CHAPTER 857: CHAPTER 857: STEEL BURNS!

The boiling killing intent permeated the entire forest.

Yet, the armored team of a thousand charging with swirling dust was completely unaware.

The aviation team from West Sail Port had already reconnoitered the entire area ahead. Blocking the defense line a few kilometers away were just a few anti-tank cannons deployed in dugouts.

Besides that, there were some targets suspected to be dugouts and some concealed areas possibly hiding scattered guerrilla fighters.

In front of the "Conqueror No. 10," which could withstand a hundred-kilogram aerial bomb dive-bombing, these seemingly intimidating things were nothing more than toothpicks; at most, they could break a track.

Considering that the Alliance might have taught the guerrilla team the "unmanned aerial vehicle crotch drilling tactic," they had already referenced the Eastern Legion’s experience to retrofit chains on the front and rear of the vehicle to block drones.

Once those quadrotor drones got close, the propellers would get tangled with those iron chains and lose power.

No Weilante person doubted that when their tanks reached the Poluo people, those indestructible tracks would roll over those shocked faces.

This would be a battle without suspense!

On the moving "Grey Dog" wheeled reconnaissance vehicle, Centurion Nicholas of the reconnaissance hundred-team was adjusting the magnification of the observation mirror, examining the map marked with points and symbols in his hand, staring at the suspected dugout target ahead.

The "mice" hiding in the ground evidently also noticed the dust raised by the tires in the distance and were eagerly trying to crawl out of their holes.

He unlocked the weapon safety while maintaining vigilance and shouted into the communicator.

"...2.5 kilometers ahead, enemy traction cannons are loading! We’ve discovered three in total so far!"

The communication channel soon replied.

"Received!"

Nicholas took a deep breath, his eye moved from the observation mirror to the shooting window, his index finger on the trigger, staring at those three cannons being loaded, but did not fire first.

This distance was a bit too far for the 20mm cannon of the wheeled armor.

Although the "Grey Dog" was equipped with a stabilization system, it didn’t mean they could be completely unaffected by the bumpy terrain.

To hit the target, they would have to stop and fire.

However, doing so would not be in their best interest as their advantage lay in mobility.

Nicholas quickly made a decision, planning to approach within one kilometer before teaching that amateurish guerrilla team a lesson.

Compared to Nicholas’ caution, the big soldiers under his command were much more reckless.

They had already seen the level of the Poluo Country guerrilla team in the previous battle.

Those guys managed to turn an ambush into a confrontation, which was basically the same as handing victory to their enemy.

The loss of their teammates didn’t make them more cautious but ignited the flame of anger and killing intent in their hearts.

They were eager to avenge their two sacrificed brothers!

"Two kilometers left!"

"Sir! They seem to be loaded! Request permission to fire!"

"Denied, wait for the fire command! Hold your fire until closer!"

"Yes!"

"Haha, do these rats really think that thing is useful against us?"

Listening to the taunting on the communication channel, Nicholas quietly reprimanded.

"Don’t be too careless! That thing could well be 155mm; although it wouldn’t penetrate the Conqueror, it’s enough to penetrate us."

Grass was wrapped around the opponent’s cannon barrel, obscuring what specific type of cannon it was.

Maybe it’s a 155mm, or perhaps it’s their 100mm.

No matter which cannon it was, even if it couldn’t penetrate the tank, it could easily penetrate the reconnaissance vehicle with less than 20mm of equivalent armor.

He already lost one reconnaissance vehicle and didn’t want to embarrass Centurion Rekton.

Nicholas’ caution was met with a mere jibe from Jimmy, another observer and vehicle commander.

"It still has to hit us first, doesn’t it—"

His words barely fell when a series of deafening cannon sounds suddenly erupted from afar.

It wasn’t just three cannons firing; there were at least a dozen, and even mixed with a few... mortars?

"Damn—!"

"They opened fire!"

The communication channel was filled with noise, and the reconnaissance vehicles swiftly changed direction from their fast-paced drives.

Though they spoke fearlessly, seeing the shells fly over was a different matter, and the young soldiers shouted chaotically.

Nicholas looked stunned, doubting his ears, wondering why even the sound of mortars was mixed in, but saw those chaotic shells rushing towards them.

He didn’t hesitate and shouted immediately.

"Prepare to conceal!"

"Received!"

The driver in front of him wasn’t panicked at all, lightly turning the steering wheel, easily dodging the shell lazily flying over from afar.

In reality, there was no need to dodge at all.

At this distance, it was impossible to hit, and the shell wasn’t aimed at them; some landed ahead of them, while many landed in the track marks left by their tires.

"Boom—!"

A thick smoke of explosion soared into the sky, spreading with it was a milky white wall of smoke.

Looking back at the small window behind the turret, Nicholas was startled and immediately realized.

"It’s a smoke bomb!"

No—

It’s not just a simple smoke bomb!

The communication channel no longer responded, and Nicholas soon discovered in horror that his vehicle-mounted radio was malfunctioning!

"Damn it! It’s an electromagnetic interference bomb!"

The artillery bombardment from afar continued and intensifying, shell after shell landed on the empty plain, seemingly trying to use smoke to cover the entire plain.

This is a plain.

Their tricks won’t last long!

Seeing the intermittent signal, sweat seeped from Nicholas’ forehead, comforting himself.

However, just as they were about to charge out of the signal-blocking smoke, the bumpy vehicle suddenly jolted fiercely, as if it hit a ridge!

With a muffled groan, Nicholas hit the turret, almost bruising his forehead.

The vehicle clearly tilted forward!

Holding onto the leaning handrail, he gritted his teeth and cursed, shouting at the driver.

"What the hell are you doing!"

The driver stomped on the accelerator fiercely, shouting angrily.

"The visibility here is terrible! Damn it! Our tires are caught on something!"

"Caught?!"

Nicholas and another communication soldier’s faces changed instantly.

Stopping in such a place is no different from being a sitting duck!

The only thing to be grateful for was that the enemy artillery was still firing smoke grenades constantly.

That smoke wall, covering the sky and the sun, blocked their communication and vision but also protected them in return.

Nicholas shoved the communicator soldier behind him and urged, shouting.

"Get out and check it out!"

"Yes!"

The communicator, though terrified, knew now was not the time to hesitate. He could only grab hold of the PU-9 submachine gun and gritted his teeth as he crawled out of the car door.

Just as he pushed open the car door, a deafening explosion rang out not far away, accompanied by a crackling sound like firecrackers.

That was the sound of an ammunition rack exploding!

At the same time, the "tutu" sound of a 20mm cannon also came through.

Perhaps witnessing the tragic situation of their allies, a scout car, seemingly frightened, fired wildly, and the tracer bullets flew aimlessly amidst the thick white smoke.

A stray bullet scratched past Nicholas’s vehicle, striking the durable shell of the car with a "duang" and igniting a shower of sparks.

The communicator who had just stepped out of the car got a scare, hastily dropping to the ground.

"Are you fucking crazy! Cease fire!"

Nicholas was also startled, grabbing the communicator, he roared a tirade, but it was of no use.

Firing under these circumstances was meaningless; it would not only reveal their position but might also injure their allies.

But just then, Nicholas suddenly realized it was not just his vehicle crew that had lost mobility.

The entire reconnaissance team, all nine vehicles, had lost their movement capabilities!

His face changed completely.

Once the smoke disperses, they will all be sitting ducks, left to be harvested by distant artillery.

"What the hell is going on?!"

The rationale gradually crumbled, Nicholas shouted outside the car door, grabbing the submachine gun hanging below the gun tower, ready to abandon the car.

The communicator arduously climbed up from the mud, a look of despair on his face, yelling towards the open car door.

"It’s a hidden pit! They’ve dug a trench and covered it with grass! Our tires fell in!"

This trench wasn’t just any trench but one of those higher in the front and lower in the back.

If only the tires fell in, it could crawl out, but with the high and low difference at the front and back, their chassis got caught on the walls of the trench, with the front and rear wheels suspended.

Nicholas was stunned.

A trench?!

On the plains?!

How did these people manage to do this right under their nose?!

No—

There is actually a way.

Just dig a tunnel underground first and cover the top with straw or something similar.

There are farmlands everywhere here, linking near the field ridges, with a little camouflage, planes simply wouldn’t detect it.

Realizing the severity of the problem, the expression on Nicholas’s face gradually turned from stiff to horrified.

He suddenly remembered those hate-filled faces hidden in the earlier woods, and those soldiers who would rather die than surrender.

It was only now that he realized there were 200,000 of those people, and behind those 200,000 people stood billions more...

Unknowingly, they had fallen into an unfathomable quagmire!

Numerous dugouts uncovered their wooden boards and straw stacks, and gaunt, protruding foreheads emerged from beneath the pits.

They were short and slender, yet their eyes were as fierce as a hyena’s.

The weapons in their hands were diverse.

There were Ripper Rifles, and LD-47s from the Alliance, and some were holding crudely made stools.

Upon discovering these soldiers moving forward in the prone position, the Vellante crew member who alighted from a vehicle immediately pulled out a submachine gun to fire at them, but was soon suppressed back by retaliatory fire.

Even a race born for battle couldn’t withstand the never-ending numbers.

Seeing that they were close enough, those crawling soldiers no longer concealed themselves, each climbing up from the ground and charged towards the stalled reconnaissance vehicles.

A Vellante crew member showed panic on his face, shouting to his comrades behind him.

"Damn it! Their infantry is approaching us! How much longer until our tanks arrive?!"

He already regretted running so fast.

But now, it was too late to regret; all he could do was pray for his allies to reach quickly.

"Damn it! Where did these Ground Squirrels come from?!"

"We need reinforcements! Three o’clock direction—"

"Cease fire, you idiot! Do you want to send me off?!"

"Don’t stop firing! Those people are rushing up!"

"How many of them are there?!"

"Ahhhh! Go to hell!"

Facing that oppressive and stifling white mist, Nicholas’s lips turned slightly pale.

In the midst of it, he vaguely heard the "tutututu" of gunfire, and the cursing and exclamations from comrades.

Tracers weaved through the mist, yet they couldn’t block those thunderous roars sweeping in.

At least a thousand of them—

"Charge!!!"

...

"Enemy artillery position has launched smoke grenades!"

"Reconnaissance team of a hundred lost contact!"

The colossal and advancing armored team of a thousand.

Two sudden pieces of news made Centurion Rekton, sitting in the command vehicle, have his pupils slightly contract.

Smoke bombs?

And they even carry signal interference.

What trick are these natives up to again?

"It’s probably given to them by the Alliance!"

The voice of the adjutant came through the communication channel, making Rekton roll his eyes.

"...That’s obvious. Can these natives make such things themselves?"

Staring at the rapidly dispersing fog in the distance, Rekton, gripping the communicator, issued orders with a steady voice.

"First hundred team, launch an assault from the front towards the fog cluster. Second, third teams flank from the sides, fourth and fifth teams follow behind, others maintain the original formation... Remember to keep an eye on the woods to our east."

"Received!"

A synchronized response came from the communication channel, and at the same moment, the steel torrent made up of ninety-two tanks changed formation!

The tanks on the flanks began to accelerate, while the ones in the middle maintained their speed, the original arrow-shaped troops gradually extending forward into an open bowl.

A total of ninety-two tanks!

And more than half are Conqueror No. 10!

They, serving as the offensive vanguard, will become Ryan’s unbreakable spear in his hands!

Rekton stared intently ahead, his lips curled with an interested smile.

He wanted to see what tricks the opponent could pull?

"Charge ahead!"

Watching the fog ahead coming nearer, he kicked the driver’s seat under the turret, and the driver’s spirit exhilaratedly shouted.

"Yes!"

The distance of several kilometers vanished in an instant, yet what unfolded before Rekton wiped the smile off his face.

Nine "Grey Dog" wheeled reconnaissance vehicles broke down on the road, one even charred black as if its ammo rack and fuel tank were blown up.

Of the remaining eight, crew members were pulled out, hanging gruesomely on the vehicle and turret.

Some had their stomach split open by bayonets, others were shot to death, or burnt to a crisp.

The ground nearby was full of corpses, from their frail bodies and shoddy gear, it was evident they were soldiers from Poluo Country.

Both sides were blinded by rage, venting their fury in the most brutal ways on each other.

Glaring at those corpses fiercely, Rekton instantly became furious, clenching his jaw so hard he almost crushed his teeth.

"These bastards!"

The distracting fog dissipating gradually, artillery roared deafeningly again from afar.

Seeing Poluo Country’s army plan another attempt, Rekton grabbed the communicator and roared in anger.

"All units pay attention, free fire!"

"Smash them hard for me!"

As soon as his words dropped, a violent explosion sounded from the northeast direction.

It wasn’t the sound of tank fire.

Because right when that sound erupted, Rekton saw fireworks shooting skyward, along with the turret soaring alongside.

It was precisely their pride, the "Conqueror No. 10"!

Looking at the flames flashing and the half-shell shooting sparks, Rekton was stunned.

Not only him, almost all the Weilante people were frozen on the spot.

A terrified voice trickled through the communication channel.

"...This is the third hundred team! We are under unknown target anti-tank fire attack! Damn it!"

No sooner had that shout landed, another brilliant fire bloomed on the plains.

This time, Rekton saw distinctly, it was a missile flying from the direction of the woods!

It’s the Alliance people!!

Without hesitation, Rekton, using all his might, yelled into the nearly crushed communicator.

"Third hundred team smoke deploy! Fifth, seventh, ninth hundred teams assault towards the eastern woods!"

"Show no mercy, crush them for me!"

...

No time to turn tail and flee, the opponent clearly wasn’t firing at first sight, surely giving themselves ample shooting window, exposing the rear to the enemy only hastens death.

Moreover, fleeing with tails tucked isn’t the style of the Southern Legion!

Even though that missile blowing up the ammo rack shocked Rekton, he decisively issued an attack order, directing the armor formation advancing on the right side to charge.

Anti-vehicle weapons usually have a safety distance constraint, approaching to extreme range is actually safer.

The legion’s tanks changed direction, at least thirty tanks streamed towards the woods, firing as they drove.

Explosive firelight instantaneously swallowed a corner of the woods, toppling trees thick as thighs with overwhelming force.

If it were Poluo Country’s army, over half would likely die from this barrage!

However, they were facing the "Blue Ground Squirrels" from Shelter No. 404 this time.

And from the elite Burning Corps too!

The players present were no strangers to facing the legion’s tanks; naturally, they wouldn’t stand there for target practice.

After firing a missile, Old White immediately boosted the power output of his power armor to maximum, disappearing from sight before the gun barrel could shift.

By the time that barrage covered the area, he had already relocated and loaded the third missile.

A slender white smoke trail emerged from the woods, tracing a steep curve in the sky, crashing fiercely into a fleeing Conqueror No. 10 belching smoke.

Undoubtedly, that fleeing tank was like a can targeted by an opener’s gaze, becoming scrap metal in the boiling flames.

Without glancing back at the explosion, Old White swiftly moved to the next shooting point, while the corps observers already confirmed his kill.

"Direct hit! Well done!"

"Quickly lock on the next target."

"Acknowledged!"

Old White wasn’t the only one hefting a missile launcher; the flying "doves" coming from the forest weren’t just a single bird.

The Alliance’s five hundred players, paired in groups of two, scattered across tens of kilometers wide woods and fields, one responsible for target locking and observing, the other for loading and firing.

Although the missile’s tail flame might expose the "shooter’s" position, the protective capacity and mobility of the "Xiaguang" power armor rendered the legion’s tanks helpless.

Unless hit by an armor-piercing bullet or a high-explosive bomb bursting close by, merely relying on explosive fragments is insufficient to incapacitate those agile armored infantry!

Looking back at the legion side, their tanks, in front of those missiles, seemed made of paper.

Consecutive explosions drove the three charging armored hundred teams to near despair.

They had already entered the woods shattered by shelling, yet conditions didn’t improve, still enduring persistent casualties.

"...Damn it! They equipped power armor!"

"What the hell are those missiles?!"

"Their mobility is too fast! We need infantry reinforcements!"

Desperation was not limited to the right flank of the armored team of a thousand, pessimism soon spread throughout the battlefield.

Looking at that burning scrap metal in the northeast and the ever-approaching flames, Rekton, caught between shock and anger, sank into utter despair.

How did these guys manage to pull this off?!

The incremental armor of Conqueror No. 10 could defend against the metal stream of conventional armor-piercing bullets, and the protective strength of the armor material itself could block any kinetic cannon that relied on conventional firing principles!

Not only that, Conqueror No. 10’s full protection system had the ability to withstand the overpressure from aerial bombs and could also defend against the threats of poison gas and radioactive materials!

To the survivor forces with technology capabilities predating the Prosperity Epoch’s early years, their advantage was almost absolute!

And for survivor forces with technological prowess above the early Prosperity Epoch, they could rely on their massive scale and unparalleled cohesion to win.

This highly efficient expansion model had proven successful time and time again over the past century and a half.

And this was the source of their confidence!

However, this time, they hit a wall.

The Alliance was like a vat of molten iron, uniting the formerly sharply conflicting Refuge Residents and Waste Land Wanderers through shared faith, welding together the survivor forces with advanced technical prowess and those with massive scale into a solid piece of iron.

The propulsion design and launching system of the missile came from Giant Stone City, the identification, guidance, and micro-energy storage technology stemmed from the South Sea Union, and the crucial "plasma" warhead originated from corporate plasma-related technology...

These technologies were integrated at Camp 101 and production was completed in the industrial district of Dawn City.

The advantage in technical prowess was merely superficial.

Just like prosperity in economic, cultural, and other fields.

Rekton would never understand where he lost until his dying breath.

At this moment, they were not facing any single settlement or survivor force.

But rather all the survivor forces that had united on the Wasteland!

In less than five minutes, thirty tanks that ventured deep into the woods were completely destroyed!

Only a small portion was directly blown up along with their ammunition racks and fuel tanks, while another portion had their power systems destroyed, forcing the crew to abandon the vehicles and surrender.

With the Weiland people’s fighting spirit, naturally, there were those who resisted stubbornly.

However, facing the Alliance’s elite infantry, those feeble resistances didn’t stir a ripple, quickly quelled by the rain of bullets shooting out of the forest.

As the right flank collapsed, this "armored spearhead" that had penetrated deep into the enemy lines soon lost balance like a crippled mad bull, trapped in a muddy wasteland.

Fully eighty of the ninety-two tanks were scrapped on the way forward.

As for the remaining twelve, they were scrapped while retreating.

Gazing at the burning steel on the wasteland, Night Ten couldn’t help but murmur.

"Damn... the upgraded plasma warhead is so freaking strong!"

No exaggeration or denial.

This upgraded "Dove" model was at least five times more powerful than the previous conventional explosive armor-piercing bullet!

Before this, apart from the "No. 60 Vehicle-mounted Electromagnetic Cannon" and the crotch drilling suicidal UAV, they really didn’t have much to deal with the Legion’s Conqueror No. 10.

Sitting beside him, Wild Wind glanced at him sideways.

"You think that thing is cheap?"

The technical content of this plasma missile was no less than that of a nuclear bomb.

At least, as a physics professor, he couldn’t fathom how to integrate those complex devices into such a tiny warhead.

It’s like a primitive man who just learned to make fire can’t comprehend how a lighter ignites.

To him, this thing was a "primitive man’s lighter," and currently, they were still stuck in the stage of researching how "to make high-temperature plasma burn more stably and last longer."

Night Ten didn’t bother thinking about those troublesome things, didn’t even bring it into reality, just chuckled and said.

"No matter how expensive, it’s at least cheaper than a tank, right?"

"...Maybe, I don’t really know this stuff, you might have to ask Fang Chang."

Wild Wind glanced at the sky to the west, observed the approaching dark clouds, and continued.

"However, the real trouble is never on the ground, I feel the trouble in the sky might be even bigger."

This time, the Southern Legion deployed a total of five airships.

Compared to the steel torrents on the ground, those floating fortresses in the sky were the truly deadly threats.

The same tactic is unlikely to succeed twice.

Whether it’s boarding assaults, phase weapons, or high-power railguns, the Southern Legion would certainly be on guard.

However, aside from these long-term concerns, they indeed won this blocking battle.

And it was a resounding victory!

Both tactically and strategically, they successfully stalled the Legion’s aggressively charging offensive momentum and dealt a heavy blow to the Vellante people’s arrogance.

At this moment, a fixed-wing UAV with depleted energy slowly landed near them.

Wild Wind walked over, picked it up, folded the wings, and casually tucked it into the charging backpack on his back.

"...The Legion’s thirtieth ten thousand troops are now only ten kilometers away from us, they’ve already realized their front teeth have been knocked out, we need to move."

Dusting off the mud and grass clippings from his pants, Night Ten stood up from the ground, lifted the toppled off-road electric bike beside him, chuckled, and responded.

"Roger that!"

...

Carrying the supplies dropped by allied forces, the victorious Burning Corps withdrew from the battlefield methodically.

Throughout the battle, they only lost three power armors and seven exoskeletons.

These damaged gear could be hauled back and repaired, possibly reused, and the fallen brothers could return to the front within a week on special flights, not causing much concern.

Rounding it off, they practically suffered no combat losses, just spent some rather costly ammunition.

In contrast, the Southern Legion got an entire "Heavy Armor Division" blown up.

For the Southern Legion, which never had many armored units to begin with, such losses were devastating.

When Ryan, miles away, received news of Rekton’s death, he was so enraged he nearly spat blood in the command vehicle.

That was his direct subordinate!

It was also the finest armored unit he had!

Although he didn’t actually spit blood, his heart was overwhelmed with agony.

Clenching his fist tightly, Ryan’s facial muscles twisted into a knot, his fierce face filled with rage.

From the moment he received the news, he hadn’t uttered a word, but everything he wanted to say was written all over his face.

"...I’m going to slaughter them!"

Gazing at the furious commander, the deputy and staff sitting opposite him were silent, not daring to breathe a word, though their hearts burned with equal fury.

Those thousand-plus brothers must not have died in vain...

Their enemies would surely pay a heavy price!