This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 487: The Unstoppable Skeleton Corps

Chapter 487: Chapter 487: The Unstoppable Skeleton Corps

The dimly lit inn.

The partly open curtain allowed a sliver of dawn’s light to pass through.

Old White opened his eyes and found a blanket covering him. He shook his groggy head and woke from his sleep.

"You really slept like the dead."

Hearing the voice beside him, Old White turned his head and saw Chen Yutong leaning on a sofa not far away.

A blanket covered her knees, her lower legs curled up within it, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

It was already October, and the temperature in the River Valley Province had started to cool. Typically, this year would be a warm winter, but snow was expected by early December at the latest.

Thinking that he had let her sleep on the sofa all night, Old White felt somewhat embarrassed and coughed softly before speaking.

"Sorry, I drank a bit too much last night..."

Can’t be helped, not just that girl named Lisa, but all the hotel guests in the highway town were waiting for his story.

To make the story presentable and to cover for the real spy identity of the pangolin, he had no choice but to place the tales of players like Edge Shoveling onto the head of the pangolin.

Thus, the novice killer who slaughtered rampantly at position G537 now became the warrior who had ventured seven times in and out at No. 330 high ground.

If anyone traveled to the Lion Kingdom, hundreds of kilometers away, they might hear entirely contrary rumors from locals, baffled as to why the pangolin was one moment with the Alliance and the next helping the Army fight the Alliance’s people.

But it didn’t matter.

It perfectly matched the double agent identity of that guy.

In the Wasteland, as long as one had a mouth, one could boast, and no one had the power to verify which rumors were true.

In any case, there would be idle people later, based on their understanding, who would come up with a logically self-consistent version.

However, what puzzled Old White was why he was here.

As everyone knows, the game could block some sensations that might cause discomfort to players. This, though enhancing gameplay, also made it hard for players to judge their condition based on the nervous system’s warnings.

The most direct result was that once one became drunk, it generally led to blacking out,

and it was the type that absolutely couldn’t reconnect.

Usually, when players got drunk, Old Hooke or other players would tacitly move their game characters to a guest room to rest.

But this time, something was different.

He had been moved to an NPC’s room.

"It’s okay, I’m not picky about where I sleep. I often travel and usually end up spending the night in the car. This sofa is quite comfortable to sleep on... Is it made from Variant fur?"

Saying this, Chen Yutong pressed the sofa’s soft armrest.

Seeing her nonchalant expression, Old White suddenly remembered that she had drunk quite a bit last night too and couldn’t help asking.

"Maybe it’s monster hide... Speaking of which, didn’t you feel drunk?"

Chen Yutong paused for a moment.

"Me? I didn’t feel much, my bioengineered liver has enough alcohol dehydrogenase to metabolize the alcohol, without activating the CYP2E1 enzyme to produce reactive oxygen, basically, I don’t feel much..."

Bad.

His head started to ache again.

He should have chosen the Body Constitution System from the start...

Watching Old White pressing his temples, Chen Yutong couldn’t help but smile teasingly.

"It seems quite difficult to get me drunk."

Old White quickly coughed to explain.

"I didn’t intend to."

"Just kidding, don’t take it to heart," Chen Yutong continued with a curved smile, "By the way... that drink was really interesting, I didn’t experience the slightly tipsy feeling you talked about, but it gave me another peculiar sensation, thank you."

"You’re welcome, I did say I’d treat you to a drink."

It was rather awkward always lying in someone else’s bed. Old White propped himself up with his hands, shook his head, and picked up the VM device from the bedside table to attach it to his arm.

A brief loading sequence completed, and the pale blue glow soon appeared on the screen.

However, to Old White’s surprise, a new red dot had appeared on the taskbar’s icon.

[New Mission: Board the next flight and report to the front line.]

His eyebrows slightly raised, his eyes sparkled with excitement.

Noticing the change in his expression, Chen Yutong curiously asked.

"What happened?"

"My leave has ended early, the Manager has summoned me to the front line," Old White grinned, continuing, "Looks like they need me there again."

The next operation’s target was the Royal Palace in Falcon City.

The Goblin Corps had organized hundreds of W-2 attack aircraft to coordinate with him.

Also working together with them was the Storm Corps, who would use the Iron Heart to break through directly to the Army’s rear at the No. 2 Oasis Defense Line.

This would be a strategic gamble.

Well played, it would be a Cretan campaign; botched, it would be a Market Garden operation.

Looks like headquarters is planning something big this time.

With raging battle fervor burning in his eyes, Old White threw off the covers, got out of bed, and grabbed a coat hanging nearby, draping it over himself.

Gauging from his expression, Chen Yutong guessed something but said nothing, nor did she worry, she just bent her lips slightly and said in an ordinary tone.

"Be careful, next time I’ll return the favor with a drink."

Stopping at the door, Old White smiled and gestured.

"I’ll remember that."

...

Shelter No. 404.

Floor B3 Medical Laboratory.

Sitting on a folding chair, Falling Feather looked worriedly at Xiaoyu, who was lying unconscious on the scanning bed.

"Is it... okay?"

Heya, who stood by the console, was busy recording experimental data while casually replying.

"Fantastic, even stronger than before."

As the final inspection ended, she pressed the blue button on the screen.

Several flexible metal tubes were pulled from Xiaoyu’s forehead, chest, and the hem of her skirt, retracting into the silvery white experimental equipment in the ceiling.

Then, the work was to summarize the experimental data and analyze the conclusions.

The research on Xiaoyu was a top priority for the League’s Biological Research Institute; it was not only related to the League’s understanding of "Mutated slime fungus" but also important for her to successfully obtain the biological laboratory on Floor B6.

After deriving the conclusions, she also needed to compile the phase results into a report to send to the busy Manager.

Sometimes she really admired that guy.

His brain was like a multi-core CPU, capable of simultaneously handling matters from different fields such as economics, industry, military, scientific research, culture, diplomacy, and so on.

The secrets he held were more fascinating to her than the lair in Qingquan City; unfortunately, whenever she brought up this topic, he always brushed it off, saying he was not very clear either.

Suddenly noticing the worried expression on the face of a nearby refuge resident, Heya recalled Chu Guang’s instructions and casually comforted him.

"Don’t worry, today’s research is just a routine check; your Xiaoyu will be fine."

Although he still looked unconvinced, hearing the comfort from the "Chief Biologist of the League" somewhat relaxed Falling Feather.

Seeing Falling Feather relax, Heya paused for a moment and then continued.

"However... its DNA is entering an unstable phase; it is better to avoid taking it to dangerous places recently, especially the front lines. Without spore entity protection, a lone mother organism is quite fragile."

Falling Feather solemnly nodded.

But out of curiosity, he couldn’t help but ask.

"What exactly is this unstable phase?"

Could his Xiaoyu continue to evolve?

That would be really awesome.

Seeing Falling Feather seem optimistic, Heya shook her head.

"I don’t know; the research data I hold isn’t sufficient to explain this situation. I can only make a rough guess based on limited clues."

Falling Feather swallowed, waiting for her to continue.

After organizing her thoughts for a moment, Heya paused and then continued.

"The mother organism has a life cycle, which can be long or short. After reaching this cycle, they transform into another form of life, which we call the lair... just like a butterfly breaking out of its chrysalis, transforming from pupa to adult."

Falling Feather immediately pressed.

"What triggers it?"

Heya shook her head.

"I don’t know, but I suppose it’s about choosing its future path."

"Choosing...?"

"That’s right," Heya nodded, "natural threats are no longer its primary concern, standing at the top of the food chain, it’s no longer constrained by ordinary natural conditions. This means it needs to choose its own path for future evolution. It’s an ability bestowed by nature and its mission."

"The genetic information collected from nature, memories, experiences, and knowledge stored in neural tissue... all these can serve as references for evolution, and it has already completed the accumulation of these components. Simply put, it must decide whether to become a cute mushroom or a deadly Venus flytrap next."

Gazing blankly at Heya and Xiaoyu lying on the scanning bed, Falling Feather nodded with a somewhat understanding.

He didn’t quite grasp those complex theories.

He was only concerned about one thing—

"After all this ends... will it still remember me?"

Heya replied without hesitation.

"Of course, it remembers; I’ve said memory is a key reference for its evolution to the next life stage... but even so, you should prepare yourself mentally."

Falling Feather instantly tensed up.

"What kind of mental preparation?"

"Becoming another life form, the blood connection it has with you might be severed. It may not be as close to you as it is now, and it might even see you and other humans as prey. Even if the memory is part of its legacy, even if it still remembers things about you..."

Heya described in terms as simple as possible.

After hearing this, Falling Feather fell into silence; his thoughts were tangled like a knot in his mind.

He recalled various past events...

Including the first time he took it to the suburbs to level up, the first time he taught it how to fight, the time he introduced it to human food...

If these memories could be replaced by something else, he would rather it stay as it is now and not continue to evolve.

Actually, he didn’t particularly need a combat companion to fight alongside him.

He could fight on his own.

At this moment, Xiaoyu on the scanning bed was gradually awakening; its tendrils lazily moving, making an unconscious murmur, "Yi Wu."

Perhaps sensing his presence.

The groggy Xiaoyu slowly sat up on the scanning bed.

At the sight of Falling Feather, its abstract face instantly bloomed with joy and delight, and immediately, dragging its heavy body, it slid off the scanning bed.

"Yi Wu!"

Perhaps because it was just waking up from anesthesia and had not yet fully adjusted, it stumbled as it got off the bed.

Seeing the pitiful expression, Falling Feather couldn’t help but smile as he stepped forward and held the drunken Xiaoyu.

"Be careful, you... I’m not going anywhere."

"Yi Wu!"

The tendrils wrapped around the nearby arm, and Xiaoyu nuzzled its head against his chest, changing its aggrieved expression to one of contentment.

Looking at its endearing demeanor, Falling Feather felt all the clouds of confusion and worry in his heart clear away.

Just like human birth and death, the life cycle does not change due to likes or dislikes; whatever is meant to come, will come one day.

No matter what the future holds, at least for now, this little guy was utterly reliant on him.

Perhaps...

He should trust it a bit more.

Having shared memories, they can face the unknown future together.

"I understand..." He patted Xiaoyu’s slippery head and, looking at Heya standing beside him, said firmly, "Even if it eventually becomes another form of life, I will not regret it... I will take care of it till the end."

"I’m glad you think that way."

Heya smiled, looking at the brave young man and patted his shoulder.

"Keep it up."

...

On the edge of Oasis No. 2, Bister Town was encircled by concrete like an iron barrel.

Standing next to the bunker, Weddell held binoculars in his hands, anxiously staring at the vast dunes in the distance.

The soldiers standing beside him were equally tense.

Within just three days, at least ten thousand soldiers from the Army had passed through here, yet not one unit was willing to stay with them.

The new defensive line was at the edge of Oasis No. 2. As opposed to concrete buildings, General Griffin seemed to prefer relying on the "river banks" left over from the Prosperity Epoch for defense.

This meant, however, that this fortress situated outside the oasis had lost its function.

What disappointed Weddell was not just that no one helped them, it was that no one told him what to do next.

They were completely abandoned...

Just then, a courier came running over.

"Report! An order from headquarters—"

Hearing the sound, hope flashed in Weddell’s eyes.

It was like a drowning man grasping at a straw, even though he knew the hopes of retreating were slim, he still grabbed the courier’s collar in desperation.

"Hurry! Tell me, what did Mr. Griffin say?"

The trembling courier pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Weddell.

Sensing something ominous from the courier’s expression, Weddell quickly let go of his collar and snatched the paper from his hands.

"[...Effective immediately, the Bister Fortress garrison must close all eastern checkpoints and must hold the fortress for over fifteen days, awaiting reinforcements!]"

"[Note: In times of crisis, we must burn all the supplies and fuel in storage, and it is permitted for Centurions and senior officers to surrender if troop numbers fall by ninety percent or more.]"

Having read the last line on the telegram, Weddell’s face turned as white as if it had been painted, devoid of any color.

No more people would be retreating from the front lines.

This had become the new front line.

The people of Weilante had completely abandoned them...

Weddell’s complexion slowly turned from pale to desperate, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. At that moment, a strong sense of foreboding overcame him.

Another courier ran from the southeast direction, too urgent even to salute, shouting in panic.

"Tanks! Alliance tanks! They’re advancing toward our position from the southeast!"

Weddell asked instinctively.

"How many?"

"I don’t know... maybe fifty, maybe a hundred or more," stuttered the courier.

The officers and soldiers nearby gasped in unison, unconsciously holding their breath.

A hundred tanks!

The last unit that withdrew from here had taken almost all the Iron Fist Rocket Launchers, and their anti-tank weapons combined probably didn’t even have a hundred rounds!

Weddell felt his heartbeat stop for a moment as he stood helplessly.

The entire Bister Fortress garrison only had three hundred men.

Even if he counted the laborers, who had no military training, they couldn’t make up a thousand-strong team!

The anti-tank obstacles couldn’t stop the Alliance’s steel tide.

They didn’t even need to rush in, just stationing outside and bombarding them with tank shells a few rounds would inflict heavy casualties...

The adjutant, standing next to him, looked at Weddell nervously.

"Commander... what should we do?"

"What to do... what to do... I want to know what the fuck to do too!"

All of a sudden, Weddell exploded in anger like a barrel of oil thrown into a fire, shocking everyone around him.

"These big-nosed bastards, cowards, spineless cretins! When it’s a critical moment, they just retreat and let us hold the front!"

As he spoke, Weddell became increasingly irate, his face turning bright red.

Up to now in this war, experienced officers had been pulled to the front lines, and even attendants were given the ranks of Centurion and thrown into the regular army.

Being a logistic captain like him, who had barely handled a gun before, how could he fight against the Alliance people!

"...and that Griffin! That liar full of deceit, we’ve followed them through more than a decade of hardship, only to end up like this?! Where is the reinforcement from Triumph City? Where are the tens of thousands of Conqueror tanks? Is this his so-called unbeatable battle strategy?!"

No longer concealing his anger, he cursed the Weilante people, whom they absolutely respected on regular days, from Weilante soldiers to that Griffin. Had he had enough saliva, he would’ve spat on each person twice.

Seeing pairs of eyes staring at him, Weddell took a deep breath and calmed down.

After a long while, he issued his first order decisively.

"Take down the Army’s flag."

The soldiers and officers exchanged looks, and no one dared to move, not even shifting a leg.

Weddell awkwardly realized that no one here was listening to him.

Fortunately, at that moment, a series of rumbling thuds came from afar, followed by whooshing sounds and explosions of fire blossoming on the southeastern defensive line of Bister Town.

Just as he’d predicted.

Those concrete anti-tank obstacles and bunkers were nowhere near enough to withstand the Alliance’s steel tide. The Alliance wouldn’t even bother sending infantry to rush their bunkers but chose to bomb them from outside their range first.

He didn’t know what they were carrying on their tracks.

With just a flash of blue electrical arcs from the forked barrel, half-meter thick concrete walls were blasted, leaving only half-hanging rebar on the stones.

The soldiers hiding behind the concrete wall were punctured by the shards, let alone the old-fashioned machine guns mounted on the defenses.

Chu Guang instinctively ducked to avoid the flying sand, and, like a hamster whose tail had been stepped on, he puffed up and screamed.

"What are you waiting for? The people of Vellante have abandoned us, do you really want to be buried with those cowards? For the sake of the Spirit of the Sand Sea, lower the flag... just hang up anything white! Hurry!"

Faced with Chu Guang’s roar, the nearby supervisor officers and soldiers finally sprang into action, rushing to the highest point of the fortress and pulling down the Army flag.

However, at this moment, the soldiers realized that there was nothing around that could serve as a white flag.

Suddenly, someone mentioned that Mr. Chu Guang’s shirt seemed to be white, so they rushed back to his side, stripped him against his protest, and finally fulfilled his command.

The supervision officers of Vellante had already left with the last withdrawing troops, no one stopped their betrayal.

Previously, they had not acted solely out of military honor and loyalty to the Royal Family...

But now.

Even Chu Guang, a nobleman who "viewed honor as life," had surrendered, so they naturally saw no reason to continue resisting.

They just hoped that the Alliance would indeed treat the captives kindly as the rumors suggested, and not trouble them, these involuntary little people...

...

"Damn, why did they surrender?"

Mole, with half of his body out of the tank’s gun turret and holding a binocular, saw the white flag raised in the distance and clicked his tongue discontentedly.

Just the day before yesterday, the Death Legion was bragging on the forum about capturing a city in two hours.

After clarifying the strategic deployment of Bister Town from Brother Battlefield, he had intended to show off with his brothers, but the enemies had raised the white flag after just one round of artillery fire.

They really couldn’t take a beating!

Not far away, a disheveled man with several soldiers, raising their hands, walked out from behind a destroyed sentry.

The gestures they waved seemed to plead for them to not shoot.

Not interested in slaughtering unarmed men, Mole waved his hand.

Three armored trucks covered in steel plates drove past and stopped in front of the disheveled man.

Elena, holding a submachine gun, jumped off the truck first, just about to tease the man who looked like an officer, when he suddenly fell to his knees with a thud.

His forehead pressed tightly against the ground, heedless of the sand and dust, under the astonished gazes of others, he sobbed with a mix of snot and tears.

"...Spirit of the Sand Sea above, you finally came!"

Caught off guard by his smooth actions, Elena was stunned on the spot.

The tease that reached her lips was swallowed back, and she weirdly looked toward the Gnome King Riches beside her.

"What the fuck, what’s this all about?"

Brother Fu Gui was also bewildered as he watched.

"I don’t know..."

The players who got off the truck were all dumbfounded.

The man was crying so miserably, as if he had suffered a great injustice, they felt embarrassed to mock these fellows.

Chu Guang secretly glanced at these stunned soldiers, saw they did not shoot, breathed a sigh of relief, but still maintained a grief-stricken expression as he continued to knock his head on the ground in lamentation.

"Sir, I am a baron from the Falcon Kingdom. My name is Weddell. My ancestors have been managing a farm near the Oasis, just simple, honest farmers living a life away from worldly conflicts... until one day, the people of Vellante arrived here."

"Those people with big noses deceived us with their sweet words, took our king and his court hostage, occupied our shops and manors, and forced us to work for them, to bleed for their ambition to conquer the world... Praise the great Manager, praise the great Alliance, thank heavens you’ve finally arrived."

Elena’s expression was indescribably strange as she coughed and spoke.

"Anyway, get up first."

Weddell did not get up, instead, his head pressed even tighter against the ground, mumbling incessantly, to the point that even the translator could not decipher what he was mumbling.

Standing beside her, Gnome King Riches sighed, walked in front of him, and kicked the guy’s knee, pointing to the side of the road.

"We’re not interested in dealing with you. If you like kneeling, we don’t mind, but please move over there... don’t block our way."

Hearing that sentence, Weddell finally cracked a smile, his face showing a pleasing smile as he rolled and crawled to the side of the road.

"Thank you for your mercy, sir! We’ll get out of your way... please, come in!"

...

Bister Fortress had fallen.

The Skeleton Corps took over the place without shedding blood, the cost being only a few dozen 155mm shells and a few 60kg mass bombs.

In fact, they simply fired quickly.

If they had been a few minutes later, they might not even have needed the shells.

The garrison stationed here gradually left the fortress, resting their rifles on either side of the road, then placed their hands on their heads and squatted outside the bunkers.

Their dirt-covered faces made them hard to hate.

Over the communication channel, Elena, who was taking custody of the prisoners, complained to Brother Mole following behind.

"Man... we missed the grand welcome of the royal troops in Oasis No. 3, but we caught it in Oasis No. 2."

"It means it’s coming to an end."

Brother Mole replied with a smile, waving his hand forward.

The armored grenade infantry’s truck moved forward, swaggering as it entered the main gate of the fortress.

After confirming there were no ambushes inside the camp, Brother Mole picked up the walkie-talkie and ordered the tank unit to follow closely and push forward.

As they passed by the officer named Weddell, he signaled the driver to pull the tank over to the side of the road.

Looking down at the man scrambling on the ground, he rummaged through the turret and pulled out a blank notebook, tossing it in front of the man.

Hearing something snap in front of him, Weddell instinctively shrank his neck, and after realizing his head was still on, he timidly looked up.

Without any nonsense, Brother Mole looked down at him and instructed succinctly.

"I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

"Over the past week, all the troops that passed through here, their numbers, designations, equipment, the road they came by, the gate they left through, how much supplies they took, whether they stepped out with their left foot or right foot first... Write everything you know in this notebook."

Weddell nodded repeatedly.

"Yes! Yes, sir, I will follow your orders!"

Seeing this guy was about to kowtow again, Brother Mole waved his hand impatiently.

"Less talk, hurry up."

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