Chapter 697: Storming the Governor's Mansion!

Chapter 697: Storming the Governor's Mansion!

"Impact point confirmed!"

"Damn it, ten meters to the left!"

"Adjusting—"

"Loaded!"

Within the walls of the governor's mansion, a towering cannon barrel spat a thick tongue of flame, firing a 100mm high-explosive shell toward the street near the port.

Stepping over the shell casing ejected from the breech, the loader deftly moved forward to complete the reload and closed the breech block, while the gunner simultaneously calibrated the firing parameters, readying the next round.

But just as he ran off with the lanyard, before he could pull it, a slap landed on the back of his head.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?! Firing on Tulip Street?!" The officer, striding over with cold sweat beading on his forehead, grabbed him by the collar and unleashed a torrent of curses.

That was Tulip Street!

Not a single person living there was someone he could afford to provoke!

The gunner, stunned and bewildered, stammered in reply.

"But—but they're right there—"

"Not even—"

The word "allowed" caught in his throat as three sharp whistling sounds screamed overhead.

Before he could react, the flash of the explosion, wrapped in shrapnel, turned him into a sieve, sending him and the wreckage of the ruined 100mm cannon flying into a sandpit ten meters away.

Looking down through the drone at the gun position now shrouded in explosive dust, an intelligence-type player standing beside the mortar position let out an excited shout.

"Direct hit! Cannon destroyed!"

"Nice work!"

The strength-type grunts crouched by the mortars felt their morale surge.

Using the coordinates provided by the spotter, the mortar crews quickly adjusted their firing data and continued delivering supporting fire to their comrades holding the perimeter around Tulip Street.

Shell after shell rained down, spreading flickering flashes of light at the street's end, kicking up rolling clouds of dust and rubble.

Under the relentless mortar bombardment, the Golden Harbor city defense troops attacking the Burning Corps' defensive line could barely lift their heads.

Without their own artillery support and no heavy weapons to use, they hadn't even seen the enemy's faces clearly before leaving over a hundred corpses behind.

Tracers pierced the smoke rising from shell craters, darting and ricocheting wildly through the street. Each spark of light marked another life spilling into a pool of blood.

"Charge!"

"Ram your bayonets down their throats!"

"Wash our streets with their blood!"

Soldiers crouching behind cover and barricades kept falling. To hold the crumbling line, the centurion commanding the front line bellowed at the men behind him, urging them forward to fill the gaps.

Listening to the boiling gunfire and the ceaseless mortar thunder, a soldier leaning against cover could no longer contain his fear and shouted at the centurion.

"Sir! Those raiders' firepower is too intense! We need heavy support—!"

Before he could finish, a roar cut him off.

"There is none! What the hell are your rifles for?! Damn it, stop firing at the buildings! I told you to aim at the men, not the houses—"

Seeing the rookie beside him with his rifle muzzle raised, the centurion yelled and reached out, grabbing the barrel to force it down.

But just then, a bullet whistled in, punching clean through the centurion's forehead.

"Thud—"

His pupils went blank, and the centurion crashed heavily to the ground.

The scattered brains and blood startled the rookie clutching his rifle, who immediately dropped his weapon and scrambled backward.

With their commander dead, the soldiers could no longer hold back their terror, abandoning their positions and fleeing to the rear.

Thus, a full-strength century of a hundred men, having held the front line for less than ten minutes, began to collapse as a unit.

Watching their comrades vanish in retreat, the soldiers left stranded at the front, unable to move, could no longer suppress their fear and despair.

Death either way, they fixed bayonets to their rifles, driving away their panic with shouts, and charged forward recklessly.

It proved to be no different from suicide.

A 10mm machine gun mounted on the third floor of a street-facing foreign-style house was enough to lock down the entire street. Long, thick tracers instantly pinned down the few soldiers charging with bayonets.

The battle was a one-sided slaughter.

Of the two thousand Golden Harbor city defense troops, within just fifteen minutes, over half were casualties, and most of the survivors were wounded.

Their enemy, on the other hand—those who had never revealed their identity—had not yielded a single inch of their line since the first shot, still firmly holding several streets near the port.

Staring at the mess scattered across the street and the corpses nearly filling the shell craters, the city defense commander, Chiliarch Abinan, wore an expression of sheer terror.

The combat effectiveness his opponents displayed was far beyond his expectations.

If this trend continued, his two thousand men would all be lost here!

It couldn't go on like this!

He shouted to the soldiers ahead.

"Retreat!"

"Everyone, pull back!"

That voice came like rain after a long drought.

Finally hearing the order to withdraw, the Xilan Empire soldiers struggling behind barricades and cover breathed a collective sigh of relief, abandoning their positions and fleeing toward the rear streets.

Seeing the imperial troops retreat, the Alliance did not pursue. They ceased fire and watched them disappear into the direction of the slums.

Elsewhere, the fighting near the governor's mansion was also winding down.

Crouching in the top-floor study of the mansion, Nihaq trembled, listening to the gunfire growing fainter outside, yet his terror only deepened.

He knew exactly who those people were, even if they hadn't revealed themselves—they had to be from the Alliance, no mistake!

But he simply couldn't figure out how they had gotten here.

Had the Alliance already known about the impending attack on Chip's Port the moment Diran set out from Golden Harbor, and simply sent men to wait on the Bora Sea?

Where had the leak come from?

The port?

Or... the Celestial Capital?

Impossible—

Nihaq's mind was a mess of fear.

This fear was far more intense than the one he'd felt a month ago when a group calling themselves the White Bear Knights had rampaged through Golden Harbor.

He could sense that this invasion wasn't some civilian organization—it was a proper regular army! One that could go toe-to-toe with the Eastern Expansionist remnants of the Legion in the Rosy Sunset Province!

He never imagined the Alliance's counterattack would be so fierce, nor that it would come so swiftly that he couldn't even manage to evacuate from the governor's mansion to a safe place.

Holding his head, he let out a pained groan.

"Damn it... this was Duke Garava's idea, why come to me! Go find him! That fool is right there in your Dawn City!"

The gunfire outside had almost ceased.

Yet the panic in Nihak's heart only grew stronger.

Trembling, he extended his index finger and parted the curtain a crack, just about to peek outside, when the door behind him was brutally kicked open.

"FBI!"

"Vice raid!"

"Freeze!"

A crowd of people barged in, shouting in a language he couldn't understand, and in the blink of an eye, dark muzzles were pressed against his forehead.

Nihak raised his hands in terror, staring at the pitch-black exoskeletons crowding into the study, and screamed.

"I surrender! Don't! Don't kill me!"

A player in an exoskeleton walked up to him, pulled out a tablet, took a photo of his face, and confirmed his identity as the governor of this settlement.

Putting the tablet away, White Give with Sniper looked at him and said.

"Governor Nihak of Golden Gallon Port, we suspect you are connected to the attack on Fries Port two nights ago. Based on the testimony of Chiliarch Dijiang and other relevant witnesses, the thousand-man squad that attacked us boarded a ship at Golden Gallon Port. Please cooperate with us for investigation."

Nihak's face was drained of all color; he couldn't even utter a word of rebuttal.

Seeing he had nothing to say, White Give with Sniper couldn't be bothered to waste words and simply waved his hand.

"Take him away!"

Two players strode forward, yanked him up from the ground, cuffed him, and escorted him out the door.

The fight downstairs was over.

Over a hundred players who had occupied the governor's mansion began a thorough search of the residence, leaving no detail unchecked.

To be honest, the luxury here was astonishing.

Whether it was the imposing grand entrance, the marble floor tiles, or the reliefs on the supporting pillars, everything screamed extreme opulence.

And it wasn't just luxury.

Less than one percent of Golden Gallon Port had electricity, but here it reached a staggering ninety-nine percent.

Not only were there double-door refrigerators, artistically designed lamps, elevators connecting every floor, and a digital central air conditioning system, but there was even a viewing room and a conference room equipped with holographic systems.

Unimaginable.

That such industrial creations could appear in a settlement where most survivors were still struggling near the poverty line.

But this confusion didn't last long; it was quickly resolved when four players entered the kitchen.

"...Good grief, it's even made in Dawn City?" Looking at the trademark under the refrigerator door corner, the player with a rifle slung across his chest wore a surprised expression.

His nickname was Yin Cha Yang Cuo, and his class was the infamous version-scrapped strength-type beast.

The three teammates behind him were [Yi Bu Deng Tian], [Ban Sui Cuo Tuo], and [Mei You Jia Ren], all of whom, like him, had obtained closed beta qualifications on the eve of the Yellow Sand Myriad expansion, now around levels twenty-five or twenty-six, considered the server's backbone.

"The villain is me?" Mei You Jia Ren whistled, a hint of mockery in his voice.

It wasn't just the refrigerator.

The oven and microwave here were also produced in the Dawn City industrial zone, with the trademarks still attached, not even peeled off.

These industrial goods, unaffordable for ordinary people, clearly hadn't improved the lives of local survivors—they might have even made things worse.

After circling the kitchen, Ban Sui Cuo Tuo rubbed his chin and mused.

"Probably exported to Hump Kingdom, then sold here from Silver Moon Bay."

Mei You Jia Ren suddenly had a whimsical thought and asked.

"How many slaves would it take to trade for one refrigerator like this?"

Yi Bu Deng Tian: "...Ten? Twenty?"

Ban Sui Cuo Tuo: "That's too many. A refrigerator can't cost tens of thousands of dinars... Probably seven or eight should be enough."

In Dawn City, a refrigerator costs about 800 to 1000 silver coins, equivalent to the price of four or five assault rifles. Most residents could buy one after saving half a month's wages. Even at the minimum hourly wage, a little over a month would suffice.

But thinking about it this way, the survivors living in this settlement were truly pitiful, worth even less than a refrigerator.

The four left the kitchen, walked along the corridor into the basement, and arrived at a storeroom that seemed to hold the governor's private collection.

Looking at the locked door, the four players all wore excited expressions.

"Step back, I've got this!"

Finally seizing the chance to show off, Yin Cha Yang Cuo stepped forward, spat into his palm, and then kicked the tightly shut door with all his might.

Powered by the exoskeleton's drive and dozens of points of strength, this kick sent the door flying several meters away.

This was when a strength-type's skills were most useful.

Yin Cha Yang Cuo raised an eyebrow, ready to show off, when suddenly screams came from the room behind the door. The four quickly raised their rifles and rushed in, only to find two women huddled together, trembling.

They were beautiful, their thin nightgowns barely concealing their curvaceous figures, large patches of fair skin exposed. They must have fled here in such a hurry that they didn't even have time to grab a coat.

Looking at the uninvited guests who had burst into the room, the woman with flaxen hair shrank back and asked in a panicked voice.

"Who... who are you?"

The players exchanged glances, unsure how to handle this. Yin Cha Yang Cuo reported the situation to the centurion, then looked at her and said.

"We haven't decided yet. We'll let you know when we do... Are you the governor's wife?"

"No... I, I..." For some reason, the woman suddenly stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

Fearing she might anger these people, the sister crouching beside her quickly sold her out.

"She's the wife of Director Bihari... the director of the Port Security Bureau."

Ban Sui Cuo Tuo: "?"

Yi Bu Deng Tian: "???"

Yin Cha Yang Cuo: "...?"

Mei You Jia Ren was also stunned, but soon his focus shifted elsewhere. He looked curiously at the woman who had spoken and asked.

"And you? Are you the governor's wife?"

The woman's expression turned awkward, and she hesitated for a long time without speaking.

Meanwhile, the exposed director's wife, now humiliated, glared angrily at her companion and gritted her teeth, saying bitterly.

"She's the wife of Tax Bureau Director Gulamanki."

The two stared at each other, their gazes nearly sparking. If not for the onlookers, they might have started fighting on the spot.

The four players exchanged glances again, sharing bewildered looks.

After a long pause, Ban Sui Cuo Tuo sighed and remarked with feeling.

"These guys really are twisted..."

Without the approval of his family, he nodded, speaking in a critical tone.

"Next time, take me along."

Yin Cha Yang Cuo: "..."

...

The discovery in the Governor's collection room was but a brief interlude; the two were temporarily sent to stay with Governor Nihak's family and servants.

Compared to the wives of the police chief and the tax bureau director, the players present were far more intrigued by Governor Nihak's collection displayed in the room.

As the suspect behind the attack on Fries Harbor, his assets were to be confiscated to compensate for the ammunition lost that night.

As for the surplus, it would naturally be distributed as mission rewards to the players involved in the operation.

Yet, to everyone's surprise, the Governor's collection was not a mountain of gold and silver treasures, but rather a trove of peculiar objects.

Some resembled pre-war artifacts, such as a finely crafted maglev car shell, a bionic humanoid produced in the 85th year of the Prosperity Era, and even a relatively well-preserved vending machine and a card-operated public coffee machine.

Beyond these larger items, there were also various odd trinkets, along with a vast number of pre-war holographic cassettes and game memory cards.

The abundance of Prosperity Era relics here might have been due to Governor Nihak's personal hobby.

Yet, puzzlingly, a man so obsessed with that era harbored no longing for it in his heart.

The players could only try to understand.

Perhaps the Governor was merely fascinated by those miraculous, magic-like technologies that could soar to the heavens and delve into the earth, but cared not a whit about how they came to be.

Otherwise, it would be hard to explain why they were displayed here, framed and preserved.

Regardless, acquiring such well-preserved pre-war artifacts was an unexpected boon for the Burning Legion.

The scientific expedition team would be interested in these.

Whether for sociological or engineering research, Boss Yin Fang often offered generous prices for valuable Prosperity Era antiques.

After searching the entire villa, the players gathered in the hall. Baigei Daiju briefed them on the current situation and the next phase of the operation.

"Brothers from the first squad have crippled the city defense forces of Golden Gallon Port. Those cowards have retreated into the slums to organize defenses and await reinforcements. The first phase of the offensive is complete."

"New orders have been issued. Command intends to turn this place into a temporary base, allowing us to monitor the northern district of Golden Gallon Port. We'll be operating in this area for the next few days. To secure control, we need to do two things: reinforce defenses here and evacuate nearby local survivors."

"Command suggests we offer the locals some money to move away quickly, to avoid collateral damage when fighting breaks out."

The wasteland had no international law, but civilian casualties were to be minimized, both for the Alliance's reputation and for smooth operations on the ground.

An intelligence-type player raised his hand.

Baigei Daiju looked at him.

"Speak."

The player immediately said,

"Where does the money come from?"

Baigei Daiju continued succinctly,

"From our enemies' pockets, of course. I was just getting to that. The largest bank in this settlement is on Tulip Street, and it's already under our control. Dinars and Cr still have some recycling value, but those Silan bills are just scrap paper. In short, we have about a hundred million Silan in budget for this task."

The crowd gasped in unison.

"Good heavens!"

"A hundred million?!"

"If only these were silver coins!"

Baigei Daiju coughed lightly, cutting off their astonished chatter.

"Stop dreaming. Let's get down to business. We need to relocate about five hundred households. It's quite a hassle... Which team is willing to take this on?"

The moment he finished speaking, hands shot up in unison.

"Me, me, me!"

"Look at me, boss! I don't mind trouble!"

"My family's been through demolition—I know the drill!"

"Damn! You have to show off even for this?"

Everyone clamored, eager to experience the thrill of marking buildings for demolition, something they'd never get to do in real life.

Seeing everyone eager for the task, Baigei Daiju scratched his head and randomly tapped on his VM screen.

"...Yin Cha Yang Cuo, take your squad and get it done quickly."

Amid envious glances, Yin Cha Yang Cuo grinned, not missing the chance to show off.

"Entrusted at a critical moment, brothers. I'll take my leave!"

Watching his smug demeanor, a nearby player rolled their eyes.

"Get lost."

"Watch out for a sniper from the locals."

"Tsk."

Unable to stand their idiot leader's blatant taunting, Ban Sui Cuo Tuo reluctantly dragged him away from the crowd.

...

Occupying a settlement of over a million people with just five hundred was still difficult.

The dense slums were like a labyrinthine ant colony, and the undulating terrain made it a three-dimensional maze.

Sending troops in without knowing the terrain could easily lead to being surrounded and outflanked due to scattered forces.

Thus, before the operation began, the Burning Legion players had strategized on the forum, deciding to confine the battle to the streets near the port.

The most critical facility in Golden Gallon Port was the port itself.

As long as they held the port, they could maneuver freely and receive a steady stream of supplies from the sea.

Moreover, since the most valuable part of the settlement was under their control, the Imperial Army would hesitate to attack, fearing damage to the area.

Compared to the flimsy shacks in the slums, the buildings along the port streets were far more reliable as cover.

At the same time that the port district of Golden Gallon Port changed hands, far away on the west coast of Bolo Province, the Imperial Celestial Capital was buzzing with joy.

Under the morning sunlight, the Legion's envoy convoy passed through the North Gate of the Celestial Capital, advancing toward the Imperial Celestial Palace amid the cheers of survivors lining the streets.

There lay the Emperor's palace.

It was both his resting place and the venue for his audiences with ministers.

Sitting in an armored off-road vehicle, MacLenn idly watched the celebrating crowd outside the window, forcing a smile and waving at them.

Only when he grew tired did he pull down the sunshade, grumbling to his adjutant beside him.

"Why are there so many people here?"

The sea of black heads stretched endlessly.

The adjutant spoke softly.

"After all, this is the capital of the Xilan Empire, it's normal to have so many people."

McLaren pursed his lips.

"I know it's their capital, but this many people is just ridiculous... Are these fellows all turned from rats?"

The adjutant gave a soft cough and reminded him amiably.

"They are our comrades... at least for now, and I hope you can show them a bit more respect, not like what you did in the Falcon Kingdom."

The province of Boro was the sphere of influence of the Triumph City civil official faction, and the Legion's diplomatic posture in the region was one of co-optation, as per the direct orders of His Majesty the Marshal.

The Legion's civil officials had been operating here for many years, trading the equipment the military officers had grown tired of for a host of hardworking servants for Triumph City, sending a large number of useful auxiliary troops to the Western Front, and even the Xilan Empire itself was counted among their achievements.

He did not want this muscle-headed military officer to mess things up.

McLaren said impatiently,

"I know."

The adjutant looked at him in surprise.

This was their first time working together; he had expected General McLaren to be more difficult to handle, but unexpectedly, the fellow was surprisingly easy to get along with?

It was completely different from what he had heard from his colleagues.

McLaren ignored him, leaning back in his seat to rest with his eyes closed.

Ever since spending half a year in prison in the Alliance, he had become a different person, turning from arrogant and domineering to gloomy and reserved.

Especially after hearing the news of General Griffin's death.

Whether it was the cruelty of factional infighting that had frightened him or something else, after returning to Triumph City, he had been in a state of self-exile, drifting away from the core of power.

Even though factions kept extending olive branches to him, he paid them no heed, and over time he became a marginal figure in Triumph City, still not appointed as the new airship commander.

And that was with the rank of a two-star Myriarch.

Until this time, the civil official group, also on the fringes of power, extended an invitation for cooperation, asking him to serve as a military advisor to the Legion's strategic ally.

Perhaps wanting to get away and clear his mind, he agreed without much hesitation, but he had worn a long face the entire journey here.

The convoy stopped at the gate of the Celestial Palace.

The officer from the passenger seat opened the door for the two in the back, and a towering giant tower soon came into view of the Valiants.

The tower was flat in shape, like a rectangular prism with sharp edges, its walls as sheer as mirrors. But what was most stunning was not its grand silhouette, but the fact that it floated like a book laid flat, suspended ten meters above the ground, connected only by a man-made marble staircase.

There was only one possibility for this magnificent edifice to defy gravity.

Gazing at the towering "palace" before him, McLaren narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Anti-gravity device?"

The adjutant nodded slightly and said softly,

"Yes, its core is a cargo starship; you should be familiar with that thing."

McLaren snorted noncommittally.

"Using that thing as a palace is truly extravagant."

"After all, this four-million-square-kilometer peninsula is the only 'reservation'; the deserts and mountains have shielded them from too many things. You'll understand what it's like after staying here a while—being born here is both a blessing and a curse..." the adjutant said softly, when an officer suddenly ran up to him and whispered a few urgent words.

The adjutant's face changed instantly.

Sensing the shift in his expression, McLaren raised an eyebrow slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a small incident on the eastern side of Boro Province... nothing major, you don't need to worry; we'll resolve it through diplomatic channels." The adjutant answered with an awkward expression, evading the question.

McLaren frowned more deeply, staring at him intently.

"What exactly is it? I order you to tell me immediately."

Rank overwhelms, and with so many levels between them, the adjutant ultimately couldn't withstand the pressure and reluctantly spoke.

"Alliance soldiers have landed at Jingalun Port—"

Before he could finish, he saw McLaren turn and head back toward the convoy.

Startled by his strong reaction, the adjutant quickly grabbed his arm.

"Wait, General McLaren, what... what are you doing?!"

Turning to glare at him, McLaren cursed angrily,

"What am I doing? You said I was here to train the Empire's soldiers, not to fight the Alliance!"

It wasn't that he was afraid of those blue rats.

It was just that he didn't have a decent force at hand; relying on these cannon fodder to fight the Alliance would be useless even if they threw away their lives—he might as well surrender directly.

Holding tightly to McLaren's arm, the adjutant explained hastily with a wry smile,

"Please, don't get excited. They only landed a thousand-man unit, and that's on the easternmost edge of Boro Province; we're in the west... And we haven't heard of the Alliance formally declaring war on the Xilan Empire. There must be some misunderstanding!"

McLaren stopped and looked at him suspiciously.

"You're sure? Only a thousand-man unit?"

The adjutant nodded quickly.

"I'm sure! Our intelligence network covers the entire peninsula; I can assure you! It's definitely not what you think..."

A thousand-man unit.

Even taking Jingalun Port would be difficult, let alone marching here.

Realizing he had overreacted, McLaren couldn't help but blush, shook off the hand gripping his arm, and coughed forcefully.

"Next time, say it all at once, don't squeeze it out like toothpaste."

You didn't give me a chance to finish either...

The adjutant smiled bitterly, complaining inwardly, but out of respect for the Myriarch, he remained silent.

Just then, surrounded by a crowd of ministers, a man in splendid attire stood at the top of the staircase leading to the Celestial Palace.

A hearty, bold laugh accompanied the delighted welcome.

"Welcome, friends from the north!"

"You've finally arrived!"