Chapter 726: Unity Is Strength

Chapter 726: Unity Is Strength

On the northern island of the Southern Sea, at the military port, a majestic warship stood at the center of the harbor.

Its name was "Haiya."

With a hull length of nearly 400 meters and a displacement of almost 70,000 tons, it resembled a beast crouching in its lair. The cruisers and destroyers moored beside it were utterly eclipsed, looking like eggs it had hatched.

Angular, sloping armor covered every inch of the hull, and rows of thick, long gun barrels stood fore and aft of the bridge, pointing skyward.

The most conspicuous among them was naturally the massive cannon on the bow deck!

Its power could no longer be described by caliber alone; the locomotive-thick barrel seemed utterly out of place in naval combat.

And indeed, that was the truth.

The Union era had never possessed such naval vessels; this great cannon had been salvaged from a starship, and its power could not be measured by conventional weapons.

At that moment, the crew seemed to receive a signal. The battleship, which had been quietly docked, sounded an alarm bell. Driven by its nuclear fusion reactor, it slowly shifted its massive body, moving about three to five hundred meters from the pier.

Then, the angular barrel gradually elevated, then slowly spread to both sides, as if splitting open its belly, exposing the once-closed breech.

Fierce currents hissed with a crackling electric sound, agitating the surrounding air. The violently shifting magnetic field startled the nearby fish into fleeing.

On the bridge of the Haiya.

The captain stared intently at the screen, which displayed calculated firing data and predicted trajectories.

In the image, a cone with a curved axis spanned the spherical sea surface, looming over a small island.

That was Anle Island!

The second-largest military port in the Southern Sea, and also the stronghold of the rebels and the pseudo-authority.

After learning that the submarine Hanye had been sunk while on a mission near Coral City, President Charlas immediately ordered a bombardment of Anle Island!

They would avenge the fifty fallen comrades aboard the Hanye!

Just then, his adjutant approached from the side, saluted with a resolute expression, and reported.

"Calibration complete!"

The captain nodded slowly, paused for two seconds, then decisively ordered.

"Fire!"

Blue plasma accumulated terrifying energy deep within the breech, released in an instant as the attack command was given.

"Boom—!"

The waves that had been crashing toward the bow were instantly pushed back by that terrifying energy, shattering into fine mist as they collided with the oncoming surges.

The seawater nearby seemed to collapse by two meters, then sprang back violently. From the center of the rippling water, a scorching white beam shot into the sky, brutally tearing through the dark clouds overhead.

The nearly 70,000-ton battleship shuddered from the immense recoil.

And that was just the first shot!

In less than ten seconds, the capacitors recharged, and another searing white light soared into the clouds.

On the nearby shore stood onlookers, mostly soldiers from the military port and port workers.

After the incident at dusk, President Charlas had declared a curfew, and not a soul was visible on the streets. Yet, windows of buildings were slightly ajar, watching the lightning rising over the sea.

Watching the battleship that seemed to change the very color of the night sky, a man on the dock shook his head.

"...Using this thing for strategic strikes is too wasteful. It would be better to send a cruiser to launch a few drones or missiles."

His name was Varo, a corporal in the Marine Corps. He wore a sea-blue exoskeleton, with ammunition still hanging from his belt.

Hours earlier, they had carried out the mission to occupy the presidential palace, witnessing the collapse of a building and the end of a brief, beautiful era.

Though Charlas still called himself president, and everything seemed unchanged, everyone knew he had become a giant "Laken."

No force could check him anymore.

"Without submarine cover, relying only on a few destroyers for escort is still somewhat risky..." Standing beside Varo, Sergeant Wang Pa, holding binoculars, fixed his gaze on the warship and grinned through his stubbly beard. "Barring surprises, it probably won't dare go any farther than this."

On the sea surface, it was beyond-visual-range combat; beneath the surface, it was the same.

Even the Federation's strongest battleship, the Haiya, couldn't withstand several nuclear torpedoes.

If the Federation's battleships existed to hunt the Legion's airships, then the Federation's submarines were designed to counter the Federation's battleships.

Vault 70 had long feared that "outsiders" might steal the treasures their ancestors had salvaged near the Tianting, so over the past century, many strange ideas had emerged in these waters.

Among them were "cargo ships" like the Haidun, which could return to the seabed at any time, attack nuclear submarines developed with their own warships as hypothetical enemies, destroyers designed to counter their own submarines, and cruisers designed to counter their own destroyers.

On the surface, the Anle Island authorities had two fewer ships than the North Island authorities, but the three extra submarines were a major problem, especially now that the North Island had lost its only submarine, the Hanye.

Clearly, Mr. Charlas knew his hand well.

Varo looked at the officer beside him and asked in confusion.

"If I remember correctly, that main gun is for anti-ship purposes. It's probably not very effective against ground targets. And I heard each shell is expensive."

Lowering his binoculars, Wang Pa squinted and said succinctly.

"The value of a strategic strike isn't entirely measured by the number of targets destroyed."

"...What do you mean?"

Wang Pa looked at his subordinate and said meaningfully.

"Besides the northern island where the capital is, why do you think seven governors are on our side?"

Varo: "Isn't it because of Mr. Charlas?"

"It's because they're all within a thousand kilometers, because they have to be responsible for their own residents. That's all."

He paused, then suddenly smiled and patted Varo on the shoulder.

"Just like you and me, we have to be responsible for our own identities."

With that, he walked past Varo toward the barracks.

Honestly, he agreed that the survivors of the Southern Sea should decide their own fate, stop internal strife, and expand outward. But he didn't agree with Charlas's methods.

Even if President Mongo had problems, he should have faced a legal trial, not a Marine Corps execution.

But unfortunately, he was just a sergeant. Above him were officers, and those who truly commanded them.

It was done.

No matter how his children would judge them in the future, they could only continue fighting now.

Yet he had a feeling.

This war might be harder than anyone imagined...

...

On Anle Island.

Bolts of lightning tore through the stillness, thunderous roars falling on sea and land.

The half-ton kinetic projectiles were like man-made meteors. Even without any explosive charge, their sheer kinetic energy could cause immense destruction!

The front of the shell compressed the air into a near-solid state, while the rear was dragged into a vacuum zone. The immense pressure difference violently tore at the shell's tip, burning away the remaining anti-drag coating.

And in this process, the temperature of the shells kept rising, until it reached a certain breaking point—

One of the mass shells disintegrated and detonated in midair, bursting forth with scorching white light and molten metal, like fireworks hurtling toward the buildings on the island.

The other two struck the island directly, slamming into it and raising two billowing clouds of dust.

As for the remaining seven shells, they all plunged into the sea, churning up a boiling column of water before vanishing without a trace.

Even after meticulous calculations, taking even the Earth's rotation into account, a distance of over a thousand kilometers was too great—equivalent, in some parallel world, to the span from "Xisha" to "Brunei."

The actual flight distance of the ten mass shells through the air far exceeded a thousand kilometers; it was almost a miracle that three managed to hit the island.

The two shells that directly struck the island carved two deep craters into the mountain, but fortunately they missed the harbor and submarine factory hidden behind the mountain, and caused no casualties.

It was the shell that detonated in midair that caused greater damage: the glass of many nearby buildings was shattered, and the rooftops were left with holes and fragments burned by molten metal slag.

Having long anticipated a strategic strike from the North Island, the authorities of Anle Island had already evacuated tens of thousands of residents to the vicinity of the submarine factory on the southern side of the mountain.

Since most of these residents were military personnel or family members of military factory workers, they generally possessed strong discipline, so the evacuation did not trigger major chaos.

Inside the command post, Commander Li Minghui stared grimly at the sea chart spread across the table, the ashtray beside him filled with cigarette butts.

What worried him was not entirely the North Island's battleships, but also the grim news from the southern hinterland—

The governor of Ring Island, in his final reply, stated that the residents of Ring Island had joined the South Sea Alliance.

This was undoubtedly grim news.

It meant not only that the Anle Island authorities would face the North Island, which possessed eight settlements and naval supremacy, with only four settlements, but also that they had to worry about the impact of Ring Island's secession on the legitimacy of the "Declaration."

This was no trivial matter.

After all, their declaration was their constitution; the legitimacy of the Anle Island authorities was granted by that declaration.

Charlas could afford to disregard legitimacy because he had enough naval guns.

But Li Minghui could not afford to do so, and the reason was quite realistic: their fists were not big enough.

Now, forget about building a few more submarines; if they delayed another two months, they might struggle just to feed themselves.

Just moments ago, Charlas had signed his first presidential decree since taking office, declaring martial law and a curfew on the North Island, and had fully seized control of the situation.

Yet the first order he signed was to announce a rationing system for food supplies on the island, forcing the locals to tighten their belts to support his war effort.

Fortunately, this order was not announced via radio; Charlas probably did not know about it yet.

If that fellow found out, he would likely burst out laughing...

Just as Li Minghui was racking his brains over how to solve the current problem, his guard stood at the door and saluted.

"Report! A message has come from Shelter No. 70!"

"Shelter No. 70?" Li Minghui was taken aback, surprise clearly written on his face, but he quickly recovered and asked, "...What did they say?"

The guard reported truthfully.

"They wish to speak with you via radio!"

Li Minghui pondered for a moment, then without hesitation, put down his pen and followed the guard to the communications room.

Instructing the guard to stand at the door and allow no one near, he picked up the headset hanging on the radio and put it on.

"This is the Anle Island Naval Command. I am Li Minghui, the highest authority here. Who is this?"

A response soon came from the other end of the channel.

"Chen Jianhong, captain of the Dolphin. Representative of the residents of Shelter No. 70, whom they still trust, for now."

Li Minghui frowned and asked in a low voice.

"What do you want to say?"

"...An idea that might surprise you, but it is also the best solution we can think of at the moment."

"Go ahead."

"Join forces, or to put it more precisely, I hope we can unite."

There was a moment of silence on the radio, with only the faint rustle of static, and for a long time, no movement.

"Unite..."

He squeezed the word out through his lips, his facial expression twitching involuntarily, and he said in a strange tone, "Isn't it a bit late to say that now?"

"I believe it is never too late. We have studied your Declaration and drafted a new one. From now on, shelter managers will no longer have authority over all affairs in the southern seas; they will only manage internal shelter matters according to shelter management regulations. At the same time, all survivors and shelter residents in the southern seas will enjoy equal rights—not just education and medical care, but also legislation, becoming a commander, or anything else... Isn't that what you are pursuing?"

At this point, Chen Jianhong paused and continued.

"Now we have taken off our coats. What about you?"

Li Minghui narrowed his eyes.

"Who can guarantee that you will keep your promise?"

A light chuckle came from the radio.

"Aren't you right here? Or are three submarines not enough to straighten your back?"

Li Minghui also let out a laugh, but his expression gradually turned cold.

"...Don't forget, I am the one who trusts you the least; otherwise, I wouldn't be in this position."

"Then that's great. If you were the kind of guy who just listens to whatever we say, I would hesitate about whether it's too early to take off this coat now... See, we haven't done nothing good. At least the first-generation managers made sure you got an education; otherwise, you'd be like those fellows in the Brahmaputra Province."

At this point, Chen Jianhong suddenly thought of something and continued.

"Oh, right. I was so busy trying to win you over that I almost forgot the main business. We have established the Southern Seas Survivors' Alliance, abbreviated as the South Sea Alliance. Afterwards, we plan to rebuild the ocean current power station, starting from the seabed sections we can control, then restore Coral City and its production facilities, and ultimately, together with our allies, defeat the enemy to the north."

He left half a sentence unsaid.

To achieve this goal, they needed Anle Island's three submarines.

Without the protection of submarines, even a few dozen mutants would give them headaches.

Even if the Alliance supported their defense, he could not bear to see those people using small water pipes to exchange fire with mutants on the seabed.

Those noble souls should take their nobility into the new era, not perish together with beasts...

Li Minghui narrowed his eyes slightly, mulling over Chen Jianhong's words repeatedly in his mind.

It was indeed a good idea.

He and his staff had considered it earlier: using Anle Island's advantage in the seabed to quickly restore production at Coral City and Anle Island's factories, and before the North Island's destroyers began launching in batches, build a few more submarines.

Securing the Alliance's support was key to realizing this plan.

After all, mining seabed deposits was currently impractical; the main processing facilities were in Charlas's hands, and with only the limited stockpile of materials on the island, they probably could not build even a single submarine.

"The Alliance... Have you already made contact with them?"

"Yes," Chen Jianhong admitted bluntly. "Not just the Alliance, but also Ring Island, which has already sided with us. Later, I plan to try to win over the other three settlements on your side. In the most optimistic scenario, we could bring you in too, giving us six settlements, including Coral City. Even if Charlas remains a tough nut to crack, our strength will be far greater than now."

"They won't side with you," Li Minghui snorted coldly, but he felt a lack of conviction, so he added, "Why don't we approach the Alliance ourselves?"

Chen Jianhong chuckled.

"Do you think they would choose you?"

Li Minghui let out a cold laugh.

"Why not? They can even ally with the feudal lords of the Sunset Province. Even if we're not as good as in President Mongo's era, we're still far better off than a feudal kingdom!"

Chen Jianhong sighed and said.

"If you only look at the surface of things, that's indeed the case. But if you've actually been to the Sunset Province, you wouldn't say something so foolish."

Li Minghui frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Chen Jianhong continued.

"The reason the Sunset Province still has a royal family is that the local survivors have genuinely chosen their own traditions and beliefs, and for that, they're not afraid of bloodshed or sacrifice. If the survivors of the Southern Sea truly united around you, the Alliance would certainly have no objection to cooperating with you. But look around yourself—do you have anyone like that beside you? Or rather... do you have that much 'legitimacy'?"

He paused, then hit the nail on the head.

"Moreover, they've never allied with the king—they've always allied with the local survivors. They built railways, schools, and hospitals for the locals, including abolishing slavery—what part of that was for the king? The king has no use for those things! They simply didn't coat their equality in bullets and force it down the locals' throats!"

"If this sea would be better off without you, I think they'd have no reason to let a middleman take a cut. They could easily try what they did in the Falcon Kingdom—like handing out guns to the people behind you. Those guys would dare to shoot at you—would you have the guts to order them to fire back?"

Li Minghui was momentarily speechless, staring blankly at the radio, unable to utter a word.

Indeed...

The Southern Sea and the Sunset Province were completely different places.

There was no feudal tradition here at all, and the literacy rate even surpassed that of the Alliance he so desperately wanted to win over!

The war between the island survivors of the Southern Sea and Vault 70 was fought for equality, and the war between the Anle Island authorities and the North Island authorities was likewise to defend that hard-won right from being usurped by ambitious men like Charlas.

If he ended up becoming a "tyrant" like Charlas—starting a war in the name of the declaration, then abolishing the declaration in the name of war, ultimately seizing all power into his own hands—then the four governors would never stand by him. Even if they stood by him now, once they came to their senses, they would surely oppose him.

After all, if both sides were equally rotten, why not side with the one with the bigger guns?

Faith or the sword—you had to choose one.

Supporting the Anle Island authorities wasn't without risk; they all had to be accountable to their own residents.

But if he chose to become someone completely different from Charlas—a true hero fighting for the constitution, and after it was all over, fulfilled the promises he made in his oath of office, rejecting a peace sustained by lies, seeking true unity...

Then that seemed no different from immediately accepting the olive branch extended by the Southern Sea Alliance.

No matter what came before, the residents of Vault 70 were now also fighting for the ideal of equality, and they had voluntarily shed their own coats.

So why not fulfill that promise right now?

All he had to do was nod, keep his word, and they could achieve that true union, and he could end his days as a hero...

A flicker of struggle crossed Li Minghui's face, and he involuntarily clenched his fist resting on the radio.

If he had faced this choice a day ago, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to agree.

But now, he had finally risen above ten thousand others... whether he was pushed up there or deep down had always craved it.

He was no saint after all...

This was too hard!

As if sensing his hesitation, another earnest piece of advice came through the radio.

"Admit it—this isn't the Sunset Province, nor the Boro Province. Neither Charlas nor you have a chance to be that king. The first guy who burned his backside has already dropped his hat and run."

"If you think you're more professional than that guy, go ahead and gamble on that unrealistic idea. But he could run—you definitely can't! Either you fulfill the promise you made on the broadcast, and see through what you started to the very end!"

Chen Jianhong spoke slowly, repeating what he had heard on the radio.

Whether or not it was the guy's true feelings, at least it came out of his mouth.

"...We will never compromise with beasts, nor will we accept a peace sustained by lies."

"What we need is true unity!"

"True!"

...

...

"...We will never compromise with beasts, nor will we tolerate the Torch Church continuing their foolish experiments, watching them drag the last pure land beneath our feet into an irreversible abyss!"

Dawn City, the Sticky Commonwealth Assembly Hall.

In the semicircular conference hall sat over two hundred people, and the solemn voice echoed above every attendee's head.

Those seated here were representatives from various settlements.

The farthest came from Triumph City and Ideal City; the nearest from the neighboring kingdom, or even from Garbage City just east of Dawn City, and from the slightly farther Bugar Free State, which stood in for the Great Rift.

Besides them, there were numerous survivor factions from the eastern and western provinces, varying greatly in strength, but most played relatively important roles locally.

The entire conference building was jointly constructed by the construction teams of Enterprise and the Academy, with a centurion from the Legion overseeing the project. So what could have been finished in a month ended up taking two.

Compared to the building itself, the over two hundred people sitting in the hall were mostly the Alliance's diplomatic achievements.

Regardless of whether they were drawn here by the Legion, the Academy, or Enterprise, in the end, it was the Alliance that gathered them from all over the Central Continent.

And at this moment, the esteemed Alliance Administrator stood at the podium in the center of the hall, delivering an impassioned speech.

Countless eyes were fixed on that man, especially the Academy's representatives, who listened with particular seriousness, even activating the recording function of their bionic eyes and the vertical stabilization of their neck prosthetics to ensure the lens didn't shake.

As if it were some important sociological material.

Of course, maybe that was just his habit—it was said all Academy people were like that.

Bannott, sitting in the front row with his legs crossed, curled his lips dismissively, not listening very carefully.

Maybe the guy was right—the survivors of the wasteland should indeed join forces to do something, at least unite on the issue of "mutant slime mold," which threatened everyone's survival.

But was that something that could be solved just by talking?

Every single one of these people sitting here, including the guy on stage, and the groups they represented—could any of them claim to have sacrificed more than the Wilant people in dealing with the mutant slime mold?

Was it Enterprise, who shut their doors and lived in comfort? Or the Academy, who "built ships behind closed doors" behind the Swamp of Hesitation?

The Alliance, founded only a few years ago, was even less worth mentioning—more people had probably died at their hands than from the slime mold. Wait another fifty years before comparing them.

Some young officers might have forgotten, but he knew all too well the bloody history of the Wilant people.

The War Construction Committee created them to deal with the slime mold. Their noses, once shackles, had become medals—earned through their own fists, blow by blow!

As for his "ally" sitting next to him, that so-called empire, Bannott couldn't be bothered to even glance at him.

There was no mutant slime mold in the Boro Province. Those people spent their whole lives fighting among themselves—if they didn't have labels, they made them up and fought over them. It had only calmed down in recent years. But from what the governor sent there from Triumph City said, it seemed like it might flare up again soon.

Bannott couldn't help but yawn, his gaze wandering idly to Enterprise, also sitting in the front row.

He didn't even need to guess—that guy had probably already made some private deal with the Alliance before the meeting. He'd definitely vote in favor later.

Just as he yawned, the man he despised most, sitting beside him, reacted completely differently to the voice from the podium.

Staring unblinkingly at the figure standing before the podium, Niyang, who was attending the meeting on behalf of Duke Galava, couldn't help but hold his breath. His not-so-large eyes were filled with fervor and longing, like a rat hiding in the shadow of a stove, staring at an oil lamp, panting "ha-chi ha-chi."

If only he could follow that great lord—he would willingly be a rat-man for ten more lifetimes...

That rhythmic voice was like a war drum beating. Just listening to him speak made Niyang's heart pound fiercely, as if it would fly out of his throat.

Compared to that great lord, who radiated warm light all over, his "noble" Duke was nothing but trash!

No—

How dare that sickly wretch compare himself to this lord?

Let alone that fellow being unworthy to be mentioned in the same breath as that lord, even the big-nosed one sitting beside him is nothing but a gutter rat in the presence of that lord.

In terms of lineage, who can compare to the pure bloodline sheltered by the refuge?

In terms of ability, they rose from the ruins in just a few short years!

As for knowledge and experience, the smartest fellows on the wasteland all scramble to be near them. Even the most stingy and contemptuous bunch from the north reluctantly admit that they indeed possess knowledge beyond their own, and are willing to offer truly valuable goods in exchange.

Speaking of understanding the Alliance, Niyang, who never misses a single newspaper, can confidently say that he knows this place better than those who live here, and even knows that lord better than they do!

Without a doubt, he is a true fan of that lord!

Though he is well aware of his own status, merely a lowly rat-man...

As for the filthy bandit sitting beside him, Niyang cannot be bothered to even glance at him.

Duke Garava cannot see clearly, nor can His Majesty, but he knows all too well which beast has harmed his kin the most.

Chu Guang, standing on the podium, suddenly felt an inexplicable chill, as if being spied upon by something.

As it turns out, having too high perception is not always a good thing; it makes one prone to paranoia.

The vast majority of people sitting here are staring at him, listening to every word and every sentence he says.

Surely there is no need to sneak glances...

Though puzzled, this is not the time to dwell on such trivial matters.

Chu Guang, bringing his speech to a close, clenched his right fist and placed it on the podium with measured force.

"...Ladies and gentlemen, since the dawn of the Wasteland Era, we have faced the most severe crisis in two hundred years!

If we do not seize the moment while it is still fledgling and strangle it utterly in its cradle, all our efforts to rebuild this world will be in vain!

We will strike first, launching an offensive from the north against the sphere of influence of the Torch Church! Yet relying solely on our strength is insufficient to solve all problems. I need you to set aside unresolved conflicts and disputes, at least for now—

Let us unite once more for the same goal!"

With blazing eyes surveying the entire assembly, Chu Guang placed both hands on the lectern.

And as he had anticipated, applause began from the first row and spread throughout the hall in moments.

Whether their allies, former adversaries, or even the empire with which they had just clashed...

All without exception cast their votes of approval—for this righteous war.

In truth, from the very beginning, Chu Guang had no doubt that the Torch Church had not even a shred of a chance.

Those madmen, using every trick and painstakingly scheming, had only managed to win over a few islands, and even then with only superficial allegiance.

On his own side, through the victory four months ago and the subsequent four months of lobbying and mobilization, he had already amassed a force far more powerful than the 'Heavenly Kingdom' those madmen spoke of.

No matter what struggles those madmen intend to make.

From the moment they sought to make enemies of all survivors on the entire wasteland, their fate was sealed!