Chapter 732: Since You're Here, Stay and Get to Work

Chapter 732 Since You’re Here, You Might as Well Stay and Work

"Survivor Daily"

[Yesterday, survivor forces from enterprises, academies, legions, and other factions converged at the Alliance’s Southern Guard Military Base. Commanders from all sides held consultations on specific battle plans and their respective tasks.

Chu Guang, the administrator of the allied forces, stated in an interview that the Conformity would go all out against the enemies of civilization, sparing no expense to make those beasts who have committed heinous crimes pay the price they deserve!]

At an inn north of Dawnbreak City.

Turning the newspaper over and over in his hands, Duke Garava raised an eyebrow with displeasure.

The headline made no mention of the Xilan Empire at all, which left him feeling somewhat disrespected.

“Those rats in the gutter, always playing petty tricks on trivial matters.”

Muttering sarcastically, Duke Garava tossed the newspaper aside.

Just then, a waiter approached with a tray and placed a plate of curry omurice before him.

The rising steam carried an enticing aroma. Garava took a deep sniff, his appetite stirred, and clumsily grabbed the spoon beside him.

The variety of food in Dawnbreak City was indeed vast; if one took the trouble to search, they could eat something different every day of the year.

This dish was the closest to his homeland’s cuisine. Though it lacked some richness in flavor, the savory, salty taste paired with the fluffy baked eggs and distinct grains of rice was simply superb!

Garava grudgingly admitted that besides beans and flatbread, there were other ingredients that could complement the spices of the Bharata Province.

Watching the duke vent his displeasure on his lunch, Niyang, standing nearby, immediately noticed the regret in his expression and spoke respectfully in a low voice.

“My lord, perhaps other newspapers carry news of us. Shall I go buy them for you?”

Garava, busy with his meal, felt a stir and was about to call him to fetch them, but then remembered the doctor’s advice and shook his head with lingering fear.

“Forget it… I’ll pass.”

Seeing the duke suddenly come to his senses, Niyang felt a slight disappointment and sighed inwardly at the missed opportunity.

Compared to the *Survivor Daily*, today’s headline in the *Goblin Observer* was truly explosive…

——

*Goblin Observer*

[Shock! Thirty thousand men marched to the front, and a full ten thousand got lost! Xilan Empire’s fierce general, Captain Babita, burned with rage, shouting at the front, ‘Where are my men?’ and cursing the train conductor!]

[…]

“Where is my steel???”

At French Fries Port.

Standing on the dock of the light industrial zone, Fang Chang stared at the delivery receipt in his hand, then at the cluster of cargo ships, utterly dumbfounded.

Two weeks ago, while still in Golden Galleon Port, he had ordered 10,000 tons of surplus steel through a Vlandian broker at a rock-bottom price 50% below market value.

According to the broker, the steel was unshaped crude, with no worries about quality—it was produced to Vlandian casting standards.

Whether rolled into T-beams for construction or mixed with other elements to make high-end alloys, it would work perfectly.

Though Golden Galleon Port had its own steel mills, their capacity was mostly tied up in local infrastructure and French Fries Port’s projects, with orders already backlogged.

Sealing this unexpected windfall, Fang Chang immediately arranged for it to be sent to Anle Island, intending to have the submarine factory and technicians there help realize the “submersible carrier” concept he and his buddies had brainstormed on the forum.

Per the contract, the goods were to be delivered at French Fries Port. Today, they were supposed to hand over 5,000 tons of steel billets, and he was to pay 40% of the price.

Worried that cheap goods might be inferior, he had made a special trip from Golden Galleon Port to check.

But what arrived wasn’t steel billets at all—it was over ten thousand soldiers?!

If not for their restrained behavior, he would have suspected they hadn’t learned their lesson and were trying some old trick again.

The man standing at the bow of the ship also looked embarrassed; he was now certain he had boarded the wrong vessel.

But expecting him to admit fault was out of the question.

To ease the awkward atmosphere, he cleared his throat and introduced himself.

“I am Iser, of the Ma clan, a baron… Captain of the Third Ten-Thousand-Man Corps of the Expeditionary Force.”

Fang Chang stared at him intently. “I don’t give a damn what you are—I just want to know why you’re here! And where is my steel?!”

Iser was stunned, staring back blankly, his expression clearly showing no knowledge of any transaction.

“What steel?”

“Steel! The steel I bought from those big-noses!” Fang Chang took a deep breath, quickly calming down, and asked, “Where’s your captain? Get him here!”

Arguing about who was at fault was pointless now; they needed to resolve the issue quickly.

Soon, the captain was brought out.

To be precise, he was dragged out by a group of soldiers holding his arms.

Seeing the murderous looks from Fang Chang and General Iser, the rat-man captain was on the verge of tears.

“My lord… I don’t know either! The Vlandians told me not to ask anything, not to look at anything, just to sail along the route once the ship was loaded. Then the next day, these men stormed aboard, urging me to set sail quickly. I couldn’t reach the man who arranged the voyage, so… I just sailed.”

Iser looked embarrassed and kicked the man’s backside.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were heading to French Fries Port?”

The captain replied with a tearful face.

“With the way you lot were carrying on, I didn’t dare ask a single question.”

Fang Chang stared at the two on the deck, dumbfounded.

So his steel hadn’t been sent to Silver Moon Bay or Golden Galleon Port—it hadn’t even been loaded?!

“…Didn’t you realize this was a cargo ship?”

Iser stared at him blankly.

“What’s the difference?”

Fang Chang was momentarily speechless, but then he remembered that several Xilan Empire naval gunboats were converted freighters, and the earlier raid on French Fries Port had used civilian vessels. His expression twisted into a mix of laughter and tears.

Good grief…

He had never imagined such a novel way to hold things up. There were so many absurdities that he didn’t even know where to start.

He figured the Vlandian who sold him the steel probably never expected that his arranged cargo ship would deliver an expeditionary force instead of steel…

Seeing the port’s “person in charge” at a loss for words, Iser coughed and continued.

“If you don’t mind, how far is it from here to Jinchuan Province?”

Fang Chang pinched the bridge of his nose, his head aching.

“Not far. Ten Peaks Mountain is just south and a bit east of Baiyue Province. From here, it’s less than a thousand kilometers.”

Iser’s face lit up.

“That’s great—”

Before he could finish, Fang Chang couldn’t help but snap.

“Great my ass! Are you planning to walk there on foot? You won’t even make it by the time the war’s over!”

Of course, the greater likelihood was dying in this forest.

Even now that Fries Harbor had successfully stood upon this land, the radius of player activity could hardly exceed fifty kilometers. Without a stable supply line, there was no way to go far, unless one never intended to return in the first place.

After a moment of thought, Fang Chang looked at the captain and spoke.

“Wait for me out at sea. I’ll discuss with the others how to solve the problem… Move out a bit, don’t block the dock first.”

“Wait, please wait!” Seeing Fang Chang turn and walk toward the dock exit, Iser on the deck quickly called out to him, then spoke with difficulty, “We don’t have enough food… could you… lend us some?”

Fang Chang’s brow twitched.

“…Wait here.”

…

《Wasteland OL》 Forum.

Fang Chang brought the events at Fries Harbor back to the forum, finally solving the mystery of the collective disappearance of the Third Ten-Thousand-Man Corps of the Xilan Empire Expeditionary Force.

Edge Paddling: “Good grief… Getting lost like that is just ridiculous.”

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “Hahaha! This kills me, today’s headline is here!”

Fang Chang: “Alright… Forget the headline for now. I’ll push that Vellant merchant again about the steel; if it really doesn’t work, I’ll go to West Sail Harbor myself. The problem now is, what do we do with these people? You all come up with ideas too.”

Gale: “Being able to leave you speechless is pretty impressive. (Side-eye smile)”

Debt Big Eyes: “Just let them stay on the southern line. They’re here anyway, and looking at their clone-style gear, I feel they’d just be cannon fodder on the northern line. (Ridiculous)”

Construction Boy and Brick: “+1, the northern line is currently a clash of titans. There are twenty Cloud Dragonfly ornithopters parked, and we can barely transport ammunition. Now we have to repair an airport. Luckily our five hundred Death Claws are decent; otherwise we’d be useless too.”

Spring Commander: “Aren’t you planning to land from Death Coast? Let Old Bai and Brother Chicken train them a bit. (Side-eye smile)”

Old Bai: “Their foundation is weak; I’m afraid we’d have to start teaching them from eating. (Cry-laugh)”

Midnight Chicken Killer: “I oppose letting them ashore. They are imperial soldiers with prior records; no one can guarantee their safety.”

Sisi: “+1, there are many Moonfolk settlers in our port. They were previously liberated slaves from Golden Galleon Harbor. The Empire has not recognized their free status. Allowing them ashore would likely cause friction.”

Aoao Sesame Paste: “Hmm… If they give up their imperial soldier status, it might be okay. Doesn’t Fries Harbor need many workers?”

Sisi: “That’s not realistic… And even if we need labor, we don’t have to seek accomplices of slave owners. There are many better laborers from Golden Galleon Harbor who want to come.”

Night Ten: “It seems the Alliance needs to set up customs and an immigration bureau. We’ve never had so many people at once. (Ridiculous)”

Irena: “+1, without new players the game dies, but too many new players isn’t all good. In many multiplayer games during free weekends, the server environment visibly deteriorates, like a different game. (Ridiculous)”

Tail: “Oh! That said, sending them to the front as cannon fodder is too pitiful. How about setting up another settlement on the south bank? Let them pioneer and train there? _(:_」∠)_”

Fang Chang: “It’s not cost-effective. Just maintaining the north bank port consumes a lot of our ammunition. As for training… I doubt even after training they’d be of much use.”

Feudal armies only show some fighting morale when their homeland is looted, and even then only in defensive operations.

This is completely different from cultural concepts, bloodlines, or faith traditions. Specific faith traditions or cultural concepts can reduce this debuff. For example, the Honey Badger Kingdom’s restoration army: united from top to bottom, they even formed a government in exile after their homeland fell, and the princess married a ‘heretic’ for restoration. But in the Lion Kingdom, it’s different: the serfs in occupied areas hope for the royal army to act, while the royal army hopes for the Alliance to act.

As for the Brahman Province, objectively, their self-consistent theory of a thousand clans and a thousand gods over two centuries diffused conflicts and consolidated royal authority, but also brought greater problems.

Fang Chang had no hope of training them into a capable fighting force; this was not something months could change.

Tail: “Then just pioneer without training! (｀?ω?′)”

Midnight Chicken Killer: “What about the ammunition costs to maintain the settlement?”

Sisi: “I heard Dawn City is upgrading its industry again. The latest ammunition production line from the B7 processing center has been assembled there, ready to replace the old line… How about we buy it and ship it to Golden Galleon Harbor, process bullets there, and send them to Baiyue Strait? That should save some costs.”

Old Bai: “That’s a good idea… But after the war ends and the expeditionary force withdraws, what about the ten thousand vacant positions? That could be a problem.”

Sisi: “Bringing in some population from Golden Galleon Harbor should be fine. Once the infrastructure there is done, there will be plenty of freed labor. We can use this new port as a buffer for Fries Harbor’s population import.”

The south bank of the Baiyue Strait also has vast undeveloped land for cultivation.

And compared to the rugged terrain of the north bank, the south bank’s land is flatter, suitable for large plantations and farmland, producing tropical cash crops.

Having the Jungle Corps clear the shore of mutants, then letting those lost expeditionary soldiers reclaim the land is a good option.

After all, sending them to the battlefield would likely be a hindrance; having them do some token target practice and drills every now and then would suffice.

Fang Chang: “So the question is, what should the new settlement be called?”

Irena: “We already have Fries Harbor. How about Cola Harbor? (Ridiculous)”

Night Ten: “If you keep this up, the Alliance map will become a cookbook. (Ridiculous)”

Maca Bazi: “Hahaha damn!”

…

At this moment, General Iser did not know that his and his cannon fodder’s fates had already been clearly arranged in another world.

But thanks to that, they had also inadvertently embarked on a completely different path of destiny.

The Northern Line.

The third day after the coalition arrived.

On Black Cloud Peak, the second mountain of Ten Peaks, a bloody battle was just beginning.

Seeming to see the Alliance’s Death Corps take Foothill Mountain so smoothly, the Vellants from afar were eager to show off to their allies.

The legion commander, Chiliarch Lioum, almost ‘snatched’ the task of taking Black Cloud Peak from the Academy and Enterprise commanders during the war council.

And thanks to an old friend’s help, the Imperial Expeditionary Force commander Babita also benefited, sending a thousand-man unit as a feint—in other words, reserves.

After all, the winding mountain roads of Ten Peaks could accommodate at most one or two battalions in terms of battlefield width.

As expected, the legion would send the Glorious Army first, keeping the main force for the main battlefield behind Ten Peaks.

And as Babita had predicted, early in the morning the legion’s Glorious Army assembled at the foot of Foothill Mountain, led up by a team of Vellant officers.

At ten o’clock sharp, the ‘Bison’ walker raised its 200mm cannon and, like spitting, poured shells onto Black Cloud Peak’s summit—enough to fill five train cars!

Dense explosions burst on the majestic peak and its flanks, burning the forests halfway up and scattering the clouds and mist around the mountain.

At the same moment the bombardment ended, a thousand-man Glorious Army unit assembled on Foothill Mountain charged with deafening roars, brandishing their Rippers.

They advanced along the narrow mountain path, using the rugged rocks to engage in fierce firefights with the mutants.

Sitting on the bridge, Lioum ate an ice cream while overlooking the battlefield filled with shouts and killing, a faint smile on his face.

Suddenly, he turned slightly to his adjutant and asked.

“By the way, how long did it take the Alliance to take Foothill Mountain?”

The adjutant standing beside replied respectfully.

“I recall it was before dusk.”

Lioum nodded, glanced at the mechanical watch on his left wrist, then leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossing his right leg over his left knee.

“Looks like the battle will be over by noon. I plan to dine below later… I heard the Alliance’s cooks are good. You ate there yesterday—any recommended dishes in the camp canteen?”

The adjutant paused for a moment, hesitated, and said.

“The pork knuckle rice I had yesterday was good.”

The taste was indeed quite good.

In Triumph City, pig trotters were usually grilled or smoked in wooden boxes. This was the first time he had seen trotters softer than bread, almost like jelly.

Lioum smiled and said.

"Let's go try it together in a bit."

It wasn't just Lioum who dismissed the mutants; Babita, commanding at the front, felt the same.

But unlike the Velantians, who had seen many mutants, Babita's confidence came from never having encountered these green-skinned creatures before.

Based on the hearsay he'd gathered along the way, he saw them as nothing but a bunch of unevolved savages.

Only the beggars of the wasteland could trade blows with them for three hundred rounds; the Brahmin Province was no wasteland at all—if he were to step in, he could crush those noobs in no time.

However, it seemed his men wouldn't be needed for this fight; the Velantians had already made their move.

Just as Babita thought this battle would be a mere formality at the front before heading back, events took an unexpected turn.

The clone soldiers charging up the hill had actually reached a stalemate with those unevolved savages!

"...What the hell."

Babita, holding his binoculars, stared for a long while, and seeing that the clones couldn't push forward no matter what, couldn't help but mutter a curse.

"What are those Velantians dawdling for..."

He had never fought a mountain battle, but he could at least read the front line. Even if his eyesight wasn't always accurate, his basic skill of "judging the distance between front and rear by gunfire" was beyond reproach.

In the blink of an eye, two centuriae had been wiped out.

Wounded Velantian officers were carried down the mountain by medics, while those green-skinned fellows kept pouring out, even seeming to grow fiercer as they fought.

Watching the brutal scene, Babita's palms began to sweat.

If his old friends didn't go all out soon, they'd be pushed right off the mountain!

Babita wasn't the only one stunned; the players observing from the top of Busan Mountain were also dumbfounded.

The earlier barrage of artillery had been quite a spectacle; they had even set up a betting pool on how long it would take those big-noses to plant their flag on the summit.

But the result was a shocker—the mutants, after taking that shelling, acted as if nothing had happened and beat the clone cannon fodder halfway up the hill black and blue.

Debt-Eyed swallowed hard and blurted out in astonishment.

"Holy crap... they shelled the entire hilltop and still ended up like this?"

Were the mutants cheating too?

Construction Boy with Brick, holding his telescope, frowned slightly and said in a low voice.

"There's something off about those guys."

"Mm..."

Edge-Paddling nodded, his expression grave, "They're definitely different from the ones we encountered when we first got here."

Back then, one shell had killed half the greenskins, and the remaining half were wiped out in a single charge.

Pushing up to the summit did meet some resistance, but only a little.

Seeing the allied position on the verge of collapse, Babita could no longer sit still and urgently urged the chiliarch beside him to launch an attack.

"Take your men and charge! Now!"

"Yes, sir!"

The chiliarch dared not delay, quickly called his men, and led over a thousand soldiers into the fray.

That mountain, seemingly right before his eyes and nothing special, turned out to be far more complex than General Babita had imagined once he actually approached the front.

The towering mountain was like an insurmountable cliff; there was nothing that could be called a road, only a narrow winding path barely leading to the summit.

Going around the mountain was even more impossible—both sides were steep cliffs, and beyond were nameless peaks where conditions were only worse.

Their soldiers could only climb upward, grabbing rocks on both sides of the path, firing at the enemy while also being careful not to be knocked down by the bodies of their fallen comrades.

In contrast, their opponents, the mutants, fired down at them from a commanding height.

Some small goblins would suddenly leap out from behind cover, wielding rocks, daggers, or even satchel charges, giving them a "surprise."

Over the past two weeks, the Death Corps had long grown accustomed to such surprises; even when they saw them, they took them in stride.

But these fellows from the Brahmin Province were seeing such vicious and ruthless tactics for the first time.

The Velantian Glorious Army had at least pushed to the halfway point before being stopped, but these men hadn't even touched the rear of their allies before their morale was nearly shattered.

No matter how General Babita shouted and cursed from behind, he couldn't stop the rat-men soldiers, terrified by the green-skinned brutes and goblins.

The battle lasted from morning until dusk, the entire sky dyed a bloody red.

The bridge of the airship Loyalty.

Lioum stared dumbfounded at the hill that had fallen silent, his mouth agape, momentarily speechless.

The popsicle stick he had been holding had long since dropped to the floor, but no one noticed.

Because he wasn't the only one stunned; everyone on the bridge was silent.

A hungry gurgle from a stomach inopportunely broke the silence of the bridge.

Seeing that the hill had not been taken even by dusk, Lioum's face gradually flushed to a liverish purple, and he suddenly slammed his fist onto the armrest of his chair in fury.

A bunch of disgraceful good-for-nothings!

He should have let General Modlin handle it!

"Bow main gun, prepare! Aim at that hill!"

"Blast the hell out of it!!"