This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 458: This person’s head is given away without any acting

Chapter 458: Chapter 458: This person’s head is given away without any acting

Forward Base Meeting Room.

Yi Chuan, who had rushed over from Embassy Street, finally caught up with Chu Guang as he emerged from the shelter and wasted no time getting to the point upon meeting him.

"Is McCullen in your hands?"

Chu Guang stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

"That’s correct."

Yi Chuan paused, slightly taken aback.

He had thought Chu Guang would beat around the bush or feign ignorance, not expecting him to admit it outright.

Seeing the guy not saying anything for a while, Chu Guang, although guessing what he probably wanted to say, still politely asked.

"Is there a problem?"

Snapping back to reality, Yi Chuan cleared his throat lightly.

"Uh, it’s not a big deal, the council asked me to inquire if you could transfer McCullen to our custody. After all, he’s an important war criminal. It’s somewhat inappropriate to have him digging for coal on your end, and it could affect subsequent ceasefire talks."

"Ceasefire talks?" Chu Guang looked at him with a strange expression, "We’re not even close to that, are we?"

Knowing Chu Guang would react this way, Yi Chuan patiently continued.

"We’ve already liberated Oasis No.3, and we’ve captured McCullen... Our leverage is sufficient to make the Army sit down at the negotiation table in earnest."

"Negotiate what?"

"Of course, a withdrawal. Their supply lines have collapsed, they have no ability to continue their offensive, and on our end, we can’t breach their defenses in a short time. Continuing the fight is nothing more than a war of attrition, consuming each other’s living forces... A ceasefire has a realistic basis now. They’ll consider it."

Seeing that Chu Guang was about to say something, Yi Chuan quickly went on.

"Don’t be in a hurry to reject it, why not listen to our proposal first."

Chu Guang nodded, his eyes signaling Yi Chuan to continue.

Yi Chuan paused, then continued.

"We plan to exchange McCullen and a number of other prisoners of war, as well as the Iron Heart, for the crew of the Pioneer. As for the issue of No.0 Shelter, it can be temporarily set aside... Of course, the Iron Heart is currently in use by you, and we wouldn’t ask you to give it up for free. In return, we would leave the Pioneer to you. What do you think?"

Objectively speaking, the proposal was fairly sincere.

A single Pioneer was indeed much more useful to the Alliance than an airship retrofitted from the core of an escort ship. That thing is like a mobile industrial district that could easily solve an entire division’s supply needs, provided there were sufficient raw materials.

Otherwise, the Army wouldn’t covet it so much, constantly hounding and intercepting it, even going to great lengths to send the Iron Heart after Luo Hua.

However, a hint of displeasure still rose on Chu Guang’s face.

Was he the kind of person who would betray allies for personal gain?

"What about Oasis No.3?"

Yi Chuan was stunned for a moment, his expression odd as he looked at Chu Guang, apparently surprised at the sudden mention of this seemingly irrelevant location.

Seeing that Chu Guang wasn’t joking, Yi Chuan steadied himself and said seriously.

"It’s not very realistic to ask the Army to give up territories they’ve already occupied, but we can put pressure on them to make their own troops withdraw from Oasis No.3... As for the rest, it’s up to the survivors of Luo Xia Province to sort it out themselves."

Although this was a high-EQ response, the implication was obvious – they were prepared to sell out the Honey Badger Kingdom.

This move wasn’t entirely indefensible.

The enemy of one’s enemy can be a friend of convenience, but such temporary friendships are based on the need to continue fighting.

If a ceasefire can be achieved to stop the Army’s further eastward expansion, an oasis alone is something that could be sacrificed from a corporate standpoint.

After all, those people were not on board the chariot; they just happened to be squatting in the same trench. If they were to be blamed, it would be for their inability to even hold out for a week.

To be honest, Chu Guang didn’t want to fight either. The Alliance was just getting started, and peaceful development was crucial at this time. Of course, peace was more in the Alliance’s interest.

But the premise had to be real peace.

Not just both sides taking a breather to continue the fight later.

"Even if it’s up to the survivors of Luo Xia Province to sort it out themselves, that should be after we have liberated Oasis No.3 and disbanded the Falcon Kingdom’s military weapons."

Yi Chuan paused for two seconds after hearing this, then smiled wryly.

"My friend... do you think that’s realistic?"

"Why not?" Chu Guang countered.

Yi Chuan offered a reminder.

"The Army has dispatched ten Clone Groups to the front line."

Chu Guang responded without hesitation.

"We will naturally take care of it."

Yi Chuan grew somewhat anxious.

"And after that? What if they send another ten Clone Groups? They have as many of those two-year consumables as they want. Can you finish them off?"

"It’s precisely because we can’t finish them off that we plan to settle this problem once and for all," Chu Guang said, gazing intently into his eyes, "My friend, didn’t we agree to drive out that pack of jackals to the last one?"

"... That’s the ultimate goal, but we didn’t expect to achieve it all at once. That’s simply unrealistic," Yi Chuan shook his head, continuing earnestly, "Let’s take what we can get."

Chu Guang’s expression remained unchanged.

"We can take what we can get, but only after the fight is over, not halfway through. Our people have shed a lot of blood, and we’ve barely gained a slight advantage, getting our hands around the throat of that wolf. If we don’t take this opportunity to twist its neck, I won’t be able to sleep."

Yi Chuan fell silent for a while.

Perhaps realizing there would be no further progress, he sighed in resignation and said.

"Back to the first issue, at least extradite General McCullen to us—"

However, his concession did not lead to compromise from his ally. Chu Guang remained implacable, shaking his head.

"Discussing the placement of prisoners of war is premature. Even if we were to discuss it, it would have to wait until after the war is over."

Seeing the guy stubbornly not giving an inch, Yi Chuan nearly spit out a mouthful of blood, his face turning red as he exclaimed,

"I can’t explain this to the council!"

Looking at his face, Chu Guang knew he had pushed this honest man to the brink and quickly adopted a more conciliatory tone.

"It’s not that I want to make it difficult for you, but the entire Alliance won’t agree to a ceasefire now... How about this, I promise you we will end this war by the end of the year."

Yi Chuan clenched his teeth.

"If the war hasn’t ended by the end of the year?"

Chu Guang spoke in a relaxed tone.

"If it hasn’t ended by the end of the year, then I’ll agree to your terms and sit down for a talk with the Army."

...

Personal relationships are one thing, but collective interests are another. When representing the Alliance and corporations in negotiations, Chu Guang didn’t give Yi Chuan much face.

The reason he had thrown McLellan into the coal pit was to prevent him from having too much contact with the corporations, leaving too many fantasies to the old friends on the East Coast.

The council was made up of many people, and the majority’s opinion was inevitably swayed by the number of votes.

"Unwavering support" and "reluctant to spend money on the war" seemed like contradictory stances, but on corporations, they weren’t contradictory --- rather, that was the norm.

Chu Guang was very clear that when it was time to take a firm stance, one had to be uncompromising, and one couldn’t be bashful just because one was relying on others.

If he opened a loophole and handed McLellan over to the corporations, the East Coast council would soon start arguing about "whether to negotiate separately with the Army using McLellan" and if anything unpredictable emerged from the bickering, it would add uncertainty to the war situation.

At least in this war, he didn’t think that was a matter up for debate.

After leaving Chu Guang’s place, Yi Chuan returned to Embassy Street, fretting over how to write the report for the council.

Just then, Yun Yi was there, too. Seeing his worried expression, she couldn’t help but speak up.

"Is there a result?"

Yi Chuan shook his head.

"No."

Yun Yi frowned slightly and put down her crossed arms.

"I’ll go and talk to him."

Yi Chuan quickly stopped her.

"Don’t... we’ve made some progress. Take it slow. Leave this to me."

Yun Yi stared at him for a moment, then suddenly spoke.

"No offense, but you’re too accommodating to them."

"We’ve poured in billions to help them fight this war, to upgrade their industries -- we are the investors! If you don’t speak firmly, those survivors will only think you’re easy to bully, they might even take an inch and climb over your head, just like now... If you can’t handle it, I will submit a report to the council, asking them to replace you with someone who can better represent corporate interests."

Yi Chuan didn’t know how to retort and said with a wry smile,

"I’ll try again... give me some time."

...

Unable to withstand Yi Chuan’s persistent nagging, Chu Guang eventually made concessions, transferring McLellan and his deputy from the coal mine in West State City to a separate small room.

This wasn’t entirely a demand of the council.

Rather, according to Yi Chuan, by the end of the month, Ideal City planned to send journalists to interview General McLellan and other captured officers.

If those journalists found out about the Alliance’s suspicion of "prisoner abuse," it would undoubtedly cost the Alliance points on the reputation it had established with difficulty.

According to Yi Chuan, the residents of Ideal City preferred to see the Alliance convince prisoners with reason, to enlighten the captives with the "glorious light of civilization," making them realize their actions were wrong and barbaric, and truly repent from their hearts.

Naturally, Chu Guang scoffed at this.

Throughout history, what has tamed the beast has never been civilization, but rather the whip, the club, and small boys. If you really want them to realize their mistakes, better send them to the coal pits and let them understand the difference between humans and beasts through labor.

Moreover, compared to the way those Weilante People treated slaves and other survivors, the treatment of the Alliance was already quite merciful.

But considering the Alliance still needed support from the old friends, Chu Guang didn’t say much more.

Anyway, the number of POWs in the Alliance was fast approaching thirty percent of the total population.

They wouldn’t miss a couple from the coal pit.

...

In the southeast of Oasis No.3.

The Old Soldier, who had been bragging on the back lines for more than a month, finally caught an opportunity to join the front line, moving to a new place to continue squandering supplies.

A desert-colored jeep with no top stopped at the foot of a sand dune.

Following Officer Coleway out of the vehicle, the Old Soldier glanced around at the position.

He saw tangled and crisscrossing trenches connecting the overlapping hills into a mass, making the terrain look as if it were studded with gun muzzles.

Besides the trenches reinforced with wood and sandbags, the position also housed camouflaged machine gun bunkers and anti-aircraft gun positions half buried in the sand.

More than one hundred thousand Clone Infantry were dispersed along the tens of kilometers long frontline, turning the whole area into an iron barrel -- so sturdy that not even a fly could penetrate it.

After getting out of the vehicle, Coleway turned to the soldiers waiting by the shelter and commanded,

"Inform the acting leader of the Centurion’s thousand team to bring all his brothers here for assembly."

"Yes, Officer!"

The soldier saluted sharply and immediately ran off to a nearby anti-cannon hole. Soon, he returned at a jog, bringing an officer with him.

"Acting leader of the Centurion’s thousand team, Buford, reporting for duty!"

After a short wait,

The various squads squatting in the trenches also gradually left their battle positions. Under the Centurion’s command, they moved next to the shelter for assembly, barely standing in a reasonably neat formation.

To be honest, if the Old Soldier hadn’t seen the ferocious way those Clone soldiers fought near North suburb of Qingquan City, he simply couldn’t imagine how strong their combat power could be.

Unlike normally developed clones,

These Clone soldiers mostly had dull expressions, slow reactions, and were carrying various obvious or subtle physiological defects or injuries from the last battle.

Their only advantage was an eightfold accelerated growth rate. They could reach the physical fitness of a sixteen-year-old in just two years, peak strength in three years, and enter old age in five years. Shortly after retirement, they could be dealt with.

In fact, no Clone soldier ever lived to retire. Those congenital physiological defects were precisely to prevent them from living too long and becoming a burden on society.

This technology was obviously inhumane during the Prosperity Epoch.

But in the Wasteland Era, where nuclear bombs were tossed around casually, obviously, no one would care about such trivial issues.

"Our thousands of leaders team is responsible for the G35 Defense Zone, and you’re in charge of the G35-7 sector... From today onwards, these men are all under your command!"

Standing beside the Old Soldier, Coleway looked at the over one hundred densely packed Clone soldiers in front of the trench, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction.

What a pity the supplies couldn’t keep up.

If the ammunition had been just a bit more plentiful, there would have been no need for them to retreat; with this hundred-thousand-strong army, trampling the Alliance would have been a cakewalk.

"Can they understand what I’m saying?" the Old Soldier couldn’t help but complain.

"Of course they can, how could they not?"

A smile appeared on Coleway’s face as he patted the man’s shoulder.

"I know what you’re worried about, but there’s no need to worry at all. Though they may look a bit dull, they’re anything but dull in battle. Once they see blood, they’ll turn into fearless mad dogs, fighting until the very last one... Commanding them is much easier than commanding regular soldiers."

After a pause, he continued.

"Moreover, the Centurions here will assist you with your work. They’re all officers from the Falcon Kingdom, having received professional military training, so if you encounter an issue that’s hard to decide on, you can consult their opinions more."

Coleway was not worried about the combat power of the Pangolin.

His bravery and loyalty had been tested in practice, but a good soldier might not necessarily make a good general; he still had to go through the baptism of war, proving that in the art of command, he had abilities no less than anyone else.

It was a rare opportunity that had arisen, and Coleway planned to nurture him.

Aware of the significance of this opportunity, the Old Soldier took a deep breath and nodded earnestly.

"I’ll remember that."

Thinking the expression was due to nerves about the upcoming battle, Coleway gave a grin and patted the shoulder of the man in front of him.

"Relax a bit, there shouldn’t be any fighting in the short term, but it’s better to be safe than sorry... Anyway, take care of yourself, stay safe, and always be cautious."

Leaving these words behind, Coleway got into the nearby jeep and headed back the way he had come.

Watching the rolling dust disappear at the end of the dirt road, the Old Soldier’s expression remained unchanged, but inside he sighed softly.

If only things were really that optimistic.

Yesterday on the Forum, he had revealed his responsibility for the defensive line, and those idle bums began clamoring that they wanted to send him a "big gift."

Figuring the attack would likely come at night, the Old Soldier planned to first take a couple of rounds at the position to get a feel for the terrain and make his performance more convincing.

"Your name... it’s Buford, right?" the Old Soldier looked at the former acting team leader, whose status had now reverted to vice-centurion, serving as his own deputy.

The man snapped to attention and gave a military salute.

"Yes, sir!"

The Old Soldier nodded, his face solemn, and glanced over the soldiers present before continuing.

"Starting now, I will be your commanding officer. No matter where you come from, whether noble or civilian, now you have only one identity—that of soldiers under my command! The only thing you need to do is to adhere strictly to discipline, follow my orders, and do whatever I tell you to do. Do you understand?"

The clones swayed their heads in confusion, their faces not looking very bright.

However, their commanders were still of normal intelligence and quickly stood at attention, belting out in response.

"Understood!"

"Good!"

The Old Soldier nodded with satisfaction and then looked at Buford, "Have the brothers return to their positions, and you take me to the position to have a look."

Buford snapped to attention and saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

The discipline of the officers trained by the Army was, indeed, impeccable.

Moreover, officers who came from the ranks of attendants were of low status and had no chance of promotion unless special circumstances arose. Hence, no one took the initiative to provoke the "Pangolin" who had just arrived.

In addition to that, Buford could tell that this newly parachuted-in Centurion was not only powerful, being one of the rare Awakeners, but also had a not-so-shallow relationship with their Thousands of leaders. Therefore, his words carried a tinge of flattery.

The Old Soldier, however, didn’t take his flattery to heart; he simply went through the motions of affirming his work, and then indirectly inquired about the supply situation.

He asked about everything including how many bullets each Soldier had on hand, how many machine guns were in position, how many rifles, and the composition of the squad, and so on.

A hundred team was roughly equivalent to a company, and a thousand team roughly to an Army; by understanding the company-level firepower, one could generally extrapolate the Army’s firepower as a whole.

As soon as the new Centurion began inquiring about ammunition, Buford immediately started complaining.

"... We haven’t seen a supply truck with ammunition for a long time, soldiers on average have less than sixty rounds each, and machine gun ammo is even more precious; our entire team was allocated just two boxes. Perhaps you should still mention it to Officer Coleway and ask him to send over some more ammo."

In Buford’s view, this was merely a matter of reaching out. Even with scarce supplies, priority could always be given to those with connections.

However, to his surprise, the officer before him was a picture of integrity, firmly rejecting him.

"Not only we are facing difficulties, the whole army is in a tough spot! How can I bother Officer Coleway over such a trivial issue?"

"But with the ammunition we currently have, I’m afraid in one battle—"

Buford immediately became anxious upon hearing this and tried to explain, but before he could finish his sentence, he was ruthlessly interrupted.

"But what?"

The Old Soldier stared unwaveringly at his deputy, secretly amused, yet maintaining a serious face that nearly caused him internal injury from holding back.

"Where is your spirit? Your loyalty? Your oath to sacrifice your life for His Majesty the Marshal? Without bullets, we can’t fight? What about your will and backbone?"

Buford’s face was plastered with confusion, and he opened his mouth but couldn’t squeeze out a word, instinctively glancing at the officer’s nose.

This guy...

He’s not Weilante People, is he?

Why does he seem crazier than the Weilante People!

Just then, there came a shout from the direction of the observatory.

"Unidentified armed forces spotted 500 meters ahead! There’re about a hundred people!"

"They are moving towards us!"

At the same time as the Sentry’s shout, alarms were sounded throughout the position, and all personnel entered battle stations.

The Old Soldier no longer continued his squabble with Buford.

Hearing that someone was coming, he immediately went to the front-line Machine Gun Bunker, picked up the binoculars for a look, and instantly saw the approaching Debt Giant Eye at the forefront.

This guy, clearly from the Intelligence System, hadn’t even brought his VM, and was charging towards him, brandishing what appeared to be a broken gun scavenged from a previous engagement.

The Old Soldier, holding the binoculars, was dumbfounded.

Well, I’ll be.

Not even pretending, are they?

Just short of writing "I’m here to gift my head" across his face.

Staring at the enemies charging head-on, Buford stood to the side with a frown on his face, showing no signs of underestimating the enemy despite their obvious vulnerabilities.

Their ammunition was not abundant.

Even against such suicidal charges, a few more waves and they wouldn’t be able to hold on. Moreover, Officer Coleway had specifically instructed to not let the enemy notice any problems with their supplies.

Buford found himself in a dilemma.

Should the machine gun position fire or not?

"It must be a small group of enemies probing us!" Buford gritted his teeth and whispered to the officer beside him, "I suggest we let them get close before opening fire!"

The Old Soldier instinctively nodded but then quickly remembered that he was with the Army now and, without a word, he kicked the daydreaming gunman aside.

"What the hell are you all doing?"

"Shoot them fiercely!"

Before the bewildered gunman could figure out what was happening, the Old Soldier himself crouched at the machine gun position, grabbed the handle, flipped off the safety, and began firing burst after burst towards those "good brothers" three hundred meters away.

Exaggerated screams came from afar, but they were soon drowned out in the cacophony of gunfire and bullets.

Seeing the flames spewed by the machine gun position, the infantrymen crouching in the trenches also began to shoot, instantly turning the hundred or so charging men into sieves.

On the vast open space of the Gobi desert, without the cover of armor units or artillery, the moment they exposed themselves, their fate was sealed.

Forget about the Awakeners, not even the Managers would be of any use.

As the smoke cleared, there were no longer any living people in front of the position.

"Ceasefire! Everyone ceasefire! They are already dead!" Buford shouted despairingly from the side.

If it weren’t for the fact that this man was his superior and possibly more than he could handle, Buford would have liked to rush up and give this pangolin’s behind a good kick.

In fact, seeing that the enemy was wiped out, the infantry in the trenches had already ceased firing, but the officer crouched at the machine gun kept shooting, apparently too engrossed to notice.

In just this short half-minute period, he had almost spent the ammunition of a ten-man team!

It wasn’t until a metal click was heard that the finger glued to the trigger finally moved away, coinciding with the lowering of Buford’s blood pressure.

Looking at the empty ammo belt and the red-hot barrel, the Old Soldier smacked his lips, dissatisfied, and let go of the slightly hot machine gun handle.

Seeing that the gunman and his own deputy were both glaring at him with murderous expressions, the Old Soldier was stunned for a moment but then hastily coughed lightly, reminding them that he was the superior.

"Cough... don’t fret about the ammunition, the more we lack it, the more we can’t let the other side look down on us!"

"The commander on the other side is likely watching from behind. If they find out we’re short on ammo, next time, it won’t be a hundred-man team, but planes, tanks, and tens of thousands of people!"

"It’s worth it to use up this bit of ammunition as long as we can eliminate their living forces!"

Buford nodded in bewilderment.

Although it felt like something was amiss everywhere, it also seemed to make some sense somehow – after all, they had wiped out an entire hundred-man team, a notable achievement indeed.

Looking at the bodies littering the ground outside the position, he suddenly felt much more relaxed than before.

Recalling the sight of allies retreating from the front line, one by one limping on crutches, looking utterly terrified, he had thought their enemy was truly fearsome.

Now, it seemed he had been worrying over nothing...

"It seems the Alliance is not so tough after all."

Saying this, Buford suddenly regained his confidence.

Looking at the pile of dead bodies, the Old Soldier silently mourned for his fallen brethren for a second and then turned to the officers standing beside him.

"Who will go over there and check?"

"Me!"

The Centurion, crouched in the neighboring trench, eagerly raised his hand, his face etched with excitement and clearly eager to make an impression in front of the newly appointed officer.

Buford was about to raise his hand too, but seeing someone beat him to it, he retracted his hand.

The Old Soldier looked at the young man and nodded.

"Not bad, you’ve got spirit. Go there and come back quickly!"

"Yes, officer!"

The Centurion chuckled, picked up the "Opener" rifle leaning against the edge of the trench, and, along with five clone infantrymen, left the trench and walked toward the pile of dead bodies.

There was a scarcity of ammunition at the front line.

Naturally, the aim was to recover as much of the enemy’s weapons as possible.

He might as well take the opportunity to see if there was anything valuable which could be snuck away.

As the young man was about to touch the first body, whether he triggered a switch or the person lying on the ground had not entirely died and pulled the pin on a grenade, a sudden explosion thundered, flattening the people in the trenches, who instinctively ducked before looking outside.

"Shit!"

"It’s hidden landmines!"

"Kamis!"

Buford focused on the outside of the trench, shouting at the top of his lungs with bloodshot eyes. Seeing no response, he slammed his fist into the sandbags.

"Damn it! He’s dead!"

The trench fell silent.

Facing the smoke-enveloped pile of corpses, the soldiers exchanged glances, and many of them unconsciously swallowed hard.

This was the first death occurring so close to them since they had been sent to the front line.

Looking at the Centurion, torn apart by the blast, the Old Soldier too stared blankly for a long time.

Hiding hidden landmines in the clothing, no less.

This wasn’t the same as what had been agreed upon yesterday, huh?

Lucky for him, he didn’t go show off; otherwise, that blast would have sent him straight back to his brothers.

Experiencing a casualty on his first day in office made the Old Soldier’s emotions complicated; he shook his head in bemusement.

It seemed his brothers were afraid he’d be too bored undercover – he had a feeling this office wouldn’t be very peaceful.

He patted the Centurion beside him, who was pale and trembling, unable to speak, and with a light cough, he said.

"... You are the Centurion now."

"Do your job well, don’t disappoint me."

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