Chapter 738: The Cave Filled with Flesh and Blood

Chapter 738 The Cave Filled with Flesh and Blood

It must be said that no one understands the Wilantians better than the Wilantians themselves.

Vanus, who had once served as a "regimental commander" in the Eastern Legion, knew the temperaments of those high-ranking officials all too well.

Watching the stalemate at Broken Blade Mountain, Lioum, seated on the bridge, could no longer sit still and muttered a curse under his breath.

"What the hell is Modlin dawdling about!"

The Second Thousand-Man Unit had been storming the cave for quite some time, yet after all that fighting, they still hadn't taken the position.

Wounded soldiers were constantly being carried out, and then others were sent in to fill the gaps. In the blink of an eye, the entire thousand-man unit had been rotated through, and even the cleansing squads attached to the unit were nearly wiped out!

Seeing this, Lioum couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt.

Though it sounded absurd, he had a nagging sense that these mutants were deliberately letting them in...

What the hell was this?

Was this the kind of plan those muscle-brained brutes could come up with?

Yet even if he realized something might be off with these mutants, ordering a retreat was out of the question.

If he pulled back now, all his earlier boasts would come back to bite him.

The thought of that earlier phone call made Lioum's face flush red.

He could almost see the sneers on those fools from Ideal City.

Even if it was for the glory of the Wilantians, he absolutely could not retreat!

His clenched teeth ground together with a creaking sound, snapping the wooden stick in two.

Lioum slammed his right fist hard on the armrest of his chair, glaring at his adjutant as he issued the order through gritted teeth.

"Notify General Modlin! If necessary, he may deploy the First Thousand-Man Unit on Black Cloud Mountain!"

"I authorize him to use the strength of two thousand-man units! No matter what method he uses or what price he pays, he must take that hill by tonight!"

At the same time, Black Cloud Mountain was a seething mass of soldiers, with shouts and clamor filling the air.

Wearing matte gray steel helmets and pitch-black bulletproof armor, fully armed soldiers jostled shoulder to shoulder as they surged out of trenches and bunkers with an unstoppable momentum, pouring down the mountain like a flash flood.

These were the warriors of the First Thousand-Man Unit, only dispatched to the front lines tonight to relieve the Second Thousand-Man Unit, which had been stationed there.

In fact, it was under the guise of this rotation that Lioum had managed to secretly release the assault troops from their positions without alerting their allies, launching tonight's offensive.

But now, it seemed that a single thousand-man unit wasn't enough to crack this tough nut—something no one had anticipated.

With the frontline assault forces in dire straits, General Modlin had no choice but to throw in the defensive troops from the position, leaving only two hundred-man units to hold the line.

Yet for these battle-hungry young men, there was not a shred of crisis in their hearts.

Watching their comrades fight valiantly on the front, they had been itching for action on the mountain, eager to charge in and teach those mutants a harsh lesson.

Scrambling over the rugged mountain paths, it wasn't long before a group reached the very front of the battlefield.

A centurion strode briskly to the lead hundred-man unit, bellowing in a rough voice.

"The brothers of the Second Thousand-Man Unit have run into some trouble. Now it's our turn to solve it!"

"For the glory of the Wilantians!"

"For the glory of Triumph City!"

"For the Marshal His Majesty!"

"Follow me and charge! Crush those filthy, disgusting vermin! Everyone behind you will witness your bravery!"

Eyes burned with fanaticism, and every helmeted soldier erupted in a fervent roar.

"Kill!!!"

Amid the thunderous war cries, an entire hundred-man unit charged up the mountain with unstoppable momentum.

At the same time, dozens of stretchers brushed past them, hurriedly carried down the rugged path.

But no one paid them any mind.

Their only thought now was to pin those green-skinned bastards inside the cave!

As the Wilantians were consumed by bloodlust, the Enterprise command post, monitoring the battlefield through drones, finally noticed something amiss—

The number of Wilantian troops committed to the fight seemed off.

Yun Song, staring at the holographic screen, his face ashen, felt a sudden jolt of alarm and spoke.

"They've mobilized the defensive troops from the mountain!"

A murmur rippled through the command post, and the adjutant standing beside Lin Shangwen widened his eyes.

"Is that Lioum insane?!"

"When have those lunatics ever been sane?" Lin Shangwen gritted out through clenched teeth, his face dark as he turned to him. "Contact the Administrator of the Alliance!"

"Yes!"

The adjutant nodded hastily and was about to instruct the communications officer when a communication request from the Steel Heart appeared on the screen.

Without hesitation, Lin Shangwen ordered it connected.

After a brief delay, the azure power armor appeared in the center of the screen.

That suit, codenamed "Order," was like Order itself—just gazing at it stirred an involuntary sense of reassurance in the heart.

But Yun Song felt that, more than the heavy power armor, it was that dignified yet approachable face that gave him confidence and a sense of security.

It was an indescribable intuition—in that man's eyes, he could see the shadow of a new era.

He had felt it from their very first meeting...

The command room fell silent of its own accord.

Looking at Division Commander Lin across the video window, Chu Guang spoke in a very soft voice.

"In the days I've been away, you've been a bit too aggressive."

Catching the hint of displeasure in those words, Lin Shangwen felt a bit embarrassed and cleared his throat before replying.

"...Let's first figure out how to solve the problem."

Many of the internal conflicts within the coalition were legacies of history, not something that could be resolved overnight.

Clearly aware of this, Chu Guang nodded, refraining from excessive reproach over tonight's events, and cut straight to the point.

"I need you to send a Cloud Dragonfly attack formation to the west side of Black Cloud Mountain and hold there."

Lin Shangwen frowned slightly.

"To cover the retreat of those Wilantians?"

Chu Guang shook his head.

"It'll be tough to expect them to retreat, but we can't afford to lose the position on Black Cloud Mountain."

Lin Shangwen hesitated briefly, a look of disbelief in his eyes as he asked.

"You mean the mutants might counterattack?"

"Why not? They've even learned to lure the enemy in deep. I have reason to suspect the Torch taught them more than just biological techniques—communication technology and some tactical command skills as well."

He paused, then Chu Guang continued.

"Since we can't save them, at least we can make their sacrifice worth something."

Lin Shangwen's expression gradually turned grave as he spoke seriously.

"I understand. The Cloud Dragonfly Attack Formation will depart within half an hour."

Chu Guang nodded and gave a brief instruction.

"Good. Make it as fast as you can."

……

Meanwhile, in another world, the player discussion section of the official forum for *Wasteland OL* was buzzing with activity.

It was always like this before a big battle.

Rallying people in the group chat wasn't enough; to ensure full coverage of information, the legion commander would usually shout out on the forum as well.

Springwater Commander: "@Storm Legion, all hands on deck! Brothers!"

Kakarot: "Roger!"

Grave Ghost: "Got it!"

I'm the Blackest: "Ooooh!"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "MMP! So jealous, damn! T.T"

Quit Smoking: "Haha! Feel sorry for Battlefield Bro!"

Irene: "Why feel sorry for him? His father-in-law keeps him on a tight leash. (silly)"

Combat Atmosphere Group: "??? What the hell?"

Quit Smoking: "...Ah, I was too hasty."

"..."

With that shout from Brother Springwater, the players of the Storm Legion donned their helmets and went online, assembling at their respective battle positions according to the pre-arranged plan.

Just as the Alliance and the Corporation were preparing to intervene, the battle between the Rockaxe Clan and the 31st Myriad's two thousand-man units was nearing its end.

The chiliarch of the second thousand-man unit was wounded in combat, but his bodyguard unit fought desperately to save him and managed to bring him back from the front lines.

The "Purge" squad, composed of one hundred and twenty men, had their retreat cut off while fighting for the tunnels. They broke through valiantly but were nearly wiped out. The remaining ten hundred-man squads had also suffered over fifty percent casualties, teetering under the mutants' fierce counterattack.

Even though the first thousand-man unit moved forward in time to support, they couldn't reverse the tide of the battle.

Those tunnels were like a maze—one path branching into several, and those branches connecting to each other. The slightest misstep could lead to losing one's way, or worse, running headlong into one's own comrades.

And though the mutants weren't clever, these tunnels were dug by them, and they bore marks only they could understand.

On top of that, there were the short goblins.

They could not only pop out of dog holes smaller than a watermelon, but also use their little knives and sticks to viciously stab the unsuspecting Verlanders in their backsides.

Although the Legion had deployed flamethrowers—a devastating weapon—as the front line pushed deeper into the tunnels, these tools didn't work as well as expected.

Often, the flames would burn up all the oxygen in the tunnel before even killing the enemy, forcing them to abandon hard-won positions and retreat.

The battle, initially evenly matched, gradually turned into a Verlander rout.

Inside a narrow tunnel, the walls on both sides were riddled with bullet holes.

A Verlander squad was using the protruding rocks on either side as makeshift cover, exchanging fierce fire with the green-skinned mutants across the tunnel.

After emptying an entire magazine and finally taking down a mindless zombie mutant, Damon, his helmet smeared with blood, was both shocked and furious. He changed his magazine while cursing.

"Damn it... how many of these beasts are there?! Did they bury a whole myriad in the mountain?!"

The entire tunnel echoed with the roar of gunfire, so he had to shout.

"I'd say it's probably—damn it!"

The decurion, who had been lying on the ground, struggled to his feet with the help of his comrades. He pulled a grenade from his chest plate and shoved it into Damon's hand.

"Use white phosphorus!"

Against those things that wouldn't die even with their heads blown off, only this stuff worked best.

The blinding white light could disrupt the mutants' vision, while the scorching flames and acrid smoke could halt their advance, buying them a moment to catch their breath.

Damon took the grenade without hesitation, bit off the pin with his teeth, and hurled it deep into the tunnel.

A blinding white flash erupted, followed by agonized roars and screams from the darkness.

Hearing those cries, the squad perked up, and the decurion clenched his fist in excitement.

"Nice!"

"That must have burned at least two or three of them—"

But just then, something unexpected happened. A lump of green came flying out of the tunnel's depths.

It was a goblin.

To be precise, it had been thrown—its swollen belly seemed stuffed with something.

Dazed and staggering, it got up from the ground, its bloodshot eyes filled with hatred and fear, and charged at the squad with a shriek.

A sudden sense of crisis washed over Damon. Without hesitation, he lunged forward and shouted.

"Get down!"

The moment he pinned the goblin under his body and drew his dagger to slit its throat, a thunderous explosion erupted from the tunnel, leaving everyone dizzy, disoriented, and ringing in their ears.

No one knew what the bomb was packed with.

But even black powder was dangerous enough in this narrow tunnel.

Damon, lying on top of the suicide goblin, grunted. His chest plate shattered into pieces, embedding into his body. In the flickering light of the blast, his six-foot frame was lifted by the shockwave and then slammed heavily to the ground.

"Damon!!!"

Seeing his comrade unconscious, the decurion's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, and he let out a roar of rage.

An assault trooper rushed to his side, trembling fingers reaching under the comrade's nose. His face changed instantly.

"No breath!"

Without time to hesitate, the decurion suppressed his fury and bellowed.

"Peter! Banchi! Hold the entrance! Medic! Get the hell over here!"

"...Yes!" The assault trooper beside Damon gritted his teeth, pulled away from Damon, and moved to the cover, alternating fire with another comrade into the depths of the tunnel, venting all his rage through the muzzle flash.

The medic crawled quickly to Damon's side, struggling to turn him over.

But the moment he saw Damon's chest, his face drained of all color.

No hope...

At least half of the chest plate fragments had pierced into his body.

His intestines were twisted into a bloody, shredded mess, so much so that he could no longer tell which parts belonged to Damon and which to the goblin.

Yet he still extended a trembling index finger, tore off the bandage hanging at his waist, and, muttering shakily under his breath, began to dress the wounds of his comrade, who had already stopped breathing.

It was like offering a meaningless prayer.

As the fire pouring from the depths of the tunnel grew fiercer, the men holding the line no longer possessed the high morale and fighting spirit they had when descending the mountain.

Watching his comrades fall one after another, with no reinforcements arriving from the rear, the decurion nearly ground his teeth to dust.

He could wait no longer!

Bracing himself for the commander’s wrath, he shouted to the soldiers ahead.

“Seal the entrance with incendiary grenades!”

“We need to pull out of this hellhole—!”

No sooner had his words fallen than an explosion from the other side of the tunnel sent the two soldiers guarding the entrance flying.

Steadying himself against the wall, he grabbed his fallen rifle and looked ahead—only for his pupils to contract sharply.

There, in the middle of the tunnel, stood a mutant clad in welded steel plates, its face a mass of twisted, bulging flesh—half covered in scars, half in newly grown skin—grinning at him with a bone-chilling sneer…

The brutal battle raged on.

Every Valorian trapped in the cave fought with all their might, yet they could not stem the unending casualties.

Objectively speaking, they were far more capable fighters than the average soldier.

But now they faced mutants.

In terms of technology, their enemies were no less equipped…

Aboard the airship *Loyalty*.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on Liuum’s forehead. Gone was his earlier composure; his brow was dark and haggard.

Moments ago, General Modlin had reported the frontline situation and requested a retreat.

Though every fiber of his being resisted, Liuum knew that continuing the fight would only add to the casualties with no hope of victory. Gritting his teeth, he issued the order to retreat, instructing General Modlin to bring the men back.

But the matter did not end there.

The mutants had no intention of letting his troops go. They clung to the heels of the two thousand-strong cohorts, pursuing them relentlessly.

Watching the holographic display, the adjutant standing beside General Liuum spoke with a grave expression.

“…Those mutants probably have no plans to withdraw. They might be trying to take advantage of our retreat to storm Black Cloud Mountain directly!”

“I know,” Liuum said, turning to the adjutant with irritation. “Where is the nearest unit to Black Cloud Mountain?”

“On Foothill Mountain… the Alliance’s Death Corps is stationed there,” the adjutant paused, then added in a low voice, “As for our own forces, the closest is at Weifu Military Base… but it’s over ten li of mountain paths, with an elevation of one to two thousand meters. It’ll be difficult to get there in time.”

If they wanted to hold the position on Black Cloud Mountain, there seemed to be only one option left.

Liuum felt his heart bleed.

He would never have sought help from allied forces unless absolutely necessary.

Still, asking the Alliance for aid was more palatable than begging the Corporation.

After weighing the pros and cons, he gave the order.

“Contact the Alliance commander!”

“Yes, sir!”

No sooner had the adjutant spoken than the radar operator in the bridge suddenly announced.

“Report! The *Heart of Steel* has appeared on our radar! Approximately eighty kilometers away!”

At the mention of the *Heart of Steel*, Liuum’s brow twitched violently. Clenching his teeth, he said.

“…Contact the *Heart of Steel* directly!”

The adjutant gave a wry smile and saluted.

“Yes, sir!”

…

On the mountain path between Black Cloud Mountain and Broken Blade Mountain, the cameraman, *Qiang Ren Suo Nan*, clicked his tongue in astonishment.

“These mutants up on the mountain have some tricks…”

No wonder he’d never managed to infiltrate them—turns out it wasn’t his fault after all.

Crouching on a stone block not far away, *Jian La Ji 99 Ji* was sharpening its claws like a gargoyle, its amber eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Let the blood flow!”

Back when they fought on Foothill Mountain, he hadn’t gotten his fill before it ended. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Looks like it’s about to happen,” said *Wo Xiang Jing Jing*, standing nearby with binoculars raised, musing aloud. “Damn… the Valorians actually got driven back by them?”

And that wasn’t all.

The mutants hiding in the tunnels emerged in waves, howling as they charged after the Valorians retreating down the mountain.

The short goblins, too, hauled out machine guns and mortars hidden in the caves, unleashing a barrage down the slope.

Tracers rained down like hail, pinning the Valorians below so they couldn’t lift their heads.

The distant *Loyalty* could only watch in frustration.

Indirect fire had too wide a dispersion; opening fire at such close range risked wiping out their own troops.

Just as the two thousand-strong cohorts teetered on the brink, and the mutants were about to surge onto Black Cloud Mountain to the north, six Cloud Dragon ornithopters suddenly swooped out of the night, their wing-mounted rocket pods strafing the machine-gun positions halfway up the slope.

At the sudden appearance of the ornithopters, General Modlin, standing on the Black Cloud Mountain position, looked stunned.

The adjutant beside him gasped in disbelief.

“The Corporation?!”

Those bastards were actually supporting them?

On the summit of Broken Blade Mountain, the “Beast King” narrowed his eyes, his pupils contracting.

From his understanding of the various factions in the coalition, they could never truly unite—even if forced onto the same war chariot, they’d keep each other at arm’s length, each nursing their own schemes.

So when the Legion launched its surprise attack, he had guessed their intentions and played along, letting Oulon lure the Valorians into the cave, creating the illusion that Broken Blade Mountain was easy to take, baiting the Legion to commit its garrison on Black Cloud Mountain to the front.

So far, the plan had worked perfectly.

Barring accidents, in another two hours at most, he could annihilate both Valorian cohorts at the foot of the mountain.

But he never expected the Corporation to interfere at this critical moment.

In his original scenario, even if the Corporation discovered the frontline was in trouble, they would never send reinforcements to the Legion.

After all, the Valorians had acted against the plan first, trying to steal the glory.

This was the perfect chance to teach them a lesson—no need to bail them out.

Watching the sparks bloom on the mountainside, the Beast King frowned in thought for a long while. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, he looked up at the northern night sky, his eyes narrowing.

“…So that bastard’s come, has he.”

He muttered under his breath, his translucent figure gradually fading into the night wind.

At the same time, the two precarious thousand-man teams finally gained a moment's respite as six cloud-dragonfly ornithopters and dozens of rockets arrived.

Amid the burning wreckage around him, a goblin artilleryman screeched irritably, urging his underlings to load the ammunition, adjusted the aiming calipers toward one of those flapping-wing contraptions, and then yanked the firing lanyard.

A burst of orange-yellow flame shot forth, but it didn't even graze the shadow of that ornithopter, which easily dodged with a fluid side-slip.

Completing the evasive maneuver, the cloud-dragonfly ornithopter paused not a moment; the cannon mounted under its nose swung cleanly, and then a burst of cannon fire swept across.

The orange-yellow rain of bullets swept over like a storm, instantly tearing apart the gun position hidden behind the cover—men, cannon, and the surrounding fortifications—into shreds!

"Beautiful!"

The Verant soldier lying behind the cover at the foot of the mountain couldn't help shouting at the night sky above, but soon remembered that those were people from the Corporation, and so swallowed the cheer that had risen to his lips.

Modlin, on Black Cloud Mountain, was the same, watching with a complicated expression the cloud-dragonflies that had extricated them.

Fortunately, his two thousand-man teams were able to withdraw for rest and await reinforcements from the rear, avoiding total annihilation.

Yet the thought that it was the Corporation that had saved them made it impossible for him to feel any joy...

Just then, on Mansion Mountain behind Black Cloud Mountain, a group of soldiers clad in exoskeletons had completed their assembly and were advancing in waves.

Watching those fellows who passed through his position without a word, Modlin was slightly taken aback and couldn't help shouting a question.

"Which unit are you from?"

Someone replied.

"Storm Corps!"

Storm Corps?

Modlin was stunned.

He seemed to have heard that name somewhere before, but couldn't recall.

The adjutant standing beside him, however, changed color, recalling the battles he had participated in last year while serving with the Expeditionary Force in Luoxia Province.

At that time, a group of fellows had chased them, driving them for over a hundred li across the desert...

Among them, there was a corps that seemed to be called Storm Corps, wasn't it?

While the Verant officers were still astonished, this high-morale unit had already charged to the very front line.

A man in heavy exoskeleton stood at the rear of the formation, carrying a massive cannon barrel on his back, continuously firing heavy mortar shells at the forward positions.

Beside him, some kind of special shield seemed to have deployed, leaving him unscathed even under concentrated fire from the mutants on the mountain, and he even had the energy to shout through a loudspeaker.

"Brothers—!"

"Show these piss-pants big-noses what's what! Let them see what a true warrior race looks like!"

"Dedicate this victory to our Administrator!"

Spurred by that roar, the position erupted with all sorts of excited shouts—people yelling all kinds of things.

"Crush them!"

"Awooo!"

Those voices mingled together, sending a chill through the hearts of the mutants on the hillside, who were already panting for breath.

Instinct told them.

These fellows, who seemed nothing special, might well prove more troublesome than all the humans they had encountered before combined...