CHAPTER 856: CHAPTER 856: THUNDERING STEEL GALLOP!

To the east of West Sail Port, a five-meter-wide creek cuts through the endless farmlands.

On the left is a picturesque rural landscape, while on the right lie scattered craters and thick smoke, the entire expanse seemingly divided into two distinct worlds by the stream.

A bridge of steel and concrete connects heaven and hell.

This is the bridge the Army built for the Empire.

And now, heavy trucks with six pairs of load-bearing wheels are rolling over the bridge, watched with numb eyes by tenants and serfs, marching grandiosely eastward.

This is the Southern Legion’s 30,000th troop.

It is also one of the few armored ten-thousand troops of the Southern Legion.

On these trucks, apart from armed soldiers and fearsome artillery, there are also shiny armored "Conqueror No. 10" heavy tanks!

This unending dragon’s destination is Lion City’s capital, Male Lion City.

Though Poluo Country was not originally in the Southern Legion’s first-phase offensive plan, circumstances have changed, and bombers from Bull State Airport now posed a significant threat to the Legion’s supply line to the Northern Three States.

According to the Army’s usual practices, any threat is to be eliminated, even if it means fighting on two fronts, hitting both the east and north simultaneously.

Thus, the day after General Otley reached the northern part of Lion State, Sulak County, General Giulion deployed five ten-thousand troops to the eastern line, led by Commander Ryan of the 30,000th troop, aiming to take over all of Lion State and further east into Bull State.

Intelligence reports show that Udonuo has assembled a 200,000-strong army to defend Male Lion City!

That’s nearly a tenth of the entire Poluo Country’s force, but Ryan doesn’t care at all.

It’s said that this 200,000 army can’t muster even 20,000 guns, and many are slaves and farmers coerced by the Heavenly King’s Army, with combat power not even matching their cloned cannon fodder.

A force like this is useless no matter how large.

Just 200,000 heads of livestock at most, and it’ll just take a bit of time to slaughter them.

Sitting in the command vehicle, a burly man looked at the military report in his hand, his raised lips carrying a trace of mocking disdain.

After a moment, he chuckled and turned the page of the newspaper, saying.

"...Just caught a spy from the Alliance, and look how excited these guys are."

This man is none other than Commander Ryan of the 30,000th troop, a One-star Commander. Sitting next to him is his advisor, Febrit, a man with glasses and high brow bones.

Watching his disdainful superior, Febrit pushed up the glasses on his nose bridge.

"I heard that guy seems to be a diplomatic officer from the Alliance, but unfortunately, his mouth is exceptionally tight, and no matter how hard the interrogators tried, they didn’t get a single useful thing out of him."

For such loyal individuals, even if they are enemies, he actually admired them somewhat.

But admiration aside.

From the enemy’s standpoint, he felt only regret and foolishness for this blind loyalty, a pity that young man followed the wrong people.

Seeing the look of regret on the advisor’s face, Ryan sneered and said indifferently.

"I think differently from you; those guys are just wasting time. Isn’t General Giulion’s meaning clear enough? If you can fight, don’t waste your breath."

Febrit made a helpless gesture.

"That’s true, but if we could pry some useful intelligence from that prisoner, it would be nice. For example...the specific deployment of the Alliance’s ’volunteers’, which would be more helpful for our subsequent plans."

Regarding the resistance forces within Poluo Line’s province, like most officers in the Southern Legion, he never took them seriously, but couldn’t ignore the threat from the Alliance.

Those guys were real hardasses.

And not just hardasses, there were even rumors that they could directly control cloned soldiers and use complex equipment for battle.

If the rumors were true, this battle might not be as easy as those in the main warring faction imagined.

A legion made up of "undead"...

Just the thought of it was terrifying.

Unlike the worried Febrit, Ryan wasn’t too concerned, just dismissively curling his lips.

"Whatever, whether we see their cards or not, this victory isn’t in question for us...these guys have had their heads in the clouds for too long, and they don’t even realize what kind of livestock they’re protecting."

It was his first time on this land, and the survivors here felt to him like maggots squirming in a cesspool.

As a radical in the main warring faction, he looked down on all races except the Vellante people, yet rarely despised a particular group to this extent, to the point of dragging their lenient McCullen into contempt as well.

That guy was definitely not merciful, was he?

That Thousand Leader named Ross couldn’t see it, being turned in circles by deceit, but he saw it right away.

That guy had been spouting nonsense since landing, sometimes shouting that directly killing people was too easy on the locals, and wanting to use Gray People mercenaries to torment them to vent anger. After discovering the impracticality of this idea, he changed his tune, yelling to let them dig their own graves...

Strength wasn’t shouted out with words.

All the supposedly tough stances of that guy were nothing but performative shows, and every malicious idea he came up with ultimately resulted in delays.

Ross didn’t even realize he was being played.

He didn’t need to follow the orders of Eastern Legion’s officers but was dragged by that guy until the Alliance’s messenger arrived, leading to some dilly-dallying trial.

They didn’t need to negotiate at all, just start the massacre, and then demand sky-high prices would suffice.

Maybe others think differently, but at least in Ryan’s view, it was because the trial wasn’t thorough enough that they later had a recurrence with the so-called Family Meeting, compelling them to start another massacre to finally suppress those restlessly squirming maggots.

And as he thought about this, a sudden deafening explosion came from the front, causing the carriage he was in to shake violently.

Ryan’s expression changed, and he immediately picked up the communicator and shouted.

"What happened up front?"

A hurried tone came through the communication channel.

"It’s a mine... Our mine-resistant vehicle triggered an anti-armor mine installed in the middle of the road. Fortunately, the mine detonated prematurely, and there were no casualties, General."

Upon hearing there were no casualties, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, but he remained vigilant.

The Poluo Nation had laid mines along their march route, clearly anticipating the actions of the Southern Legion.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and Ryan hung up the call, immediately dialing his subordinate, the First Thousand Team.

"...Rekton, have your men disembark and scout ahead of our convoy. We are about to engage the enemy."

A crisp and concise response quickly came from the other end of the communication channel.

"Yes!"

...

At the same time Ryan’s order was given, Conqueror No. 5 light tanks were being unloaded from transport trucks.

This armored unit spread out into arrowhead formations in units of hundreds, forming a "protective umbrella" of steel in front of the main force.

In addition, over ten "Grey Dog" reconnaissance vehicles carrying reconnaissance teams were cruising ahead of the armored spearhead.

These small wheeled armored vehicles moved like agile sled dogs, with the antennas atop their turrets swaying like fishing rods, and their short, stubby 20mm gun barrels glinting coldly.

Seeing the menacing armored unit ahead, Night Ten, who was lying in the distant grass, couldn’t help but click his tongue and mutter in a lowered voice.

"Damn... Wasn’t the Southern Legion’s main force supposed to be artillery and infantry? Why does it seem like there are more tanks than Griffin’s lot?"

Beside him, Wild Wind simply grunted in acknowledgment and silently continued observing through binoculars.

Long before the expansion pack had started, the two had relocated from the Wandering Swamp’s Ice City special district to the Poluo Province.

In fact, it wasn’t just them who came here; some NPCs from the Academy were also involved.

The ancient contract was eventually signed under the witness of the Grand Canyon and the Academy.

If the Legion thought the resistance to eastward expansion consisted only of corporations and the Alliance, they’d be gravely mistaken. The northern escapists had never ceased interfering in Wasteland affairs.

In fact, they were the most actively involved.

While the corporation’s board was holding a budget hearing, the Academy’s research ship had already crossed the southern Jubar Mountains of the Luo Xia Province, ready to start stirring things up.

What exactly they were up to, Night Ten wasn’t sure, as what he knew was only from what he’d heard from Jiang Xuezhou, and such matters involving secret agreements between the Academy and the upper echelons of the Alliance were naturally beyond the knowledge of a Little D Grade like him.

In any case, these matters weren’t their concern.

After rejoining their unit, the two boarded a plane to the front lines and parachuted into the western part of Lion State under the cover of night, engaging in reconnaissance and sabotage of enemy rear transportation lines.

Such tasks were familiar to the two veteran players who had previously participated in the Battle of Falling Leaves—the earlier laid anti-armor mine was the work of Night Ten.

Though it was unfortunate that it didn’t hit any big targets and only immobilized a mine-resistant vehicle, slowing down the Legion’s march was still considered a success.

Watching the convoy march grandly off into the distance, Wild Wind lowered his binoculars and spoke in a low voice.

"...I’m afraid the Legion has mobilized at least five divisions this time; Lion City might be in danger."

The bionic chip implanted in his cerebral cortex was connected to a fixed-wing drone cruising at high altitude.

Through the binoculars, he was simultaneously observing the ground via the drone’s camera.

Night Ten pondered over the map for a moment and muttered.

"...Twenty thousand troops should hold out for a while, right? Especially with Brother Fang Chang helping them."

Wild Wind shook his head.

"Hard to say... Just the armored division that passed in front of us had over three hundred tanks, which is already more than all the tractors in the Poluo Nation."

And this calculation includes only the tanks, not the self-propelled guns of the supporting companies, nor the reconnaissance vehicles or armored cars of the reconnaissance companies.

As for the forces in the sky, there’s not much to say; while the armored units sped along, the "Horn" airship was also steadily advancing.

However...

As Night Ten mentioned, they did have the help of Fang Chang’s group.

Even if they couldn’t stop the Legion’s iron tide, they could at least delay it for a while.

...

Just as Night Ten and Wild Wind were packing up their equipment to relocate, the 301st Thousand Team led by Rekton had already engaged in a firefight with Poluo Nation’s 30,000th troops!

Learning from past failures, the Poluo Nation’s army didn’t attempt to block the Legion’s advance with solid positions but adopted the "elastic defense" strategy inspired by the Mammoth Nation, using small units to harass the Legion’s armored spearheads, and then artillery to annihilate stalled units.

To be fair, this strategy was indeed effective, as the airship needed a safety distance for firing, and no matter how fierce the Horn’s firepower was, it couldn’t fire directly at friendly faces, at most countering the Poluo Nation’s long-range firepower.

But as long as the Poluo Nation’s long-range firepower was deployed far enough, the Legion’s airship, even if it saw it, could only be anxious.

However, this strategy, although not bad, had a fatal flaw.

Neither Absek himself nor other officers from the Grey Wolf Army possessed any guerrilla warfare experience.

Although Laxi sent some officers from the Moon Clan Resistance to help, they weren’t trusted by Absek and served only as staff or instructors.

This resulted in an extremely awkward situation—anti-tank teams carrying RPG and recoilless guns hadn’t even gotten near Rekton’s thousand team before being caught by the reconnaissance vehicles patrolling the vicinity.

Seeing their forces were exposed, the "Grey Dog" reconnaissance vehicles flanked like a pack of hunting wolves, and although the leading centurion of Poluo Nation was unwilling, all he could do was grit his teeth and blow the attack whistle.

"Tsk—!"

The loud whistle echoed across the battlefield.

Hearing the command to attack, the soldiers wearing straw hats rose halfway from the grass, poised with RPG Rocket Launchers for a kneeling shot.

"Fire!!!"

With a near-desperate roar, the Centurion squatting at the front lines was the first to pull the trigger.

An RPG rocket, trailing a long tail of flame, shot towards the reconnaissance vehicle a hundred meters away like an arrow leaving the bow.

However, to his despair, the circling reconnaissance vehicle easily dodged the incoming rocket simply by accelerating.

Not to mention hitting the target, he didn’t even graze the taillight!

The firing flames exposed his position, and a dozen armor-piercing incendiary bullets soon shot over.

The Centurion didn’t even have time to utter a groan before he was torn to pieces by the barrage, leaving only half his body pressed down beside the bush.

Witnessing their officer fall in front of them, the soldiers squatting nearby were instantly enraged.

Ignoring the horrific appearance of the corpse, one soldier rushed forward to pick up the Rocket Launcher and the ammo pouch left on the ground.

Meanwhile, the other soldiers with Rocket Launchers fired without hesitation, trying to avenge their officer.

One after another, the rockets flew towards the Legion’s reconnaissance vehicle.

Unfortunately, the latter’s mobility was too high, and the distance too far, rendering most of the rockets to fall into empty spaces.

Seeing those "toothpicks" sticking out from the grass, the Vellante Centurion sitting in the command vehicle laughed mockingly and then took the intercom hanging on the side of the gun tower to give orders.

"’Rats’ preemptively emerge, maintain a safe distance, permission to fire!"

The static noise quickly came through.

"Received——!"

At the same time the order was given, the dozen "Grey Dog" reconnaissance vehicles no longer concealed themselves, continuing their circling maneuver while spewing fire from elevated gun barrels.

"Boom boom boom——!"

The thunderous cannon shots echoed like a continuous drumbeat, with streaks of tracer fire pouring down like a sudden rain towards the Poluo Nation’s centuria crouching at the edge of the low woods.

The soldiers in the forward position were instantly shredded into a mist of blood, followed by those in the rear being swept in.

There was no chance to evade, nor any cover to hide behind.

The exposed anti-tank troops were quickly ground into mincemeat along with the tree trunks beside them by the howling storm.

Seeing his subordinates fall in succession, the Centurion, holding a short whistle in his mouth, stared with wide, bloodshot eyes.

In less than half a minute, half of those familiar faces had vanished.

Unable to suppress his fury, he grabbed a recoilless gun, hoisting it on his shoulder, and crawled out of the foxhole.

"We absolutely cannot let these big-noses go through unharmed!"

"Even if it kills me, I’m taking one of you down!"

Sadly, the shot from the recoilless gun missed.

Not only that, but almost the moment he pulled the trigger, the broad tracer lines zeroed in on his location, shredding him along with the recoilless gun on his shoulder into pieces.

Despite the shot being off-target, his death ignited the burning anger in all the soldiers’ hearts.

A soldier, barely sixteen, clenched his teeth, crawling forward through the overhead barrage until he reached the safe range of an armor-piercing bullet.

Seeing the reconnaissance vehicle heading to the side-front, he set the Rocket Launcher on his prone body, fiercely pulling the trigger.

The backblast scorched half of his buttocks, nearly causing him to pass out from the pain.

Yet, the targeted reconnaissance vehicle fared much worse, as the rocket launched from below blasted right onto its front.

Blazing metal jets punctured a hole in the car body and instantly flooded into the cabin.

Two out of the three crew members died instantly, with the third gravely injured, leaving the paralyzed reconnaissance vehicle stalling by the roadside.

The young soldier, about to cheer, didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before a rain of bullets swept over, pressing his whole body into the earth.

"Ahhh!!! Damn it! Die, damn you!"

Seeing a teammate’s reconnaissance vehicle stalled, the Vellante observer under another recon vehicle’s turret turned red-eyed, squeezing the firing trigger hard enough to almost break it.

Hearing the clanging outside the armored shell, the driver shouted backwards while flooring the accelerator.

"Enough! Jimmy, that guy’s already dead! There’s another one to our side-front!"

"Got it!"

The observer gritted his teeth, leaving that pile of flesh behind, re-aiming at the target to the side-front, pouring all his fury through the roaring gun barrel.

"Damn it! I’m going all-out against you all!!!"

With both sides having shed blood, the combatants went utterly berserk.

Yet this inherently unbalanced battle held no suspense.

With the arrival of a Conqueror No.10 Heavy Tank and a Conqueror No. 5 light tank, the fate of this guerrilla team was nearly sealed.

Deafening roars erupted twice, instantly felling trees as thick as a thigh, leaving soldiers nearby concussed with misplaced organs, entirely incapacitated.

Over twenty Vellante soldiers, clad in exoskeletons, quickly disembarked from the armored vehicles, dividing into two groups to search the woods, firing at the few remaining Boloro Nation soldiers.

Aiming to avenge their fallen brothers, the enraged Vellante soldiers had no intention of taking prisoners, even deliberately targeting vital parts to torture the unlucky few longer.

By coincidence, the Boloro soldiers opposite held the same resolve, having never intended to surrender.

They’ve already sacrificed over a hundred brothers, so a few more of their own wouldn’t matter.

Facing the encirclement by the Vellante people, they did not flee; instead, they fought to the last moment with weapons that weren’t even considered elite, and then were killed in the most brutal way by those surrounding them.

The Vellante people surrounding them did not notice that these guys, although still Poluo people, were already different from the broken Poluo people of the West Winds Empire period.

Although their equipment was still backward, they had already developed a cohesion they lacked before.

Even when facing battles with no chance of victory, they would no longer flee like headless chickens as they did in the past...

The entire battle lasted only fifteen minutes.

The anti-tank hundred team of Poluo Nation’s 30,000th troop was annihilated systematically, with no survivors!

Meanwhile, on Rekton’s thousand team side, only one "Grey Dog" reconnaissance vehicle was disabled, with two vehicle crew members killed.

The severely injured signalman, after being rescued, was out of danger and sent back to West Sail Port for treatment, along with the stranded "Grey Dog" reconnaissance vehicle.

The previous unexpected armor-piercing bullet only damaged its engine, without affecting the fuel tank or ammunition rack.

With some repairs at the workshop and replacing the crew, it could quickly return to the frontline.

The same went for the signalman.

The metal shrapnel removed from his body would be used to make an honor medal awarded to him.

The Southern Legion would replace his limb with a prosthetic better than the amputated one and let him return to the glorious battlefield after his recovery.

Understanding the frontline troops’ situation, Centurion Rekton’s expression did not change, just reporting the casualties to his superior and proceeding with the next step of the action plan in an orderly manner.

After all, just a hundred-man team was nothing more than a grasshopper in the middle of the road for him.

With Poluo Nation’s military strength, only weapons at the ten-thousand-team level would at most earn a second glance from him.

Being held up by a hundred-man team for fifteen minutes, and even having two men killed, only made him think that scout team’s Centurion was foolish to the extreme.

Having two men bitten to death by a bunch of mice, might as well shoot oneself to apologize...

After regrouping, the armored team of a thousand led by Rekton continued advancing towards Lion City.

Twelve "Dagger" fighter planes covered two reconnaissance planes, whistling past above his armored unit.

Before long, the air force’s brothers reported the reconnaissance information—they detected a scattered deployed scatter unit of about ten thousand ahead, equipped with a certain number of anti-tank equipment.

This troop was probably the elite of Poluo Nation, possibly accompanied by the Alliance’s "volunteers".

Upon learning this, both Commander Ryan in the rear and Centurion Rekton on the frontline couldn’t help but curl up their lips into a cruel smile.

What does one prisoner count for?

At this wave, they would capture at least a hundred!

Taking down the walkie-talkie hanging on the turret, Rekton, with his burning battle intent, issued orders in a firm and powerful voice.

"Attention all units! The enemy’s main force is right in front of us, five kilometers ahead!"

"You are authorized to proactively engage upon spotting suspected enemy targets!"

"Except for the Alliance guys, there’s no need to deliberately leave anyone alive!"

The communication channel soon echoed with a uniform response.

"Yes!!!"

The friction of the tracks and the roar of the engines resounded across the wasteland.

That advancing armor was like a knight prepared for a charge, already revealing his sharp lance and sword.

In contrast to the earth-shaking roar was the silent stillness of a forest four kilometers away.

If you didn’t get close to observe carefully, you might not even see the armor hidden under the canopy.

Leaning against a sturdy pine, Old White suddenly opened his eyes, giving Fang Chang standing beside him a confirming look.

"They’re coming."

The moment those words fell, the visor of the power armor helmet snapped shut simultaneously.

Removing the "Pigeon"-type missile launcher from his back, Old White skillfully completed the "Pigeon" loading in just a few seconds.

Meanwhile, pairs of closed eyes also opened at the same time.

The armors standing quietly in the forest moved like spirits infused with life, just like awakening heroic spirits.

Since yesterday morning, five hundred elites of the Burning Corps had successively parachuted into this area, completing the assembly in an orderly manner.

In the standby state, half were on online alert, and half awaited offline.

Closing the visor of the exoskeleton helmet, Fang Chang tapped twice on it with his index finger, switching the communication channel to all, and said forcefully.

"...The Southern Legion’s armored forces are just ahead! These drunkards charged so fast, completely leaving their allies behind, not taking us seriously. Someone has to step up to sober them up!"

"Everyone prepare for battle!"

"Show them your skills, annihilate their armor to the maximum extent!"

"Break through them!"

The fighting spirit burning in their pupils was in no way inferior to the roaring armors.

Facing the rolling dust, the communication channel resonated with high-spirited responses.

"Kill!!!"