Chapter 695: You Call This a Counterattack?!

Chapter 695: You Call This a Counterattack?!

In the southern sea region, on North Island, inside a small but lavishly decorated room, Charas, impeccably dressed in a suit, paced back and forth. His gaze frequently darted to the digital clock on the wall, then casually flicked toward the door, his restless anxiety practically written all over his face.

Just then, three soft knocks sounded from outside the door. As if receiving a signal, he immediately strode over and pulled it open, revealing a young officer in uniform standing at the threshold.

"Come in and talk."

Without waiting for the man to speak, he pulled the officer inside, cautiously glanced to see if anyone was following, and then slowly closed the door.

"How are things?"

Looking at Charas, whose face was full of anticipation, the officer spoke nervously.

"Something's gone wrong."

Hearing those words, Charas's heart sank in an instant, his brow furrowing tightly. Before he could ask, the officer rattled off in rapid succession.

"...Gunfire lasted over an hour. From the sea to the beach, blood and bodies everywhere—both human and mutant."

Upon hearing that there were both human and mutant corpses, Charas clung to a last shred of hope and quickly asked.

"More humans or more mutants?"

The officer's face turned grim.

"Humans... but those guys, they didn't seem to be from the Alliance."

Charas froze, blurting out.

"Not from the Alliance?! Then whose could they be?"

The officer shook his head.

"No idea. They had no obvious markings, and their identities can't be confirmed yet. According to footage from our drones, they entered the Baiyue Strait on two cargo ships and ran straight into the mutant troops the Torch sent to Fries Harbor. Those scaly, fish-gilled beasts have no eyes—they can't resist going after people. They fought the two ships' crews first, then chased them ashore, but the landing spot was a good five or six kilometers off from Fries Harbor!"

Charas's eyes widened.

"And then?"

The officer spoke with difficulty.

"Then... the Alliance scooped them all up."

Charas: "..."

Silence fell in the room.

Because the maritime patrol was away, the Federation's destroyers had lingered in the nearby waters for quite a while, their drones recording almost the entire battle until their batteries died. Watching Charas's grave expression, the officer swallowed and lowered his voice.

"...The trouble is, those guys got wiped out completely. Too many bodies—no time to deal with them, and no way to. When the maritime patrol returns to their sector at dawn tomorrow, they'll definitely notice the anomaly on the beach. My only worry now is that someone with ulterior motives might link those corpses to today's exercise."

Unlike the navy, which was wholly loyal to the South Islands Federation, he knew there were two factions within the presidential palace. There were good men like Mr. Charas who stood on the Federation's side, and some cowards who were still wavering on Vault 70. If those weaklings realized the war's fuse had another story, their weakness would drag the Federation—already holding the advantage in this war—into the abyss.

Charas pondered silently for a long moment, then spoke slowly.

"Even if they do link it, it's not our territory."

Seeing that Mr. Charas completely failed to grasp the severity of the situation, the young officer grew anxious and quickly added.

"As you say, sir... But what if someone connects those mutants to the cargo ships that went missing in the southern sea? Everyone used to think those scaly creatures never left Death Coast, but now they've swum over a thousand kilometers, popped up right off our western flank, and they can even fire torpedoes! Using distance as an excuse to claim they couldn't have attacked our ships won't hold water anymore."

He paused, lowering his voice further. "I've heard people are investigating those wrecked vessels lately—including the Golden Coast, which the President sent to survey Hoiya Province, and the remains of the ocean current power station... If those snooping bastards find anything, we're in trouble."

A sharp glint flashed in Charas's eyes. His clenched fist moved, thumb and forefinger rubbing together. Observing the chief of staff's expression, the officer pressed on solemnly.

"What worries me most is what the President might know. Either way, we need to prepare for the worst. If it comes to it, we should just come clean with the President—"

Under the Federation's current system, the President also served as Commander-in-Chief of the Navy; any military action required the President's personal authorization. Everything they had done was for the Federation, but it was still unauthorized—untenable both legally and morally. The truth would come out sooner or later. Especially with the way things were going, the risk of exposure was growing. Rather than burying today's secrets and planting seeds for greater future disasters, it would be better to be straightforward, bring the President onto their side, and wage this war more thoroughly.

But before he could finish, Charas cut him off without hesitation.

"Now is not the time. The President and his supporters still harbor illusions about Vault 70. We need to give our fellow citizens, who haven't yet moved on from the past, some time. Don't worry—I'll keep an eye on him. You just keep a close watch on the maritime patrol. I'm worried they might have leaked information, giving the Alliance a heads-up."

"But—"

The officer hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but Charas dismissed him bluntly.

"You may go now. We've been meeting too long. I'll contact you if anything comes up."

"Yes, sir..."

Meeting that unyielding gaze, the officer finally gave up and nodded, then turned and left the room.

Staring at the closed door, Charas sat down on the sofa, pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

Come clean with the President?

A bunch of naive fools.

Mr. Mongo would never stand with them. He was the one who founded the South Islands Federation. If he found out that the ocean current power station was sunk by their own people, just to give the Federation an excuse to settle scores with Vault 70, he would either kill Charas or kick him out of the presidential palace. And even if, by some miracle, the man agreed to help cover up the truth of this war, how could Charas ever turn the Federation into his own possession?

He would certainly come clean with the President.

But not now, when the presidential palace and the navy were so tightly intertwined...

Sinking his consciousness into a radiant holy domain, Charas lowered his brows slightly and murmured silently.

"Those gilled monsters you've been raising have caused trouble. You'd better keep them low-key for a while."

"It's not that I'm complaining... but you really ought to find yourselves some decent allies."

...

The next morning.

The light of dawn spilled over the northern shore of the Baiyue Strait, gilding the silent beach in gold.

Standing at the bow of a patrol boat, Muda stared intently toward Fries Harbor, his brow slightly furrowed.

Echoing his reaction, the sailor beside him muttered softly.

"That's a strong smell of blood..."

After a pause, he added another sentence.

"It doesn't look like it was left by a beast."

Muda nodded, then turned and called out toward the cabin behind him.

"Activate the active sonar."

"Aye!"

The sailor at the helm acknowledged with a nod, reached out to the console on the dashboard, and flipped a red switch.

A moment later, he shouted in surprise.

"Six to seven kilometers due west, there are two shipwrecks… judging by the echo pattern, they look like civilian cargo ships."

Shipwrecks?!

A sense of foreboding stirred in Muda's heart.

The sailor beside him looked at him nervously.

"Sir, should we go check it out?"

Muda pondered for a moment, then said.

"Let's go see our neighbors first!"

After all, Fry Port was still home to more than five hundred residents from Coral City.

Though those folks had declared they'd joined the Alliance, the bond of kinship still made him unable to let them go.

And of course, that included the other survivors at Fry Port.

Since he occasionally went to the island for a drink, he was fairly familiar with the people there. Although there had been plenty of misunderstandings between them at first, after spending some time together, he found that they were actually pretty decent folks—

Completely different from those selfish, cunning wastelanders on the mainland. When they thought about problems, they rarely considered only themselves; they often took others' difficulties into account.

Even the water pipeline under construction had earned them a good reputation among the survivors of Ring Island—at least, no one disliked them.

He hoped nothing had happened to them…

The speedboat soon approached the dock.

Seeing the camp unexpectedly quiet, Muda's heart sank a little. As soon as the boat steadied, he quickly jumped onto the dock and headed toward the camp with two of his men.

Just then, a shelter resident walked out carrying a plastic bucket and a fishing rod, and happened to come face-to-face with him.

Both of them froze for a moment.

The shelter resident reacted a bit faster. He snapped out of it, slapped his forehead, and spoke in halting Commonwealth language with a smile.

"Oh, you're the captain of the South Archipelago Federation's maritime patrol, right? Muda?"

Staring at this unfamiliar fellow, Muda asked blankly.

"You know me?"

The angler, shouldering his rod, grinned.

"Yeah, I know you. First time here, but I've heard about you on the forums."

Muda: "...?"

Seeing the NPC looking a bit slow, the player scratched his head and said.

"Something you need? Looking for someone, or…?"

"Nothing much… just wanted to ask—where is everyone?" As he spoke, Muda glanced around, then looked back at the man with the rod, puzzled. "Why is it so quiet today?"

The player laughed at that.

"Oh, that. Quiet's totally normal. This settlement never had many people, and early this morning another five hundred or so left. A bunch of them went off to stir up trouble with our brother Fangchang."

"Stir up trouble?" Muda was baffled again, not understanding what that meant.

Seeing he didn't get it, the player patiently explained the whole story in his clumsy Commonwealth tongue.

"It was last night. A bunch of idiots came running from Bolo Province—don't know what they were thinking, but they actually opened fire on us. So we took care of them, along with the fish the Torch Church was raising. After we finished them off and interrogated them, it turned out they were from the Xilan Empire."

With mentions of the Xilan Empire, the Torch Church's fish, and other unfamiliar terms, Muda was completely lost. Seizing the pause, he quickly cut in.

"Anyway, glad you're all safe… By the way, about how long until your Fangchang gets back?"

The player smiled.

"About a week. Something you need? I can pass along a message."

Muda coughed and said.

"No need, just curious… Oh, and you mentioned the Torch's fish earlier—what does that mean?"

The player continued with a grin.

"The mutants! The blue-skinned ones, with fish scales on their bodies and gills under their chins. They use all kinds of weapons—rifles, cannons, even torpedoes. Word is they drifted over from the Death Coast in Haiya Province."

Death Coast?!

Muda stared at him, astonishment written all over his face.

He'd certainly heard of the blue-skinned mutants living off fishing near the Death Coast, but what surprised him was that they'd shown up here?!

From here to the Death Coast, even the straight-line distance was nearly a thousand kilometers.

Could those mutants really swim that far?!

And when he heard that they could even fire torpedoes, his expression changed instantly.

"Can you take me to the scene?"

The player scratched the back of his head, looking reluctant.

"It's not far—just head west along the coast for five or six kilometers and you'll see it. Our people should still be cleaning up the battlefield there… I've got to fish now; if I put it off, those jerks will come up and feed all the fish. Want me to find someone to take you?"

Hearing that the battlefield was just five or six kilometers west, Muda immediately thought of the two shipwrecks the sonar had detected, and a flicker of excitement crossed his face.

If those ships had been sunk by the mutants, there might be clues to find on them!

Seeing the shelter resident eager to end the conversation, he wasted no more of his time and thanked him sincerely.

"Thanks! I'll go myself!"

With that, he returned to the speedboat with his men and restarted the engine.

After continuing west for another five kilometers, he indeed spotted a group of people in exoskeletons on the beach not far away, dragging corpses washed ashore by the waves into dug pits for burial.

Spotting Muda on the speedboat, Fudi Laomo on the shore immediately recognized the man he'd once shared a drink with and called out with a smile.

"Yo, back already?"

Muda shouted back, "Just got back. I heard two ships sank here last night? If it's convenient, I'd like to go down and take a look."

Fudi Laomo waved a hand generously.

"No problem. Brother Fangchang told us before he left that if you were interested in those two wrecks, we should show you. By the way, need me to send someone to help you find their positions?"

Muda: "No need, we've already located their coordinates. Thanks!"

Fudi Laomo smiled. "You're welcome! Oh, and just in case, I'll send two electric rays to accompany you."

With that, he contacted the engineering team via VM and dispatched two freshly charged electric rays from Fry Port to assist.

That thing's ability isn't just underwater welding—it can also drive off alien species through active discharge, a new use they developed in practice.

Considering the limited power of the mental interference device on the speedboat, Muda didn't refuse.

Only after the two electric rays arrived did he order the engine started, following them to the waters of the sunken ships.

The condition of the two cargo ships was utterly tragic.

Their hulls had been torn open with huge holes, seawater flooded in, and they sank to the seabed, one ahead of the other, wedged into the jagged, rocky seafloor.

Corpses, mutilated and bloated, floated all around, some caught on the ship's shell, others tangled in seaweed, pecked at by schools of fish—like a scene from hell.

Jumping into the water in a deep-sea suit, Muda saw this before him, feeling his scalp tingle and his stomach churn.

Two electric ray unmanned boats, with arcs of electricity atop their heads, slowly swam to the front of one cargo ship, and a crackling current drove away the scavenging fish, clearing a path for him.

He followed one of the electric rays forward.

Shining his flashlight around the bow, Muda soon found the inward-dented breach on one side of the bow.

At that very moment, his pupils suddenly contracted, and an involuntary look of disbelief and astonishment stamped itself on his eyes.

The wound surface from the explosion was exactly the same as the scar on the hull of the research vessel "Golden Coast" that had been published in the newspaper!

Though determining whether it was caused by the same type of weapon required professional assessment, he was still stunned by the discovery, his mouth gaping open.

He took a photo of the explosion's wound, then shone his flashlight around the area, and indeed found the wreckage of a torpedo near a reef.

It was a fragment the size of a palm.

That crudely made stainless steel shell was exactly like the one they'd found near the Golden Coast research vessel.

First, a signal from a mental interference device was detected near the ocean current power station, then the "Dolphin," burdened with the blood debt of twelve cargo ships, couldn't even be found with a weapon.

And now, the aquatic mutants that those experts with consultant titles claimed "would never leave the Death Coast" had not only appeared in waters a thousand kilometers away, but had even brought the weapon that sank the Golden Coast research vessel...

Is there a single truthful word left in these bastards' mouths?

His pupils blazed with fury, his fists clenched involuntarily, and a curse squeezed through his gritted teeth.

"Damn it..."

...

While the Southern Archipelago Federation maritime patrol was busy gathering evidence from the two shipwrecks, hundreds of kilometers away on the Boro Sea, a nuclear fusion-powered submarine was racing toward Golden Harbor at nearly fifty knots.

A distance of two thousand kilometers would take a week at sea for a diesel-powered cargo ship and a crew of inexperienced sailors.

But for the Dolphin, it would take less than a day—twenty-two hours in good sea conditions.

Besides that chiliarch named Dirang and over a hundred battered soldiers of the Xilan Empire, more than five hundred players from the Burning Legion were also aboard this submarine.

More than half of them had only arrived at Fries Port this morning aboard the Cow Horse airship, and as soon as they got off, they boarded the submarine along with the ammunition shipped from Dawn City.

They were all elites of the Alliance, with sequence levels no lower than 25, equipped not only with Type 5 "Light Cavalry" and Type 6 "Heavy Cavalry" exoskeletons, but also twenty brand-new DLZJ-1 "Sunrise" units!

Beyond basic infantry gear, support equipment like 88mm mortars, Y-2 quad-rotor attack drones, and "Dove" missiles were all fully stocked.

To make room for ammunition and loot, Fang Chang had specifically ordered Captain Chen Jianhong to clear the cargo hold overnight, moving containers to the newly built warehouse at Fries Port for players interested in scavenging to sort through.

Looking at the exoskeletons and power armor radiating a killing aura in the submarine's cargo hold, Captain Chen Jianhong felt something was off and couldn't help turning to Fang Chang.

"I should have said this before: the Dolphin is a cargo submarine, not a warship. We don't and shouldn't participate in any offensive military missions."

Fang Chang smiled.

"I know, but every citizen of the Alliance has a duty to uphold its constitution. Besides, this isn't an attack—it's a counterstrike after they declared war without warning."

Rolling his eyes at this far-fetched reasoning, Chen Jianhong couldn't help but retort.

"I've never heard of a counterstrike reaching two thousand kilometers away!"

"Well, now you have," Fang Chang said in a joking tone, patting his shoulder and patiently reassuring him. "Don't worry, you won't be involved in any fighting. Just wait for us in a safe place until we're done, then pick us up."

Seeing Captain Chen still hesitant, Fang Chang added another line.

"If you really can't accept it, just think of it as a humanitarian rescue."

Captain Chen was taken aback.

"...Humanitarian rescue?"

"Exactly," Fang Chang said with a serious face. "Based on clues from residents of other shelters, we suspect there's human trafficking and organ trading at Golden Harbor. Normally, we wouldn't meddle that far, but since they provoked us, we plan to disable their port and, while we're at it, snatch some people back."

Captain Chen: "..."

Did this guy just slip up?

One sentence was about humanitarian rescue, and the next he blurted out his real intention.

Still, he wasn't opposed.

He had heard something about what was happening in the Boro Province, after all, many survivors from there had fled to Fries Port.

If they could bring more people out of that hell, it wouldn't be a bad deed.

The cataclysm two centuries ago had turned the entire planet into a wasteland, civilization not only systematically declined but also twisted in its decay.

In his view, the only somewhat normal place left on this planet was the survivor forces led by shelter residents like themselves.

Almost every shelter resident harbored some messianic sentiment, and Chen Jianhong, being one of them, was no exception.

He didn't really need any talk of "passive counterstrike."

Saving suffering survivors—

That alone was enough for him!

On the other side, the chiliarch Dirang, blindfolded and bound with his hands behind his back, was thrown into the cabin. After several futile attempts to break free, he finally gave up the struggle.

The rope was made of demon silk; unless his arms could turn into a demon moth's mouth, he couldn't cut even a single strand.

Listening to the sound of the tide beneath the deck, even a fool would know what these Blue Rats were planning—they were going to do to them what they had done: land at Golden Harbor aboard a civilian cargo ship.

These shameless bastards!

Villains!

If they had any guts, they'd fight fair and square!

Dirang cursed in his heart, not noticing he was cursing himself too, until exhaustion silenced the roar in his mind, and he pressed his face against the cold deck, panting, his heavy eyelids beginning to droop.

Time passed, he didn't know how long.

He might have even dozed off for a while, waking in a daze from hunger.

Then he suddenly noticed that the sound of the tide echoing in his ears seemed different from when he had sailed here—it was duller, like the murmuring of ghosts.

A faint unease crept into his heart.

Especially when he thought about being blindfolded and stuck in this confined cabin for an entire week, that unease slowly turned into fear.

"Hey!"

He couldn't help shouting, stretching his chin forward against the deck, trying to get the guard's attention.

"At least take off my blindfold!"

No one answered.

Just as his heart was pounding with anxiety, footsteps suddenly came from ahead, along with the faint sound of a key turning in a lock.

Because his eyes had been covered for too long, his hearing had become unusually acute, and he quickly caught that barely perceptible noise.

Assuming it was someone bringing him food, he seized the opportunity and immediately shouted loudly.

"Can you take off my blindfold? Are you afraid of a prisoner with bound hands and feet?!"

However, to his surprise, the person did not seem to be there to deliver his meal—at least, from the wind blowing through the door, he smelled no aroma of food.

"Stop your noise, you're home. Get up and get the hell out."

Home...?

Dirang was stunned at first, then a look of fear instantly spread across his twisted face.

He had indeed dozed off in a daze just now, but no matter what, he couldn't have slept for a whole week. At this rate, he probably hadn't even left the Boluo Sea—how could he have arrived?!

A terrible thought emerged in his mind.

Could it be...

These guys planning to throw him into the sea to feed the fish?!

"No! I'm not going down!"

Looking at that madly shouting fellow, the player who came down to fetch him also wore a helpless expression—why did he have to end up with this most boring job?

Too lazy to waste words on the prisoner, he stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up like a chicken, and shoved him out of the cell.

"Behave yourself!"