Chapter 705: The Enemy Not Only Refuses to Surrender, But Even Wants to Go Big

Chapter 705: The Enemy Not Only Refused to Surrender, They Even Wanted to Go Big

In the pitch-black, dilapidated hut.

Dampness and mildew crept along the walls, as if even the air had been tainted. The dim candlelight illuminated only a small portion of the floor, leaving most of the space filled with darkness.

The place was like a rat’s nest.

The stench of rot and mold invaded his nostrils; Rajesh, tied to a chair with hemp ropes, slowly opened his eyes.

The memories before his unconsciousness flooded back like a tide. He instinctively struggled, but it only caused a creaking sound with no effect.

He raised his head, squinted, and through the dim light barely made out the young man standing before him.

It was none other than the same fellow who had found him earlier, claiming to take him to meet the boss of this street.

Now it seemed...

He had probably been sold out.

He only hoped now that his two teammates would be clever enough to carry the intelligence about the bribed residents near the Governor’s Mansion out of here.

“How much did you sell me for?”

A Xin said calmly.

“Gifts are free.”

“So the Alliance has given you plenty of benefits,” Rajesh sneered, looking at the composed young man, then glanced around. “Where is this? Your place for disposing of bodies?”

A Xin said expressionlessly.

“My home.”

Rajesh’s expression froze for a moment.

His first reaction was: can anyone live in this godforsaken place?

But soon, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the fellow.

“You are a subject of the Empire.”

A Xin said calmly.

“That’s right, and the rat you despise the most.”

“No one despises you; you despise yourselves... isn’t that so?”

Rajesh breathed lightly, glanced at the rope binding his arms, then looked at the young man, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“Look at what you’ve done? While brave wolf-men fight for the Empire’s interests, a little rat stabs him in the back. No one likes a bunch of sly, scheming rats, but not because they are called rats, but because they are shameless, despicable, vile, with only profit in their eyes. They can send their own daughters and wives to be prostitutes, with not a shred of righteousness in their hearts... If it were you, would you like such people?”

He expected the young man’s face to show shame, or at least a little guilt.

But after hearing his words, A Xin only gave a cold laugh, even mimicking his tone, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

He had heard worse insults.

This roundabout cursing didn’t even tickle.

“It’s not too late for you to turn back... Your intelligence should be used for the right path. His Majesty will pardon your momentary lapse. You don’t want to carry sin and shame onto the path of reincarnation, do you?” Rajesh’s eyes still held a glimmer of hope that the young man would see the light.

Unfortunately.

He had expected the wrong thing after all.

“Too late. I’ve already decided what animal I’ll be in my next life.”

With a hint of sarcasm in his voice, A Xin coldly threw out these words, then turned to look at the iron man behind him wearing an exoskeleton, speaking respectfully.

“Sir, it’s him... When we were demolishing the slums, he sneaked in with two others, poking around and trying to inquire about you. They thought they were hiding carefully, but meat-eaters and dirt-chewing rats don’t even breathe the same air. No matter how much ash and mud they smeared on their faces, we recognized them at a glance.”

Yincha Yangcuo nodded with satisfaction.

“Good.”

Finally seeing the exoskeleton clearly, Rajesh’s face lost all color, his trembling lips turning pale.

He was a man of backbone after all; he stiffened his neck and said coldly.

“...I won’t say a thing.”

But upon hearing that, the “iron man” just shrugged indifferently.

“It doesn’t matter. We didn’t expect to get anything out of you anyway. You’re not an officer making battle plans, at best a scout. But catching you is a pleasant surprise. Our original expectation was just that the locals wouldn’t cause trouble. We even assumed we’d fight a disadvantageous street battle with one-sided intelligence. But we didn’t expect... they’d be so enthusiastic.”

Saying this, Yincha Yangcuo turned to A Xin, smiling and patting the young man on the shoulder.

“Well done. He’s the one we were looking for. I’m very pleased with this gift. Next... could you make him disappear? It’s not good for you if these three stay alive, is it?”

Those words had already confirmed they hadn’t caught the wrong person.

He had come to take a look only to prevent this fellow from killing random civilians to pad the numbers just to please him.

A Xin understood and nodded respectfully.

“Leave it to me.”

Yincha Yangcuo nodded with satisfaction and got up to leave the hut.

He was starting to like this new subordinate.

The old door panel closed; watching the sliver of moonlight through the crack vanish, a trace of despair gradually crept onto Rajesh’s face.

He looked at A Xin standing by the door, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Driven by survival instinct, he finally couldn’t help but beg for mercy.

“Don’t kill me. Can you spare my life...”

Feeling that just saying that wasn’t enough, he swallowed and continued.

“I have five children to raise. Jating is about your age, Talen is only seven, and Amy... Please spare me for their sake. I won’t tell General Arayan about you. Let’s pretend we never met.”

Actually, he wasn’t afraid of death.

But if he had to die, he would rather die on the battlefield than in this gutter, with his throat bitten by a disgusting rat.

A Xin just looked at him expressionlessly, then suddenly looked up at the ceiling that seemed ready to fall at any moment.

“Do they live in this godforsaken place too, like my brothers and sisters?”

Rajesh was stunned.

By the time he came to his senses, the young man had already turned and left the hut...

At the door of the crumbling shack stood a dense crowd, blocking the path littered with broken bricks.

Led by Kunar, a dog-man, these poor people stood in a row, respectfully watching A Xin as he followed the iron man out of the hut.

As if looking at a king.

Standing at the door, A Xin paused for a moment, first glancing at the barren ruins around, then looking back at the dilapidated hut with red cloth hanging behind him.

He hadn’t lived here for a few days. Before the Gray Wolf Army arrived, he had already moved his family to Tulip Street, adjacent to the harbor.

A Vellant who had lost his shirt in business had unloaded his property there—a three-story, finely decorated foreign-style house covering two to three hundred square meters, priced at only fifty two-headed cattle or the equivalent in Xilan currency.

He was the only bidder, spending less than two million in total.

And just a little over a week ago, a young Ratfolk lad buying a house there with Xilan coins was nothing short of a pipe dream.

The cluster of houses near the Governor’s Mansion had been mostly demolished, even the rubble carted away, leaving only his lone building standing in isolation.

He had originally planned to tear this one down after the others were gone, but now, suddenly, he found the shabby hut an eyesore no matter how he looked at it.

Too ugly.

Even a dead dog that had fallen into a sewer said this place was where they disposed of corpses.

“Tear it down.”

Hearing that cold voice, Kunar bowed his head respectfully.

“As you command!”

…

Three full days had passed since the Grey Wolf Army marched off to Golden Gallon Port.

And in those three days, the soldiers of the Grey Wolf Army had come to understand what it meant to be the object of universal hope and popular support.

The suburban residents of Golden Gallon Port, welcoming the imperial army, took only three days to dig all the fortifications for these noble Wolf warriors.

And they did not charge a single coin.

Immeasurably deep trenches surrounded the port, cutting off all escape, like giant pythons coiling around the entire settlement.

But—

The survivors who had taken money held it uneasily in their hands, fearing that these imperial soldiers might win.

If those grunts suffered a loss at the hands of the Alliance and later came to their senses about the trenches, they would likely settle the score.

Moreover, lately, for some unknown reason, the price of beans had soared. Originally five or six Xilan coins could buy a catty, but now it had risen to seven or eight.

If it kept rising like this, buying beans would be worse than buying black bread, and the poorer folk would have to eat two more meals of dirt.

A suffocating pressure weighed on everyone’s heads, except for the jokers inside the settlement and the soldiers outside.

The situation seemed excellent, yet General Arayan, commanding from the front lines, could not help but feel a shadow of worry.

His capable subordinate Rajesh had been missing for five whole days, and now the information from within the city was a gray fog to him.

Though his men had captured some suburban survivors for questioning, most of them had never been to the port in their lives, and some, whether they had been or not, just spouted nonsense.

To attack rashly without understanding the enemy was a grave mistake. He needed at least to clarify the troop deployment and firepower configuration of Lowell Camp before deciding how many troops and how much equipment to commit in the next battle.

Even if the Grey Wolf Army was the empire’s elite, their logistics were not unlimited. No matter how much they scorned the enemy, they still had to be cautious when it came to actual fighting.

And besides the lack of intelligence, what troubled him more was that His Respected Majesty was beginning to lose patience…

Just at noon on the third day, a desert-camouflaged off-road vehicle drove up to the rear of the positions.

A man in military uniform pushed open the door and strode straight into the command post draped with camouflage netting. Seeing General Arayan in a meeting, he barked angrily.

“General Arayan, what are you and your men dawdling about!”

Everyone in the tent stopped talking.

Arayan looked up in surprise at the doorway, about to flare up, but recognized the face as Prince Dilip and quickly suppressed the anger that had just ignited.

In the Xilan Empire, the title of prince was granted only to those of royal blood, a status far beyond that of a Wolf general like him.

Without a doubt, the Emperor had sent him here for only one reason—

This fellow had come as a war overseer!

Restraining the temper that surged to the crown of his head, Arayan took a deep breath and said.

“What… dawdling about?”

“Three days! Your troops arrived here three days ago and haven’t fired a single shot! Are you planning to live here?” Prince Dilip stared at him, pressing aggressively.

Arayan explained with a headache.

“We need sufficient intelligence to formulate an operational plan. Lowell Camp has solid concrete fortifications, and the Alliance’s artillery supports them from the rear. Sending soldiers in recklessly would only add casualties without any meaning.”

Prince Dilip burst into a tirade upon hearing this.

“Intelligence? Golden Gallon Port is imperial territory. Do you not know the road or the people there? Just grab someone and ask, and it’ll be clear!”

Arayan looked at the prince with a throbbing head.

“If only it were that simple… Those survivors living in the suburbs—some say the Alliance has monsters with three heads and six arms, others claim they can summon sea beasts. Do you think such intelligence has any reference value?”

Prince Dilip fumed: “Then send a squad of scouts in to have a look! Do I need to teach you how to do that?!”

“That would be sending them to their deaths! The Alliance’s people are watching right at the edge of the settlement, and I suspect they’ve bribed the entire settlement’s guards and some residents. The scouts I sent in earlier have had no news until now.”

He paused, then looked seriously at Dilip and continued.

“Listen, our enemy is no fool. Only through a well-planned, single strike can we have a chance to crush them… By the way, where are the Legion people?”

He had heard that several Verant officers had arrived in Tiandu, officers who had fought the Alliance in Luoxia Province.

If he could bring those men in, he might gain a more accurate understanding of the Alliance’s strength.

But unfortunately, the only one standing here was the man he least wanted to see.

Prince Dilip stared at him without blinking.

“His Majesty hopes you will solve this problem with your own strength. There’s no need to trouble our allies over such a trivial matter.”

Arayan’s mouth twitched.

Before he could speak, Prince Dilip narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him like a hawk sizing up its prey.

“General Arayan, are you afraid?”

“Afraid?” Arayan was taken aback, then laughed incredulously. “Are you joking? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“Then why have you still not launched an attack on the Alliance?” Prince Dilip lifted his chin slightly. “Let me be blunt: His Majesty sent you here to watch you crush those bugs stuck to the soles of our shoes. Yet for three consecutive days, the messages sent to Tiandu have all been ‘General Arayan is leading his Grey Wolves in digging trenches.’ Are you planning to dig a canal here?”

Arayan took a deep breath.

“I will plan the attack on Lowell Camp as soon as possible… Give me one more day!”

Prince Dilip let out a scoff.

“Lowell Camp? His Majesty wants you to plant the flag on the roof of the Governor’s Mansion! It seems you really haven’t read His Majesty’s telegram properly.”

General Arayan stared at him blankly, and it took a long while before he squeezed out a sentence.

“…Have you looked at a map?”

Prince Dilip said with full confidence.

“Of course I have. That place is the Alliance’s defensive stronghold in Golden Gallon Port. If you take it out, your men can advance into the port area, drive straight in, and push them all the way into the sea!”

Arayan could not help but retort.

“That’s too idealistic! Even if we take it, it would mean nothing but premature street fighting near the port area. It’s better to take Lowell Camp first and gradually force them to shrink their defensive line—”

“I think you’re just afraid,” Prince Dilip said, squinting at him. “A few grasshoppers have made you cower like this. Since you dare not attack the Governor’s Mansion, just hand over the command to me. I’ll do it for you.”

Arayan suppressed the fury in his chest, took a deep breath, and said.

“I can give you a ten-thousand-man unit—”

"No need for so many. Five thousand will suffice."

Turning at the tent entrance, Prince Dilip paused, tilted his head, and tossed out a remark with feigned indifference, "I expect you to have them assembled by nightfall, or I'll have reasonable grounds to doubt whether you're still fit for this task."

He wasn't a fool.

If given a ten-thousand-man unit, he'd answer to the chiliarch, and orders would have to trickle down through layers of command—and those slippery bastards had a thousand ways to stall him.

But five directly subordinate thousand-man units? That was different.

He himself was the chiliarch!

He'd decide how to fight, no need to consult anyone!

Watching that "inscrutable" profile, Arayan, despite a thousand reluctances, could only steel himself and nod.

"Yes!"

...

The next day, the Empire's front finally stirred. A massive force, trailing clouds of dust, crossed the freshly dug trenches and advanced toward the districts of Kingallon Port.

Yincha and his crew, lurking near the city, spotted them early and radioed the report back to the rear.

The twelve 155mm guns deployed at Kingallon Port instantly adjusted their firing data, their thick barrels pointing skyward.

A soldier in an exoskeleton strode to the front, flipped open his helmet's speaker, and bellowed.

"Brothers! The stray dogs hiding outside the settlement have finally crawled out of their holes! Let's give 'em a beating they won't forget—show 'em what happens when you mess with the wrong people!"

"Fire—!"

At the command, lanyards were pulled in unison, and streaks of orange tracer fire shot through the dust into the sky.

That stunning sight left countless sailors and merchants on the port dumbstruck.

Before the onlookers could snap out of it, exoskeleton-clad human loaders had already rammed home the second shells in the lingering haze.

"Fire!!"

Another salvo.

The roaring gun barrels, like bagpipes playing, rained death upon the enemy positions over ten kilometers away.

One could imagine.

What a sight it must be on that distant front...

The crowd on the port finally came to their senses, casting awestruck glances at the ceaselessly firing artillery.

"...Is that the legendary 155?"

"By the Spirit of the Sand Sea!"

"I can feel the earth trembling!"

"The Emperor of Silan must be mad... Why provoke these plague-bringers?"

"If you ask me, they'd better pay up and apologize now. Keep this up, and even ten Gray Wolf armies won't be enough to throw away."

Sailors on the decks buzzed with chatter, while some sharp-minded merchants were already pondering placing orders in Dawn City.

Watching the Alliance artillery flaunt their might, a few Verlanders wore sour expressions and cursed under their breath.

"Damn it, we've got more than just 100mm!"

"Those disgraceful Eastern Expansionists dare to speak for us?"

"A bunch of clueless fools!"

But no matter how they argued, the fact remained that the borders of the Sunset Province states hadn't budged an inch—they'd even let a bizarre place called Bister Town spring up on the edge of the Falcon Kingdom.

A swarm of young men preferred staying there, working sewing machines, to going home, leaving the Falcon Kingdom with a surplus of women and a shortage of young men—widows everywhere, hardly a lad in sight. Only with the Eastern Legion's aid did they barely keep the royal authority alive.

That battle had left the Falcon Kingdom gasping for years, and no one knew why the Silan Empire was so eager to curry favor with Triumph City.

The Falcon Kingdom's population didn't even match Kingallon Port's, yet with Eastern Legion aid, they got by decently. Given the scale of the Bahr Province, the Verlanders would have to be mad to bail them out.

Maybe—

His Imperial Majesty really had a thing for those big-nosed folks.

While the sailors on the port were gawking and gossiping, the Gray Wolf vanguard far out in Kingallon's outskirts was in dire straits.

The rear artillery launched a counter-bombardment, but without fire direction.

The first ranging shot went who-knows-where, a wild barrage that might or might not have hit anything—only to draw Alliance counterfire. Six 100mm howitzers were blown to scrap on the spot, most of the gunners dead or wounded, the bunker echoing with screams.

Prince Dilip, battered by the relentless shelling, didn't flinch. Instead, the roaring guns stirred the blood in his veins.

Watching the distant black smoke and the soldiers cowering in the trenches, he gave up on counter-battery fire, gripping his radio and shouting hoarsely.

"Push forward!"

"You think staying there makes you a target for the Alliance? Once you're in the city, there's cover everywhere! Advance—!"

His raspy voice cracked from the strain—clearly, he was giving his all in command, but it still couldn't drown out the Alliance's guns.

The chiliarch in the trench ignored him, eyes closed, counting the shells falling around, pretending the blasts had deafened him.

Even a pig knew that going out now meant getting blown up. Why not wait for the shelling to end and then move forward?

Why else dig these trenches?

But then again, those damned engineers had dug the pits deep enough... He'd have a hard time even poking his head out to look.

Luckily, Prince Dilip only yelled from the rear, not daring to charge to the front and drag soldiers out of the trenches.

After the bombardment, a scattered group followed whistle signals out of the trenches, pressing on toward the city.

Alliance shells came intermittently, catching soldiers who couldn't find cover in time.

Still, these were well-trained elites—they'd hit the dirt at the first boom. For Prince Dilip, the casualties were within acceptable limits.

But General Arayan, watching from farther off, felt his heart bleed.

The troops given to Prince Dilip might not be the Gray Wolf elite, but they were still his men—his countrymen, at that.

"This fool!"

He cursed through gritted teeth, lowering his binoculars with a thud.

Meanwhile, four players squatting on Kingallon's outskirts were reveling in the thunderous barrage.

"Haha! Beautiful shot!"

"Our artillery brothers are getting more accurate by the day."

Watching Yincha pump his fist in excitement, his family member chuckled.

"Hey, you notice? Those coffin pits we gave 'em actually came in handy."

Rather than the unlucky dead, he focused on the survivors.

The soldiers who'd jumped into the trenches couldn't even show their heads; to climb out, they had to toss their rifles up first, then scramble against the walls.

Under the roaring shellfire, wave after wave of them pushed toward the city in disarray, never too many at once, but never too few either.

They knew it well.

Long-range firepower looks terrifying, but in truth, it doesn't kill many. As long as you don't bunch up too tightly, advancing in a clustered formation is feasible.

But if too few are sent into the urban area, given the individual combat prowess the Alliance displayed in the last battle, it would be no different from throwing lives away.

After leaving behind over a hundred corpses, five thousand-man teams gradually pushed into the settlement, using the narrow streets and the houses lining them as cover to advance.

The artillery, having completed a round of fire support, ceased firing and began preparing for the next wave.

Prince Dilip, seeing the Alliance's artillery fall silent and his forces advancing like a splitting bamboo into the outskirts of Jingalun Harbor's urban area, could no longer contain his restless excitement.

Tossing the phone to the radioman carrying the pack, he looked at the captain of his guard, who was holding a rifle, and shouted excitedly.

"Hurry! We're following them!"

The guard captain hesitated slightly but dared not defy this lord, so he steeled himself and led the men to clear the way.

Meanwhile, four players in the city were holding binoculars, eating snacks, curiously watching where the imperial soldiers entering the city were headed.

A few days ago, the big shots had analyzed a lot on the official forum, seemingly convinced that General Arayan would definitely make Rowell Camp the main attack direction, and each of them spoke with great confidence.

But after standing here watching for most of the day, they saw no one heading toward Rowell Camp; instead, they went farther and farther away.

"...Looks like they're heading toward the Governor's Mansion," said Family Brother, turning to look at Yincha with a grin. "Captain, your prediction failed!"

Clearly aware of this too, Yincha still stubbornly stared for a long time.

Only after the group completely disappeared from sight did he lower his binoculars, his eyes wide.

"Damn... are they crazy?"

Family Brother chuckled.

"Good grief, looks like this demolition chief is about to make a meritorious contribution."

Out of a budget of 100 million, only 90 million was spent. With a handful of cash, they demolished all the houses near the Governor's Mansion, creating a nearly 600-meter kill zone with no cover, littered with immovable rubble. A single machine gun could pin them down tight. Without armor or artillery, they'd be charging in with their heads!

Half-Year Wasted scratched the back of his head, utterly baffled.

"Damn, this makes no sense."

Instead of attacking the strategically important Rowell Camp, they went straight for the Governor's Mansion near the port district.

What the hell are they after?

Nearly five thousand-man teams—this can't even be called a feint anymore.

One Step to Heaven was also dumbfounded, nodding.

"+1."

Family Brother urged.

"Stop with the '+1' and hurry up and follow them."

The Governor's Mansion area was their position. They weren't worried about the allies there getting into trouble, but mainly afraid that if they arrived too late, there'd be nothing left for them.

Half-Year Wasted looked at Yincha, pointing at the ground.

"What about here?"

Yincha thought for a moment, opened his VM screen to report the situation, then looked at his three teammates.

"Let Kill Dagger and the others keep an eye on it... Oh, and leave the cameras for them, and one drone."

Meanwhile, far away in the port area of Jingalun Harbor, Fang Chang and Old Bai also received news from the front about the Gray Wolf Army's movements.

Looking at Fang Chang, who wore a speechless expression, Old Bai chuckled and teased.

"Looks like our opponent this time isn't playing by the rules."

Fang Chang made a helpless face.

"I really hate fighting opponents like this. You can never use normal logic to figure out what they'll do next."

It's like he still can't understand who gave these guys the courage to launch an undeclared war, thinking they could do it secretly and get away with it, only to get beaten and then, unable to accept defeat, decide to flip the table and go all in.

Of course, this played right into his hands.

If the Emperor of the Xilan Empire had formally admitted his mistake to the Alliance through diplomatic channels, given the Administrator's personality, he would probably have approved a settlement based on compensation and apology. In that case, the Burning Legion would have had to stop there, hastily ending this self-defense counterattack and returning to Fries Town with the reparations.

After all, the Administrator's previous telegram had already mentioned requiring them "not to actively escalate the military conflict."

But now, the situation was completely different.

Since the other side had taken the initiative to escalate, they no longer needed to hold back.

If that "Emperor" thought the Burning Legion's heaviest firepower was just a few 88mm mortars, he was sorely mistaken.

Twelve 155mm howitzers had already been deployed in the port.

In addition, six giant crabs, each four meters tall, had also landed along the docks at Jingalun Harbor.

Six thick walking legs supported a heavy, curved steel shell. Above the two pincers hung two 20mm autocannons, with long ammunition belts feeding into the rotating drum magazines on either side of the thick shell through the wrist joints. The cockpit was located in the center of the shell.

Standing on the docks, they looked like monstrous creatures baring their claws, their pitch-black metal shells gleaming with a chilling light under the sun.

This new weapon was codenamed "King Crab," full name DWX-1 "King Crab" amphibious all-terrain infantry armor.

Both in form and mechanical structure, it was cast from the same mold as the "Crab" engineering armor recently issued to the Fries Town underwater construction team.

And indeed, that was the case.

This infantry armor, called "King Crab," was a military variant designed based on the "Crab" engineering armor.

The driver entered through the crab's rear, riding it like a motorcycle, and could freely switch between joystick control and neural link operation.

This equipment was designed for complex terrain, underwater combat, and beach landing operations, also serving the function of armed transport in roadless conditions.

Originally, the crab's pincers were equipped with two bolters with grenade launchers, but since there were no targets in Jingalun Harbor requiring bolters, they were replaced with 20mm autocannons.

Like the "Crab" engineering armor, this thing couldn't be mass-produced yet. The core power components, transmission structures, and frames had to be processed at the B7 floor machining center of Vault 404, then sent to the Dawn City industrial zone for secondary processing.

As a result, its cost price even exceeded that of the "subsidized" Dawn Power Armor, reaching two million silver coins!

If they hadn't made a fortune from "robbing the bank," and if they weren't preparing for the future war with the Torch, they wouldn't have been willing to spend the money on this.

Looking at the six "King Crab" armors ready to go, the corners of Old Bai's mouth curled into a mischievous grin.

"Since they don't want to negotiate with us..."

"Then let them help us test the new equipment."