Chapter 863 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 863: The True Flames of Rebellion "General Abbusak, I am Emperor Akbar of Xilan. Today I send this telegraph not for any trivial matter, but for the safety of the countless citizens of Xilan." "I admit, the former king's handling of the Gray Wolves Army was indeed improper. The orphans and widows remain unsettled, the wounded untreated. However, this does not justify your treason." "Yet, I am not an autocratic ruler. In consideration of our bonds, I offer you a chance to surrender now, sparing you from death. You shall receive the title of Grand Duke of Lion Province, retaining your honors and privileges." "But should you persist in your folly, causing chaos and destruction to Xilan's people, be mindful that you shall bear the infamy for all eternity... and know that I have given you a path to redemption." In a modestly decorated office within the courthouse of Xifan Port, Akbar of Xilan penned a two-thousand-word manifesto urging surrender. Rising, he respectfully handed it to the Willant officer behind him. "How did I do?" the young emperor inquired, eyebrows raised with both pride and a hint of appeasement. The Willant officer barely glanced at the letter, offering only a cold response, "It depends on how the recipient replies." Akbar's smile froze awkwardly, though he managed a dry chuckle. "You have a point... hopefully, Abbusak will recognize the opportunity and surrender soon." The officer grinned, patting Akbar on the shoulder, then unexpectedly stroked his face as if petting a docile dog. What a good dog, his smile seemed to say, dripping with disdain and mockery. Akbar's mind buzzed, staring incredulously at the man, misunderstanding his gesture as something improper. Could it be that this guy has such inclinations? Horrified, goosebumps rose as he took a step back. The officer offered no explanation, briskly leaving with the letter. Remaining in the office was an old Lion clansman, once a common cleaner at the courthouse, now suddenly titled and employed by the Willants to serve as Akbar's attendant, overseeing him for the Southern Legion. The emperor's original retainers had been replaced by locals, including cabinet members and even those at his bedside. These are not allies; they are captors. The old man sighed, offering words of comfort to the fuming young emperor. "Your Majesty, do not let them upset you... there's no need to stoop to their level." Akbar calmed himself, shaking his head, "The Willants are straightforward people, sometimes a bit rough... I can understand." The old man stared at Akbar, recalling the late king with whom he shared such a resemblance. How much alike they were... Meanwhile, the division of thirty thousand had breached Lion City. News of victory spread to Xifan Port and reached another frontline of the Southern Legion in Buluo County on the northern line. Reading the shocking report, Captain Author narrows his eyes. "This lunatic," he muttered at how someone would dare use incendiary bombs on such a massive population. Was he not afraid of losing control and burning all these livestock to ashes? Luckily, it was the rainy season, the smoke from the fires called down the rain, or else the entire city might have burned to nothing. A nearby aide nodded, speaking in a low voice, "But one must admit, it's highly effective." The opposing six divisions crumbled, annihilated by just a few smaller brigades. Even the million survivors in the city were reduced to cries of despair. Although ammunition consumption was high, the cost was deemed tolerable compared to the gains. If Commander Rhein chose to press on eastward, the entire empire could be cast into chaos, with allies against allies over whether to resist or not. Especially Abbusak. Their analysis suggested this “petty bourgeois” would almost certainly flee. Captain Author nodded in agreement with his aide’s assessment. “Once reinforcement airships arrive, we might try to emulate it.” In Buluo County's central barracks, patrolling soldiers discussed the matter. "That must have killed at least ten thousand." "Ten thousand?! No way, it had to be at least a hundred thousand!" "Damn, what sweet revenge!" These Willant soldiers, under Captain Ross, had witnessed the Xifan Port massacre. Due to diplomatic blunders and General Micron's ineptitude, they missed their chance at vengeance in Xifan Port. Finally, someone had avenged the three thousand Willant residents who died, and the bitterness they felt was somewhat soothed. Indeed, the true defenders are from the Southern Legion. The corrupt bureaucrats in the capital and the Eastern Legion’s landlords have long deteriorated! Standing near them, Ten Captain Pitt smoked cigarette after cigarette, weary of the conversation, finally interjecting. "What’s the point? Even without bombs, those stick-wielding natives couldn't stop them." He thought of the serfs, pockets lined with red earth, dead among the trees. Though urged by his superior to hold his tongue, he couldn't help but voice his disdain at the notion of being a hero through civilian slaughter. He was increasingly ashamed of his identity and honor, staying among people who filled him with revulsion. The soldiers were momentarily stunned, leaving one veteran to mutter, "It's about breaking the enemy's morale—" "What if it doesn't?" Pitt retorted, "The same strategy doesn't always work, and this time our enemies outnumber us many times over." "We must show them numbers don't matter!" the veteran argued, face flushed, "They lost at least a hundred thousand in a day; we're showing them billions more wouldn't suffice!" It's not that simple. Even if they could kill a hundred billion rats a day, they couldn’t eradicate them all. Reflecting, they had never really conquered the lands they held. From the day Aventura City was founded, their war had never ceased. Perhaps they were furthest from the new era. Avoiding a quarrel, Pitt shook his head, stubbed out his cigarette, and tossed it aside. Far off, serfs seen his gaze, fled hastily. An undercurrent of unease nagged at Pitt, but he couldn’t pinpoint its source. It struck him only once the serfs vanished—no one scavenged his cigarette butts anymore... In the south of Lion City, where dense housing once stood, only ruins remained. The blaze had not just claimed the southern district; it had ravaged almost half the city. Entering the city, Rhein found no need for more slaughter; enough had perished. Those who survived were too broken to think of resistance, barely daring to breathe in their presence. Rhein, not driven to kill for its own sake, ordered his lieutenants to enlist locals, forming a defense group to maintain order. Remnants of the Buluo National Army lingered, many hiding among civilians. These people were a latent threat. Their choice to hide, rather than flee, indicated their will to fight remained unbroken. Yet they couldn't remain hidden for long. Rhein planned to replicate General Gourion's tactics at Xifan Port—giving some colonized a slice of the colonial pie, granting them wealth, power, dignity... perhaps even titles of nobility. In doing so, Abbusak would be forgotten, their praise singing of Southern Legion liberators' timely arrival, delivering them from misery. This was the policy of both grace and might. Once survivors found joy in their servitude, even the wheat they sowed could be claimed as a Willant achievement, transforming enemies into unwilling allies. At that time, a bountiful colony was born. There might be some resistance, akin to the small-scale uprisings throughout the Legion's territories, but nothing as grand as an army of two hundred thousand. The command vehicle of the 30th Division rolled understatedly along the muddy road. Marshal Rhein deliberately opened the observation window to glance at his "magnificent achievements." In the torrential rain, desperate people searched for their loved ones' bodies among the ruins, some stared blankly at their charred homes, while others lay on the ground wailing. These soulless figures invoked no pity in him, instead filling him with indescribable satisfaction. This is the fate of those who oppose the Legion! Yet, the uniformity of it all bored him. Satisfied, he closed the window and turned to his adjutant seated across. "Have we found that man, Yudono?" The adjutant shook his head. "No… rumor has it he perished in the fire." Rhein sneered, "A brave one, then." Rumor had it that this man was once a soldier under the Heavenly King's army. Had Yudono survived, he would not have killed him; instead, he would have him witness the transformation of his homeland and the entirety of Buluo Province. That would be true revenge. Pausing, the adjutant continued with severity, "Additionally, we've received word from the rear. Our 902mm heavy artillery was intercepted by the League's Skull Corps. The 34th Division suffered over fifty percent casualties, routed by the League's armored division. They are currently regrouping with the logistics unit, retreating toward Xifan Port." The losses of the 34th Division were devastating. Yet, there was no other choice; they happened to collide with the League's armored forces and later suffered an aerial ambush from the League's air forces. Rhein's expression soured but he maintained his calm, merely nodding. "I'm aware." The adjutant hesitated, asking, "Should we intervene?" The railway line is quite significant, along with the armored train and its 902mm cannon. Nonetheless, Rhein remained unconcerned, his tone even. "There are still twenty-two divisions in Xifan Port. They will manage. General Gourion anticipated the League would target our logistics and has contingency plans. It's not our concern." The adjutant still harbored reservations but held his tongue, shifting the subject. "Then... what about us?" "Heavenly City," Rhein said, the corners of his mouth lifting. "Why wait for Otre to take Dog Province? We can strike while they dawdle, piercing through the heart of Buluo Nation." Encouraged, the adjutant felt his unease replaced by a burning eagerness for battle. The Heavenly City! The capital of Buluo! If conquered, the war's outcome would be virtually decided. Rhein laughed gently, noting the adjutant's rekindled fervor. "I've heard there's an enormous starship there. I'm curious to see it." His adjutant also chuckled, "That relic in this backwater is wasted. The idle bureaucrats have let it rust. We might even build an airship bigger than the Horn." Rhein's smile deepened. "It's up to our airborne brethren. We can't let them take this prize for nothing." The torrential rains extended from Lion City to Heavenly City. A sentry, clad in a raincoat, patrolled the sodden road, spotting a horse galloping towards them. A lone rider sat atop. With most nearby horses conscripted to the frontlines, seeing one was rare. Sensing danger, the sentinel raised his rifle, aiming at the rain-obscured rider, and shouted, "Halt!" The figure approached, heedless of the warning. The sentinel hesitated, finger poised on the trigger, before the horse suddenly collapsed, heaving its last breath. Flung off, the rider hit the ground, mud splashing, while the horse lay still, frothy at the mouth. The sentry and his companion exchanged glances, hurriedly aiding the fallen man—a commander, they realized, shocked into formality. "S-Sir..." Isher gave him a blank look, then gazed toward Heavenly City, dismissing their help as he trudged toward the gate, leaving the dying horse behind. His hair clung like sodden hay, his lifeless face was ghostly. The sentinel watched the limping figure recede into the distance, eventually slinging his rifle over his shoulder, sprinting after him. "Sir, we have bicycles at the outpost... Let me carry you, it's quicker!" He draped his raincoat over the man's shoulders. Finally, Isher mumbled gratitude, letting the young soldier piggyback him. Two silhouettes fused under the rain, slipping into the nearby outpost. Soon, a bicycle emerged, the sentinel pedaling furiously, as if igniting sparks from the chain. Isher, seated behind, stared vacantly into the rainy chaos. Grasped tightly was a package—a camera entrusted by a journalist, holding images from the front lines. Faces etched in his memory. And the flames consuming all... Thousands of kilometers away, beneath the sunny skies of Yun Province, lay the city of dreams, recipient of many bounties. In its most opulent building, a final hearing convened on the recent upheavals. The council members would decide how much budget the corporation should allocate to halt the Legion’s eastern expansion. Supporters argued for both profit through arms deals and moral obligation to act. Broken promises were worthless; appeasement only emboldened the Legion. Opponents warned the cost would ultimately fall on the citizens of Dream City, already worn thin by external expenses. Indeed, unfulfilled promises held no value, but the Legion, like stubborn cockroaches, couldn't be endlessly indulged in "war games." Endpoint Group’s shareholder suggested a final solution—disbanding the militaristic lunatics instead of endless skirmishes. Though specific plans to dismantle the Legion were absent, it was a topic for another meeting. Predictions suggested fierce debate, as opposing views clashed, yet silence reigned today among the previously combative board. A monumental city burned onscreen, not much smaller than Dream City, perhaps even larger, lacking its advanced technology and looming structures. Before the holographic screen stood Li Ke of the Academy's research division. Prior to this hearing, his claim to fame was a legendary tumble at Falcon City's gates. Now, his research vessel had reached Yun Province. "…Thus, is what the Legion enacts in Buluo Province, an occurrence possible anywhere in this world, just as countless times before." "May the council continue if the footage hasn’t dampened your enthusiasm." No further words were needed. The silent imagery spoke volumes. Li Ke nodded slightly, the pale blue hologram fading into the expanse of the chamber. The room fell into silence, faces filled with shock, anger, and disbelief—all struggling to comprehend or bear witness. At this moment, Shu Yu, the ambassador from the League, stood up. He surveyed the council members and continued, "We were not part of that ancient pact's negotiation, but we understand a single agreement cannot bind anyone." "Beyond ending the war itself, we must try war criminals, hold accountable those responsible... Only then can we ensure such tragedies do not recur, as we did in Haiya Province." Watching the murmuring council members, he declared solemnly, "If you are unwilling, leave it to us. We do not mind burning ourselves for the survivors who have suffered." "In return, we need your support—within your means!" Completing his appeal, he returned to his seat, leaving the floor to the meeting. Silence draped over the room, even the whispers ceased, leaving only the exchange of glances. It seemed there was no longer a reason to argue. Against higher principles, their considerations were indeed insignificant. Seeing no one else speak, the chair raised his hand. "Let's vote." With that, he pressed the button on the voting machine, casting his vote. In less than a minute, the vote concluded with an astounding 1000:0:0. In the past two centuries, something like this had never occurred—not a single abstention. History was repeating. Just as their forebears chose to remain on this land, they made yet another unanimous decision. Surprise, then delight, spread across their faces, and even the chair muttered in disbelief. With a drop of his gavel, an unlimited budget aid plan was simultaneously passed by the council. They would offer the League all the support Ideal City could provide, helping their allies bring the war instigators to a solemn court! Simultaneously, an extra edition of the news shook the entire Jinjialun Port. "Lion City Massacre! Southern Legion Sets City Aflame!" Stark headlines in blood-red ink screamed out, reminiscent of human blood. The front-page picture, captured as the "Horn" airship dropped incendiary bombs, disclosed their atrocity. A "Survivor Daily" journalist took the photograph, reportedly brought back from the front by a centurion named Isher. In the face of irrefutable brutality, outrage burned in every survivor's eyes. "Those damn Willants!" "Damn it! I'm joining the army!" "Weren't you going to Camp 101 for training?" "Screw it! I'll go after we wipe out those big-nosed bastards!" "Freaking beasts!" Marshal Rhein had completely misjudged the situation. Lion City's survivors, still reeling from loss, had bowed their heads, but their submission did not indicate surrender. Not only Lion City’s survivors. But also those from Jinjialun Port, Mammoth City, Heavenly City, and countless others across the land. Rhein ignored the perpetual rebellion within Legion territories, foolishly thinking a greater fire could suppress the survivors' rage. Not just Rhein—the same grave error was made by Marshal Author and General Gourion, Buluo Province's command. Learning of Lion City's devastation, Abbusak did not flee cowardly. Instead, casting aside hesitation, he took command, leading Niuzhou's defense, and issued a fierce proclamation across Buluo, rallying all Buluos to unite against the Legion! Whether political theater or not, at least he stood his ground. Heavenly City's morale soared, silencing criticism from officers dissatisfied with Abbusak’s perceived hypocrisy. Though not as decisive as Janusz, he courageously faced death, deserving some praise. Meanwhile, external reinforcements began arriving. Buluo’s Expeditionary had once fought the Torch Church, and eastern provinces' survivors did not overlook them. Transport ships docked at Jinjialun Port. Troops, masked and armed, stepped onto the docks amid local cheers and flowers, heading for the military base. They were the Death Corps. In the battles of Fall’s End and Jawbreaker, they achieved renown; their fearless fighting striking terror in raiders and the Eastern Legion alike. Five thousand landed initially, with another five thousand expected soon. Seeing girls throw flowers along the roadside, Dazeyes muttered, "Why masks? Are we shameful?" Marching by, Edge skated his eyes and whispered, "Given our casualty rates, is public exposure really a good idea?" Daz eyes shrugged, "Damn, you’ve got a point!" Masked troops included not only players but Xiaoyu's entities too. Through Dazeyes's relentless training, these entities evolved from clueless "lobster soldiers" to World War I-style infantry, capable of charging with bayonets like the Legion's clone cannon fodder. Their genes came from the cheapest feeders, more cost-effective than clones. A Level 10 intelligence player might deploy ten entities; his limit was two hundred! Potential fungal pollution was irrelevant; Red Earth Bacteria handled corpse recovery. Upon reaching the base, saving records updated, they drove to the port, boarding ships bound for Heavenly City. Busy scenes filled the inland port. Beside a lone Royal merchant ship, almost all vessels were requisitioned by Buluo and Jinjialun authorities for war supplies and personnel. Watching comrades board, Edge shouted encouragement. "Willants took Lion City. We can't let them take Heavenly City! Academy comrades have set up airship defenses; our mission is to hold at all costs!" His call sparked a unanimous roaring response. "Ahhhhhh!!!" To be continued...