This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 314: Warrior Action!

Chapter 314: Chapter 314: Warrior Action!

Late at night.

West State City, draped in silence, resembled a dead city, except for the sparse lights flickering in District Four, where the lake had overflowed.

Inside a crudely built sentry post, Grey Dog, wrapped in beast skin, yawned and tossed a damp log into the fire pit before languidly strolling over to a lookout hole.

Although the weather had grown warmer in April, the air in West State City remained chillingly damp.

Especially in District Four.

The entire district was submerged in water.

Not far off, in the streets, the water glistened, dark blobs floated on the surface, indiscernible whether they were rotting wood tangled in algae or the shells of Crack Claw Crabs.

Despite the numerous unchanging aspects of life here, it remained the prime location for setting up camp.

The backflow of lake water paralyzed all the underground facilities in the area, eliminating worries about the elusive Guerrilla Team.

Moreover, the Crack Claw Crabs active in this region were the nemesis of all living creatures, rendering anyone unfamiliar with the area utterly immobilized.

So...

What exactly was the point of him standing guard?

Watching the silent, deserted streets, Grey Dog yawned again, reminiscing about his time previously spent in the central part of the River Valley Province.

Those days were probably his most carefree.

They had swept through relentlessly, turning everything in their path to scorched earth, decimating and plundering everything, doing whatever they desired to the captured slaves... No one could stop them, and no one was their match.

However, since their push southward, misfortune had continuously beset them.

First, they stumbled in Qingquan City, followed shortly by grim news from Qingstone County. Not only was their southward advance blocked, but they were even pushed back by a group of Blue Ground Mice.

Maybe seeing hope in those Blue Ground Mice, the recent guerrilla attacks had become more frequent.

Those survivors hiding underground, like rats, were attacking their patrols using homemade pipes and crossbows, throwing cans filled with Black Powder into their bullet and Dynamite manufacturing workshops and garages.

Grey Dog was slightly distracted when, suddenly, the sound of a creaking door echoed from downstairs.

Hearing the movement below, the looter instinctively tightened his grip on his submachine gun and called out into the dark corridor.

"Who!"

"It’s me, coming to change guard!" responded a voice from the gloomy staircase as a thin, monkey-like man approached.

Relieved it was an ally, Grey Dog relaxed.

"Change guard? Isn’t it another two hours?"

The man responded.

"Orders from Lord Jin Ya, starting tonight, six-hour shifts reduced to four; one shift a day changed to two."

Grey Dog was dumbfounded.

He was initially glad to hear about the shift change, eager to return to his bed, but now someone was telling him he still had another four hours to stand.

"So you’re saying... I have one more shift?"

The clearly also unwilling man replied gruffly.

"Yes, it’s probably some rotten idea from Dylon, suggesting we increase our guard against steal-aways by expanding night patrols from the surroundings of District Four to the entire city."

He had respected that man a few months ago, but that was months ago. Their forces had been invincible a few months ago, but now?

Like a sick old dog, they were curled up in a rubbish heap. He hated the damp air here, the endless attacks, and especially those filthy rats.

Thinking carefully, even without that man’s suggestions, they could easily thrash those settlements of survivors blocking their path.

If not for that damn caution, they should have moved into the houses of those Blue Ground Mice in the "North Suburb" last winter.

Grey Dog was astonished.

"Ambush? We are twenty kilometers away from the front line."

Separated by the Pine Forest Pass, how did they plan to get here?

Surely they weren’t planning to tunnel through.

"Don’t know; orders are orders," the man said irritably, stuffing a wrinkled map into Grey Dog’s arms, "Stop asking and get moving! If you delay until the change of guard departs, you’ll end up going alone!"

Despite a million reluctances, Grey Dog took the map and, holding his submachine gun, hurried downstairs.

His shift position was outside District Four; they needed to take a raft out and perform patrol duties along the way.

Many survivors took advantage of the darkness to look for food, and the guerrilla forces mostly became active around this time. Walking alone at night was akin to suicide.

The raft was already waiting downstairs.

As Grey Dog boarded the raft with his nine brothers, they began their journey. When passing an alleyway, he finally saw clearly what was floating there.

It was a billboard entangled in algae.

Grey Dog couldn’t understand the writing, but the long shape eerily resembled a coffin.

Spooked by the thought, he shifted his gaze away from the billboard and began chatting intermittently with his raft-mates.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by anyone, several hard-to-spot dark spots briefly flickered with the glimmering water lights in the smelly ditch.

An air force formation, consisting of twenty-five aircraft, had already arrived right above their heads...

...

In the night sky.

Holding the control stick, Mosquito, piloting the W-2 ground attack aircraft, shouted excitedly into the communications channel.

"This is the Goblin Corps Air Force. Package delivered to the target zone overhead. Ready to commence action anytime!"

At an altitude of three thousand meters, plus the high-altitude air currents, there was no need to worry about being heard by those below as long as they did not open fire or drop bombs.

At this moment, Night Ten, secured tightly to the back of the pilot’s seat by nylon ties, had almost lost all sensation in his ears and cheeks due to the whooshing airflow outside the cockpit.

His entire being was numb.

Otherwise, he would certainly have protested to Mosquito about being referred to as cargo.

In fact, Night Ten’s current situation was indeed no different from cargo.

The W-2 glider was a single-seat aircraft with no spare seats for passengers.

However, this wasn’t a problem for the "fully realistic Virtual Reality Game."

There was just enough space left between the rear of the cabin and the pilot’s seat to cram in one person, still allowing for take-off.

Players themselves didn’t press F to enter the airplane; even without a seat in the cabin, they could still create a spot for themselves.

As for why Night Ten was here?

Well, that’s a long story.

This morning, they were still passionately shooting at the Looter in the frontline trenches. They planned to hold their positions for 48 hours, but before noon, they were called back to the rear and tasked with a special mission.

At first, Night Ten was excited, thinking their standout performance in the battle had triggered a hidden mission, until he heard the specifics of the task.

According to the combat plan formulated by the headquarters, they needed to board the Goblin Corps’ gliders, parachute into the urban area of West State City, and destroy enemy strategic facilities to buy time for the frontline troops.

Their equipment had already been pre-dropped in air boxes which included disassembled locators from VM, searchable even in offline mode.

Although the Rat Brothers had previously built a makeshift communications tower in West State City, it had been without power for over a month due to being relocated to Qingstone County.

They needed to establish a new outpost using the radio in the parachuting box or repair the Rat Brothers’ communication tower.

Since it was an airborne operation behind enemy lines, the risk factor was very high, and they could only carry small arms and a few support weapons, with equipment like Type 5 and 6 exoskeletons being restricted.

However, they were not alone; there would be nightly air drops of supplies.

Thanks to the popularity of silk stockings in Giant Stone City, the New Alliance’s chemical plants had long mastered the technology of "producing nylon from biomass oil," solving the parachute material issue.

Previously, while Goblin Technology was developing gliders, they had actually produced a batch of parachutes, but because planes were more valuable than people, they did not distribute them to the troops.

But here was the problem.

Night Ten had never parachuted before!

Right now, he was panicking.

As is well known, parachuting untrained and alone is extremely dangerous, akin to slipping while playing Russian roulette and shooting oneself in the head twice.

Especially parachuting at night, when it’s impossible to see the ground clearly; the ways to die are indeed plentiful.

But if asked whether he could jump or not?

Well, of course, he could.

The biggest challenges in parachuting were folding the parachute and landing. Opening the chute and controlling body balance, while difficult under particular conditions and requiring calm, were not as hard as imagined if one did not encounter severe weather.

Having an expert player fold the parachute solved fifty percent of the problems.

As for the remaining fifty percent?

Just be more careful next time.

The mission code name was "Warrior." All players from the Burning Corps were to participate, and the Goblin Corps’ Air Force formation would drop them in batches.

Night Ten felt that changing the word "Warrior" to "Freeloader" would not be out of place at all.

Within the communication channel, the noisy static buzzed incessantly.

Then the Manager’s voice came through.

"...proceed as planned!"

"Roger!"

The communication channel switched to all-team voice, and Mosquito excitedly continued shouting.

"Burning Corps brothers, our flight has arrived; remember your mission! Remember to open your parachute before crashing and splattering!"

"Little Fish will pray for your safety, Lord Manager will remember your loyalty, best of luck!"

"Now, jump——!"

From behind the cockpit of the glider, black dots were dropped one by one, like seagulls dropping poop while circling the harbor.

The comparison might not be quite right, but it was vivid enough.

If the parachute malfunctioned, the shape of the fall from over three thousand meters high would not look much prettier than a seagull’s poop.

After releasing the nylon straps around his legs, waist, and shoulders, Night Ten grabbed the edge of the cabin, feeling his legs trembling.

Sitting in front, Mosquito couldn’t help but urge him.

"F*ck! Just jump, dammit! If you dilly-dally any longer, I’ll run out of fuel!"

Night Ten couldn’t help but retort.

"Your electric plane doesn’t use any damn fuel!"

"Out of electricity works too, hurry up! Stop whining, I need to go back for another trip!"

Night Ten swallowed.

"Last question... what if the parachute doesn’t open?"

Hearing this, Mosquito laughed and cheekily said.

"No worries, you’ll be fine in three days!"

"Damn!"

Seeing the guy still hesitating, Mosquito got impatient.

"I’ll give you ten seconds. If you don’t jump, I’ll help you."

"F*ck, don’t mess around!"

"Ten, nine..."

Mosquito began to count down.

Seeing his teammates had jumped, Night Ten couldn’t stay cowardly any longer; he gritted his teeth, braced himself, and leaped out toward the outside of the cabin.

The moment his body left the cabin, he felt his heart stop.

But that was merely a momentary feeling.

As the reference objects passed by his side and he began to freefall, the primal fear dissipated instantly.

Night Ten felt like he had become a bird.

Fair is fair, the feeling was quite exhilarating, even if his eardrums were bothering him and felt like they had exploded.

The Looters had no radar nor high-altitude searchlights; although they couldn’t see the situation on the ground, the people on the ground couldn’t see them either.

Silently counting in his head, Night Ten suddenly pulled on the shoulder rope, and with a soft puff sound, a huge lifting force grabbed his back.

Simultaneously, his descending speed rapidly reduced...

The handle to control the parachute’s direction was right by the parachute cord, but with only two hours of theoretical training, Night Ten had no idea how to use it. He adjusted the direction by feel, nervously praying in his heart.

Perhaps the Dog planner heard his prayers.

His luck was not too bad; he landed on the roof of a three-story villa’s garage. Had he veered slightly to the side, he might have crashed into a wall.

His feet solidly hit the ground; Night Ten stumbled, almost falling off the garage roof. Grimacing in pain, he stabilized himself, cut the parachute cords with his dagger, carefully avoided the rusty shed by the garage door, and slid down the side.

"Safe landing... damn, that scared the hell out of me."

It was a close call!

Having confirmed the safety of his surroundings, Night Ten immediately checked his equipment.

Apart from the VM strapped to his arm, he now only had a Pu-9 submachine gun, two 9mm magazines, and a few pieces of dry food and a water bottle.

As for his sniper rifle and other equipment, they were all packed in the airdrop box.

Just as Night Ten was about to check the location of the airdrop box and his teammates through the VM, there was a rustling noise nearby.

Due to the constant buzzing in his ears, the sound had almost reached him before he heard it.

Realizing what was happening, Night Ten had a jolt through his body and immediately pointed his gun in that direction, safety off.

"Don’t shoot, it’s me! Old White."

Old White called out in a low voice.

Hearing Old White’s voice, Night Ten’s pounding heart finally calmed a bit, and he leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck... I almost got scared to death too."

"Relax, don’t be so tense," Old White chuckled and walked over, patting him on the shoulder, "Come on, the airdrop box is nearby. Let’s recover the equipment and radio first, then join up with Fang Chang and the others."

After saying that, Old White took the lead.

Though Night Ten wanted to rest a bit more before moving, he was aware that they were deep in the territory of the Chewing Bone Tribe now, and it wasn’t the time to rest.

The two moved along the edge of the ruins, cautiously guarding against dangers that lurked in the dark. Soon, they arrived at the entrance of an abandoned residential area.

The street opposite was deathly quiet.

Not a single sound, not even the noise of a rat gnawing could be heard.

Old White didn’t immediately cross, but carefully observed the street situation.

Looking over to Old White, who had ducked down next to him to catch his breath, Night Ten finally regained his energy and asked in a low voice.

"Speaking of which, how did you land so quickly?"

Old White casually replied.

"...You were dawdling. I was on the ground waiting for ages before you came down."

Night Ten curiously asked.

"Why aren’t you panicked at all?"

"To say I’m not panicked isn’t quite true; after all, it’s someone else’s pack. But it doesn’t matter in the game, since dying here isn’t real death."

Seeing Night Ten still picking at his ear, Old White paused and then said, "If your ears feel blocked, you might try holding your nose and exhaling forcefully, but don’t make any noise."

"I’ll give it a try..."

Night Ten, uncomfortable from the blocked ears, immediately tried Old White’s method, pinching his nose and blowing.

At first, he couldn’t find the knack for it and tried for a long time without success, but when he got it right, his eardrums suddenly felt as if they were popped open by the air.

"...What the fuck?! It actually worked?"

Now that his hearing was back to normal, Night Ten looked at Old White in surprise.

"Have you done this before?"

"Sort of... Cut the chatter and keep up."

While they were talking, Old White had already checked the safety of the street, gave Night Ten a signal, and was the first to dash out from the cover towards the other side.

Without hesitation, Night Ten immediately followed.

The two were quickly moving towards the direction of the airdrop box, but just then, rapid gunfire erupted from a nearby street.

"Pu-9 sounds!"

Old White’s heart tightened and he cursed under his breath, immediately taking Night Ten with him into a building nearby.

From a distance came chaotic shouting followed by intense gunfire, and soon a green signal flare rose into the sky.

Night Ten took a deep breath and skillfully merged his consciousness with the surrounding environment, perceiving the faint vibrations.

"About twenty people... about four hundred to five hundred meters away!"

This was the limit of his active perception distance.

Matching the signals on the VM map, Old White frowned.

"It’s the Smoking Quitting Brother! They must have run into a patrol!"

Their landing spot was eight kilometers north of Section Four, based on the information provided by the Difficult for the Strong Brother, the Ya Clan’s night patrol wasn’t supposed to roam this far.

Had there been a change in the patrol?

Night Ten looked at Old White.

"Should we go help them?"

"First to the airdrop box. We have to recover the equipment and radio before the Looters’ reinforcements arrive!" Old White made a decision in three seconds.

It was now early morning, pitch dark outside, and rushing to rescue without restoring communication wasn’t wise.

Just looking at the blinking marks on the map, they didn’t even know how many teammates were still alive.

The urgent task now was to head to the airdrop box, retrieve their equipment, and then deploy the radio high up to restore communication with this area and the headquarters.

As for the Smoking Quitting Brother...

Old White decided to trust his teammates.

"Alright!"

Night Ten nodded and immediately followed Old White, stepping over the debris as they left the abandoned building.

As they moved swiftly away from the firefight area, the entire neighborhood had turned into a chaotic mess.

Holding a submachine gun, Grey Dog sprayed bullets into a narrow alley up ahead, his face filled with panic.

Minutes before.

While heading to change shift, Grey Dog was wondering how the Blue Ground Mice could ambush them, but before they reached the changeover spot, he saw a dark shadow fall from the sky and slam into the ground with a thud.

There were only two flashlights in the entire squad, and the rest were holding torches; beyond a short distance, it was pitch dark.

Hearing that noise, everyone was startled, and Grey Dog quickly shone his flashlight there, only to see a pile of flesh.

On the cracked concrete road, red and white were scattered about, barely recognizable as human.

Grey Dog, who had been relatively calm, was instantly dumbfounded, unclear about what had happened.

However, he had no time left to think.

Almost at the instant the flashlight came on, the alley right across erupted with rapid gunfire.

Sparks darted across the street, catching them off guard with this sudden strafing. The man in the lead was riddled with bullets and fell instantly, while the others immediately dropped their torches and sought cover to return fire.

The street was in chaos.

Not just from the gunfire.

But also from the shouts of teammates.

"Damn it, I got shot in the arm!"

"That’s the sound of a Pu-9! Those aren’t guerrillas!"

"The New Alliance?! How is that possible?! Have the Blue Jackets really made it here?!"

Who were the attackers?

Where did the people across come from?!

Rumors abounded, and the patrol team was like frightened birds.

"Quick! Call for reinforcements!"

Hearing the captain’s panicked shouts from inside a storefront, Grey Dog, despite also being terrified, mustered the courage to crawl over, picked up the signal gun the captain had thrown, and fired it straight up.

With a long "whoosh," the flare, shining green, soared into the sky.

Though the faint light was not enough to illuminate the street, it somewhat restored the morale of the surrounding men.

Meanwhile, stationed two kilometers away, the camp noticed the signal flare and immediately dispatched a truck, with a hundred men armed with rifles and guns, rushing toward the area of the gunfire.

Not only were Grey Dog and Looter beside him dumbfounded, but Quit Smoking in the opposite alley was as well.

He was originally planning to meet up with nearby teammates, had just met "Lost Rookie," and was about to look for "Corner Old Six" when he stumbled upon the Looter’s patrol.

Quit Smoking immediately felt something was off. The calmness of Brother Old Six was too suspicious; the Looter’s patrol was nearly stepping on their faces, yet their coordinates were fixed in the middle of the road, motionless.

However...

By the time he sensed something amiss, it was already too late.

The flashlight from across was suddenly directed at them, and the rookie beside him, thinking their position had been exposed, didn’t think twice before pulling the trigger, sending a burst across.

The sound of the gun, akin to an old typewriter, ignited the street’s powder keg.

Caught off guard for a moment, the other side soon recovered and took cover, exchanging fire with them.

"Are you insane! We only have four magazines combined!"

After being pulled back and yelled at by Quit Smoking, the Lost Rookie gradually realized the mess he had made, nervously speaking,

"So, what do we do now..."

Quit Smoking didn’t reply but pulled the pin of a hand grenade, counted down, and threw it, forcing the Looters about to leave cover to retreat.

Then he quickly raised his gun and swept across the storefront windows, knocking down Looters who had nearly reached the alley entrance.

The scene was chaotic.

Using the light from the torches dropped on the street, he finally saw clearly the mess of bodies on the street and couldn’t help but click his tongue.

What a sight.

Their heads were blown off!

Recalling the harrowing experience when parachuting in earlier, Quit Smoking could roughly guess what Brother Old Six had encountered a few minutes ago.

Either his parachute hadn’t opened,

Or he opened it too late...

"What else can we do," Quit Smoking cussed as he changed his magazine, "let’s just retreat!"

Heading to the rendezvous point was out of the question.

Luring the Looters there wouldn’t only sabotage himself but also his teammates. Even if they were capable fighters, they couldn’t handle one against ten.

Now, all they could do was to escape as far as possible from the drop area to draw the Looters away.

Only after their teammates retrieved the air-dropped box and set up the radio to restore communications in the area would they have a chance to organize effective resistance or even call for air support.

In fact, the players who engaged in the firefight with the Looters were not the only ones.

About three kilometers from them, near the ruins of a power plant, two unlucky fellows had deviated from their course while descending, landing directly near a watchtower belonging to the Ya Clan in the southern part of the city.

Both sides were bewildered.

And both instinctively pulled their triggers.

At that moment, the Goblin Corps Air Force formation had just returned to the north of the Dawn City.

Standing at the edge of the airfield, Chu Guang, who was scrolling through the player list, paused briefly.

"Another one dead?"

The first batch of parachuting players totaled 22, and now only 14 remained online, with a survival rate of just 63%.

However, the one who just died...

Didn’t seem like he died from a failed parachute.

Since the connection to the Morphogenesis Field was not based on electromagnetic waves, even without restored communications, Chu Guang still could keep track of the players’ general directions and login status.

The survival rate was highest among Agile system players, followed by Body Constitution System, then Perception.

Staring at the quiet northern night sky, Chu Guang muttered to himself.

"Probably started fighting."

Though it happened a bit earlier than expected, it didn’t really matter.

The objective of this operation was to create chaos for the Ya Clan, regardless of the methods and means.

West State City must be in total disarray by now.

For the Looters stationed there, tonight was destined to be an unforgettable night.

Not far away, under the guidance of lights, Goblin Corps planes gradually landed on the runway.

Turning his gaze from the north, Chu Guang looked to Wrench standing beside him and ordered,

"Get the ground crew and the airborne soldiers of Echelon No.2 ready for another round of air-drops in half an hour!"

Wrench snapped to attention and answered crisply,

"Yes!"

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