Chapter 938 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 938: No Move Wins Over Trick On the southern coastline of Vellant Province, a collection of rafts and small boats lay stranded on the shore. Amidst this motley fleet were various logs with untrimmed branches and waterlogged boxes, creating a mess reminiscent of a shipwreck. And indeed, that was precisely what had happened. Crouched on the shoreline, most of the Vellant people wore expressions of shock. Some hugged their drenched shoulders, shivering uncontrollably, while others hung their soaked clothes on branches, sneezing by the fireside. Not far from them, individuals occasionally crawled ashore from the sea, struggling with the aid of their comrades. The nearshore defense fleet from Triumphant City had deployed sailors to assist as best as they could, using rubber boats and ropes to rescue those swept away by the waves and bring them to shore. These Vellant refugees each had different experiences in Battoria Province, yet their current plight was the same—they were all soaked through, like drowned rats. Due to Triumphant City's closed-border policy, most ferries from Battoria to Vellant Province were detained at Vellant's docks. Faced with evacuating the populace at all costs, the Southern Legion had commandeered every available vessel, including fishing boats and even bathtubs stolen from homes. Most Vellants found themselves joining this mission-driven exodus without the slightest preparation. Those fortunate enough to board legitimate ferries were rare exceptions or relatives of legion commanders. Many were simply duped to the northern docks of Battoria, boarding hovercraft meant for landing troops. These hovercraft, with their small fuel tanks, could not possibly provide extra fuel containers for the journey halfway across. Many had to resort to paddling when the engines gave out two-thirds of the way. Others were less lucky. Without access to a hovercraft, they were driven onto rafts at gunpoint by foreign soldiers. Several rafts were tied together and towed by a speedboat to the opposite shore. Some rafts disassembled in the latter half of the journey, leaving the Vellant clinging desperately to scrap wood, waiting for the nearshore defense fleet’s rescue. What infuriated the sailors of the defense fleet the most was discovering that the Vellant refugees involved in this death march comprised mostly the elderly, women, and children. Young men of the Southern Legion were on the front lines, or serving in the military if not. Those few men remaining were either wounded veterans or city workers like engineers or technicians. On the deck of a destroyer of the nearshore defense fleet, Captain Malok could not hold back his words. "Are you insane? Triumphant City has closed its borders. Even if you land in Vellant, you’ll never get there!" "Closed... closed borders?" The elderly man, wrapped in a blanket, looked bewildered, sneezed, and shivery replied, "We weren't informed... The guards told us there would be ships to meet us at the shore, but when we arrived, the larger ships were gone, leaving only flimsy craft!" His agitation grew, lips trembling, "Damn that Tyr... We reached the shore but found nothing! He tricked us all!" Before finishing, a middle-aged man wrapped in another blanket murmured. "Guards? So you're from Avent City, right? It was the 117th Regiment chasing us away. They're not gentle. They claimed the alliance invented some death agent, and claimed a plague was coming to kill all Vellants. Didn't mention anything about Marshal Juliusu's funeral or ships waiting, just tossed us into trucks." Hearing this exchange, a skinny woman joined in. "Heh... they told you that much? We live in a small town in northern Battoria. Didn't think the war would reach us, but before the alliance got near, it was our own who came beating." The old man’s eyes widened, as if hearing something unbelievable. "They dared to hit you?" The middle-aged woman grimaced, lowering her voice. "The auxiliary troops care for nothing. They dragged us onto trucks... Only then did they say they were sending us to Triumphant City. Damn them!" Clenching his fists, the blanket-wrapped man cursed. "Damn it..." On the deck, a cacophony of voices recounted their tales, filled with grievances shared among them. Chaos. Anger. And disbelief. These were the recounts from their voices, and the happenings in Battoria Province that Malok heard. Grinding his teeth until they almost fractured, he wanted nothing more than to march south and obliterate those responsible for driving Vellants into the sea. Seeing the hate and rage in his eyes, his deputy approached and quietly advised. "Stay calm... Our priority is saving people right now." "Save them..." Malok's mouth twisted bitterly, gazing southward with a look of fury, "No matter how many we save, they just keep pushing more into the sea!" The deputy lowered his voice, continuing to persuade. "You have just one destroyer. We can’t exactly drive it ashore… and war now would be walking into their trap!" Malok's eyes narrowed, suddenly grasping the gravity of the situation. The Southern Legion's forced march northward served an obvious purpose—directly opposing the border-sealing orders of the Guards and Triumphant City, employing a "human wave strategy" to breach their coastal isolation. He couldn't discern why Tyr pursued this course, but all evidence suggested they hoped the "death agent" mingled among the refugees would spread to Vellant Province, just an ocean away. The current control of the crisis by Triumphant City owes its stability to a 500,000-strong army ensuring border security and operating multiple quarantine zones. If war broke out, half of this force would be diverted to Battoria Province! Triumphant City wouldn't have resources for the refugees at the borders, allowing them to infiltrate the city, alongside a possible widespread infection with the Vellant populace suffering both war and plague. Striking first would enable the Southern Legion to fulfill logistical mobilization for war, providing them a pretext for conflict! But why? Malok's face was etched with confusion, his eyes blazing with disbelief. What could the Southern Legion’s leadership possibly achieve from Vellant's extinction? He wanted to believe the Alliance stole Vellant's genetic code, that the alliance concocted a "death agent" targeted at Vellant. At least this narrative would spare him spiraling into doubt and confusion. Otherwise, he'd question if the Southern Legion stole the genetic code themselves. They were indeed the only ones with opportunity to do so. As their desperation to spread the virus to Triumphant City indicated, their culpability seemed undeniable. Why else, after the Guards announced the "genetic code theft," would they act as if nothing happened, driving civilians outside Avent City under a clumsy guise like attending Marshal Julius' funeral... But the original conundrum remains. They are Vellant too, why would they do such a thing? Looking toward Avent City and the scattered planks, Captain Malok shouted his restrained frustration. "So what do we do? Just watch?" "Focus on saving people for now. Strategy isn't our decision," sighed the deputy, staring at the vast ocean. "The Academy's researchers have arrived... Let's hope they find a solution." Meanwhile, about ten kilometers from the destroyer, along the coastline. A convoy of Vellant soldiers, clad in hazmat suits, arrived at the beach in trucks under the guidance of their commanding officer. Their task was to establish quarantine zones and refugee assistance points. At the same time, a sleek, elongated silver aircraft approached from the east, landing steadily on a rocky patch roughly 200 meters from the beach. Its high-tech appearance and the emblem of the Academy starkly contrasted with the chaotic aftermath surrounding the area. As the hatch slowly opened, a group disembarked from the research vessel, descending its gangway. Standing nearby, Ye Shi looked at the refugees on the beach with a complex expression, clicking his tongue in disbelief. “Damn... How many people are there?” Gazing at the holographic display on his wrist, Jiang Xuezhou gravely announced, “According to Triumphant City, over five million survivors are expected to surge in from the direction of Whirlpool Sea, at a rate of 40,000 to 50,000 daily. The peak hasn’t even hit yet.” Ye Shi shook his head in confusion. “What’s the point of this madness? Are they stabbing themselves in the back? Is that Tyr guy crazy?” Jiang Xuezhou’s expression was stern. “I’m not sure about crazy… But they’ve clearly disregarded the fate of other Vellants entirely.” Due to her impressive performance in Bora Province, she had recently been promoted to C-level researcher, no longer the D-level assistant trailing her mentor. As a C-level researcher, she gained the authority to promote other researchers, her own lab, and a research vessel assigned by the Research Directorate. Her first assignment post-promotion was to respond to Triumphant City’s call for help and collaborate with researchers from the Alliance's Bio Research Institute to tackle the 'death agent' virus. Truthfully, a task of this magnitude wasn’t typically suited for a C-level researcher, but her mentor held significant influence in external affairs and intended to advance her career, leading this opportunity to fall into her lap. However, she’d rather her mentor have sent someone more specialized for such a life-and-death matter. Or at least someone with the right expertise! Nonetheless, orders were orders, and despite her unease, she’d have to forge ahead. Thankfully, the Alliance’s biotechnology isn’t much behind the Academy’s, so she should manage without much trouble. “To win, one must be harsher to their own than to their enemies… Perhaps that’s Tyr’s logic. As per the… Allied Intelligence, the death agent is an indiscriminate weapon. Even Vellant awakeners can get infected; it’s just a matter of odds.” Chen Yutong, her hair cascading over her shoulder, continued in a crisp tone from behind Jiang Xuezhou. “Rather than overanalyzing how our enemy plans to spook us, I suggest we get to work… like sorting patients out of the crowd to prevent further virus spread.” She glanced over at the soldiers not far away. Despite their protective suits, it was unrealistic to expect them to accurately identify patients. Thankfully, the Alliance had long been tracking the death agent, monitoring it since its prototype strains first appeared in Bora. They’d even developed detection reagents needed for screening patients. In the metaphorical race, they had gained the initial advantage. Yet despite this edge, Jiang Xuezhou’s face remained troubled. “The problem is, we only have 10,000 test kits, but there are over ten thousand people at this quarantine point alone, with almost 50,000 more pouring in daily.” Ye Shi immediately responded to her worry. “Simple. We can sort the refugees by arrival batch, assign them into groups of a thousand, then further into hundreds, and down to tens, keeping families together if possible. Conduct thousand-person screenings, isolate groups with infections, and narrow it down from hundreds to tens, then individual tests.” “In theory, four rounds should identify the death agent carriers.” The death agent requires a medium to spread, and infected individuals are likely to have overlapping movement trajectories. Therefore, clusters of cases may emerge. Consequently, based on landing time and location, cases will distribute within several limited sample ranges. Following this method, less than 200 test kits might be needed for 10,000 refugees, well within the 10,000 kits they brought. As for the subsequent refugee waves, additional batches can be sent from the Alliance. Implementing this strategy, Ye Shi felt like he was playing a pandemic simulation game. Jiang Xuezhou stood stunned for a moment, her eyes gradually brightening at his proposal. “That’s brilliant…” Overwhelmed by the unexpected praise, Ye Shi nearly choked on his own saliva and dryly coughed before replying. “Don’t say that… It’s just a grouping test, not some big achievement. Given time, you’d have thought of it too.” He had heard such methods were common in technical laboratories, and he didn’t believe she was unaware—perhaps just momentarily flustered. He had even more radical ideas, yet none necessary right now. Jiang Xuezhou blushed, sheepishly admitting, “I… I’m not from that field. I specialize in mechanics and AI.” Ye Shi couldn’t help but facepalm. “... Then why did the Academy send you here?” Jiang Xuezhou’s eyebrow twitched. “How would I know? It wasn’t my choice!” Seeing their bickering, Chen Yutong jested, “Alright, you two flirting openly isn’t appropriate right now. Follow Ye Shi's method—start the group testing.” Flirting? That wasn’t flirting at all! Jiang Xuezhou’s face reddened deeply, arms flailing, trying to explain herself, but Ye Shi preemptively voiced annoyance. “What’s with ‘little bro’? Hey, I’m not little anymore! I’ve been an adult for a while!” Everyone knew "Wasteland OL" was an R18 game. Minors couldn’t even touch the helmets. “Is that so?” Chen Yutong gave him a teasing glance, then looked at the lantern-faced Xuezhou, leaving them with a cryptic remark, “We’ll just leave it at that.” ... While Ye Shi attempted to prove his maturity to the woman, across in Triumphant City’s Veterans’ Home, the Battle Brother was in a mental duel with a centenarian. Frankly, when Lei Ze had suggested declaring war on the Southern Legion, the Battle Brother almost impulsively agreed, ready to say “sure”. In the past, he definitely would’ve chosen that path without hesitation. After all, wasn’t that the Pangolin way? Their fights always meant facing such adversities. But in an instant, he realized the folly behind such a move. The Southern Legion’s leadership couldn’t possibly ignore the consequences of urging Vellants toward Triumphant City for Marshal Julius' funeral with closed borders. They had clearly prepared for a rupture with Triumphant City, maybe even hoping for them to initiate conflict! It wasn’t hard to see—the Southern Legion and Triumphant City had bonds thicker than blood. These ties went beyond what the New Continent Federation and Far East Empire shared. Even as Triumphant City discarded the “Legion” moniker, Avent City held tight, perpetuating the Southern Legion’s emblem. This bond caused severe internal divides in the Southern Legion regarding Triumphant City. If the Southern Legion’s brass declared war on Triumphant City, more than half the troops would defect, and the rest wouldn’t have the heart to fight. But reverse the situation, and everything changes. If Triumphant City became the "betrayer," the Southern Legion’s leaders could rally their troops, transforming shock into ire, marching on Triumphant City with the guise of righteousness. Once the engines of war rev and Triumphant City’s forces are preoccupied, the death agent would infiltrate and support the Southern Legion’s agenda. It might not have been first on their list, but they clearly foresaw Triumphant City’s potential reaction, acceptable to them nonetheless. Once the virus reveals its true potency, any ensuing civil war will inevitably be disrupted. With "the plague targeting Vellant" spreading, public opinion on both sides will sway toward extreme isolationism... Within mere minutes, the Battle Atmosphere Team had clarified their strategy. Glancing at Lei Ze, whose grip had crushed the chair armrest, he silently cursed, “MMP.” The acting was strangely convincing. The old man undoubtedly knew that declaring war now was a colossal mistake. After all, having lived 172 years, what hadn’t he faced? He was even rescued from a death-laden laboratory by Marshal Julius himself. Such a man wouldn't succumb to anger; he'd have acted long ago if he had. There's only one explanation— The old geezer was testing him! Taking a deep breath, the Battle Atmosphere Team spoke firmly. “It's not time for war... Right now, saving lives is the priority.” “Just saving them?” Lei Ze frowned, his voice low. “Pardon my bluntness, but your mercy will only be seen as weakness. This beast has sunk its teeth into our flesh, and only by severing its head can we halt its bite.” “This isn't weakness, it’s composure,” the Battle Atmosphere Team replied earnestly, meeting the old man's gaze. “Commander Lei Ze, do you currently possess the sword that can sever this beast’s head?” Lei Ze didn't answer, intensely watching him. “I’ll assume you don’t,” the Battle Atmosphere Team continued. “Precisely because it’s biting into our arm, we must remain calm. We lack such a sword. Acting rashly would deplete our strength, allowing the beast to deepen our wounds in struggle, gaining the upper hand.” “What do you propose then?” Lei Ze sat back, his expression unreadable, awaiting a response. Breathing deeply, the Battle Atmosphere Team spoke calmly. “This beast has reached the end of its rope, putting all its strength into this last bite. If it were me, I’d hold onto that last tooth, letting it exhaust itself in the struggle... By then, it’ll be at our mercy.” A keen light flashed in Lei Ze’s eyes. “Speak specifically.” “By staying the course and using ‘no move’ as the best move,” the Battle Atmosphere Team said, matching Lei Ze's gaze. “For every person they send, we take them in, not only that, but we’ll rally every possible force to assist them in transportation! Even mobilize the New Federation, East Empire, and North Empire to aid our compatriots suffering in Battoria Province.” In this process of population drift, they would naturally dismantle the Southern Legion! Looking into the old man's bright eyes, the Battle Atmosphere Team clenched his fist, declaring resolutely. “If the Southern Legion plans to use Vellants as their bulwark, then we’ll dismantle their bricks!” To be continued...