Chapter 848 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 848: The Loyal Fall First “Treasonous rebels... Damn traitors... They're all damn traitors! Aaaah!!!” At the border between Ma Prefecture and Mammoth Prefecture, crooked trenches outlined the chaotic battlefield. In the torrential rain, rumbling thunder extinguished the slowly burning fires on the dried grass, muffling the cries of wounded soldiers in the trenches. Standing outside the frontline military tents, General Alaiyan faced the sky, pounding his right fist against his chest. The sound, whether a cry or laughter, was strangely reminiscent of the captain of the imperial guards who stood at the gates of the palace. Damn it... Curse it! Alaiyan’s heart brimmed with discontent. With his military prowess, he should have thrived on the battlefield. Yet, here he was, reduced to such a plight. It was mid-March. Nearly two months had passed since the fall of Tiandu. In that brief time, Tiandu had changed hands twice, and Xilan had lost almost all its territories. The frontline battled similarly. After nearly half a year of fierce fighting, the Gray Wolf Army was pushed back to the original prefectural border. At the end of the previous year, they could still skirmish evenly with Lashi’s men, even achieving dazzling victories with armored vehicles during the New Year. But it seemed these rebels were inexhaustible. Wave after wave perished, only for another to charge forward, tearing into his Gray Wolves in the mire. Those forces grew stronger, evolving from mere disorganized bands to wielding exoskeletons and aircraft. On the other hand, the Gray Wolf Army grew more fatigued, now even struggling with logistics, especially as the northern part of the Boro Province entered its rainy season. A sudden downpour worsened their logistical crisis. The armored units, spearheading the attack, were trapped in the mire and unable to retreat, forced to surrender in formation due to encirclement by the resistance forces and strafing by Mosquito attack aircraft. Now, the Gray Wolf Army was reduced to thirty thousand men, lacking not just ammunition but also clothes and food, a most pitiful state. Due to prior scorched-earth tactics, not a village was to be found within a hundred miles, making it difficult to borrow grain from the locals. Discontent simmered in the Gray Wolf Army. No one wants to fight anymore, nor is there a point in continuing... Xilan was already gone. Though the signs of the end came slowly, the actual collapse was swifter than anyone expected. Just months ago, people comforted themselves that a lean camel was bigger than a horse, but now, in just a few months, not even a handful of people in Boro Province cherished its memory. Including his most loyal subordinates. Hearing that Absek was of wolf clan descent and his homeland, Wolf Prefecture, was liberated, they even considered siding with Boro Kingdom. “General...we can’t fight anymore, our logistics are cut off.” Looking at the general weeping in the rain, Staff Officer Gopal knelt on the ground, disregarding the rain pouring down his throat, looking up pleadingly at him. “If we turn south now, seize Ma Prefecture...maybe we can preserve a last breath of Xilan. Once the Tiger Army moves north to take Ma Prefecture, we won’t stand a chance!” This was indeed a desperate strategy. The best option was to surrender to Mammoth Nation, a middle ground was to join the Tiger Army, and the worst was to side with Boro Kingdom. But facing the unyielding Alaiyan, he couldn’t bring himself to mention the real solutions. Gopal now truly believed it. This man was indeed a loyalist! They had countless opportunities to establish themselves, yet he never failed to give them up. The history books of Boro Province would surely have a page for him... But why... Why is he my general! Gopal was on the verge of an infarction from panic. “Silence!!!” Alaiyan suddenly roared, interrupting those treasonous words. The shout was like thunder, almost causing Gopal to collapse. His face was full of deep hatred, and Alaiyan wished he could chew the rain at his lips to pieces. “Do you think I'm like Lashi...that backstabbing dog? I’m Alaiyan! I am the Empire’s god of war!” Gopal looked at him in despair, his lips trembling. “But the Empire...the Empire has already...” The “fallen” was drowned by the rain. His heart was also filled with discontent. If they could fight a proper battle, so be it, but until now they were always defeated by their own. It began at Port Jinganlun. If Prince Dilip hadn’t been such a fool, stuck in the city and being overwhelmed by that Lashi, even if they suffered at the hands of those ruffians, they wouldn’t have been pushed into swimming in the Yongliu River. It was the shame of his life. And a disgrace to the entire Gray Wolf Army. Alaiyan knew what his staff officer was about to say, but he didn’t want to hear it. After a while, it seemed as if he had come to a realization and sighed deeply. “Go.” “I...” Gopal was stunned, misunderstanding his meaning. Alaiyan remained silent for a moment before speaking calmly. “Whether you go north or south, I will not stop you. With your talent, becoming a general might be difficult, but serving as a staff officer shouldn’t be a problem.” Saying this, he looked towards the distant trenches, as if speaking to Gopal but also to himself. “You have followed me for so long, wagered everything for fame and to return home gloriously. But now that fame is gone, and many brothers have been left disabled, forced to rebel...I can’t keep you anymore.” “Take the remaining men and leave.” The torrential rain was silent, only the pattering of rain hitting the mud could be heard. Gopal widened his eyes, looking incredulously at the back of his general, unable to utter a word. He guessed what Alaiyan intended to do, but didn’t know how to stop him. Then suddenly, Alaiyan shouted once more. “Go!!!” “Yes!” Gopal yelled with all his might to comply, biting his lip as he staggered away from the muddy ground, looking back every few steps towards the camp. The rain blurred his vision. As well as the figure of Alaiyan. The rain grew heavier. All around was the howling of wind and thunder, reminiscent of doomsday two centuries ago, seemingly about to swallow the world whole. No one knew how long Alaiyan stood in the rain. In a trance, he saw through the downpour many figures. They stood silently outside the trenches, on the ruins of a rain-shrouded village, merely watching him quietly. Alaiyan widened his eyes, but the figures vanished, only to reappear as the rain blurred his vision once more. At that moment, he realized who these people were. They were the wronged spirits who perished at the border... They had come for vengeance. On him. And on the empire he defended. “Hahahaha!” Alaiyan suddenly laughed. Facing the heavens, he laughed maniacally for a long time, then suddenly drew his sidearm. So there really were ghosts in this world... He once thought it was all a joke. “I curse you...” His face twisted, flipping the safety off and pressing the gun to his jaw. “Lashi...” “All of you...all you traitorous scoundrels...you will all die miserable deaths!” “Even if it means turning into a vengeful ghost, even if it means never reincarnating...I will drag you to hell with me!” “I'll be waiting for you there! Waiting for you to damn well come down and accompany me! I'll take you on in a real fight, blade against blade!!!” In the heavens, a rolling thunder resounded. As if summoned by the heavens, Alaiyan let out one final roar, pulled the trigger, and wrote the last stroke of “loyalty.” “Bang—!” Under the flash of fire, he fell with a thud. Just as his consciousness plunged into the abyss, he vaguely recalled that one of his centurions had died just like this. At the time, he thought it was needless, the man didn’t have to die, but now he realized the one who couldn’t see clearly was himself. Long, long ago, his legs had already been buried in the red earth, only awaiting a burial. Perhaps, he should have died long ago... ... The downpour lasted five days and nights, only slightly easing on the morning of the sixth. However, this year Mammoth Prefecture wasn’t like previous years; although the Tashang River flooded briefly, it didn’t turn the entire southeast part of the prefecture into a marshland. Lashi was a man who repaid his debts. Though he pinned the blame for the blown dams on a dead man's head, he still cleaned up the mess. Since the labor export policy was implemented, the authorities in Mammoth Prefecture used cement purchased from Xi Fan Port to construct a larger dam on the Tashang River, equipped with generators, and planned specialized flood-retention areas based on recommendations from Alliance hydrogeology experts. The original levees were private properties of the nobles, but the new dam would serve all the people of Mammoth Prefecture. In addition, the authorities extended the irrigation channels from noble-owned lands to various villages established to accommodate displaced people. Even though the elders of the Moonfolk Resistance were not fond of his methods, they had to admit that he was in some sense a capable leader. He was genuinely using practical methods to solve practical problems... In the military camp. The Assault Unit's Captain Shawa entered the tent by lifting the flap, and reported to Lashi who was intently studying a map. “The Gray Wolf Army has retreated.” Lashi showed no surprise. Had the rain not fallen for so long, his five divisions stationed at the border could have potentially encircled the enemy. “Where are they headed?” Shawa replied softly, “They are moving south...” Southward... They’re actually heading south. Lashi was momentarily taken aback, a wave of melancholy washing over him—it seemed Alaiyan really despised him. Moving south was the worst choice. Neither joining the Tiger Army nor establishing autonomy in Ma Prefecture held much promise, and it was even riskier than trying to rely on the magnanimity of Absek and Boro Kingdom. Tiger Prefecture was bordered by the sea on one side and powerful neighbors on the others, offering no strategic space for expansion. Its location meant that any local warlord could only reign as a mere chieftain, and there couldn't be two tigers in one mountain. If he were in Alaiyan’s position, he would undoubtedly march north to join himself, as only he would truly value him. After all, the Moonfolk Resistance was not a monolith, and from a standpoint of balance, it would be beneficial to take him in. Seeing Lashi’s melancholic gaze, Shawa continued in a grave tone. “Furthermore, we captured some deserters from the Gray Wolf Army at the border. According to them...their general is dead.” “Dead?! Alaiyan?” Lashi exclaimed in astonishment, stepping forward to grab Shawa’s shoulders. “How is that possible?! How did he die?” Looking at his officer’s urgent expression, Shawa gave him a wry smile and shook his head. “...I don’t know, only heard it was suicide.” Lashi loosened his grip on Shawa's shoulders, staring blankly ahead for a long time. After a moment, he turned back to his subordinate. “Spread the word, Alaiyan died in a bombing; this battle is our victory.” “That guy wasn’t a good man, but he was a worthy opponent... Lower the flags to half-mast for him.” Suicide was too disgraceful. That man shouldn’t have ended like that. After all, he was an adversary with whom Lashi had grappled for over half a year, and he wanted to restore a shred of dignity for him. Shawa didn’t ask further, nodding in acknowledgment. “Yes, sir.” ... “...Extra, extra! Mosquito attack aircraft show their prowess! The Empire’s war god has fallen! Gray Wolf Army defeated!” “Xilan is gone!” On the streets of Port Jinganlun, a newsboy with a satchel slung across his shoulder weaved through the alleys, loudly hawking, as passersby, upon hearing the news, promptly fished out four-gallon coins to buy a freshly printed newspaper from him. Reading the headline on the newspaper, the crowd burst into surprised whispers. “Alaiyan is dead?!” “Killed by an airstrike!” “Damn, that guy should have died long ago!” “Do you think the Wutu will be so enraged that he’ll join him in the grave?” “Hahaha!” The streets were abuzz with mocking chatter, as not a single tear was shed for the Empire. Meanwhile, on the Yongliu River just a few kilometers away, a bedridden man angrily flung the newspaper onto the floor. “Rebellious scum!” The Wutu cursed, his eyes bulging like a goldfish, before being seized by a violent cough. Alarmed, the nearby eunuchs rushed over, some checking his pulse and others holding towels to wipe his brow, only to be swatted away by the Wutu. “Get out!” The voice was thunderous, scaring the eunuchs to their knees, retreating to the side on their knees. Hearing the commotion from within the “chamber,” Prince Dilip entered from outside, just catching sight of the newspaper on the floor. Instinctively, he bent to pick it up but recoiled upon seeing the headline. “Akbar Xilan arrives at Xi Fan Port! Meets with Southern Army Corps' three-star commander Gurrion to discuss establishing a new Xilan court in the northern three prefectures.” So much for trying to conceal anything. It seemed the pretense wasn’t even worth maintaining anymore. With a resigned sigh, Prince Dilip approached the Wutu’s bedside. “Your Majesty... You should heed the doctors’ advice, read less news, and take care of your health.” Since his last fainting spell, the Wutu’s health had steadily declined, now unable even to leave his bed. Watching the concerned Prince Dilip before him, the Wutu suddenly smirked, propping himself up with an elbow to sit halfway on the bed. “Dilip...do you know why I didn’t take you all westward back then?” Wasn’t it obvious? Because the Heavenly King’s army was to the west... Prince Dilip inwardly bemoaned, lamenting that their majesty must indeed be mentally unwell, yet he bowed his head, afraid to voice his thoughts. “Your Majesty...forgive my ignorance, I do not know.” A soft flush spread over the Wutu’s face, a faint grin twitching at the corners of his lips. “We and the army corps are both colonizers, only our colonized subjects differ... Thus, naturally, we are allies. This isn’t determined by geographical location but by a fundamental essence.” “Yet, because we are both colonizers, we can only share fortune, not endure hardships together... Once we fall into misfortune, they will sink their teeth into us without mercy.” Some truths are obscured from those within the situation, while outsiders see clearly. It was only after leaving Tiandu that he came to realize certain truths. The nostalgic nobles who praised “His Majesty’s divine wisdom” didn’t truly believe in his brilliance. Those who watched from the shore truly regarded him as a spectacle. Previously, he lamented being surrounded by incompetence, that there were no capable individuals in the vast Boro Province, awakening only after arriving in Port Jinganlun. Boro Province didn’t lack talent; it was simply that those with genuine skills refused to serve him, and his own narrow-mindedness could not tolerate such individuals. Over time, he was naturally left with truly incompetent fools and clever people pretending to be fools. Perhaps he ought to have died earlier. The Wutu sighed deeply, suddenly feeling sympathy for the ministers who suffered alongside him. They had suffered enough... “Dilip, my greatest regret now is sending Akbar north... Back then, I thought not to put all eggs in one basket, to leave a thread of bloodline for Xilan’s court, yet I ended up burdening all surviving Boro Province citizens.” “That foolish son still cannot see...the Weilante are wolves in human skin. But I can’t blame him—it was I who taught him, and even I could not see clearly, realizing it only at the end.” Dilip hastily raised his head, only to be startled by the dark hue of the Wutu’s forehead. “What are you saying... Your Majesty, what do you mean by ‘the end’?! We still have three armies at our disposal; as long as they converge at Port Jinganlun, reclaiming Xilan’s territory is just a matter of time—” “Enough,” the Wutu waved his hand, coughing once more, the corners of his mouth curling into a sardonic smile, “Yesterday I had a dream, care to guess who I saw? Alaiyan... Heh, that guy knelt outside my door. I called him in to talk, but he got up and left.” Cold sweat slightly beaded on Dilip’s forehead. He had heard unsubstantiated rumors but never expected them to reach His Majesty’s ears so swiftly. Who could be feeding these stories to His Majesty?! Not just the Empire—could they not even control those closest to themselves? Dilip was drenched in cold sweat, the Wutu unconcerned, lost in his lament. “I failed him, I failed the Gray Wolf soldiers... They were all loyal young men, the most loyal in the Empire. The inept one is I, not them.” Dilip knelt on the floor, pressing his forehead firmly to the ground in supplication. “Your Majesty... Please, no more. Your health...” Now, nothing said or done would make a difference; sometimes knowing less is better. Surviving is the foremost priority. With the prince now in Xi Fan Port, if something were to happen to His Majesty, it wouldn’t just be about establishing a new royal court—the legitimacy of the Empire would truly fall into the hands of the army corps! However, Wutu did not heed his brother's pleas and continued speaking resolutely. “No! I must speak… My body won't hold much longer. I won't die in peace without saying everything…” Coughing again, he spat out a trace of blood. Noticing the blood, the closest eunuch paled and scrambled to retrieve some pills from a tray on the bedside cabinet. “Your Majesty, please take your medicine…” “Get out!” Wutu shouted, shoving the eunuch away and, with a sudden burst of energy, sat upright. “I don't want medicine!” He’d been taking this medicine daily, yet his condition only worsened. As clueless as he was, he suspected something was amiss, that someone wished him dead. It wasn’t the Alliance, nor Port Jinganlun, not even Lashi or those double-crossing warlords. Wutu glared at Dilip, who knelt in fear, his bulging eyes conveying that he was already spent. With a trembling finger, he pointed at his brother, using his waning strength to utter his final words. “I, Emperor of Xilan…” “I pass my throne to…” But fate is a cruel mistress, and perhaps he had committed too many wrongs. Just as he was about to name Dilip, Wutu breathed his last. “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!!! What are you all doing kneeling there? Get up and help him!” Seeing his brother collapse, Dilip wept bitterly, hysterically urging the frightened eunuchs to his side. He had no desire to be emperor; he just wanted Wutu to awaken and take back the burdensome throne. The room filled with cries. Rushing to his side, the eunuchs clumsily lifted the Emperor, trying to feed him the pills and water, but he had already drawn his last breath. “Your Majesty!” “Wake up, Your Majesty!” “Waaaa! Aaaaah!” The room was engulfed in mournful wailing, not just from Prince Dilip but from nearly everyone present, whose tears flowed freely. Except for one. A young palace maid stood among them, her expression serene. At eighteen, she was as graceful and lovely as a lotus in midsummer. Born into a minor noble family in Port Jinganlun, she’d lived a pampered life similar to the illustrious characters in “Tales After the Storm.” However, following the imprisonment of Governor Nihak, her family fell into ruin, and as the second daughter, she was forced to fend for herself, finding work in a theater in the port district. She was adaptable, having seen the splendors of the new era, and didn’t cling to the grandeur of the old. As long as there was money, she didn’t care; she could live better than before, even more nobly than her father, who was a supplicant on the Royal Merchant Ship’s deck. Just two months ago, her distant uncle sought her out with a task. He promised her a large sum of money, more than she could earn in a lifetime, if she succeeded. Without hesitation, she accepted. With her uncle’s help, she joined a theater troupe on this ship, easily catching the eye of the banquet-hosting Wutu, who brought her into the palace. Her job was simple: replace Wutu’s medicine with sugar pills and speak to him occasionally about life in Port Jinganlun. She didn’t need to be blatant, just enough to make him realize how much he’d failed as an emperor. Once outside the cabin, she pulled a vial of sugar pills from her sleeve, emptying them into the rolling river, watching them dissolve into nothingness. Whether they were sugar or poison mattered not; it was no longer relevant. The useless old man’s roots were already deep in the red earth; his time of death was inconsequential, as was anyone’s push. In a sense, he should thank her for sparing him from being the emperor of a fallen country. She fastened a small earring to her translucent earlobe, a faint smile spreading across her crimson lips. “Uncle.” “The man is dead. Can you now tell me the password to that account?” The relentless river buried the final conspiracy. While the Empire’s elders were still mourning, a telegram, having passed through many hands, arrived at Xi Fan Port. Inside the military command tent, General Gurrion finally allowed a smile to grace his stern features after reading the telegram handed by his trusted aide. It had been over two weeks since the trial, a while since he’d heard good news, but now something had finally happened to make him grin. “Excellent!” With that declaration, he slapped the telegram onto the command table and moved to the map. Studying the strategic layout for a while, he turned to his aide, giving orders. “Terminate the 'Migratory Bird' plan; initiate the 'Cuckoo' plan. Have Akbar ready to ascend as Wutu’s successor immediately.” “Additionally, send an ultimatum to the authorities in Mammoth Prefecture, demanding they withdraw from the northern three prefectures and return them to the new King of Xilan, His Highness Akbar! The corps will not abandon its allies. If these rebels refuse to comply, we will avenge Alaiyan!” “Also, send a telegram to Boro Kingdom in Xilan’s royal court’s name, requesting military passage rights. Should they refuse, we cannot guarantee their safety.” His aide confirmed with a sharp salute, “Yes, sir!” Watching his aide leave the command tent, a pleased smile tugged at General Gurrion’s lips as he turned his gaze back to the map he’d divided with battle lines into several pieces. The northern three prefectures were currently under the actual control of Mammoth Nation, with roughly five divisions, mainly light infantry and artillery, tasked with border security. Three battalions were enough to breach through. Once they captured Go Prefecture, they could begin the second phase of their attack—a pincer movement from the west and north targeting the heart of Boro Kingdom, Ox Prefecture, where Tiandu lay. Everything was ready, just awaiting the shot. He had planned for this day for far too long. At last, the grand play was about to commence! To be continued.