Chapter 707: The Gray Wolf That Doesn't Play by the Rules

Chapter 707: The Unconventional Gray Wolf

Fang Chang’s concerns were not without reason.

The premise of besieging a point to ambush reinforcements hinges on the besieged defenders retaining a shred of will to resist.

For the nearly three thousand Imperial soldiers trapped in the “Klabar Market,” whether they possessed such a thing was clearly a mystery.

Yet, compared to merely capturing a prince, he harbored an even greater ambition…

Roweil Camp.

The Killer’s Dagger, clad in an exoskeleton, found Rasi sitting on an ammunition crate fiddling with an LD-47, and cut straight to the chase.

“Got a job.”

Setting aside the new toy he’d just acquired, Rasi sprang up from the crate, bowed his head, and said,

“At your command, sir.”

Without wasting words, the Killer’s Dagger pulled out a tablet and thrust it into his hands, tapping open the map and the battle plan listed beside it.

“About three thousand remnants have retreated to the Klabar Market. They’ve commandeered civilian houses and every usable cover there, using their remaining ammo and portable anti-armor weapons to build a new defensive line around the area. Good news is, they’ve driven out the locals, so we can go all out with any support fire we’ve got. Bad news? Haven’t seen any yet.”

“Still, don’t get careless. I don’t want a bunch of cornered dogs suddenly finding their nerve again. Follow our orders step by step. First, surround the market. Then, apply pressure from all four directions—north, south, east, west—to force them to break out…”

His finger jabbed at the map, and the Killer’s Dagger paused before continuing.

“…We figure they won’t head straight north. East or west are both decent options. To cut down on variables, we need you to apply heavier pressure on the west side and stage some feints, nudging them to pick the east as their main escape route.”

Rasi frowned, puzzled.

“Why let them go? I can catch them all for you.”

The Killer’s Dagger explained patiently,

“That’s step two. We want to intercept them during their retreat and drive some of the stragglers toward the positions outside the settlement. When the ten-thousand-man unit outside comes to help, we’ll swallow both the escapees and that unit camped outside the city.”

This tactic was a twist on the classic siege-and-ambush.

Arayan, stationed outside the settlement, had moved a ten-thousand-man unit into the frontline trenches but then stopped, apparently leaving the routed troops inside to organize their own breakout while the reinforcements focused on cover.

It seemed General Arayan wasn’t willing to sacrifice more soldiers for this foolish offensive plan—which only proved further that the attack itself was an accident.

Just like that thousand-man unit that had “stormed the beach” at Fries Port.

Surprise flickered across Rasi’s face—both at the plan itself and at the sheer audacity of the Alliance brothers.

A whole ten-thousand-man unit!

And the Empire’s finest elite at that!

Yet no fear showed on his face. After a brief pause, he asked a trivial but personally intriguing question.

“If you’re letting them go, why not just let them head north? Isn’t that closer?”

The Killer’s Dagger blinked, giving him an odd look, and shot back,

“Would you run straight north?”

Rasi blinked too.

Why not?

Ignoring his bewildered expression, the Killer’s Dagger glanced at the sky and spoke quickly.

“It’s getting dark. We think they’ll rest for the night, hold their ground until dawn—usually the slackest moment, and the best time to break out… That’s the plan. If anything changes, we’ll let you know. Now, we need you to move.”

A glint of ruthlessness flashed in Rasi’s eyes. He grabbed the rifle leaning against the ammo crate and nodded firmly.

“Leave it to me.”

As Rasi turned toward the camp’s broadcast station, the Killer’s Dagger suddenly remembered something and called him back.

“Wait.”

Rasi stopped and looked back.

“Something else?”

The Killer’s Dagger pointed at the tablet in his hand.

“There are a few people on there we want alive. As for the rest—if anyone surrenders, try to keep them alive if you can… Remember, the living are worth more than the dead.”

Rasi gave a slight nod.

“Understood.”

…

Klabar Market.

This was the largest bazaar in Golden Port, right in the heart of the northern district, made up of hundreds of stalls and shops surrounded by rows of neat, square civilian houses.

Usually, these stalls were piled high with colorful food, spices, textiles, trinkets, tethered livestock, and even discarded electronics and mechanical clocks hauled in from elsewhere.

Not just the poor and commoners came here for daily goods; merchants dealing in big trades and minor nobles in fine clothes would occasionally wander through, hunting for curiosities or bargains from the unwary.

It was no exaggeration to say that anything the Xilan Empire had—from cheap red soil to toys from Ideal City—could be found here with a bit of patience.

Normally, the market bustled from dawn till dusk, and today was no different in its noise.

The only change was that the bustling crowds of hawking merchants and haggling customers had been replaced by a rabble of fleeing “Gray Wolves”…

“Stop! What are you doing?! This is my house—you can’t—ahh, it hurts!”

A man in his thirties was grabbed by the arm by a soldier and tossed out the door, along with his two disheveled wives and six children, all shoved onto the street.

From their clothes and looks, this family wasn’t highborn, but they were no gutter rats either.

To a bunch of routed soldiers fresh from defeat, though, that made no difference.

Ignoring the man’s furious protests, the soldier shoved the muzzle of his PU-9 submachine gun against the man’s forehead and bellowed,

“This isn’t your house! Now! Get out! Unless you want trouble!”

The cold touch sent the man’s heart plunging into an icy abyss. His limbs went numb, his lips trembling, unable to speak.

Nearby, at another house,

An old woman clung desperately to a soldier’s leg, begging, only to be kicked through the doorway.

Soon, a burst of gunfire rattled from inside, and a squad of soldiers emerged carrying a machine gun over the blood-smeared threshold.

The man was utterly petrified. A warm trickle ran down his pant leg to the ground.

Glancing at the man who’d wet himself, Dilip didn’t even bother to speak, stepping straight over the threshold into the house.

The guard behind him grabbed the man by the collar, shoved him to the ground, and coldly tossed out a line.

“It’s for your own good.”

“Get lost!”

The man didn’t dare linger. Scrambling to his feet without even brushing off the dust, he pulled his family along and hurried away.

The entire market was in chaos. Dust-covered residents, unable even to pack their belongings, were shoved and herded out of their homes.

A crowd huddled in confusion on a muddy road two streets away from Klabar Market, staring at the unfamiliar streets, utterly lost.

A mother with a face full of alarm runs about searching for her lost child; a well-dressed man hesitantly knocks on a nearby door, asking if he might stay the night; another unbuttons his shirt for a piece of bread hard enough to break a tooth...

A child separated from his family curls up on the ground, weeping bitterly; a devout believer clasps his hands in prayer; someone else sits in despair, muttering to himself.

"What are we going to do?"

"How long are they going to stay..." a grimy-faced man grumbles under his breath. "If they never leave, are we just going to wait here forever?"

The old man beside him sighs, his face full of sorrow.

"...We can only wait."

At this moment, the fate of everyone seems temporarily the same, no matter what shape of label they wear.

Watching the street gradually merge into twilight, someone rocks the child in their arms and hums softly; someone else joins in singing; another closes their eyes, savoring that brief moment of peace and equality, weaving a song amidst the chaos and noise...

They are actually quite lucky.

Most of the soldiers here have tasted defeat for the first time; they still treat them somewhat as subjects of the empire. If they lose a few more battles, who knows what might happen.

The routed troops retreating to the Klaba Market finally managed to set up a defensive line by dusk, but by then gunfire was already ringing out from all directions.

They realized that the force surrounding them was not the demons summoned by the Alliance, but a militia made up of locals.

And this infuriated the Wolf Clan soldiers trapped in the market.

In their eyes, it was nothing short of betrayal.

Fortunately, these militiamen were not very strong. They attempted a few feints under the cover of mortars, but with no obvious effect, so they wisely withdrew to a siege, occasionally firing a sniper shot.

Even so, no one dared to let their guard down.

That rampaging giant crab had left too deep an impression; no one could guarantee that in the next assault, those crabs wouldn't charge alongside the militia outside...

The sky gradually darkened.

The green double-saber flag still did not fly over the roof of the Governor's Mansion, but Prince Dilip, now trapped in trouble, had no time for unrealistic dreams.

Glancing at the signalman still tuning the radio, he waved to summon his guard and gave an order.

"I'm hungry. Get me something to eat."

The guard quickly nodded and called for a servant to prepare food.

Soon, a bowl of ginger-yellow porridge with beans floating in it was brought up, along with a basket containing a small dish of onion juice and two sesame-sprinkled flatbreads.

The guards in the room couldn't help but swallow their saliva, but Prince Dilip frowned.

"Why is it all beans?"

The servant who brought the food said with a grimace.

"Your Highness, their kitchen only has this..."

Dilip's brow twisted into a knot.

The sesame-sprinkled flatbread was passable, with a buttery aroma, but beans—that was animal feed, not fit for human consumption.

After hesitating for a long time without taking a bite, Prince Dilip pushed the food away in disgust.

"Search the other houses. I want meat."

The servant dared not speak; the guard beside him quickly nodded and saluted.

"Yes!"

Watching the guard leave, Dilip noticed the other guards in the room swallowing their saliva, so he ordered the servant to distribute the food to them.

Watching them wolf it down, a sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.

A bunch of lowlifes with no sense of dignity.

His wounded sense of superiority seemed to find solace elsewhere, and Prince Dilip felt his mood improve.

Just then, the radio was finally repaired, and communication with the rear command was restored.

Overjoyed, Dilip immediately ordered the signalman to call the rear command, then snatched the phone and, before Arayan could speak, roared first.

"What the hell are you doing! I've been calling for artillery support for ages, and not a single shell has landed!"

A crackling static came from the earpiece, with no response.

Seeing that Arayan was intimidated by his outburst, Dilip took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone.

"Because of your lousy support, there's a bit of a situation at the front, but nothing major... Anyway, I need reinforcements—give me another five thousand men, twelve artillery pieces, and more anti-armor weapons and explosives. The Alliance has some iron monstrosity from somewhere. Damn it, we should borrow a few tanks from the Legion!"

Arayan patiently waited for him to finish explaining everything, then calmly replied with just two words.

"Come back."

Dilip was stunned, then his face flushed red.

"Are you ordering me!"

Another long silence on the communication channel.

Seeing no reply for a long time, Dilip's initial anger inexplicably gave way to a flicker of fear.

Only at this moment did he truly recognize his situation.

He was not in the palace playing war games with His Majesty on a sand table; he was standing on a real battlefield, and surrounded by the enemy!

If this man abandoned him—

Dilip's lips trembled. After waiting for a long time, he finally squeezed out a plea from his dry throat.

"Save me."

At last, the radio responded.

"...Tomorrow at five in the morning, I will attempt an artillery bombardment on the area around Klaba Market to cover your breakout from the encirclement. A ten-thousand-man unit will be waiting outside the city to receive you. Listen, this is your only chance—to return alive without being captured by the Alliance."

Diligently memorizing every word from the radio, Dilip nodded tremblingly.

"Yes!"

Arayan wasn't finished. He paused and continued.

"...Also, it's possible that our enemies might leave a path to lure you out of your position, then trap you and wipe you out. Remember, before you move, send out a few feints to test their firepower. Do not take the easiest path."

With those words, the communication ended.

Prince Dilip felt his back soaked with sweat, and he collapsed into his chair, utterly drained.

Gazing at the last rays of sunset sinking behind the rooftops outside the window, he stared as if at hope about to fall into darkness, his eyes filled with despair.

Hope to survive the night.

Hope...

At the same time, in the command post more than ten kilometers away, Arayan slammed the phone onto the table, then sat down in his chair, pressing his brow in pain.

The officers around him were silent; no one spoke.

Saving that fool Dilip would be the best outcome; if he died on the way out, that would be fine too.

At least don't let him be captured by the Alliance.

Otherwise, the enemy would gain another bargaining chip.

As for the remaining nearly three thousand warriors of the Gray Wolf Army...

they could only leave it to fate.

...

The long night finally passed, and a pale white stain marked the docks of Golden Harbor.

Yet what tore away the last shred of night's stillness was not the first ray of sunlight upon this land, but a series of deafening cannon blasts.

"Fire!"

The Gray Wolf Army's artillery positions roared with fury, as one by one, 100mm howitzer shells soared into the sky, plummeting toward the district near the Klaba Market.

It proved that General Alayan indeed had his tricks.

All day yesterday, he had been probing the maximum range of the Alliance's artillery, and after completing his tests, he dispersed his cannons beyond the effective range of the port's artillery positions.

But in return, this distance was also nearing the extreme limit for the Empire's 100mm howitzers.

One by one, "Brownian motion shells" scattered across the city, with only two-fifths landing around the Klaba Market, and even a fifth falling within the market itself.

As for the remaining two-fifths, no one knew where they would land.

"Damn... these guys really don't treat the survivors here as their own people."

Standing on the wall of Lowell Camp, the Dagger of Slaying gazed in astonishment at the thick smoke rising from the distant city district.

If not for the fact that Dawn City didn't look like this, he might have forgotten whose territory this battle was being fought on.

"It seems there's someone in the Klaba Market they'd go to any lengths to retrieve," said the Kidney Warrior, looking helplessly at the survivors crowding the gate below the wall. "By the way, who's going to explain to them that against this kind of curved fire... this broken wall is pretty much useless, and crowding together only makes it more dangerous?"

To put it cruelly, if a shell hits a roof, the family inside is likely doomed, but most of the shrapnel and blast wave would be absorbed by the walls.

From the perspective of minimizing casualties, the safest thing to do now is to stay home, not swarm the streets.

Especially since Lowell Camp is at least a strategic point—even if the Gray Wolf Army isn't targeting it today, who knows what tomorrow might bring.

The Dagger of Slaying sighed.

"I'll give it a try."

Though he felt it probably wouldn't make a difference...

At the same time as the Gray Wolf Army's artillery began bombarding the northern district of Golden Harbor, the nearly three thousand trapped soldiers in the Klaba Market also started their breakout.

Gray Wolf Army soldiers, rifles in hand, gathered along the edges of buildings, launching fierce attacks in units of a hundred from the four cardinal directions against the militia surrounding the market.

Gunfire echoed inside and outside the market like endless firecrackers, bullets whizzing like a sudden downpour.

Wooden stalls were pushed over into the streets as makeshift cover, soon riddled with bullet holes.

Soon, a group of soldiers wrapped shattered bricks and dirt from shell holes in bedsheets, piling them onto two-wheeled carts as temporary barricades.

One man pushed the cart laden with obstacles forward, while nine followed behind, firing and charging desperately.

From time to time, someone was hit and fell, but another quickly took their place.

Driven by the will to survive, the Gray Wolf Army soldiers fought like cornered hyenas, unleashing astonishing combat power, momentarily suppressing the militia, who outnumbered them several times over.

Seeing hope of escape, Prince Dilip, hiding on the second floor of a civilian house, poked his head out the window and shouted hoarsely at the soldiers in the market.

"Charge forward! The road home is ahead! What stands before you is nothing but cannon fodder! Hopeless trash! Cowards who betrayed the Empire! Show them with your rifles who the true warriors are—!"

Fortunately, the constant gunfire and explosions drowned out his shouts; otherwise, some soldier might have been tempted to take a shot at him.

The chiliarch Satish, commanding nearby, happened to hear him and grimaced, but could only swallow his rage and pretend not to notice.

Damn it!

Who was it that got them trapped here in the first place?!

Just as he was cursing under his breath, news came from the front.

A century had successfully breached the militia's eastern line, opening a path out of the settlement.

Hearing the good news from the frontline officer over the radio, the chiliarch took a deep breath, returned to the building where Prince Dilip was, and shouted up to the second-floor window.

"...My lord, our soldiers have broken through on the east side! Come down quickly, and we'll cover your retreat!"

Prince Dilip was about to agree, but suddenly remembered General Alayan's earlier warning and swallowed the words already on his lips.

"No! I won't go that way! That's an Alliance trap! Have you forgotten how fierce their firepower was yesterday? How could they let us go so easily? This must be their scheme—they'll let us out from the east, then wipe us all out!"

Hearing this willful outburst, Satish nearly spat blood.

To be fair, the analysis wasn't without merit.

If he were the opposing commander, he'd consider using the "three-sided encirclement" tactic, but shouldn't this have been discussed before the breakout?!

Now that the line was breached and everyone saw hope of escape, this guy says he won't go that way?!

What a joke!

Did he really think of his men as chess pieces on a sand table?!

"We have no choice!" Satish shouted, barely containing his fury. "To open this line, we've left at least five hundred brothers behind. Even if it's a trap, we have to gamble and push through now! This is our only chance! They can't capture all of us!"

"Chiliarch Satish, I'll say it again: this is an order! The soldiers who've already broken through will continue forward; the rest will... will break out to the north! If you refuse to obey, await His Majesty's judgment!" Prince Dilip roared, his voice shrill with fear and desperation, his pale face twisted with panic and madness.

To be honest, he didn't know what to do either.

On a sand table, there were no bullets or shells flying everywhere; every wrong decision could cost him his life.

Perhaps the only thing better than an amateur was knowing that doing something was better than doing nothing.

Just follow Alayan's advice.

If it fails, he can blame the man.

Now, he bitterly regretted ever asking Alayan for those five thousand men to attack the Governor's Mansion.

But it was too late for regrets.

The plan had never gone as he envisioned, and every unexpected command only made things worse.

If only the enemy would let him press pause and think things through...

And maybe let him see his hand again.

Satish stared hopelessly at the prince on the second floor, staggered back two steps, his lips trembling for a long time, before finally snatching the phone from the signalman and shouting in despair.

"Units that have already broken through, continue forward! All other units, attack the market's northern line! At all costs, break through!"

There was no point in doing anything now.

Offering loyalty to His Majesty might at least save his family.

With things as they were, he could only let it all fall apart...

...

On the eastern side of the Klaba Market.

The incessant gunfire suddenly ceased, stopping without warning, like a candle flame snuffed out by a gentle breeze.

The remnants of the Gray Wolf Army, which had just pried open a gap in the encirclement, suddenly abandoned their momentum.

Except for the century that had already broken out, still charging forward in desperation, the remaining soldiers turned their rifles toward the market's northern side.

They tore at the defensive line as if tearing for the sake of tearing, with no intention of charging through the breach they had already made.

Without follow-up fire support, the hundred-man unit that had broken out of the encirclement was quickly captured, guns pressed to the backs of their heads, and they crouched on the ground, grimy and defeated.

Meanwhile, the defensive line on the eastern side of the market, which had already been pierced, was slowly closed again by the hesitant shuffling of the militia.

This bizarre scene caught everyone off guard.

If he hadn’t been standing on the front line himself, Rasi wouldn’t have believed it was real.

Yet even with his own eyes, when he heard the report from his subordinate over the radio, he still froze for a moment.

“…They really went north?”

“Yes… they’ve concentrated all their forces to break out north! Damn it, these bastards have gone mad!” The crackling gunfire and rapid breaths came through the radio together, showing how fierce the battle was.

Rasi pressed on immediately.

“How are things on your end? Can you hold?!”

Frontline officer: “It… shouldn’t be a problem! Though they’re numerous, most are already exhausted… Should we let them go?”

Relieved, Rasi paused to think, then gave a decisive order.

“Hold the line! Defend it at all costs! The Alliance brothers want the Empire’s dogs to go east—not a single one must go north!”

The frontline officer replied with firm resolve.

“Yes, sir!”

He ended the call.

Rasi then instructed his nearby subordinates to pull back the men who had sealed the gap in the market’s eastern defense line.

He knew well who had given him his authority, and he understood that if he wanted the Alliance to keep supporting him, he had to prove his worth. To do that, carrying out orders was even more important than victory itself.

He yearned to prove himself.

Even if it cost every last drop of blood, he would wrench those hyenas’ necks back from the north!

He refused to believe it.

Were these bastards really willing to die rather than go east?

But still—

Though “the master’s orders” outweighed victory itself, it was impossible for Rasi not to feel a twinge of bewilderment.

Staring at the wide-open market entrance not far away, he was silent for a long moment, then muttered in a voice only he could hear.

“I said they’d retreat north…”

Meanwhile, atop the wall of Lowell Camp, Kill Dagger, watching the battlefield through a quadcopter drone, wore a look of utter confusion.

He had seen with his own eyes the remnants of the Gray Wolf Army trapped in the market break through the eastern defense line.

But before he could signal the Third and Fourth Hundred-Man Units, which had been lying in ambush nearby, he watched as those “Gray Wolves” suddenly abandoned the breakthrough and attacked the market’s north side.

What kind of move was that?!

“That’s not right…”

He muttered over and over, his eyes filled with incomprehension.

Yet just as he was about to report this anomaly to the rear temporary command post and request further instructions, the scene under the drone’s lens took another turn.

As if unable to bear the constant casualties any longer, the remaining Gray Wolf soldiers gathered all their strength and launched a final desperate assault on the market’s northern defense line.

That last burst of concentrated gunfire carried a hint of desperate, dying light, and both sides paid a heavy price in blood.

Still, the militia holding the line managed to maintain their position.

After several failed breakout attempts, the last thousand-odd “Gray Wolves” finally collapsed, scattering like loose sand against the solid defense.

Yet even so, they still refused to withdraw from the market’s east side, even though the surrounding militia had left a gap for them.

They dropped their weapons, raised their hands in despair, and walked out of their cover, unable to be stopped no matter how their officers shouted…

And then, when their shouts proved useless, their officers raised their hands and followed.

It wasn’t just Kill Dagger who fell silent; even Fang Chang and Old Bai, far away in the temporary command post, stood frozen upon hearing the news from the front.

This ace unit they had placed such “high hopes” on…

Had actually surrendered just like that?!