Chapter 727: The War Machine Starts!

Chapter 727: The War Machine Starts!

In the central part of Jinchuan Province, beside a lush mangrove forest, lay a settlement named Mafu Town, about one hundred and fifty kilometers from Singularity City.

Though it was but an unremarkable little town, the number of people living here was not insignificant.

At least, compared to the uninhabited zones surrounding it, this could already be considered a settlement where "smoke from cooking fires curled upward."

A century ago, the local survivors made a living by raising horses, and the modest settlement housed only two or three hundred people.

By around the hundredth year of the Wasteland Era, farms and estates had multiplied in Jinchuan Province, and an estate economy led by slave owners flourished. The local survivors then switched to herding cattle and sheep, providing food and lodging for traveling merchants passing through. The town gradually grew to two or three thousand households, with seven or eight thousand people.

As for now, the Alliance's railway had been built through here, so the locals had gained a new business: guarding the railway and selling grilled sausages, sunflower seeds, and such near the train station.

Every day, they only needed to ride a horse along the railway line for a patrol, ensuring the safety of the nearly one hundred and fifty kilometers of track, guaranteeing that the Alliance's trains wouldn't meet with accidents here, and the Alliance's insurance company would pay them a sum.

As for why it was the insurance company rather than the railway-operating company that paid this money, they didn't quite understand, but as long as those people were willing to pay, that was fine.

And ever since the railway was built, the smoke-belching trains would occasionally bring along some interesting little trinkets.

For instance, tables and chairs, newspapers and books, clothes and trousers, furniture and appliances, and some puffed snacks and canned foods no one had seen before—all could be taken home as long as silver coins were produced.

To earn more silver coins, the idle young men in town boarded the trains one after another, intending to venture (or rather, work) in Alliance territory.

In the past, people might have worried about leaving home too far, making it hard to return, even if they thought there might be opportunities to make money there. But now, the journey to Dawn City took less than a day, so many decided to give it a try and got on the train.

Although most people in town didn't consider themselves part of the Alliance, seeing the Alliance as no different from the traveling merchants—just doing business on a slightly larger scale—their lifestyles and habits were still more or less influenced by Dawn City, just as the slave owners' estate economy had once shaped their production and daily life.

Whether the young men returning from working in Dawn City brought back jianbing guozi and pulled noodles, or Great Horned Deer God and Great Horned Rat, or "The Awakener Bohr" and Singularity City's "Man and Automation," these were all things this town had never seen before.

Especially in recent days, not only had the young men boarded the trains, but even the old town mayor had gone to Dawn City to attend that so-called Chitin Commonwealth meeting.

According to the old man's letter, he had met many important figures there, not only big-nosed people from Triumph City but also folks from Ideal City and the Academy.

Those big shots had sat together and decided to make solving the mutant slime mold their top priority.

But before that, they had to deal with a group called the Torch. Those madmen planned to use technology from the Age of Prosperity to spread something called Nago fruit into the sea.

The townspeople couldn't understand what that meant. Many of them had never seen mutant slime mold in their lives, nor the sea; at most, they occasionally spotted one or two preaching lunatics.

But the old town mayor, who had seen a bit of the world, told them that this was definitely an opportunity!

A huge opportunity!

Although there were no slime mold nests around Mafu Town, Jinchuan Province had plenty of them.

Solving the slime mold problem wasn't really important to them, just like the railway the Alliance had built.

But if they could help those big shots solve their problems, their own lives would visibly improve!

As the Alliance's administrator put it, making money was nothing to be ashamed of.

If they could live well, let people live like human beings, and cast off poverty and ignorance, they would already have made a great contribution to ending the Wasteland Era.

He wouldn't demand that they, like the Alliance, hold their torches high.

As usual, the old town mayor, who was attending the meeting in Dawn City, had probably heard some rousing speech again. Seeing that the sun was nearly setting, he sent an urgent telegram to the town office.

The town office secretary yawned, posted the telegram on the bulletin board in the square, hammered in the nails, then knocked off work and went to the tavern to play cards.

The townsfolk gathered around the square curiously. After some jostling, they managed to find a literate cobbler to read the mayor's telegram.

"The Chitin Research Commonwealth meeting voted to pass Resolution No. 1, and all members of the meeting declare war on the Torch Church and its minions..." He muttered the gist of it, his face changing slightly, and whispered in disbelief, "This means war?"

Hearing this, the crowd around buzzed with whispers.

Especially the young men who ran farms and forest lands showed eager expressions.

But some looked worried, because they quickly remembered that they too were members of that Commonwealth, and their mayor was there at the meeting, possibly even having voted on it.

The people of Mafu Town were tough and not afraid of a few preaching lunatics, but the thought of fighting a bunch of strangers made most of them hesitant, even though they knew the Torch were no good.

A farmer in the crowd looked at the cobbler reading the announcement and asked with a frown.

"Do we have to go to the battlefield?"

In the past, when Mafu Town fought outsiders, those with horses contributed horses, those with guns contributed guns, and those with nothing contributed their lives. They wondered what the rules were now.

Ever since the Alliance built the railway here, the raider camps and mutant nests around them seemed to have vanished. Although small raider groups or mutants occasionally wandered into the area, large-scale fighting hadn't happened in a long time.

"...No need for that. The work we need to do is logistics—provide accommodation, food, fresh water, and daily necessities for those coming to fight."

The cobbler read the notice to the end, paused, and continued.

"Oh, and the mayor also wants us to make use of unused warehouses, cowsheds, stables, even attics, and turn them into inns, taverns, guesthouses, and such... In the next few days, quite a few people will probably come from Dawn City."

He didn't know what a guesthouse was, but he figured it was similar to an inn or tavern.

The crowd exchanged glances, their faces showing hesitation.

Then a stout housewife stepped forward and asked skeptically.

"Will they pay?"

The cobbler was taken aback and asked back.

"Why wouldn't they?"

In his memory, the people who came with the train had never failed to pay; in fact, they seemed eager to stuff silver coins into their pockets, though soon enough they'd find ways to earn the money back.

Hearing this, the crowd felt there was some truth to it. Except for a few young men who had been eager to fight and now looked dejected at having no chance to join, most of the hesitant ones had their eyes light up.

Finally realizing what a big deal the old mayor had brought back for them, the crowd around the bulletin board scattered like a swarm, each running home to tidy up empty rooms.

The wasteland had no shortage of land, especially around Mafu Town, which was sparsely populated. Outside the town stretched vast, uninhabited wilderness.

Many residents lived in two-story wooden houses, usually with external staircases. Turning the empty first or second floor into an inn wasn't impossible.

Just then, many young people had gone to Dawn City, leaving plenty of empty houses and rooms.

Apart from those hurrying home, someone shouted in the square.

"Oh, I just remembered... There's a big iron lump in my old warehouse, with tracks underneath. Looks like something from the Age of Prosperity. My grandfather dragged it back from over a hundred kilometers away in the city."

The speaker wore a straw hat on his back and a sweat towel over his shoulder, looking like a farmer.

Someone asked him curiously.

"What is it?"

The farmer shook his head.

"No idea... but it looks like something from the battlefield. We tried to turn it into a tractor, but we couldn't take it apart, so we left it in the warehouse."

Soon, someone patted him on the shoulder and said with a laugh.

"Next time the train comes, haul it to Dawn City and ask around. There are plenty of archaeologists there; they should give you a good price."

Another voice chimed in.

"Sell it and treat us to a drink!"

The farmer scratched the back of his head and grinned.

"Haha, for sure!"

If only he could really sell it...

While the residents of Mafu Town busied themselves with preparations for the coming war, the various settlements connected by the railway and the Tian River tributaries were all doing the same. As telegrams and urgent letters flew out, they too sprang into action.

A united front is slowly taking shape.

Those settlements, one after another, are like cogs in a vast machine—unremarkable when scattered on the ground, perhaps not even noticed by the giants of the wasteland. Yet once linked together by a chain, the energy they unleash is not to be underestimated.

Even the one who linked them together might not fully know what is strung on that chain.

After all, whose ancestors didn’t come from the Age of Prosperity?

Those wastelanders are not true primitives; their fathers once lived in a great era, only for that era to fade away along with them.

Who knows what great weapon from the Age of Prosperity might be hidden in some settlement, just waiting for a chance to be used, never brought out before?

As those rusty cogs began to turn toward a common goal, Dawn City, at the heart of this machine, was also bustling with intense activity.

A military train from Daybreak City sounded its whistle, pulling steadily into the platform of Dawn City’s railway station.

The cars trailing behind the locomotive were packed with ammunition and supplies, along with flatbeds loaded with artillery pieces.

These were all materials destined for the front lines.

Some were purchased by the Alliance itself, while others were funded or shipped in by members of the Cohesion Commonwealth.

For instance, two 902mm heavy mortars were among the war machines sponsored by Triumph City.

Their short, thick steel barrels jutted up like raised pig snouts, with muzzles so large two people could fit inside.

The Verrants called them “Wild Boars.”

Though they looked old-fashioned, their lethality was anything but—surpassing even some tactical nuclear weapons.

Especially against hard targets like concrete bunkers.

Their only flaw was excessive bulk: each weighed 150 tons, far surpassing the Alliance’s Mark 2 tank, and the shells weighed a terrifying 5 tons! They were a postmodernist enhanced version of the “Karl Giant Cannon.”

By comparison, the main gun of the *Heart of Steel* seemed almost dainty.

It was said these heavy guns were produced in factories under the Southern Legion, shipped across the ocean via Triumph City’s port to Silver Moon Bay for unloading, then sent by rail to Dawn City.

Though it was unclear what obsessive notion drove the Verrants of the western continent to design such a twisted weapon, the Alliance had no reason to refuse a gift—they gladly accepted it.

However, the Alliance currently lacked a vehicle capable of towing these heavy guns, and building a custom carrier for these imports seemed impractical, so they simply welded them onto train cars.

In contrast, the Model 60 electromagnetic cannon gifted by the Enterprise seemed far more sincere and versatile.

Though the Alliance could already produce these on its own, output could never match Ideal City.

As for the Academy, it sent a batch of automated combat drones and swarm missiles to Dawn City, compatible with neural interface devices.

Intelligence-type players had new toys to play with.

Waiting at the train station, besides weapons bound for the front, were players about to head there as well.

At that moment, five hundred Death Corps players in exoskeletons, riding Deathclaws also clad in exoskeletons, were reluctantly bidding farewell to their Vault-dwelling comrades who had come to see them off—

At least, that was how it appeared to the wastelanders who couldn’t understand Mandarin.

“Haha! Suckers, I’m in the first wave!”

“Edge, you’re awesome!!!”

“Brothers! Give our commander a 666! This bastard finally did something useful!”

“6666!”

The players gathered before the platform watched the lucky bunch with envy, cursing that they weren’t the ones boarding.

Seeing their smug faces, Canyon Escape Mole couldn’t stand it and grumbled.

“Damn it, my Chimera is way better than these cannon fodder!”

Back in the Jinhe City campaign, it was their Skeleton Corps that led the charge. They thought there’d be no contest this time, but the Death Corps had snatched the glory.

Beside him, Beta of the Toy Car couldn’t help adding,

“Yeah! Why the hell aren’t we leading the charge?”

Shuk of the Helicopter: “There must be some shady backroom deal behind this.”

Watching these howling losers, Honest Edge, riding his Deathclaw, could barely contain his laughter and shouted to Mole,

“Give it a rest, man. My five hundred armored Deathclaws can climb mountains, cross wilds, and wade through rivers. If not us, who? Can your Chimera even cross a ditch?”

Midnight Umbrella Without Knife: “Exactly! Can your turret turn faster than I charge?”

Canyon Escape Mole: “Screw it! Let’s try! Camp 101 Arena, I’ll wait for you!”

“Go play there yourself,” Edge Slacker said with a grin, closing his helmet visor and pulling back the restless Deathclaw beneath him. “I’m off to the front for kills.”

Debt Big Eyes chimed in cheekily, “Mole, take my advice—you can’t handle it. Go back to making your games! Fighting’s for professionals like us!”

His hundred-plus spore bodies were useless and ate like crazy, each one growing fat and bloated, nearly driving him to eat dirt.

Now that the fighting had started, those spore bodies finally had a use.

Even if they couldn’t hold the line, helping with supply runs or serving as scouts at the front would be great.

Canyon Escape Mole: “Get lost! You call yourself a professional fighter?”

Construction Site Boy and Brick: “Hahahaha!”

Watching the noisy crowd, Spring Commander, arms crossed, shook his head with a sigh and said helplessly,

“I’ve been thinking all night, and I still can’t figure out why our Storm Corps isn’t leading the charge.”

Battlefield Atmosphere also sighed, “True... It’s ridiculous that the unit with the highest casualty rate gets the first battle.”

Silver Dad, standing nearby, bristled at this and glared at him indignantly.

“Have you considered how our Silver Corps feels?”

Battlefield Atmosphere paused, then remembered that their casualty rate wasn’t low either, and laughed it off.

“Sorry... I forgot.”

Silver Dad: “@#%@!”

Amid this harmonious atmosphere, Brother Edge led his brothers onto the train bound for Jinchuan Province.

They would take the train to the central region of Jinchuan Province, rendezvous with the construction corps that had gone there earlier this year, and then launch an offensive from the northern area controlled by the Torch Church, pushing the front to the border between Jinchuan and Haiya Provinces.

By then, reinforcements from the Legion, the Enterprise, and even the Academy would meet them there.

The Administrator’s only requirement was to show the same momentum they had in Sunset Province!

Don’t let the allies look down on them!

...

It wasn’t just the train station that was busy—the Alliance’s airport was as well.

A massive transport plane sat at the end of the runway, ready for departure.

Its towering fuselage was like the wings of a Kunpeng, with four enormous engines bolted to the wings like feathers.

This was the Alliance’s first “self-developed and self-produced” large aircraft!

Its designation was H-10, codename “Overlord,” designed jointly by Factory 81 and the design institute under the Scientific Expedition Corps!

Actually, the small players at Factory 81 had initially wanted to use the codename “Kunpeng,” since the thing was truly huge, but to accommodate those kids who always confused virtual and reality, after much deliberation, they changed it to a weapon codename unused in the real world.

The entire aircraft's energy storage system uses fully solid-state hydrogen for power, while the propulsion system is a plasma engine similar to that of the "Killer Whale" transport.

Its maximum range reaches 2,000 kilometers, slightly inferior to the Killer Whale's range of over 3,000 kilometers, but its maximum payload is a bit higher than the latter, reaching 150 tons!

After all, this thing is equipped with four engines, one might say brute force works wonders.

Actually, saying this thing is similar to the Killer Whale is somewhat modest.

After all, ignoring the differences in fuselage and engine appearance, this thing, aside from being unable to freely rotate its wings for various high-difficulty maneuvers and switch between fixed-wing mode and vertical takeoff and landing mode, is almost a knockoff of the "Fat Tiger" or "Thin Whale."

Of course, to compensate for the lack of vertical takeoff and landing, Goblin Tech, together with the research institute under the Expedition Corps, also designed a "small aircraft" capable of switching between fixed-wing mode and vertical takeoff and landing mode.

That thing is called "Thunder," but it is not deployed here at the moment.

As a power-enhanced version of the "Lingyun" fighter, it, like the "Overlord," uses an electrically propelled plasma engine, except the power unit is not solid-state hydrogen but a nuclear fusion battery similar to that of power armor, with higher energy density and higher cost.

The greatest advantage of the plasma engine is neither thrust nor energy efficiency, but the stable output capability of the plasma plume; both controllability and stability are far superior to the chemical engines used in traditional jet aircraft.

It is precisely for this reason that players have more room to fully unleash their creativity, applying in the game some brainstorms that are impossible or too costly to realize in reality.

As for actual performance, it can only be tested on the battlefield.

At this moment, ground service vehicles shuttle back and forth between the runway and the warehouse, loading crates and bundles of supplies into the rear cargo hold of the "Overlord" transport.

As the hold fills up, the cargo door slowly closes. The Pigman brothers, chewing gum, skillfully push the throttle, control the aircraft onto the runway, and trace four arcs of deep blue light as they fly toward the horizon.

Although his route is the same direction as the military train heading south, his destination is not Jinchuan Province but Baiyue Province, located southwest of Haiya Province.

Near the military base northwest of Fries Port, there is a two-kilometer-long runway.

Although the maintenance cost of building a runway in Baiyue Province is high, for strategic needs, Chu Guang ultimately paid the money and had the local little players build this runway.

After all, there is only one Steel Heart, and relying on airships to transport supplies at critical moments is too slow.

In this war, the Alliance will launch offensives from both the north and south against the areas actually controlled by the Torch Church, so military deployment around Fries Port is also necessary.

Beside the airport runway, two pilots from the Enterprise looked at each other with strange expressions, watching the direction where the "Overlord" transport had disappeared.

The more candid of the two directly voiced his confusion.

"...Is it my imagination, or does that thing look a bit like our engine?"

The one standing beside him opened his mouth and gave an ambiguous answer.

"Maybe... it's just an illusion."

Just treat it as an illusion.

Anyway, there are no patents for this thing in the wasteland.

Their engine was copied from the plasma thrusters on Prosperity Era starships. The Alliance has so many Vault Dwellers; it doesn't seem unreasonable for them to copy a part from a starship as well.

After all, now is not the time to argue about this, and the Alliance is still their ally.

Even if there is a dispute, it will have to wait until after this war is over...

In Dawn City, north of the city, near the Legion mission's residence, a certain inn's lobby was also buzzing with lively activity.

And the focus of everyone's heated discussion was naturally the latest issue of the Survivor Daily.

Today's newspaper unexpectedly featured two major headlines.

One was the Sticky Commonwealth declaring war on the Torch, and the other was the newly established South Sea Alliance.

Although the Alliance rarely actively exports its values, the wasteland never lacks believers who willingly embrace the dawn.

It is said that the territory of the South Sea Alliance is even larger than that of the Alliance!

However, their "land" area is so small that, compared to what happened there, the residents of Dawn City are more surprised at how they manage to cram people onto those tiny palm-sized islands.

But surprise aside.

The topic of the southern sea region is not very hot in Dawn City, at least not as hot as the real big event: the Sticky Commonwealth's declaration of war on the Torch Church!

After all, in the past four months, nothing has been more topical than the ongoing Sticky Commonwealth conference.

And the atrocities of the Torch Church and its followers left a deep impression on the survivors of Dawn City.

After all, most of them are survivors of the Bone-Chewing Rebellion, or survivors who fled from Jinchuan Province; almost everyone hates those madmen to the bone.

Now hearing that all members of the Sticky Commonwealth have declared war on the Torch Church, almost everyone cannot help but cheer.

"It's about time we settled accounts with those bastards!" A drunken mercenary slammed his right fist on the table, shouting tipsily.

The merchant sitting next to him also spoke in a deep voice.

"I remember the Bone-Chewing tribe had their shadow! Those beasts, a bunch of inhuman things..."

"But I didn't expect the Valiant to stand with us; those guys have done plenty of beastly things."

"And those guys from Bugra, I always feel they are no good."

"As the Administrator said, those guys are no good, but the conflict with them can be put aside for now; we need to solve the more critical problem first."

The inn lobby was filled with clamor, and no one noticed the person sitting in the corner of the lobby.

That person was none other than the ambassador of the Xilan Empire, Duke Galawa, who had just been discharged from the hospital.

Although the doctor advised him to drink less and read fewer newspapers, he obviously did not heed the medical advice; at this moment, he stubbornly held a copy of the Survivor Daily bought by a servant.

Staring at the headline on the newspaper, Duke Galawa's face showed a sickly flush, and he muttered excitedly under his breath.

"It's started!"

Finally started!

Once the Alliance's war machine is set in motion, it will surely have no time to attend to affairs in Bolo Province. Their empire not only gains a chance to catch its breath but might even seize this opportunity to reverse the decline and restore its glory!

However—

The Legion seems to have also joined this war against the Torch, and it is said they have dispatched direct troops from the Eastern Legion.

As the Legion's largest ally and one of the main signatories of the Sticky Commonwealth, Duke Galawa mused that they should at least show something.

At least make the Legion realize their importance.

Moreover, this is entirely a risk-free deal.

Offending three gods at once, the Torch not only won't last long, but even its ashes will be scattered.

Maybe they can even pick up some spoils.

Stroking his chin, Duke Galawa pondered in his mind.

"...Let His Majesty send a symbolic few people over."