Chapter 757: Battlefronts Blooming Everywhere

Chapter 757: Frontlines Blooming Everywhere

A night had passed since the fierce battle north of Laishan City, and the Cohesion’s first clash on the Torch Church’s “home turf” ended in a draw.

On the hillside position of Laishan, Jenin, a soldier of the 31st Myriad, raised his binoculars and glanced down the mountain.

This was already the thirteenth time he had made this move today, and it was still morning.

He had arrived at the front from the western side of the Central Continent just a few days ago, traveling tens of thousands of kilometers, but unfortunately missed the decisive battle on the Weifu Wasteland.

He heard that the ten-man squad he was now in had lost all its former brothers, leaving only their centurion, Oliver, alive.

That man bore a deep scar on his face, said to have been left when he fought a giant mutant—back when Oliver was still a decurion.

Indeed, the battlefield was the fastest place for promotion.

Glancing at Commander Oliver standing not far away, Jenin’s eyes held a trace of reverence.

Ever since hearing about this commander’s exploits, he had become a true fan.

That was a monster that could regrow its own severed head—to take down something like that, their centurion was truly a ruthless man!

“There shouldn’t be any major battles these next few days, right?”

Standing beside Jenin, a comrade from the same recruit camp said idly.

“How can you tell?” Jenin asked curiously.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The man shrugged, tossing a piece of gum into his mouth. “The Enterprise and the Alliance got a bloody nose down there yesterday. Even if they don’t plan to swallow that pride, they’ll probably need to discuss a countermeasure before making a move.”

“After all, they’re just the buffoons of Ideal City and their friends—can’t stand losing a couple of men.”

“Hahaha.”

A group of new recruits laughed and chatted, clearly dismissing the Enterprise and the Alliance. Some veterans who had been on the front lines for a while just smiled and said nothing.

They, too, held the Enterprise and the Alliance in contempt; in their eyes, the Legion’s army was the strongest on the wasteland.

But they had to admit, these rookies were underestimating their opponents.

If the enemy were really that stupid, what did that make them, who had been tangled with these guys in the desert for months?

Though also a new recruit, Jenin, who came from an officer academy, held a different view.

The situation in Haiya Province was indeed unusual.

These guys didn’t even have a fixed front line—even he couldn’t think of a better approach.

Especially now, with the roads and railways through Ten Peaks Mountain still under construction, supplies from the rear were having difficulty reaching the front. The coalition’s offensive stalling was understandable.

Hearing his new soldiers’ chatter, Centurion Oliver, inspecting the front line, merely curled his lips, as if listening to a bunch of kids’ jokes.

“You’re underestimating those guys too much.”

That night, he had been at Fushan and seen what the Alliance’s true elite looked like.

Compared to himself, who had barely escaped with his life, those men in heavy exoskeletons wielding large-caliber shotguns were the real ruthless ones.

Those mutants were like chicks waiting to be slaughtered before them, picked off one by one in the caves, their movements as practiced as if repeated thousands of times.

It was hard to imagine what kind of hellish trials those guys had been through.

He had indeed killed a green giant, but the number his entire squad eliminated was less than a fraction of what the guy who pulled him out of the cave had taken down.

Speaking of which, it was lucky that man grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the trench.

To this day, he still clearly remembered that not long after he withdrew from that corpse-filled trench, over a dozen “Corrupted” charged to the spot where he had been fighting, clashing with those shield-wielding men.

Only later did he learn that while he was trapped in the trench, those mutants had chased his main force all the way to the foot of the mountain, nearly retaking the Black Cloud Mountain position…

Hearing Commander Oliver join the conversation, a new recruit reported and asked with a smile.

“Commander, do you think they’ll attack again today?”

Seeing all the young men looking at him, Oliver smiled faintly.

“From what I know of them, yesterday’s attack was at most a probe. If nothing unexpected happens, they’ve already figured out the opponent’s strength.”

He paused briefly and continued.

“You’ll understand after a few more days on the front.”

But even Oliver didn’t expect that shortly after he spoke, movement appeared at the foot of the mountain.

A group of soldiers in pitch-black exoskeletons, carrying supply crates taller than themselves, were trudging along the rugged mountain path.

As luck would have it, judging by the armbands on their shoulders, these soldiers were from the Alliance’s Storm Corps!

Besides themselves, they were followed by a massive creature with a lower body covered in tentacles.

The thing looked somewhat ferocious, but its round, bulbous head, after a while, seemed oddly cute.

If he remembered correctly, that thing was the “incubation chamber” of the Qingquan City Hive Queen before it fully expanded.

Once fully expanded, it could convert organic matter sent by the fruiting bodies into new fruiting bodies.

According to intelligence released by the Cohesion, the Alliance had rendered the Qingquan City Hive Queen harmless. If so, this “incubation chamber” should also be safe, and the Devourers and Crawlers it produced probably wouldn’t attack people.

Yet even so, Oliver was still surprised by the appearance of the Storm Corps, as he hadn’t heard of any offensive plans for the coalition today.

Unable to suppress his curiosity, he called out to them.

“Any mission today?”

Hearing the shout from the hillside position, Kakarot looked up, lifted his helmet’s tactical visor, and smiled.

“You bet. Big job.”

Big job?

Oliver was taken aback, not understanding what that meant.

But the man offered no explanation, leading his two hundred or so brothers straight into the murky wilderness.

Not long after they left, another noisy group emerged on the mountain path below their position.

They wore no exoskeletons, carried LD-47 rifles, some with rocket launchers slung over their shoulders, and their only protection was the gas masks already on their faces—looking almost like a joke.

There were about a hundred of them, clamoring loudly, though it was unclear what they were shouting.

“Boss, do we really not need any armor?” fiddling with the gas mask on his face, a player in the group couldn’t help complaining.

His ID was [Spring Born], who had entered the game in Beta 0.7, played for a month, and just reached LV5.

With him were [Summer Born] and [Winter Born], all at the same level.

As for the guy walking ahead, whom he called boss, his ID was [Not as Good as Rick Five], leader of the Abstract Corps, a physique-system veteran from Beta 0.5, and the big brother leading them on the “Passing the Torch” quest.

He remembered that when he first entered the game, he was in awe of this boss, who claimed he could solo monsters—until once they encountered a real monster on the Weifu Wasteland.

That was when he deeply understood the game’s reality.

Even a “strong man” with a second awakening could, if careless and lacking reflexes, be swatted a dozen meters away by a raging monster…

“What do you mean no armor? You make me sound so stingy—aren’t you wearing gas masks?” Hearing his underling’s complaint, Rick rolled his eyes in defense, but this only set off an uproar.

“What the hell?”

“That counts as armor?”

“This thing is free, alright!”

In that “Endless Mode” monster-farming event, the gas mask was the only piece of equipment you could get for free, and it was even the same model as the Alpha Task Force’s, manufactured by the Dawn City Industrial Zone.

[Spring Born] seriously suspected that if it weren’t free, this guy would probably have skimped on the gas masks too.

Actually, it wasn’t wrong.

Except for physique-type players, with their constitution stats, they could last three or four days in the fourth-stage domain of Heaven without a gas mask.

Under normal circumstances, their combat power wouldn’t let them last that long—they’d likely be devoured by the fungal mutants active in the domain before even getting infected by the Nago mycelium.

Probably only those big shots in exoskeletons could have their survival time counted in days.

Watching the noisy newcomers, Rick coughed to cut off their chatter.

“Alright, alright, getting something for free is good enough—why so many complaints! Stop thinking about wanting this and that all day. First, think about what you’ve contributed to our brigade! Listen to your big brother’s advice: high-end gear is beyond your grasp. Start with the basics, build a solid foundation, and sooner or later you’ll become a powerhouse like me.”

Upon hearing this, everyone rolled their eyes at him in unison.

Seeing no one refute him, Rick perked up again and shouted to his brothers.

“Listen up, everyone! In a bit, we’re following the big shots of the Storm Brigade! Wherever they plant the flag for the purification base, we’ll plant ours right behind their butts!”

Summer Born: “Wait, boss, I remember there has to be at least 600 meters between purification bases or stations for the judgment to complete, right?”

Rick replied with a grin.

“Easy—just cheat the 600-meter distance, and it’s done. Why else do you think I left so early?”

The players were stunned by this.

Holy crap.

A pro at leeching points!

Watching those noisy guys head into the wilderness, a Valyrian soldier crouched by the trench exchanged a glance with his comrade and muttered.

“What are they talking about?”

“Hell if I know…”

“Think they’ll make it?”

“Hell if I know…”

“…”

This time, Oliver didn’t join his subordinates’ conversation; he just stared weirdly at that ragtag bunch.

He was sure they were all rookies, probably greener than those useless guys in Ideal City.

Sending such inexperienced people to the battlefield—fewer than one in ten would likely come back alive.

Was this how the Alliance trained its troops?

The method was way too crude…

…

Oliver’s surprise was just a minor episode.

Because he soon realized his astonishment was nothing.

While his men were discussing setting up a betting pool on how many of the Alliance’s greenhorns would return, another large wave of people crossed the rugged mountain path, striding proudly toward the wilderness corroded by plague and curse.

Those guys were noisy, speaking a language they didn’t understand, but their hearty laughter didn’t sound like they were heading to a deadly battlefield—more like a banquet.

Their voices, full of cadence, brimmed with contempt for death. Facing it fearlessly, they harbored the ideal of saving all humanity, yet never gave a thought to their own safety.

At first, the Valyrian soldiers watched them with mocking eyes, but soon they began to realize that their mockery only made them look like clowns, and gradually their laughter faded.

These guys were true warriors!

Facing a common crisis for all humanity, they didn’t just talk about unity while acting selfishly; they stood unhesitatingly in front of everyone else.

Even though most Valyrian soldiers had no interest in the Alliance’s proclaimed ideals and even scorned its “equality” as nonsense, they couldn’t bring themselves to hate these true heroes.

They respected true strength!

And out of respect for the strong, they silently withdrew the betting pool on how many would return…

It wasn’t just the frontline Valyrian soldiers who were stunned—even General Lioum, sitting aboard the Loyalty airship, was deeply shaken.

After hearing the report from the front, he paused for a long moment before asking his adjutant.

“…How many people does the Alliance actually have?”

The adjutant was taken aback, hesitated for a while, and then said.

“A million?”

Or maybe one and a half million.

Since the Conclave meeting, survivors had been pouring into the Alliance endlessly; he’d even heard that the administrator of some shelter had moved to the Dawnlight area to settle.

Because the Alliance’s identity checks for incoming survivors were quite lax, the population there changed day by day.

As for the exact number, not to mention an outsider like him, he figured even Chu Guang himself might not know precisely.

General Lioum looked away from his adjutant with a strange expression, his gaze falling on the front line shrouded in gray-green mist beyond the window.

According to reports from the Laishan position, as of just now, the Alliance had deployed nearly a full ten-thousand-strong force to the front!

Part of it was the regular army, but a large portion seemed more like wastelanders bringing their own weapons and rations…

The only piece of equipment they received from the Coalition logistics was a gas mask.

Things like rifles and bullets were even prepared by themselves…

“…So this is the Alliance’s mobilization capability.” A flicker of awe appeared in Lioum’s eyes.

Even in Triumph City, under the rule of His Majesty the Grand Marshal, such a thing was unimaginable…

Just as General Lioum was in awe, the battle near Laishan City was raging fiercely.

Fungal mutants controlled by Nago mycelium kept crawling out of the ground, trying to eliminate the “heretics” who had invaded the domain of Heaven, but the combat power of those “heretics” far exceeded the apostles’ imagination.

Those guys were clearly alive, yet they fought tirelessly like the undead.

Watching his nearly red-hot gun barrel, [Spring Born], shooting from behind a broken earthen wall, couldn’t help shouting behind him.

“Captain! Call in an airstrike!”

[Summer Born], not far from him, also yelled.

“We can’t hold on!!!”

“Wait a bit!” Rick glanced quickly at the numbers on his VM. Though he felt the pressure, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to shout, “Just 200 more points! Once we hit 1000, I can call in an airdrop!”

He’d heard that the C2 airdrop crate contained a “Ripper” heavy machine gun! Plus 3000 rounds of ammo!

With the gear and ammo they had, they couldn’t last long. Even calling in one or two airstrikes would only clear out some minor enemies. Only by getting the heavy firepower from the airdrop could they hope to hold out longer!

As for the 500-point 100-kilogram bomb, that was reserved for the evolved ones!

He had a detailed plan for how to make every point count to its maximum value!

Just as Rick was thinking this, a furious roar suddenly came from behind the thick fog not far away.

"Roar——!"

Before he could ask what had happened, he heard the miserable screams of [Spring-born] and [Summer-born] as they met their end.

Then, a colossal beast lying on the ground came into his view.

It resembled a crocodile, but with a body and legs as thick as an elephant's, and a mouth three or four meters long that smacked with lingering satisfaction. The flesh and clothing fragments hanging from its fangs were exactly enough for two people...

Dark green fungal threads stitched together its pockmarked body, and as it gazed at the prey before it, a sinister green light flickered in its pupils.

Meeting those ghastly green eyes, Rick involuntarily held his breath, feeling a chill in his hands and feet. Then he instinctively glanced at the numbers on his VM.

975...

Still 25 points short of the heavy machine gun!

No time to hesitate.

Cursing inwardly, he spent 500 points to call in an airstrike.

But when he saw that the airstrike would take three minutes to arrive, he nearly spat blood.

"What a rip-off!"

The crocodile-like monster didn't care about that. It opened its bloody maw and lunged at the position he commanded.

The 7mm rifle bullets bounced off it like toys, and the RPG rockets were useless due to the safety distance.

Rick, while frantically shouting for the newbies to stay back, tried to draw the monster's attention, and updated the bombing coordinates for the airstrike that wouldn't arrive for another three minutes.

But unfortunately, since many players of the Abstract Corps were on the battlefield for the first time, the entire position fell into chaos.

The remaining ninety-plus people at the purification station were instantly slaughtered through by the monster.

The newbies, who had scattered with RPGs on their backs, lost their friendly cover and were chased down by a horde of zombies and zombie dogs for a buffet. Left with no choice, they used their last strength to pull the triggers, firing the armor-piercing rounds loaded in the launchers at random.

Finally, the three minutes were up. The sound of dive bombers came from overhead, and then a 100-kilogram aerial bomb was dropped.

The warhead, mixed with solid hydrogen and azide compounds, was no joke in its explosive power. In no time, it pinned the arrogant monster to the ground.

Watching the blazing flames and the monster writhing in pain, Rick, covered in wounds, could no longer hold on. A leaper pounced on him, pinned him down, and bit through his neck.

When the remaining points were converted into time, they had only lasted a little over an hour.

With the comprehensive difficulty coefficient, the 105 players split 110,000 silver coins as a reward, each getting about a thousand or so.

After deducting the cost of bullets, clothes, and remaking the VM, they still made a small profit.

Though not much...

Six hundred meters in front of the Abstract Corps' purification station, the battle at the Storm Corps' purification base was equally intense, thrilling, and lively.

But the players here were true veterans, and their commander, Kakarot, was an old hand who had participated in frontline combat many times. Their tactics were naturally not as abstract as those of the Abstract Corps.

However, even though their allies' performance was amateurish, they didn't look down on the newbies.

After all, who hadn't been a newbie once?

That's how most people played this game.

They died and died, and then one day, they suddenly got stronger.

"...Brother Ka, those guys following us for points seem to be on their last legs. Want me to take some people to help them?"

Wiping the mucus off his helmet, Saint Old Man looked at Kakarot and asked.

Compared to those newbies, the pressure they felt wasn't that great.

Moreover, the incubation room was already running successfully, starting to produce some B-strain carriers, even leapers. Though the numbers were small, they helped share some of the burden.

So far, they had suffered no casualties. He even suspected that those guys hiding in the sanctuary had realized they were a tough nut to crack and deliberately targeted the newbies following them for points.

After all, the Heavenly Kingdom was not a natural product but was controlled by human will.

Kakarot smiled.

"No rush. Let them hold on a bit longer. How can they grow without experiencing a tough fight?"

He felt that Torch was trying to lure them into splitting their forces to help the allies behind.

Splitting forces now might just play into their hands.

A nearby player put down his binoculars and said to the squad leader.

"...No need to help. Looks like they're already gone."

Kakarot's expression was a bit awkward. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Then... take a few people to recover their gear. When you're done, I'll call in an artillery strike to clean that area. Their sacrifice can't be in vain."

If they could retrieve the VMs, it would help reduce their losses.

As for the remaining weapons and ammo, according to custom, whoever picked them up could use them first. When the mission was over and they returned, they would return whatever was left.

Hearing about opening a teammate's blind box, the player perked up and agreed enthusiastically.

"Got it!"

With that, he called a few teammates, shouldered an empty supply crate taller than a person, and ran toward the position 600 meters behind...

In just one day, the Alliance had sent over a hundred "units" into the area around Laishan City, launching a dense, wave-like offensive against the Torch Church's Heavenly Kingdom.

These units were like nails, driving deep into the flesh of the Torch Church.

Though not all the nails had taken root, it was still painful enough for Torch...

Watching the battlefield blooming everywhere, the Human Emperor's calm, emotionless eyes gradually showed a hint of shock.

"...Are these people insane?"

Using this life-for-life method to consume his pieces...

In just one day, he had lost dozens of evolved beings and nearly 600,000 "puppets"!

Even with billions of pieces at his disposal, this loss was severe.

Especially since the Alliance liked to use incendiary bombs to clear the area after every battle.

This meant he had to carefully deploy his pieces, prepared for the fact that once played, they might not return. He couldn't send too many at once, nor too few.

After all, once the Alliance soldiers took root in an area, they would continuously bring in dirty things...

The shock gradually turned into a hint of wariness.

But that wariness lasted only a few seconds in his eyes before dissolving into unfathomable madness.

Ignorant fools...

Fighting a war of attrition with him?

Simply asking for death!