This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 461: The gas cylinder that descended from the sky was just like their past

Chapter 461: Chapter 461: The gas cylinder that descended from the sky was just like their past

Although Chu Guang hadn’t shown his face on the frontline for over a week, he had been quietly observing his players from the rear.

Upon seeing the series of cheeky maneuvers performed by these players, Chu Guang couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Goodness... they’ve really gotten the hang of this ’Game’."

Using the cannon fodder tactic seemed effective.

It not only helped the Pangolin rack up kills but also helped the allies clear out their inventory backlog.

As a result, Pangolin acquired military support, the rookies grew, the allies received new equipment, and the alliance secured ammunition orders... Counting it all up, he had won at least three times, and he had done so effortlessly.

Who was the genius who came up with this idea?

Xiao Qi, sitting at the desk, tilted her small head observing Chu Guang’s expressions and asked softly,

"Master, it seems like your undercover agent in the army might be in danger... Should I warn them not to go too far?"

"No need, let them be," Chu Guang said with a smile as he shook his head, "That guy isn’t so easy to kill. Showing too much mercy on the battlefield would seem too fake; this way it’s more realistic."

It would be even better if he got injured.

Returning to the rear to recover as a war hero could give him a chance to check out what’s happening in the west of Central Continent, especially within the army.

He always heard Vanus boast about how majestic and imposing Triumph City was, yet there wasn’t even a single photo, making it hard to write good official reports.

Xiao Qi nodded as if she understood.

"Alright then."

She might not completely get it, but since the master said so, it should be fine.

Chu Guang, scrolling through the mouse wheel, continued browsing the forum posts.

It was almost time to log off when suddenly, a traitor, known as "No Internal Traitor," popped up in the group chat.

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Brothers!!! Major insider info!"

Edge Shoveling: "What insider info?"

I Max Black: "Did the rookies carry you away?"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Get lost! I’m talking business. Remember how we were short on ammunition at the front? Initially, our ammo was balanced from other sectors within our own area, but now it’s suddenly being balanced from other areas!"

Mole on the Run in the Canyon: "What?!"

Edge Shoveling: "Really?"

Spring Water Commander: "Can you confirm which area it’s from?"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Hehe, that’s actually what I wanted to share. Today’s delivered ammo crates were marked with G40 and 41. If nothing goes wrong, they were definitely sent from these two areas!"

Mole on the Run in the Canyon: "Awesome!"

Spring Water Commander: "Remember to keep track of every ammunition delivery! Later, we can estimate each area’s remaining ammo and adjust the route of attack for Plan No. 3 accordingly!"

Spring Water Commander was so excited typing this that his palms were nearly sweating.

If all goes well, by next week when the action officially starts, they will be facing a defensive army lacking in ammunition and low on morale.

Their defense will be as fragile as an eggshell, cracking at the slightest tap!

Just by breaking a hole in their lines, the Skeleton Corps’ armored units could thrust deep into Oasis No.3, quickly splitting the battlefield in coordination with several divisions following up from the rear, completely scattering and dissolving the enemy’s defensive forces.

Annihilating this army of a hundred thousand would be effortless!

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Hehe, would this count as a major merit? (proud)"

Spring Water Commander: "Absolutely a top-class merit!"

Edge Shoveling: "6666!"

...

In just one week, the 700-person squad led by Pangolin had annihilated a whole thousand-troop unit from the alliance.

Days of victory not only greatly boosted the confidence of frontline soldiers but also allowed officers at all levels of command to breathe a sigh of relief.

Before heading to the front, all they saw were terrified deserters and heard ruthless tales about how barbaric and fierce the alliance soldiers were.

Now, they saw no such thing.

It seems like those clumsy attendants were merely making excuses for their own failures.

The legendary exploits of area G53-7, akin to a myth, spread across the entire army under Griffin’s directive, boosting morale like how tales of ace snipers or pilots would.

Although one or two elites cannot change the course of the entire war, it does inspire the majority to believe, "If I go up there, I can do it too."

As for why the alliance clung so hard to area G53-7 without committing more troops, opinions within the corps were divided.

Some thought that area G53 might be a strategic focal point in the alliance’s next phase of the campaign, planning to use it as a breakthrough in their offensive.

However, most tended to another idea.

That is, there was a divergence within the alliance about whether to continue the war.

This scenario isn’t rare on the corps’ path of conquest.

Though massive, the corps isn’t always victorious in every battle fought by every unit.

Especially those wars not wholly led by the corporate will, occasionally being thwarted by local survivor forces.

Even so, fearing the massive force of the corps, these survivor settlements eventually chose to submit.

Of course, some believed the reason might be more direct than ideological divergences—the alliance was physically struggling to keep going.

War is an expensive game.

Company support for the alliance was genuine, but the sustained losses caused by these aids were equally real. If the alliance had to shoulder all the logistical expenses on its own, given its economic scale and the fledgling industrial capability, it might not last even a week.

This intelligence came from their business partners located in the northern part of River Valley Province, the Bugra Free State.

That easily explains why the soldiers launching "suicidal attacks" at the G53-7 defense line had equipment that grew worse with each attempt...

At the G53-7 camp.

Looking at the bundles of rifles piled on the ground and heaps of ammunition of various calibers and sizes, the officer who came to collect the spoils couldn’t help but jeer.

"Did they dig out all their bottom-of-the-barrel stock?"

The failure rate of captured equipment on the battlefield was high, so before use, it usually needed to be sent to a repair team managed by the ten-thousand troops for maintenance and refurbishment.

This repair team’s role was similar to a maintenance company under divisional control.

Per military regulations of the corps, unless under special circumstances, combat units at all levels must not privately retain captured equipment; it must be sent to the repair team for refurbishment first, then distributed uniformly by the logistics teams.

However, this military regulation was not strictly enforced.

After all, whether the situation was special depended entirely on the judgment of the frontline commanders, and considering that supplies could run out any day, most commanders preferred to keep the materials for themselves.

Especially now, with the obvious supply issues, these captured weapons, though they might have high failure rates, were better than nothing.

However, Mr. Pangolin was different; this unassuming war hero "generously" handed over all the materials they had seized from the Alliance.

Just kidding.

He wasn’t foolish!

What kind of rifles was Spring Water issuing to the newbies? They might not understand, but was he not supposed to?

These were already Beta versions; even dogs wouldn’t use these pipe rifles!

"It seems the Alliance’s logistics have a serious problem," said Old Soldier, whistling nonchalantly, "Maybe it won’t take long to win."

The officer smirked.

"I really don’t know how those rookies who fled back from Oasis No.3 managed to fight."

Old Soldier quipped.

"We can teach them hands-on."

"Ha ha."

The officer laughed heartily.

Although Mr. Pangolin wasn’t from Vellante, he was surprisingly interesting to talk to.

And no matter who it was, as long as they could give the Alliance a good beating and vent their anger, they were friends.

He even began to like the guy a bit.

At that moment, a woman with deep brown hair jumped down from the passenger seat of the last truck in the convoy.

The sudden appearance of a woman in a military camp, mostly filled with men, naturally attracted the attention of a group of Centurions, even the not-so-intelligent clones took notice.

Indeed, she looked good.

However, upon seeing her prominent nose, the officers who were initially ready to whistle and tease, deflated like punctured balls and went to cool their heels elsewhere.

The people from Vellante wouldn’t spare them a glance.

Though they were lucky to have transferred from the Retinue Army to the Regular Army, mere luck wasn’t enough to mingle with the high ranks.

They were well aware that those with big noses would not favor them but might even punish them with a lashing for feeling offended.

Old Soldier surveyed the woman.

Her pupils were blue, her deep brown hair tied back into a braid, featuring the characteristically prominent Vellante nose...and even more towering peaks.

There were women in the Army, but they were almost all "aliens" engaged in servant work; he had never met a pure-blooded person from Vellante before.

And it was also the first time he realized that the big noses weren’t always so ugly; it really depended on the face they were on.

The woman walked straight towards him.

"Hello, Mr. Pangolin."

"Who are you?"

"Penny, a journalist from the Triumph Newspaper, it’s good to meet you," the woman said with a slight smile, extending her right hand which held a notebook and recorder tucked under her arm, "The headquarters sent me here to get the details... May I interview you now?"

The Triumph Newspaper, as the name implies, was a paper issued in Triumph City and it was the most widely distributed newspaper within the Army. However, due to the efficiency of information transmission and other reasons, the versions printed in different areas greatly varied.

For instance, in Triumph City, the Triumph Newspaper mainly reported the city’s news, and front-line news would generally be pushed beyond page three.

But on the front lines, the content of the Triumph Newspaper avoided topics like hometowns or families, focusing instead on victories, beautiful women, thrilling stories, and all sorts of news that could stimulate the soldiers’ hormones, accompanied by puzzles and crossword games to pass the time in the trenches.

Most low-level officers could read and would read it out to the ordinary soldiers, and the radio would broadcast the paper at specific times.

To ensure the soldiers remained enthusiastic about expanding and cultivating new territories, the officers needed some to flex their muscles on the battlefield, others to live a lavish emperor-like existence in Survivor Settlements, and yet others to become wealthy from the war...even if some details had to be fabricated.

This newspaper, like bread, alcohol, and tobacco, didn’t require the soldiers to pay for it; it was part of the logistical supplies.

Upon hearing that the Triumph Newspaper wanted to interview him, Old Soldier remembered what Coleway had told him yesterday and immediately perked up, vigorously shaking her hand.

"It’s an honor to serve a beauty, just ask whatever you want."

The flattery towards appearance, though hackneyed, never went out of style.

As expected, Penny’s lips slightly curved upwards, showing a delighted expression.

"To not take up more of your time, I’ll get straight to the point."

Flicking her bangs aside, she skillfully activated her recorder, looked down at her pre-written questions, and began.

"So, the first question... Do you have any family?"

Old Soldier didn’t hesitate.

"I’m an orphan, Officer Coleway who took me in is my family."

Penny looked at him with surprise softening her eyes, her gaze filled with sympathy as she continued.

"I heard you’re an Awakener?"

"Yes."

"You must have undergone rigorous training, right?"

Old Soldier chuckled sheepishly.

"Uh, not really, it kind of happened unexpectedly... I still don’t understand what happened."

Penny paused, then grinned.

"That’s true, most Awakeners discovered their abilities accidentally... Even survivors from outside Vellante have a chance of being the lucky ones."

She took a moment, then resumed.

"So, what makes you unbeatable on the battlefield?"

Old Soldier answered almost without thinking.

"Of course, it’s my loyalty to the Marshal!"

Penny briefly hesitated, then unconsciously asked.

"But aren’t you from the Brocade River Province? You’ve probably never seen the Marshal, right?"

"That’s not important," Old Soldier, unashamed, earnestly replied, "Although I’ve never met His Majesty or been to Triumph City, his ideals deeply attracted me."

"This chaotic world needs order! And only when all blood flowing in the veins is noble can this world see eternal order!"

Hearing that passionate speech, Penny’s expression turned visibly moved.

This is...

such loyalty!

"So, how do you view your officer Coleway—"

Before he could finish, a sudden explosion interrupted him.

The deafening blast came from the frontline not too far away, hurling stones and dust several meters high, even reaching the vicinity of the convoy.

The repair team soldiers quickly raised their arms, covering their heads to dodge.

The cap of the officer flew off with the surging blast, and the Old Soldier’s face instantly changed.

Damn!

This isn’t the agreed time?

The revenge-seeking rookies did not give him time to hesitate.

After a brief pause, a whistling noise suddenly came from the sky.

One could see several gas cylinders with metal pipes inserted into them wildly flying in the air, their explosions and flames blooming across the battlefield like heavenly maidens scattering flowers.

"Get down!"

Seeing a huge gas cylinder flying towards them, the Old Soldier’s face drastically changed. He fiercely grabbed Penny’s arm and pulled her down to the ground.

This one cannot die!

Otherwise, wouldn’t all his earlier posing be in vain?!

"Boom—!"

Just as the two hit the ground, the explosive noise rose almost at the same moment.

The raging shockwave spread, tipping over a truck and almost blowing away a maintenance officer who was earlier bragging with him.

The dust settled half a minute later.

Ensuring there were no new explosions, the Old Soldier finally released Penny, who he had been pressing down, and climbed up from the ground.

"Damn it! Ptooey—"

Spitting out the sand in his mouth, the Old Soldier wiped his face clean of dust, cursing under his breath, and looked towards the war reporter who was scared stiff.

"You alright?"

This guy’s not too good.

Is this his first time on the job?

Ignoring his question, Penny’s face was pale. She lay tightly on the ground, not daring to get up, her eyes filled with unresolved fear, and her pants slightly wet.

After a long while, she said with a trembling voice.

"Just now, that... what was it?"

That sound...

How is it louder than a 100mm cannon?!

The Old Soldier chuckled.

"Gas cylinder bomb, indeed not small in might, but not very precise, nor very far in range... it is not the first time we’ve encountered them."

Penny swallowed.

Gas cylinder bombs?!

This is... how barbaric!

"Do you guys endure such bombardments every day?" Her voice shook as she picked up her recording pen from the ground.

"The basic tactics of those people... you see, the Alliance has only this much skill. It looks scary, but the effect is mediocre. There’s nothing to worry about!"

The Old Soldier grinned, picking up his fallen rifle and hat, "Wait for me a moment, I’m going to take care of those bastards."

Saying this, without waiting for Penny to hold him back, he turned and stepped into the smoke-filled battlefield.

These rookies were getting bold.

They even brought out "saturating fire"!

Surprised, he also couldn’t help but feel a surge of panic inside.

If he didn’t go help those clone fools, it’s quite possible that their position might actually be taken by these guys!

Plan No. 3 was entering a critical phase, and Area 53 was not an attack focus for the Alliance; later, the Storm Corps and Skeleton Corps might even allow them an escape route.

Even if they took his position now, it would not help the overall situation and could lead to bigger losses for minor gains.

For the Alliance!

For the esteemed Manager!

He was determined to slaughter this group of brain-damaged rookies.

As Mr. Pangolin rushed towards the frontline, Penny, left behind, felt her mind tangled like a ball of yarn.

When Mr. Pangolin grabbed her arm, her heart abruptly leapt, but the wildly beating heart soon paused for half a second due to the explosive roar that was close at hand.

Now her heart was pounding nonstop again.

That sturdy chest and the secure embrace lingered in her mind, unshakeable.

Especially that final figure he left behind...

It’s not just loyalty.

That was... what heroism!

Lost in her thoughts, Penny’s eyes slowly filled with infatuation, but soon enough, the infatuation turned into regret.

What a pity.

So loyal and heroic, yet he belongs to an alien race.

No matter how high the honors, how great the wealth, he can only join with other aliens. Even if his boss recognizes his capabilities, he’d never be embraced by mainstream society.

Her mind was a mess of thoughts.

Just then, Penny suddenly felt a moist sensation, and her whole face turned red like an apple.

Never having been so deeply in the frontline, it was also her first time experiencing such near bombardments. The earth-shattering explosive sounds shook her to the core, and she couldn’t help it.

Filled with shame, wishing she could just die on the spot, she quickly took off her jacket, tied it around her waist, and glanced unconsciously towards the direction Mr. Pangolin had disappeared, biting her lip, red enough to bleed.

Shouldn’t have seen it, right?

...

In the distance, about one kilometer from the G53-7 defense line.

A dozen tripods stood at the foot of the dune, empty steel pipes aimed straight at the army’s position.

Supported by veterans like Springs, Edge, Mosquito, and more, these Beta 0.4 newcomers not only started "big training" at the front lines but also initiated "mass production," even setting up a makeshift arsenal using local materials.

It was proven that the creativity of the working people was endless. If left unchecked, it wouldn’t just be merciless cannons, but even ruthless Katyushas could be crafted.

After a calibration shot, twelve gas tank rockets fired off with the intensity of a rocket artillery barrage, somewhat creating the atmosphere of a battlefield.

"Awesome! This is what you call real warfare!" Ah Nie exclaimed, swinging his fist excitedly.

"Exactly! This trumps mortars big time!" someone reluctantly clicked their tongue while holding a chessboard.

"Pity they’re not very accurate."

The ground at the position was pockmarked and rugged, true, but whether it killed a few people was uncertain. The only consolation was that at least the machine gun position was blown away.

The safest strategy now was to pull back, bring another load of shells, and fire another round at the opposing position—or maybe drop some smoke bombs for cover.

Regrettably, those old players were ruthless, just dumping them here and walking away without a backward glance.

With no food, fresh water, or guide, trying to cross two hundred kilometers of desert to get back was less efficient than just killing themselves.

"Anyway, let’s start digging the batt—"

Before he could finish, Return to Soil & Rest in Peace already had a bayonet fixed under his rifle barrel and lifted the gun, howling excitedly.

"Brothers!"

"Strike them while they’re down!"

"Charge!"

After saying that, he procured a whistle from somewhere, bit down on it, and blew fiercely.

"㘗——!"

The piercing whistle echoed.

Hearing the charge whistle, the shouts and cries on the battlefield instantly boiled over. One by one, the newcomers, as if invigorated, charged towards the smoke-filled battlefield.

"Charge!"

"Bust open their stash of gold coins!"

"Aooo!"

"Silver coins!!!"

"Come and get it!"

...

Tasked with the manager’s mission, Li played on the shattered battlefield, engaging in a bloody and brutal slaughter with the "unethical" newcomers.

Both sides were seeing red.

One side couldn’t die, the other didn’t want to die too soon.

If it weren’t for the fact that both sides could respawn, this surely would have been a scene worth singing praises.

Meanwhile, while the frontline was in a heated clash, far away in City of Dawn, a thousand kilometers distant, everything was calm and quiet.

Compared to the heated battles at the front, the rear base’s life was like retirement.

Due to the players’ excessive hunting, and the popularity of delicacies such as crab cakes, monster meat steaks, grilled hyena with salt, and buttered mushroom rice, there weren’t many Variants left around City of Dawn, so long as you didn’t venture deep into the areas occupied by sticky bacteria.

Even in the Elm District’s nuclear craters, you couldn’t catch breeding Crack Claw Crabs anymore.

No doubt about it, those monsters had been hunted to extinction. To hunt tasty Variants, you’d have to go north to the forested mountains north of Qing Shi County.

Alternatively, one might have to advance toward Brocade River Province, with its dense jungles and broad plains.

To enrich the diet of the people of City of Dawn, a certain lizard and mole recently organized an expeditionary army, taking a few newbies and restless old players, aiming towards Brocade River Province.

And the ultimate goal? The southernmost Death Coast!

Rumor had it that it was Torch Church territory, with many high-tech exoskeletons.

For instance, Springs’ "Squirtle" suit was reportedly dropped by members of the Torch Church.

Not only that, a merchant named Zhou Nan boasted that there was also a "glowing sea" there.

This scene was definitely cooler than Silver Moon Bay!

Falling Feather also wanted to take a look.

However, regrettably, he was currently saddled with a burden.

According to the manager, the challenge on Floor B6 seemed to require Xiaoyu’s "Devouring" ability to solve.

While he was glad that Dog Plan compensated him with a divine pet that also came with a hidden task, he must say that taking care of the kid was indeed a bit tedious.

His daily routine felt like walking a dog, taking Xiaoyu to the North Suburb for a stroll, butchering a couple of Crawlers or Butchers to watch it feast.

Then, he’d take it around the survivor settlement nearby to drain its abundant energy and incidentally ease the nearby residents’ wariness toward this polite child.

Actually, the latter was secondary; the former was the key.

If he didn’t expend the creature’s energy, it couldn’t sleep at night and would try all sorts of tricks to wake him up. If unsuccessful, it might start doing strange things to his cultivation chamber.

For example, the last time he woke up, he saw a huge, bloody mouth stuck to the transparent chamber door, almost scared the pee out of him.

It looked as though it wanted to swallow him whole.

But once he awoke, Xiaoyu quickly reverted to its docile, adorable self, acting like a lively little dolphin around him, happily chirping.

As if nothing had happened before.

To train this creature, to help it integrate into human society, Falling Feather, besides teaching it the not-so-fluent United Human language, occasionally tried feeding it human food.

Though it still resisted cooked food, it did have a fondness for high-sugar content items.

Especially the lollipops with attribute enhancements sold at NPC stores, it would not only make happy sounds after eating them but wouldn’t even spit out the plastic sticks.

Additionally, after some time nurturing it, another event occurred that greatly surprised Falling Feather.

It finally learned how to hunt!

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