Chapter 763: The Turning Point of the Southern Front

Chapter 763: The Turning Point on the Southern Front

Zhang Ruowen never imagined that in the mere five minutes their sonar system was paralyzed, ten steel King Crabs would crawl onto the destroyer’s deck.

Though the Reef Rock was bristling with firepower, its 150mm naval gun could hardly turn on itself.

The point-defense systems and torpedo launchers were just as useless against the “King Crabs” standing on the deck.

Gazing at the 20mm cannon barrel aimed directly at the bridge, Zhang Ruowen knew defeat was sealed. He offered no futile resistance and led the ship’s officers and crew in surrender.

They would be taken to the prison on Peace Island, awaiting the judgment of the law.

Watching the South Sea Alliance sailors board the deck to disarm them, Zhang Ruowen fell silent for a moment, then looked at the massive steel crab standing on the deck and spoke.

“May I ask a question?”

Having captured such a large vessel, Midnight Chicken Killer was in an exceptionally good mood and promptly replied.

“Go ahead.”

Zhang Ruowen continued.

“…How did you approach us in such a short time?”

He was well aware of the Alliance’s King Crab armor; the Northern Federation’s general staff had conducted detailed studies of Alliance equipment, even developing adhesive bombs specifically designed to counter Alliance frogman tactics.

From his understanding, the Alliance’s “King Crab” had mobility but no cruising speed—especially underwater, where it moved no faster than a mutant could swim.

This sea was far from narrow. If they had been lying in ambush beneath their ship from the start, it would be too coincidental, and at such close range, even the best camouflage would be picked up by sonar.

There was only one possibility: they had gone silent in an area with low sonar resolution, then after the EMP strike, rapidly closed in on the Reef Rock.

Yet that was absolutely impossible given their speed.

Zhang Ruowen was baffled.

Midnight Chicken Killer, however, laughed and said.

“What’s so hard about that? Just rig up a big underwater thruster and have them hold onto it while moving.”

They had faced a similar problem before when fighting mutants outside Coral City.

Because the King Crab’s underwater cruising speed was too slow, once separated from the ship, it had to wait for friendly recovery—it couldn’t withdraw on its own or make a quick transfer.

If they fitted the King Crab with a large propeller, the whole armor would become too bulky.

The Alliance logistics department put out a tender based on player needs, seeking solutions from the industry.

The winning bid went to Goblin Tech. Brother Mosquito solved the problem for just 10,000 silver coins.

The method was simple: make a large battery pack with a propeller, shaped like a firecracker, and have the King Crab hug it.

During a fight, they’d toss it aside; after the battle, they’d pick it up and move on—economical and practical.

After hearing the Alliance’s solution, Zhang Ruowen was taken aback, then a wry smile spread across his face.

“So that’s it.”

It really wasn’t a complicated method; he had just overthought the problem.

This battle was not lost unjustly.

“Speaking of which, I have a question for you too,” Midnight Chicken Killer suddenly said, looking at the bitterly smiling captain.

Zhang Ruowen: “What question?”

Midnight Chicken Killer glanced toward Sandy Island, where a thin plume of black smoke drifted along the coastline—the mark of the 150mm naval gun bombardment.

But on closer inspection, the shells hadn’t landed in the city proper; they had struck beside it.

“Did you deliberately miss?”

Zhang Ruowen was silent for a long time before speaking slowly.

“The people living there are, after all, my compatriots.”

…

Just as the entire crew of the Reef Rock surrendered, the battle on Sandy Island was also nearing its end.

The last hundred mutants, clad in special exoskeletons, were trapped in a cannery on the outskirts. Using the factory walls as cover, the tide of battle had turned.

The fierce expressions on their faces could no longer hide a flicker of terror.

A mutant missing one ear, panting heavily, approached the chieftain and lowered his voice, wheezing.

“Boss, these humans… they’re tough.”

The one he called boss wore an equally grim expression, his chest armor thick with shreds of flesh and blood.

Some was his own, some left by the humans.

Before boarding the landing craft, Charas had told them the island was full of weak, useless trash—they could do whatever they wanted, for as long as they wanted.

But once on the beach, they realized things weren’t so simple.

The people here were no less formidable than those they had encountered in the northern mountains—even more vicious, cruel, and far better trained!

It took only three of them to block a street, and three squads to surround an entire hundred-man unit. The mutants, on the other hand, wandered the streets like headless flies, finding neither human females nor the trash Charas had mentioned.

“What do we do now?” one mutant muttered, his voice trembling with fear.

And as the oppressive silence spread, a black canister the size of a soda can was tossed through a window, clattering across the floor.

Before the mutants could react, the canister burst into a bright red flame, spewing dazzling sparks and thick white smoke.

Fearful memories surged from their minds; twisted faces were etched with terror.

White phosphorus!

They felt as if they were back in the caves of Ten Peaks Mountain!

These guys… they’re from the Alliance!

At that very moment of shock, crackling gunfire and more incendiary grenades poured in with the blazing light.

The battle erupted instantly!

A hail of bolter rounds slammed into the mutants and their surroundings inside the factory, unleashing a storm of blood and gore.

“Roar!”

A mutant centurion bellowed and fired a grenade launcher toward the doorway.

The explosion’s smoke and shrapnel engulfed the man who had entered.

A flicker of glee crossed his face, but before he could howl in triumph, a towering iron figure strode through the smoke and into the factory gate.

The figure wore sleek power armor, hefting a massive bolter, exuding a chilling, murderous aura.

Even through the helmet visor, the mutant could feel the death threat radiating from that gaze.

He opened his mouth to roar away his fear, but as his lips parted, a bolter round slammed into his cheek.

“Boom!”

Shattered flesh and brains were splattered across the wall by the metal jet piercing his skull.

The one who had so easily killed him then aimed at the next target, pulling the trigger and firing, covering his teammates as they advanced into the factory.

"...Heads don't grow back; this isn't the mutation of Broken Blade Mountain. These are standard breeds."

"Whatever they are, just get the job done!"

"Clear the factory grounds. Leave no one alive."

"Roger that!"

Old White, clad in Dragonrider power armor, personally led eleven players in "Sunset Glow" power armor as they stormed into the paper mill.

The roar of bolters echoed through the factory halls, mingling with the howls and screams of the mutants.

Twelve against a hundred—the battle was never in doubt, a one-sided slaughter from the start.

The Alliance never took mutants prisoner, so there was no holding back.

After a futile last stand, the final hundred-strong squad was wiped out.

With the island battle concluded, Old White received good news from Brother Chicken: sailors from Anle Island had boarded a speedboat and landed on the *Reef* destroyer.

Based on cached data from the communication terminal, the Anle Island fleet had successfully locked onto the North Island fleet's position, relaying it to the Alliance air force while committing all three attack submarines.

Two Thunder fighters, which had just landed at Fries Harbor, took off again, heading for the coordinates provided by the Anle Island fleet to provide laser guidance for the Ring Island ground-based missile launchers.

Unfortunately, the enemy hadn't stood still waiting for Alliance planes and subs to arrive; they had already relocated.

Suspecting the old coordinates might be a new decoy, General Li Minghui, after consulting with the Alliance's frontline command, ultimately abandoned the pursuit and recalled the three submarines.

Those subs were the South Sea Alliance's greatest trump card, and no mistakes could be risked.

Besides, the campaign's gains were already substantial: beyond the cargo ship converted into a landing vessel, they had even captured a Federation destroyer. There was no need to be greedy for more.

The Northern Federation now had only four ships left—one battleship, one cruiser, and two destroyers.

The South Sea Alliance, meanwhile, had one cruiser and three destroyers, totaling four ships, plus three attack submarines.

With the submarine carrier nearing completion and the "Meissner Effect Armor"—the electromagnetic cannon's bane—soon to be installed on the cruiser,

it wouldn't be long before they could plan a final decisive battle, driving Charas and his lackeys out of the southern seas for good. There was no need to expend strength now.

After the battle ended, Fang Chang led a team to the island's center to calm the anxious residents, while Old White and his brigade cleaned up the battlefield.

In total, ten players had died, two were severely wounded, and twenty had minor injuries.

Lost equipment included fourteen Type-5 exoskeletons and four Type-6 exoskeletons.

The power armor had only minor scuffs, not even needing repairs.

Objectively speaking, the Northern Federation's exoskeletons designed for mutants had some strength—far better than the "I think it works" armor the mutants cobbled together themselves.

"Damn... this caliber must be at least 20mm," said Murder Dagger, picking up a rifle nearly as tall as a man and gauging the barrel's diameter with his thumb, clicking his tongue in amazement.

The gun still looked like an assault rifle, with a classic receiver structure and stamped parts.

But this thing could no longer be called a gun; in caliber and power, it had crossed into "cannon" territory.

Catching the "big gun" tossed by Brother Murder Dagger, Kidney Fighter examined it for a moment, then leaned it against the wall with the other captured weapons.

"Aside from the mutants themselves, only the strength-build freaks could use this thing."

"What really catches my attention is their exoskeleton..." crouching beside a mutant corpse, [Good Names Are All Taken by Dogs] studied the steel plates strapped to the creature.

The chest plate, about two fingers thick, had somehow withstood four bolter rounds!

The other dents and pockmarks, not fully penetrated, looked like marks from rifle and machine-gun fire.

Clearly, most bullets aimed at the mutants' chests had been stopped—which was why they could charge through the beachhead's machine-gun fire into the city.

If they had been aquatic mutants or the Gray Wolf Army of the Xilan Empire, they'd have been dead before even reaching the shore.

In truth, from the moment the Alliance's transport planes landed and deployed ahead of schedule, the battle's outcome was sealed.

On the coastline,

forty Iron Crabs crawled ashore one after another.

Leaping out of the amphibious infantry armor, Midnight Chicken strode toward the city, his body welded with steel plates, startling the guards helping clean the battlefield into thinking the mutants had returned.

This guy was far more exaggerated than any mutant—probably only his head wasn't made of iron.

"Great haul, brother," Midnight Chicken grinned, looking at the pile of weapons on the ground.

Old White unlatched his power armor helmet's faceplate and gave him a helpless look.

"All junk. Most people can't even use that gear."

Murder Dagger rubbed his chin, pondering.

"A fixed mount might work, but the ammo is different from our 20mm rounds... Hmm, thinking about it, it's pretty useless."

Good Names Are All Taken by Dogs nodded.

"The most valuable thing is the batteries in those exoskeletons. They use solid hydrogen storage too, but their battery energy density is much higher than our current models."

Ground Crawler: "Damn, the mutants have better gear than us!"

Airborne Paratrooper: "Traitor! Damn traitor!"

Xiao Xiao Xiao Shu Chong: "...That sounds weird."

While the players were figuring out how to salvage these spoils, Fang Chang, at the island's center, met the survivors setting up tents.

Kingfisher transport planes had airdropped tents, sleeping bags, and other pre-prepared supplies.

Over seventy thousand evacuees crammed into a few square kilometers, tents packed so tightly there was no visible path, barely room to stand.

Without prior planning, Police Chief Dumen was overwhelmed, running around putting out fires, but his efforts only made things messier.

Fortunately, the Alliance friends arrived to stabilize the situation.

Listening to the distant gunfire and explosions, the crying of infants in the camp, and the chaotic arguments, the survivors' faces were etched with anxiety and fear.

When the gunfire finally died down, some began to stir, eager to return home.

At the entrance to the shelter zone, a group of survivors approached the checkpoint, looking at the guards and Alliance soldiers stationed there.

"Sir, is the war over? When can we go home?"

"My baby needs a diaper change and feeding—there's no space here..."

"Damn it, someone shit in my tent!"

Seeing the guards at the checkpoint at a loss, looking to him, Fang Chang sighed and raised his right arm.

"Quiet, quiet! Listen to me, please!"

The helmet's speaker drowned out the noise, silencing the restless crowd.

When the clamor subsided, Fang Chang spoke patiently.

"The war is over, but we can't let you go home immediately—"

"Why?!"

Before he could finish, an anxious voice cut him off.

It was a mother holding a child, wearing pajamas, her hair disheveled—clearly she had fled in a hurry.

The baby in her arms wailed, whether hungry or frightened by the earlier explosions.

He understood her feelings at that moment, Fang Chang continued patiently.

“This is for your safety. Those creatures are mutants who devour people without spitting out bones. They have no intention of fighting a peacekeeping war with you. From the start, they came to loot, burn, and kill, and in battle, they naturally won’t hold back on methods.”

“We need to clear the explosives left in the urban area, especially anti-personnel mines and grenades that didn’t detonate… Those creatures neglect weapon maintenance. Those things are toys to us, but deadly to you. With just one small mistake, they could send your entire family away. Are you sure you want to go back immediately?”

By the time he was halfway through, the scene had fallen completely silent. No one interrupted him anymore.

These people were, after all, well-educated. Though not as docile and easy to manage as the survivors of Golden Port, they were still reasonable.

Besides, no one wanted to gamble with their own lives or their families’.

Both the mother anxious to nurse her child and the survivor clamoring for a different tent fell quiet.

Of course, their demands still existed. Solving these problems was exactly what Du Men and the other guards should be doing.

After a pause, Fang Chang continued.

“Additionally, we need to confirm no lone mutants are hiding in some building in the city. You don’t want to go home and find a big surprise, do you? Alright, return to your tents. We’ll address your demands one by one.”

Under his persuasion, the crowd gathered before the checkpoint finally dispersed, and the guards standing there breathed a sigh of relief.

Night seemed to return to stillness.

Gazing toward the city and the thick smoke drifting beyond its outskirts, the guard at the checkpoint couldn’t help recalling the past.

The era of Vault 70 didn’t seem so bad.

Though most power and wealth were in the hands of Vault 70’s residents, back then they at least had food and clothing, unlike now—enduring a life without water or electricity and being dragged into a war that wasn’t theirs.

That young man couldn’t help muttering a low complaint.

“Why… why do bad things always chase us? Is it wrong to just want to live our own lives?”

Having overheard the complaint, Fang Chang thought for a moment and said casually.

“It’s normal, because… you don’t care.”

The guard froze, staring at him in surprise, unable to understand why he’d say that.

How could they not care?

They cared more than anyone about their own fate—whether drafting that common constitution or now rising up for it.

When Charlas wanted to move the Northern Island troops to Sandbar Island to protect their families in their stead, they stepped forward without a second thought.

Yet the man continued.

“…Whether it’s Charlas or Li Minghui, anyone would do, as long as it doesn’t affect the stability of Sandbar Island… Am I right? Before you finally felt the pain, that’s what all of you thought, isn’t it?”

“Actually, from your own standpoint, choosing either your constitution or Charlas is a path. The difference is just one holds fate in your own hands, the other hands it to someone you trust. Neither choice is wrong, but the problem is you don’t care about your own fate—anything goes… So you have to be ready to suffer the bitterness of not caring.”

Clearly, the survivors of the Southern Waters couldn’t endure hardship like those of the Brahmin Province. Charlas barely lifted a finger, and they couldn’t take it.

But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Intuitively, suffering seems harder than enjoyment—the latter far easier than the former. Yet reality is that many things are actually “counter-intuitive.”

“I’m not being sarcastic, just answering your confusion. I’m glad you’re on our side. We won’t let you down—after all, the Administrator watches over us all… Also, cheer up. At least your homes are still there, and you’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Looking at the silent young man, Fang Chang patted his shoulder reassuringly, then handed things over to his squad leader and left the checkpoint to attend to other matters.

*Wasteland OL* official website, during peak login and logout hours, an unexpected message suddenly updated on the forum.

[Southern Front Progress: The Southern Waters front has fully advanced to the middle of the sea zone. Southern front players, keep up the effort, strive to land on Haiya Province soon and rendezvous with the northern front players.]

Yaya: “Good grief… you guys are opening the map way too fast. !!!∑(?Д?ノ)ノ”

Maka Bazi: “+1, Yaya hasn’t even left the newbie village yet. (Ridiculous)”

Yaya: “??? What the heck, I’ve been out and about, you know?”

Tail: “Ooooh, Brother Fang is so fast! Feel sorry for Miss Dolly! (?ω?)”

Ye Shi: “Good grief, making a road where there isn’t one, huh. (Ridiculous)”

Sisi: “Sorry, my Tail’s on the wrong meds again. (o__）”

Fang Chang: “No worries, don’t care. Not as brilliantly as my bro trolls me, I’m used to it. (Sidelong glance)”

Ye Shi: “Translation: Fang Chang says, ‘I wrote it in my little notebook.’ (Ridiculous)”

Tail: “Big bro, I’m sorry… (||?Д?)”

Yaya: “Wait, where exactly is that Sandbar Island? You guys opened the map so big, I’m getting dizzy. T.T”

Lao Bai: “It’s northeast of Fries Port! A few hundred nautical miles away. Welcome to visit! Make yourself at home! (Grin)”

Shao Che Dan Zi: “Sea fishing map updated, bros, let’s go!!!”

Gorge Escape Mole: “Thirteen islands, eight left. By the way, we’ve already cleared Ten Peak Mountain. Southern front bros need to step it up. (Ridiculous)”

Midnight Chicken Killer: “Working on it, working on it. ′-ω-)”

Due to the breakthrough in the Southern Waters situation, players’ range of activity gained another island.

And the forum discussions, besides focusing on this new map called Sandbar Island, centered more on the battle itself.

Especially life profession players involved in military industry paid close attention to the performance of the Alliance’s various new equipment in the campaign.

Though most of the technology was realized by Alliance engineers and technicians, many pieces of gear bore traces of their brainstorms.

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “So this should be the Thunder Fighter’s first real combat, right?”

Luo Yu: “??? Holy crap, wasn’t the first battle me?”

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “Yours doesn’t count. The enemy was a bunch of mutants. What’s the difference between flying a Thunder and a W-2? Kill efficiency might even be worse than the W-2!”

Luo Yu: “%￥#@!”

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “@Feng Qing @Ghost Ghost, come out and talk, how did it feel? (Lewd)”

Ghost Ghost: “Ew! Why that expression?”

Feng Qing: “Hmm… fast, anyway? And the plasma engine is way more stable than a jet engine. Comparing it is like the difference between an electric car and a tractor.”

Ghost Ghost: “True! But the top speed difference seems small? I even feel the Lingyun Fighter’s top speed is a bit faster.”

Luo Yu: “Normal. Our plasma engines are just starting out. Steam ships got wrecked by sails when they first came out, but over time the gap widens.”

Spring Commander: “Yeah, that’s the logic. Also, we have to consider atmospheric environment limits. I remember the lore mentioned that the Human Alliance’s plasma engines were developed in outer space from the start. Atmospheric vehicles only reached the jet engine stage? Blindly copying Human Alliance experience isn’t advisable either.”

Dinosaur Warrior: “Copying, huh… What exactly are you guys trying to do? (Sweat)”

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “Kids, don’t worry about it. Play your game. (Sidelong smile)”

Dinosaur Warrior: “I don’t even have a helmet… Bro, I’m a student. Can I borrow it for a few days? T.T”

WC Really Has Mosquitoes: “…Good grief, spoke too soon.”

Besides the Thunder Fighter, the “Dragon” missile from Boulder Military Industry also performed brilliantly.

The “Sea Dragon,” modified by Vault 70 engineers, carried an EMP warhead. With a single shot, it crippled the radar and sonar systems of the Reef Destroyer, creating a key opportunity for the Jungle Corps’ occupation plan.

Moreover, this should be the first joint operation involving all three branches—land, sea, and air—since *Wasteland OL* launched!

Though not as thrilling as the battle on Ten Peak Mountain, the equipment deployed and the tactical and strategic details in this campaign far exceeded the former.

Not only were the players thoroughly enjoying themselves, but far up on the northern front, Chu Guang, after reading the full battle report, also uttered a heartfelt praise: "Magnificent."

"...Sandbank Island has been taken. If we deploy radar stations and missile launchers on the island, we can further compress the operational space of the North Island Fleet."

In the captain's cabin of the Steel Heart.

Having finished the battle report, Chu Guang turned his gaze to the world map on the wall, where the red dashed line drawn across the middle of the southern sea had been filled into a solid line.

Just a few minutes ago, good news came from the shipyard on Anle Island: they hoped the Alliance's air force would cooperate with them to complete the test of the "Conch" submarine carrier.

The day of the decisive battle was drawing ever closer!