This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 467: The Bloody Battle at No. 330 High Ground!

Chapter 467: Chapter 467: The Bloody Battle at No. 330 High Ground!

No. 330 high ground, dusk had just fallen.

Sitting on the bench in the observation post, Centurion Yote of the 11th Support Squadron was staring out of the observation window at the Gobi desert gradually being enveloped by night, lost in thought.

A few hours ago, he received news from the frontline command that the savage Alliance had concentrated all its forces to launch a surprise attack on the Army’s defense line, and position G40-1 had already fallen.

In no more than 48 hours, the Alliance’s tanks would be at the foot of No. 330 high ground.

The four thousand-man teams at the front were retreating to the rear defense, and the task Softe had entrusted to him was only one—to coordinate with the retreating troops and block the Alliance’s armored units from breaking into their own lines.

Yote was a bit stunned.

The day before, their allies were still bashing the Alliance over the radio, beating them black and blue, so how had they suddenly been breached?

Regardless, the command headquarters was certainly not joking with him.

Yote didn’t want to joke with his own life either. He immediately dispatched a reconnaissance squad and an engineer squad to plant dynamite at the foot of the mountain.

Except for the squads operating the radar and anti-aircraft cannons, who had not moved, he had also sent others to dig positions and set up defenses on the slopes of the high ground.

At that moment, a sentry ran in and saluted sharply.

"Report! Troops are approaching from the rear!"

The rear?

Yote’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately rose from the bench and hurried out of the observation post, heading straight to the highway on the north side of No. 330 high ground.

Through the dusk, clouds of dust swirled, and dozens of trucks filled with fully-armed soldiers were majestically advancing from the direction of the command post toward them.

"What’s the situation over there?" Yote’s adjutant was also standing by the highway.

He obviously noticed the activity from the north and had come specifically to check.

Yote did not immediately answer but raised the binoculars hanging around his neck for a look and saw thirty light trucks in total.

After watching the convoy for a while, he blurted out.

"It’s the direct command thousand-man team."

"Direct command?!" The adjutant standing next to him looked at him in surprise, "What are they doing here?"

Wasn’t the direct command thousand-man team responsible for command post defense and support?

Could it be that Softe was planning to move the command post to No. 330 high ground?!

"I don’t know," Yote tossed the binoculars to him and gestured to the distant sentry tower to let them in, "Let them in!"

The checkpoint opened.

The convoy quickly arrived at the position.

The members of the 11th Hundred team’s artillery, standing on both sides of the road, watched truck after truck roll onto the position, their faces showing envy at the well-equipped comrades on the trucks.

"Wow, everyone’s got an automatic rifle."

"I heard that those guys in the direct command have three times the standard ammunition supply of a regular frontline unit!"

"Three times? You’re joking, it’s more than three times! They’re the only ones in the ten thousand team who aren’t short of ammunition."

Unlike the makeshift clone soldiers, the soldiers on these trucks were all pure-blooded Weilante People,

Each not only had an assault rifle but was also equipped with either light or heavy bulletproof armor.

Their shiny black shells glinted coldly under the moonlight, impenetrable by a burst of fire!

Not only were they well-equipped, but these soldiers also had a military quality far beyond ordinary units, truly the ace of the entire Fourth Ten Thousand Team!

The convoy came to a halt.

A tall man, nearly two meters in height, jumped down from the passenger seat of the lead truck.

He wore a steel helmet, had sharp facial features, and was tall and burly, with no apparent identifying marks on his combat uniform, but Yote recognized the man before him.

It was none other than Centurion Simond from the direct command thousand-man team.

When he had first joined the Fourth Ten Thousand Team, he had served under this man as a leader of ten.

Following protocol, Yote went up to him, smiling as he greeted Simond.

"Centurion Simond, what brings you here?"

Not wasting time on niceties, Simond spoke succinctly.

"Command headquarters has ordered me to come to No. 330 high ground to take over its defense."

Hearing this, Yote cast a surprised look at Simond.

Command headquarters was directly moving frontline units?

Was this not overstepping in command?

And it was the direct command thousand-man team being moved...

He could even imagine General Softe’s furious expression.

Noticing the surprised look on Yote’s face, Simond added emotionlessly.

"Don’t mind it, continue with your work. Leave the defense to us."

Yote immediately stood at attention and saluted.

"Yes!"

Simond nodded, waved to his adjutant, who immediately understood and jogged to the truck side.

Thousands of soldiers swiftly unloaded wooden crates from the trucks, hurrying to the front lines of the high ground, dispersing in teams of ten to dig and transport earth, efficiently expanding the defensive works.

Simond wasn’t idle either; he got a more detailed area map from Yote, complete with the latest markings drawn by the reconnaissance soldiers, including shortcuts from the foot of the mountain to the high ground and areas that needed to be heavily fortified.

Upon inspecting the map for a long time, Simond suddenly frowned, turned to Yote beside him.

"Take me to the spot with the best view."

"Yes! Please follow me!"

Yote immediately led the way, but Simond went to the foremost observation post.

From this observation post on the southeast and west sides of the entire high ground, everything was in plain view.

"Why are there no fire points on the southwest side of the high ground?"

Yote was slightly stunned, hastily explaining.

"There are, just no machine guns deployed... We’re an anti-aircraft squadron, the squadron has only two heavy machine guns in total, both deployed facing south and southeast—towards the direction of the highway—"

Simond interrupted him, continuing to ask.

"How many anti-aircraft cannons do you have?"

"...Four."

"Then disassemble one and place it here."

Simond pointed with his forefinger, tapping on the prominent part of the contour line on the southwest side of the map, "There is a defense gap at the southwest position, and we must fill this gap."

Yote leaned over the map, looked at the location selected by Simond on the map, and then incredulously lifted his head.

"Commander, there is no path on our southwest side at all—it’s all mountains! No one would come from that direction!"

"Besides the mountains, there’s also vegetation, and there isn’t a more perfect position than that one nearby," Simond glanced outside the window.

A swathe of hills enveloped by the night was seen afar, with clusters of bushy seabuckthorn grass shaking.

It was not just the vegetation; there were also rocks standing firm.

There were even covers available there.

"But they can’t just fly over," Yote couldn’t help but remark, "Even if their tanks’ tracks were made of titanium, they couldn’t possibly off-road 150 kilometers in a mountainous region with no roads—unless they plan to dilly-dally here until next month."

"They might actually fly over," Simond said calmly.

Yote was stunned for a moment.

"...What do you mean?"

Simond continued,

"The command post of the Fortieth Ten Thousand Troops is actually the target of the Alliance’s armored units, No. 330 high ground, they’ll probably leave it to the paratroopers."

Yote suddenly looked towards the night sky outside the observation window; it was clear with not a cloud in sight, no sign of paratroopers.

However, Simond’s words made him more cautious.

If the Alliance really planned to send infantry to infiltrate his position from the southwest...

With the anti-aircraft artillery he had at his disposal, it was indeed uncertain whether they could withstand it.

Watching Yote becoming visibly stirred, Simond continued to speak,

"If I were the commander of the Alliance, I would drop the paratroopers behind the hills on the southwest side and use the cover of night and vegetation to infiltrate to No. 330 high ground on foot."

Saying this, he patted the Centurion’s shoulder,

"No. 330 high ground will determine how far they can go, prepare your men mentally; tonight it’s very likely we’ll have a tough battle."

Yote swallowed hard and straightened up.

"Yes, sir!"

While Simond instructed Yote on the defense plan, unbeknownst to both, several sneaky figures were lying right underneath their eyes.

On the southwest side’s hill of No. 330 high ground, behind the reverse slope.

Edge Shoveling and several teammates lay quiet behind the shaking seabuckthorn grass, quietly looking ahead at the position.

The time was now 8:00 PM.

The entire 150-kilometer off-road journey—they completed this rapid march in just eight hours!

Without modern transportation, even roads were lacking; the journey was all through uninhabited deserts and dunes!

If this were reality, not only would it make military history, it would be enough to break a Guinness World Record!

However, Edge Shoveling was not proud.

Reaching the battle position was just the first step, being fast was not something to boast about.

They could wait to show off in the forum after they had taken down the position in front of them.

"Gosh, there are quite a few people on the mountain opposite!"

Looking at the mountain top close at hand, Debt Giant Eye, who was holding the binoculars, couldn’t help but click his tongue.

Laplace, lying beside, also filled with surprise, exclaimed,

"Is this a hundred-man squad?!"

"I can see more than a hundred people just on the southwest position!" Sheep Again Package couldn’t refrain from commenting.

Debt Giant Eye, turning towards the taciturn Edge Shoveling, asked in a lowered voice,

"It feels like they have quite a few people... should we detour a bit more to the west? Get to their north and hit them from behind!"

Edge Shoveling shook his head.

"If we detour any further, we’ll move into another unit’s defense area; this is the most appropriate position."

If they moved another 10-20 kilometers west from No. 330 high ground, they’d encounter another high artillery position. If discovered, they would face crossfire from both east and west sides.

The whole mountainous region was almost under the Army’s control, with disparate units scattered across various defense areas and hilltops, leaving little tactical choice for the attackers.

He could only choose from a few limited options, selecting those with the highest chance of success.

"It seems like there’s some movement on the opposite hill," an Agility system player suddenly spoke, "Is that... a machine gun?"

"It’s anti-aircraft artillery!" another Agility system player said quietly, "They seem to plan to move the anti-aircraft artillery to the southwest position!"

Hearing this, the players lying on the reverse slope looked at each other.

"Have they discovered us?"

"Perhaps not us, but they probably discovered the gap in the southwest defense line," Edge Shoveling frowned, fixing his gaze on the soldiers busy moving the anti-aircraft artillery, "A team of engineers at the foot of the hill, another on the hilltop—they’re nearly forming a company, and this isn’t a mere hundred-man squad."

"I think so too," Sheep Again Package nodded seriously, "That engineer team must be a battalion-level setup! There’s at least a thousand-man squad on that hill!"

"Now what do we do?" Looking towards their seasoned companion, Midnight—who carried an umbrella, not a knife—whispered, "Shall we wait for the construction guys to catch up before we attack?"

With no numerical advantage, and attacking a fortification, it was somewhat reckless.

Waiting for the three-wheeler brothers to catch up, with three thousand men pushing forward together, would be much safer.

"We can’t wait anymore; if we wait any longer, they’ll have even built a freaking bunker!" Edge Shoveling put down the binoculars and looked at Big Eyes lying beside him, "Where’s your drone?"

Seeing the fight was about to start, Debt Giant Eye excitedly said,

"I’ve got it ready!"

"Good," Edge Shoveling nodded and continued instructing, "Release all the drones, remember to first mark the targets, wait for my command to strike! Try to knock out their firepower points in one go, give them no chance to breathe!"

"Will do!"

Debt Giant Eye excitedly nodded his head and slipped down the slope.

Edge Shoveling continued to look at Sheep Again Package lying beside him.

"Take five hundred infantrymen, quickly circle around to the southeast of No. 330 high ground, stick to the edge of the road, and launch a feint attack on the hilltop!"

"Yes!"

Sheep Again Package rapidly nodded and followed in the direction of Debt Giant Eye.

Retreating to the reverse slope’s backside, Edge Shoveling, using the faint light, glanced at the VM screen time.

Now was Alliance time [20:15].

Fifteen minutes.

Those "little guys" should have rested well.

With a tap on his headset, Edge Shoveling switched the communication system to the general channel and said in a low voice,

"All teams pay attention, the operation will begin in ten minutes!"

There was not a trace of fear; the responses he received were eager and ready.

"Received!"

...

[20:22]

The surroundings of No. 330 high ground were still eerily quiet.

Glancing at the engineers working on the mid-slope, Yote, walking the positions, relaxed a bit and turned off his flashlight.

It was already this late, and still, there was no movement.

It appeared the Alliance planned to move their operations to the later half of the night.

Thinking this, Yote, now relaxed, couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated, realizing he probably wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep tonight.

Following beside Yote, the adjutant, who had been silent for a long time, finally couldn’t help asking,

"I don’t understand, if General Griffin has determined that the Alliance will definitely launch an attack tonight and even deploy airborne troops, why don’t we just send planes to intercept them?"

Yote casually answered,

"Our planes are already on standby, but Alliance planes are a bit peculiar, and normal airborne radars hardly detect them."

This was what Chief Simond had told him.

Actually, even without saying, he could have guessed.

Those several anti-aircraft artillery positions in Defense Zone No.40, destroyed by bombings, only discovered the enemy planes when they came within visual distance.

From this perspective, the Alliance could indeed use the cover of night to drop airborne troops right under their noses.

Even if the "Peidao" fighter planes were fast, it was unlikely they could destroy those transport planes in the instant they were discovered, before the airborne troops could parachute.

Looking at his worried adjutant, Yote patted him on the shoulder and offered a word of consolation,

"Don’t worry, General Sofort has sent his direct thousand-man team here. Even if the Alliance really drops paratroopers on our faces, we can swat them like mosquitoes on the mid-slope—"

His words hadn’t even finished when the quiet night was suddenly disrupted by a "snap" of a gunshot.

The lights below the mid-slope shook violently, and an engineer in the process of digging fell to the ground, shot. The engineers next to him quickly extinguished their flashlights and lay down.

However, their actions were still a beat too slow.

Within less than half a second, a burst of intense gunfire sounded like firecrackers on the southeast side of No. 330 high ground, and the engineering squad that was planting dynamite suffered heavy casualties and wounds instantly, leaving only weak cries on the mid-slope.

"Enemy attack!"

Regaining his senses, Yote shouted and quickly rushed toward the nearest shelter, nearly at the same time, a piercing alarm blared throughout the entire No. 330 position.

"It’s from the southeast direction!"

Looking through the small window of the observation post towards the southeast position, Simond’s expression shifted slightly.

However, this did not mean his judgment was wrong.

Even if they landed behind the hills on the southwest side, those people could still move along the reverse slope and circle to the southeast side to launch an attack.

Perhaps the sight of an anti-aircraft cannon ready to fire caused them to change their mind.

Without a second’s hesitation, Simond decisively picked up the walkie-talkie and ordered,

"First support squadron, fire the flares!"

As the order was given, the direct mortarmen of the thousand-man team had already swiftly reached their combat positions.

With several sharp bangs, numerous flares soared into the sky, illuminating all the hills around No. 330 high ground.

On the southeast hill, rows of shadows lay prone. They had dug simple dugouts and were setting up their light machine guns and rifles, firing towards No. 330 high ground.

The distance between the two parties was less than five hundred meters.

Meanwhile, two hundred-man teams, taking advantage of the cover of darkness, had already touched the east and south sides of the foot of No. 330 high ground and erupted into fierce firefights with nearby sentries and several squads supporting the engineers by the roadside.

Watching the flames flickering on the nearby hills and at the base of the mountains, Simond’s brow furrowed.

Two support groups, two assault groups, clear division of work, perfect coordination... truly worthy of the name elite. And judging by this firepower density, there must have been at least four hundred-man teams!

Maybe even five!

Had he not arrived here, No. 330 high ground would likely have fallen into the Alliance’s hands!

Simond’s lips curled into a cold smile.

These barbarians probably would never guess that what they were facing wasn’t the support squadron of about a hundred people they saw during the day but the strongest ace of the forty-thousand-man team—the direct thousand-man squad!

Picking up the walkie-talkie, Simond ordered in a cold voice,

"Attention all units, the force before us is the Alliance’s most elite ace rumored—The Burning Corps."

"They have greatly humiliated our aircraft brothers and even snatched the Steel Heart."

"The soft eggs of the Marine Air-Ground Task Force have boosted their confidence, but this time they’ve clearly picked the wrong opponent!"

"Hit them hard!"

"Show them what a real ace is!"

...

Forty-thousand-man team headquarters.

Hearing the news of the attack at No. 330 position, General Sofort, who was just cursing General Griffin’s mother, instantly broke into a cold sweat.

No. 330 high ground was only seventeen kilometers away from here!

Having looked at the map so long, he was of course clear about what losing that place meant for him.

Not only would the command post be exposed to the Alliance’s artillery range, but the four thousand-man teams sent back to support would also find themselves facing the encirclement of Alliance armored forces and support artillery.

The Forty-thousand-man team might ultimately be left with nothing but its name.

"These bastards... keeping their plans so deep! Ha, go eat shit!"

Wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, Sofort stared at the strategic map on the table, feeling both frightened and exhilarated.

Unexpectedly, the Alliance had truly dared to send airborne troops without securing air supremacy, and had thrown in their ace right from the start.

However, fortunately, I was a person who heeded advice and had carried out General Griffin’s orders; otherwise, I really would have capsized in the gutter.

Soft couldn’t help but exclaim,

"General Griffin truly has a divine insight!"

He sneaked a glance at his immediate superior and found his aide standing quietly by the side, opting to stay silent.

Who knows which guy, after hanging up the phone, had warmly greeted General Griffin’s entire family...

Having calmed his racing heart, Soft looked toward his deputy, his voice filled with excitement as he commanded,

"Contact Simond! Tell him air support is on the way, and he must at all costs annihilate the elite of the Alliance at the foot of No. 330 high ground!"

"Winning this battle, victory’s balance will be in our hands!"

The deputy promptly stood up straight and saluted,

"Yes!"

...

Elsewhere, the Army Headquarters at No. 3 Oasis.

General Griffin, sitting inside the command tent, was intently gazing at the radio on the table.

After the crackling busy signal, the pilot’s voice came through,

"...This is ’Peidao-1,’ no enemy aircraft spotted in the target airspace."

Hearing the unexpected response, Griffin slightly frowned,

"Have they already withdrawn?"

Standing by his side, the staff officer also fell into contemplation before speaking moments later,

"The speed of their withdrawal is too fast."

According to General Griffin’s plans, the Alliance’s airborne troops were to be intercepted by the Ten Thousand Team, with the "Peidao" fighters responsible for annihilating any Alliance air force covering the airborne soldiers.

However, surprisingly, the Alliance had not sent aircraft to support the attack on No. 330 high ground by the airborne troops, seemingly planning to let the infantry grapple with the high ground alone.

Not only that, but they hadn’t even seen the transport planes delivering these infantrymen—the flutter machines that had attacked the anti-aircraft positions in Defense Zone No. 40 also seemed to have vanished.

"Could they have guessed?" A thought briefly occurred to Griffin, but he quickly dismissed this possibility.

If the Alliance knew they were ready, they would not have simply thrown the airborne troops on No. 330 terrain.

Perhaps...

The Alliance really hadn’t expected the Ten Thousand Team to reinforce No. 330 high ground, gambling instead that the Army wouldn’t anticipate a repeat of their airborne troops’ sneak attack, hence simply leaving the high ground entirely to the infantry.

A moment of bewilderment flashed through those intelligent pupils, and Griffin was stunned for a few seconds.

This possibility wasn’t entirely absent.

But given their previous performance...

It shouldn’t suddenly turn foolish.

Underestimating the enemy is a cardinal sin. Griffin’s brows furrowed even more tightly, his eyes fixedly staring at the map as his mind rapidly considered countless possibilities.

At that moment, the staff officer standing by reminded,

"Further south lies the radar scanning area of the Iron Heart... Our planes can’t proceed any further."

The Iron Heart’s anti-aircraft cannons are ineffective against supersonic aircraft, hardly striking anything above Mach 3.

But correspondingly, under the harassment of anti-aircraft fire, their aircraft weren’t likely to achieve much either.

Griffin nodded and turned to the signalman to order,

"Have Peidao provide a round of firepower support for the No. 330 high ground defenders, then immediately return to the frontline airfield to stand by."

"Also, have the Falcon Kingdom’s Air Squadron No.1 take off to replace Peidao in providing close support for No. 330 high ground!"

The signalman stood at attention and saluted,

"Yes!"

...

"Boom—!"

On the southeast side of No. 330 high ground.

The incoming barrage of bullets roared along with the machine gun’s thunder, lashing onto the Earth and instantly kicking up a storm of dust and severed limbs.

The sudden air raid momentarily silenced the Alliance’s position for two seconds.

Although the gunfire soon resumed, it lacked the previous vigor, becoming much more cautious.

Clearly, the air strike had inflicted significant casualties on them.

Losing rear firepower cover, two Centurion teams attacking in the middle found themselves in a precarious situation.

Seizing the opportunity, Simond, sitting in command, immediately pulled a Centurion team from another defense zone and redeployed them to the eastern pass, planning to descend the hill and encircle the Alliance’s attacking forces from behind, annihilating the two Centurion teams pinned on the mountainside in one fell swoop!

Although currently holding the upper hand, Simond was well aware that his soldiers were low on ammunition. If they couldn’t achieve a swift victory, both sides would soon be locked in a deadlock.

"Ha ha! Well done!" Watching the fighter jets whizzing overhead leave, Yote excitedly swung his fist.

The joy was evident on the face of the deputy standing beside him.

The Alliance must be bewildered by now.

They could never have imagined why a hilltop with only one Centurion team during the day suddenly had over a thousand more people.

Thinking to storm their position with just five hundred men.

What a daydream!

However, at that moment, from the southwestern side of the hill, a shadow suddenly darted out from behind the swaying seabuckthorn grass and sped rapidly down the hill.

Yote, crouching in the observation post, caught a glimpse of something, but initially didn’t take it seriously.

After all, it moved too fast, almost unhumanly fast.

It wasn’t until the sentry stationed on the southwest position also spotted something amiss and immediately followed those shadows, turning the searchlight towards the southwest foothills of the high ground...

Only then did they see numerous menacing claws and several tails covered with scale-like armor, emanating a chilling light under the illumination of the searchlight.

When confronted with that pair of amber pupils, Yote’s eyes momentarily lost focus, and the smug expression froze on his face.

That sense of being targeted by a predator made him feel as though his veins had frozen, his feet filled with lead.

Even hundreds of meters away, even from a higher ground, it couldn’t bring him the slightest sense of security.

"The Claw of Death..."

It was the Claw of Death!

But this is Luo Xia Province, how could such a thing possibly be here?!