in the woods were few—maybe a dozen or twenty at most.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have hypocritically distanced themselves from the blue-skinned creatures in the sea, pretending to come to his rescue. They’d have simply drawn their weapons and fought.

That’s what he would have done!

Though most of his men were exhausted and morale was low, this was the perfect moment to crush the alliance in one decisive blow!

If the monsters from the sea caught up and joined the Blue Rats on shore in a pincer attack, they’d have no chance of victory!

That was why Dijan roared recklessly, urging his soldiers to press forward.

But what he didn’t expect was the firepower erupting from the forest—far beyond anything he’d imagined.

Tracers streaked like rain toward the beach, kicking up dust and gravel into an impenetrable wall, pinning every soldier who tried to storm the jungle flat on the sand, unable to move. No matter how loudly he screamed, he couldn’t get them to advance a single step.

The bullets whizzed past as if they cost nothing, and the Imperial soldiers sprawled on the beach were utterly stunned.

What was worse than the flying lead was the realization that their rifles felt like useless sticks against those guys armored to the teeth in exoskeletons.

Were these really the same alliance that had been founded less than three years ago?!

Why didn’t they look anything like the propaganda posters…

…

About six or seven hundred meters down the beach.

Standing on a rock, Rourou peered through binoculars at the distant, gunfire-racked shore, dumbfounded. After a long pause, she muttered blankly.

“Have they lost their minds?”

She clearly saw a group of blue-skinned, scale-covered mutants capsizing their boats. Why were they firing at the people on shore who were trying to help them?

“Not necessarily. Maybe they were coming for us all along, and just ran into an accident…”

Comparing the coastline contours, Sisi set coordinates on her VM while speaking casually.

Lowering the binoculars, Rourou looked at her with confusion, her furry face full of incomprehension.

“…Coming for us?”

Sisi nodded and said succinctly.

“Why would a normal cargo ship carry so many soldiers? Aren’t they supposed to haul freight? I can only assume they weren’t here with innocent intentions.”

She had to admit, they’d picked a great time—running headlong into the mutant troops sent by the Torch Church to cause trouble, which had conveniently fed the creatures first.

Tail, holding her binoculars, suddenly exclaimed excitedly.

“Whoa! That’s the sound of a Cleaver rifle! Could it be friends from the Legion?!”

Sisi’s expression turned subtle.

“…I don’t know, but probably not. I doubt the Vlandians would be this pathetic, and they’d have no reason to pick a fight with us. The Xilan Empire, though, that’s possible.”

Zhima Hu, standing nearby, glanced curiously at the VM on Sisi’s arm.

“Hey, what were you writing on your VM just now?”

Sisi: “That? Artillery coordinates…”

Rourou looked at her curiously.

“Is that really necessary?”

By the time they were talking, the battle on shore was already over.

Facing machine-gun fire and grenade launchers from the jungle, the hundred or so scattered troops on the beach were no match, pinned down and unable to lift their heads.

After all, they weren’t an amphibious assault force. Many couldn’t even swim, and had only reached shore by clinging to small boats and tubs.

Plus, the Cleaver rifles weren’t designed for amphibious combat. Soaked in seawater, then dragged through wet sand, their malfunction rate was nearly maxed out. Soldiers had to clear their actions while firing, and against the alliance’s automatic weapons, they had no chance to fight back.

At first, they’d mustered a bit of courage from some unknown source, but within five minutes, that bravado evaporated completely.

Many even stripped off their seawater-soaked trousers, hoisted them on rifle barrels and bayonets, and waved them overhead, begging for a ceasefire—completely abandoning their earlier ferocious demeanor.

Honestly, they didn’t seem like they’d come to pick a fight; they looked more like they were here to clown around.

Sisi raised her binoculars again to look into the distance.

“…That’s delayed fire, not meant for them. The ones in the sea are almost dead. Those scaly bastards will be coming ashore soon.”

…

Meanwhile, at the front line of the firefight.

Watching the trousers rise from the distant beach, Hanbagui, who had been manning the machine gun, released the trigger and called out to his squad leader nearby.

“Chief, they’re surrendering!”

Glancing at the beach, the Murderous Dagger lowered his rifle and gave a signal to the strongman beside him.

“Go shout at them. Tell them our artillery has them zeroed. If they don’t want to get blown away by 155mm shells, they’d better drop their gear on the sand and come over with their hands up!”

The strongman nodded with a cheerful “Got it,” then ran forward excitedly. Using the VM’s translation, he bellowed toward the beach a hundred meters away.

“Listen up, you lot! You’re surrounded!”

“If you don’t want to get bombed, drop your weapons and ammo now! Hands over your heads, come out and surrender!”

“Otherwise, we’ll treat you as accomplices of the mutants and blow you all to hell!”

Hearing this, the soldiers on the beach panicked. But even so, no one dared to crawl out of their cover.

Partly they feared the alliance was bluffing, partly they worried about being shot by their own side.

Just then, a shell whistled down and landed on the beach. The blast wave kicked dust a dozen meters into the air, leaving a terrifying crater in the sand.

That was a ranging shot from the alliance’s artillery battery, not a real bombardment.

But the thunderous explosion still terrified the bedraggled dogs sprawled on the beach. They could no longer hold back their fear. One by one, they dropped their weapons and packs, raised their hands high, and sprinted madly toward the jungle ahead.

“Come back! Damn it! You cowardly rats! You disgrace the Wolf Clan!”

Dijan stared with bloodshot eyes at the soldiers abandoning their gear and running toward the enemy lines.

Useless beasts!

The enemy clearly had only twenty or thirty men. So what if they had exoskeletons? Even if they were in power armor, enough bullets would still break them down!

If they’d just shown a little courage, charged with their weapons instead of fleeing with their tails between their legs, they’d have taken the enemy position by now!

His personal guard, trembling, looked up at the commander.

“Sir… those cowards have betrayed us.”

“We have no men left. Should we keep fighting them?”

They were not afraid of death.

But this could not be called a war at all.

All the people they encountered along the way told them that those blue rats were nothing but a bunch of blustering sycophants, chased all the way to the River Valley Province by a branch of the Legion, surviving only through the shelter of the Corporation and the Academy’s biased intervention.

Yet clearly what stood before them now was no such thing; they were even more terrifying than those Verlanders with gunpowder flowing in their veins.

Watching the fear-stricken personal guards before him, Dirang knew these cowards were backing down. His mud-splattered face could not hide his fury, his teeth grinding audibly.

He was an officer personally decorated by His Majesty the Emperor, his valor the pride of the Gray Wolf Legion!

Surrender?

He would rather die here!

But just then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the blue phantom figures surging toward the coastline, and a bone-deep chill instantly crept up his spine.

He had seen his own soldiers held underwater by those things, disemboweled, their hearts and livers torn out and devoured raw.

If he had a choice, he would rather be executed by the Alliance’s firing squad than be caught by those creatures.

“…Meaningless sacrifice is not loyalty; the Wolf God will forgive our momentary humiliation,” he growled through clenched teeth.

Hearing this, the personal guards finally breathed a sigh of relief, dropping their weapons, helping their commander out of the trench, and limping toward the forest ahead.

Everyone inwardly thanked their luck that the commander had agreed…

Otherwise, they would have had to drag him away by force.

Seeing their own commander surrender, the few remaining Imperial soldiers still resisting also gave up, dropping their weapons and emerging from cover.

A group of prisoners was quickly rounded up, guarded by three players holding rifles, and escorted to the edge of the battlefield.

Over a hundred men crouched in a row in the woods with hands on their heads, officers and soldiers alike, all with grimy, crestfallen faces.

What had once been a full-strength thousand-man company now couldn’t even muster a single platoon—a truly pitiful sight.

Watching these beaten-down wretches, Hanbagui, with a grass pile on his head, couldn’t help cursing.

“Damn, winning against these guys gives zero satisfaction.”

A player named Shuijiangui shook his head.

“Too weak.”

Bored with it all, Jienigui slung his LD-47 rifle across his chest, walked to the front of the prisoners, and struck a guard pose.

Glancing at that smug-looking guy, Hanbagui asked,

“What are you doing?”

Jienigui urged impatiently.

“No chit-chat, hurry up and take a picture of your old man—make me look cool.”

“Damn, are you serious?”

Though grumbling, Hanbagui still opened the screenshot function on his tactical helmet’s action recorder and snapped a close-up of the guy.

Looking at the photo sent to his VM, Jienigui admired it more and more, grinning slyly.

“What do you care if I’m serious? I think it’s awesome!”

Three guys capturing an entire hundred-man squad.

He would post it on the forum later to show off!

Water Arrow Turtle, jealous, also stepped over and struck a pose.

“Damn, take one of me too!”

Having roughly understood what these guys were doing, Dirang the Centurion felt veins bulge on his forehead, but he could do nothing—only look away in humiliation, swallowing his anger.

At that moment, he had no idea that, because of his utterly pathetic expression, the photographer had also snapped a close-up of his face.

Even if it didn’t make the front page of the *Survivor Daily*, it would surely be headline material for the *Goblin Observer*.

On the other side, the blue-skinned mutants, having eaten their fill of prey from the sea, finally finished off the creatures in the water. Driven by the bloodlust stirred by the gore, they charged ashore and chased toward the jungle.

They had seen their prey flee into the forest, and since they hadn’t had their fill of killing, they would never let their quarry escape.

At this moment, Murder’s Dagger and his teammates finally wore expressions of seriousness.

They wouldn’t let their guard down just because these creatures were poorly armed.

The mutant technology itself was a near-singularity level existence; its baseline had already surpassed the limits of ordinary humans.

As bioengineered soldiers, they possessed immense vitality and resilience—in other words, they themselves were weapons, so their crude tools hardly mattered.

Even if they held nothing but a branch in their hands, no one dared to be careless.

“Open fire!”

At Murder’s Dagger’s command, over thirty gun barrels spat tongues of flame in unison.

Struck by the concentrated gunfire, the chest of the leading mutant burst into a spray of blood, yet it didn’t stop its charge.

A few mutants shot through the head collapsed on the sand, but were quickly swallowed by the tide of mutants surging ashore.

Watching the ever-growing horde, Murder’s Dagger felt his scalp crawl.

Just then, a deafening roar of cannon fire pierced through the rustling leaves of the jungle, and shells rained down like hail onto the beach before him.

“Boom—!”

Explosive dust shot into the sky. The blue-skinned mutants at the front fell in an instant, severed limbs and shattered rocks flying together into the air.

“Beautiful!”

At the savage sight, the players cheered excitedly, whistling in applause for the gunners who had hit the mark.

Having also witnessed the artillery barrage, the Xilan Empire soldiers crouching with hands on their heads turned pale, dead silent.

They only felt relief that they hadn’t stayed on that beach to die.

Now, looking at the commander who had urged them to their deaths, their hearts were filled with nothing but hatred, with no trace left of desire for the nonexistent loot and glory…

After the first round of shelling, the blue mutants’ assault momentum noticeably faltered.

Many not directly caught in the blast were also stunned by the ear-splitting thunder.

Just then, a second round of shelling struck in quick succession.

But this barrage caused few direct casualties and raised no cataclysmic flames. Instead, palm-sized discs rained down like hail onto the tide-washed shore.

These were the latest goblin-tech cannon-launched mines, fired from 155mm howitzers.

As it turned out, aside from their wild ideas, when given real examples to follow, Wenzi occasionally came up with something useful.

At that moment, the mutants still surging toward the shore had no idea that their retreat was utterly sealed off by a dense minefield.

After the two artillery strikes, Murder’s Dagger’s thirty-man squad received the order to withdraw, leading over a hundred prisoners northward into the jungle, leaving the mutants to enter the rainforest.

But before the mutants could celebrate breaking through the prey’s line, gunfire erupted from all sides, freezing their ugly grins on their faces.

Unbeknownst to them, two hundred-man squads had already flanked them left and right, like a red-hot pincer, clamping down on their vitals.

Leading the assault now was the Alliance’s elite—the Jungle Corps!

The mutants under concentrated fire clearly felt the pressure on them more than double what it had been. These human reinforcements, in both firepower and accuracy, far outclassed the thirty-odd men who had only tickled them before.

And what shot at them was no longer just the 7mm little water pipe, but also the 19mm armor-piercing shells for the bolter!

When that thing hit the body, it wasn't just a matter of a hole, but how much was left.

Their frames were far less sturdy than those green-skinned bastards from Jinchuan Province; to maintain mobility, they hadn't worn thick armor, and almost at the first contact, they left behind hundreds of corpses.

Bearing more and more casualties, expressions of fear finally appeared on those faces covered in fish scales.

Facing this group even more ruthless than themselves, they finally grew afraid.

"Retreat!!"

Someone shouted, and the swarm of blue-skinned monsters that had surged onto the shore fled back toward the coastline.

The sea was their home ground!

As long as they escaped into the sea, even those iron lumps wielding chainsaws and gripping gun barrels, no matter how fierce, could never be a match for them, protected by their ancestors!

At that moment, they did not realize that their retreat route had already been sealed by landmines.

The first mutants to reach the beach didn't even smell the salt of the sea before their lower legs were blown off by sudden bursts of flame, and they fell to the ground in agony, clutching their half-knees and rolling about, howling.

Seeing the gruesome fate of their dead kin, the crowd of blue-skinned mutants hastily halted, staring in terror at the beach stained red with blood, daring not take another step forward.

Over five hundred of those fish-scale-covered monsters huddled together on the beach.

At the same time, the jungle legion, split into two groups, stepped unhurriedly from the edge of the rainforest.

Those K-10 exoskeletons painted in green camouflage stood like iron towers, and together with the bolters held at their waists, they formed a steel wall thick with killing intent.

The brothers of the Burning Legion hadn't even made a move yet.

They alone were enough to trample these small fry.

Looking at those beasts with despair written on their faces, Midnight Chicken Killer grinned savagely, ejected the bolt rounds from the 19mm barrel, and spun the chainsaw blade welded to his arm.

The remaining small fry were already trapped like turtles in a jar; there was no need to waste precious ammunition.

For these beasts who had abandoned humanity, only the cruelest death was worthy of them.

"Time for slaughter!"

The two steel walls advanced together, bringing with them suffocating death, delivering the final blow to those poor wretches trapped on the beach.

Those blue-skinned mutants were either cleaved in two by the greatsword-like chainsaws or had their legs blown off by mines as they fled in panic.

Watching the shredded flesh and blood spray thrown into the sky by the chainsaws, the thousand-man commander Di Rang, crouching with his head in his hands, turned pale, his lips trembling incessantly.

He felt like a child.

Not only weak, but also ignorant, foolishly trying to trip a giant with a twig.

And the result was obvious: they hadn't even touched the giant's leg before being half-killed by an inadvertently extended toe...

He had already begun to regret taking this mission from his superior.

But now, it was too late to say anything...

...

From the first gunshot to the last, a full hour had passed.

And Mogavi had maintained his face-down position, lying on the beach playing dead for that entire hour.

Fortunately, the beach he was on was not the center of the battlefield.

Neither the first Gray Wolf Legion's thousand-man squad, rushing to their deaths, nor the mutants later chasing the scent of blood and howling into the rainforest, had noticed him lying there pretending to be dead.

After who knows how long, footsteps sounded beside him, and a hand grabbed the back of his collar, lifting him from the sand like a chick.

"Don't kill me! I, I'm not with those guys!"

Feeling that the face looked familiar, Qingdeng Gujiu shone a flashlight on his mud-smeared face, and looking into his eyes, suddenly gasped.

"Holy crap? You're that... leather-selling profiteer?"

"..."

Staring at the man before him, Mogavi opened his mouth in shock, too stunned to speak for a moment.

Unexpectedly running into an acquaintance, Qingdeng Gujiu was also amazed; after pulling him up from the ground, he let go and patted the sand off his shoulders.

"Hey, remember me?"

Mogavi nodded nervously, then looked at him with a bewildered expression.

"Wait, I remember you... aren't you a butcher? What are you doing here?"

Qingdeng Gujiu gave him a strange look.

"Isn't it normal to have three professions at level twenty? I'm not just a butcher; main life profession plus a soldier profession to take quests is basic, right?"

Mogavi: "...?"

Seeing the NPC's confused expression, Qingdeng Gujiu quickly remembered he wasn't from the Alliance, so he nodded in realization and patted his shoulder.

"I almost forgot you're not from our side, never mind... By the way, weren't you going to Silvermoon Bay to stock up? How'd you end up with those idiots?"

Hearing this, a surge of grievance welled up in Mogavi's heart, and a bitter smile spread across his face.

"...You think I wanted to? I was kidnapped by them."

"Kidnapped?!"

Qingdeng Gujiu looked at him in surprise, then glanced at the figures tied up like dumplings squatting at the edge of the forest, and asked with a strange expression.

"By those people?"

Mogavi nodded nervously.

"Yes..."

Sensing that tonight's events might have a hidden story, Qingdeng Gujiu grew interested.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Mogavi gave him a wry smile.

"It's a long story."

"No problem, we're done fighting, we've got time. Just tell us."

Qingdeng Gujiu said with a grin, and the other players cleaning up the battlefield nearby, seeing the commotion, also gathered around curiously.

Feeling all those eyes on him, Mogavi suddenly thought this might be a good chance for revenge.

So he swallowed, gathered his thoughts for a moment, and began to speak in a sorrowful tone.

"It was a sunny morning. I'd been drinking all night and was about to get up to pay when I saw a group of imperial guards knock open the tavern door and drag me out of my chair..."

...

While Mogavi was pouring out his grievances, denouncing Captain Aqim's tyrannical and unreasonable street kidnapping, the thousand-man commander Di Rang and his battered personal guards, now escorted to a military base several kilometers away, were still putting up a tough front, talking stubbornly.

At first, they even refused to admit they were soldiers of the Xilan Empire, insisting they were from Silvermoon Bay and just passing through.

It wasn't until the players brought in a Moon Tribe girl that his clumsy act was exposed.

"He's a Wolf Tribe man! He and his men are all, they're the lackeys of the Sun Tribe and the Ox Tribe!"

The girl forced the words through gritted teeth, paying no heed to Dirang’s warning glare, then turned to Fang Chang standing nearby and said respectfully, “Sir, I’m certain—it must have been the Empire that sent them here!”

“Good, thank you for your identification. Go get some rest now; leave this to us.”

With a reassuring glance at the girl, Fang Chang saw her to the door, then turned back to the still-stubborn chiliarch and continued.

“I advise you to come clean. We’re not unreasonable people. I’ll ask you once more: why did you open fire on us? And who ordered you to do so?”

“How many times must I say it? I thought those mutants were with you! What was I supposed to do when I ran into them on your turf? I admit I was wrong, but you’re not blameless either!” Dirang clung stubbornly to his story, refusing to give anything up.

Fang Chang narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Do you take me for a fool? Over a thousand men, loaded with weapons and ammunition, with two weeks’ worth of rations—were you planning to feed the fish in the southern sea?”

“…” Dirang kept his mouth shut, trying to evade the interrogation with silence.

Fang Chang’s brow twitched faintly.

Just as he was weighing whether to resort to harsher measures, a knock came at the door, and Killer’s Dagger pushed it open and entered.

“We found a survivor on the beach. His name is Mogavi. He claims he was kidnapped here by these Xilan Empire soldiers. Besides that, he’s told us quite a few interesting things—how Captain Achim tied him up and brought him aboard, and that this bunch we’ve captured is the First Thousand-Man Unit of the Xilan Empire’s Gray Wolf Army.”

At the name Mogavi, Dirang’s eyes went wide.

That bastard was still alive?

A flicker of surprise crossed Fang Chang’s face too, but for a different reason.

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

Killer’s Dagger grinned.

“He came by our place before, made a killing off those life-skill players—the one who bought up several bundles of fur pelts.”

Fang Chang’s expression cleared.

“Ah, that guy.”

Killer’s Dagger went on.

“According to him, this thousand-man unit boarded ship at Golden Gallon Port in Bolo Province, rendezvoused with Captain Achim’s warship in the Bolo Sea, then set course for the Baiyue Strait. Their target was Fries Port—same as those scaly fellows, they were coming for us.”

Fang Chang asked, puzzled.

“When did we ever cross them?”

Crossing the entire Bolo Sea, traveling two thousand kilometers just to deliver themselves to be slaughtered.

What kind of grudge was that?

Killer’s Dagger shrugged helplessly.

“No idea. Mogavi couldn’t say either. He only remembers Captain Achim mentioning that the Empire wanted to make the Alliance’s overseer pay for his arrogance and insolence, collect some interest from his settlement, and throw a seven-day, seven-night silver party at the port…”

“Of course, when they do their dirty work, they’d pluck a leaf to cover their eyes and call themselves raiders—that way, no one would know who did it, and even if the Alliance wanted to throw a tantrum, they’d have no one to blame.”

By the end, Killer’s Dagger couldn’t help but laugh.

Hearing the wry remark, Fang Chang barely stifled his own chuckle, then turned a knowing, half-smiling gaze to the one person in the room who couldn’t laugh.

Feeling a chill under that look, Dirang swallowed hard and blurted out defensively.

“Not seven days and nights—it was… three… no, I never said that! That guy’s talking complete nonsense!”

Fang Chang gave a faint smile.

“So you’re saying the part about ‘the Empire making our overseer pay’ was said, then?”

A cold sweat trickled down Dirang’s forehead. He swallowed again, his scalp tingling.

He had a bad feeling, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Walking over to the trembling chiliarch, Fang Chang reached out and patted his shoulder, speaking in a tone laced with mock comfort.

“Don’t worry—we won’t punish anyone just for spouting a few foolish, disrespectful words. Count yourself lucky; you’re not worth that effort.”

Hearing this, Dirang breathed a sigh of relief.

But before he could fully relax, the man patting his shoulder changed his tune.

“Still, you came all this way and got a beating for nothing—it’s kind of pitiful to watch.”

Looking at the bewildered chiliarch, Fang Chang’s face took on a sly grin as he continued slowly.

“So, how about this: courtesy demands reciprocity.”

“Since you boarded at Golden Gallon Port, we’ll begrudgingly make the trip and send you back there.”