This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 703 Jinjaron Harbor Welcomes the Royal Teachers

Chapter 703: Chapter 703 Jinjaron Harbor Welcomes the Royal Teachers

North of Jinjaron Harbor.

On a vast, desolate expanse of red soil, a massive troop moved toward Jinjaron Harbor amid billowing dust clouds.

Among them were trucks, motorcycles, and three-wheelers, all uniformly coated in desert camouflage, clustered around columns of soldiers.

In addition to these, there were several exoskeleton-adorned convertibles and traction cannons being towed behind trucks.

Objectively speaking, both in firepower and mobility, they were far superior to the city’s defense forces, which only had a few 100mm cannons, and their soldiers seemed much better trained.

However, compared to the Chewing Bone Tribe’s "Tooth" clan, previously ravaged by the Alliance, they were more or less on par, albeit with fewer tanks.

But tanks weren’t actually needed here.

Although Poluo Province was mostly plains, it lacked decent roads, especially near Jinjaron Harbor, which was an often-flooded shock plain.

Even these light vehicles struggled to advance; bringing tanks here would likely mean they wouldn’t get far before breaking down.

Survivors carrying baskets and soil containers on their arms cleared the way, casting awed glances at the fluttering Double Knife Flag and Gray Wolf Banner.

"It’s the Gray Wolf Army!"

"His Majesty has finally made a move."

"I wonder who is stronger, them or the Iron Man."

Some members of the impoverished Wolf Clan knelt on the ground, praying, looking up at their clan’s pride with a coarse, raspy voice, chanting,

"...the undefeated Gray Wolves of the wasteland, gathering like a sweeping sandstorm, bringing death to their foes."

Some people’s eyes gleamed with greed.

War meant death.

By scavenging amidst chaos, bringing back a couple of pairs of trousers could mean more people scavenging or even picking sugarcane at the governor’s plantation.

At this moment, General Arai Yang, possessing a divine command of his troops, sat in a convertible, squinting towards the direction of Jinjaron Harbor.

Ever since General Abinan’s defeat, he had noticed the situation at Jinjaron Harbor but hesitated without explicit commands from His Majesty.

What if allowing the Alliance ashore was His Majesty’s strategy?

Or perhaps His Majesty planned to resolve the issue through other means?

These were uncertainties, unpredictable.

Arai Yang had never been to the Alliance, but having lived in Poluo Province for over thirty years, he was well aware of Lord Witch Gu’s temperament. What that lord despised wasn’t subordinates messing up or lack of intelligence, but those who shouldn’t have a mind of their own developing one, and those who shouldn’t see, observing.

That’s why he chose to wait, standing by while sending a few scouts disguised as civilians into the city to gather intelligence on the "Iron Men," inquire about Governor Nihaque’s whereabouts, and await orders from Tiandu.

Now with the telegram from Tiandu finally delivered, Arai Yang promptly issued an order, commanding the well-prepared Gray Wolf Army to advance toward the frontline.

Although he and his forces were still nearly seventy to eighty kilometers from Jinjaron Harbor, he had a good grasp of the situation there.

Sitting next to him, his staff officer Gopal spread out a map on his knees, pointing to two marked lines, and said in a relaxed tone,

"...Currently, the Alliance’s defense line at Jinjaron Harbor relies on the Governor’s Mansion and Lowell Camp as its anchor points. Removing one of these would greatly benefit us."

He paused, his index finger tapping on the map.

"I personally think Lowell Camp is a good breach point. It’s just a bunch of rioters who’ve barely handled guns, and at most, a few dozen Alliance instructors. Once we take this place, we can turn those slaves brainwashed by the Alliance to our advantage."

The deputy sitting in the passenger seat turned his head and asked.

"They wonder why we would get them on our side, but I think it’s already good enough that they don’t create more trouble."

Gopal said lightly with a faint smile.

"It’s simple. We offer them something the Alliance can’t give them, including restoring their status as freemen. Additionally, we can allow them to burn, kill, and loot in designated urban areas as a reward."

Aside from Tulip Street, which was cordoned off by the knight, there were indeed untouchable big shots there, but one could always pick out a few locations or streets under Alliance control that were slightly lucrative.

Even if nothing lucrative could be squeezed out, the people themselves could serve as war spoils.

After the war ended, any random accusation could be made to brand those who had aided the Alliance as sinners and then hand them over to the packs of ’wild dogs’ for dealing.

They wouldn’t have to spend a penny for this.

They could even take a cut from the spoils legitimately looted.

Arai Yang narrowed his eyes slightly and, after pondering for a moment, pointed out a problem with the plan.

"But most of them are Moon people, and other ethnic groups might not even make up thirty percent."

The racial segregation of the Moon people was the emperor’s decision; they had no authority to arbitrarily restore these people’s freemen status.

It was a matter of principle.

Seeming to have anticipated that the general would ask this, Gopal replied indifferently with a smile.

"We’re just using this claim to stabilize them. I didn’t say we actually have to fulfill it, or perhaps we could apply to His Majesty for a special pardon, re-register them as Rat or Snake clan members, or even give them a new surname and new beliefs. It wouldn’t be difficult."

If His Majesty disagreed, it would be no matter; they could simply dispose of those tools when they were done using them.

While they were chatting and laughing, the main force had already proceeded to the North Suburb of Jinjialun Port, with each combat unit swiftly moving to their predetermined battle positions.

Five Ten thousand troops units deployed over a battle front less than twenty kilometers wide, completely encircling the settlement in an overwhelming manner.

Indeed, the Five Ten thousand troops were no small number; such a force could even count as a sizable settlement if moved to the Eastern Provinces.

Yet Arai Yang remained cautious.

Even though intelligence indicated the enemy had fewer than a thousand men and had just been worn down by the city defense forces, he still did not allow his soldiers to act recklessly but ordered his adjutant to bring in some laborers from nearby, who then started digging anti-cannon holes, trenches, and dugouts outside the urban area.

Meanwhile, on the roof of a three-story residential building in the suburbs of Jinjialun Port, four players wearing exoskeletons were holding binoculars and looking at the positions a kilometer away.

"Not bad at all. These guys really understand," noted By Some Mistake, a hint of surprise emerging on his face, impressed by the well-dug anti-cannon holes.

It wasn’t just the defensive fortifications; they had even set up camouflage nets to obstruct the view of drones, looking like they had been imported from the Army.

Half a year’s wasted time looked on with a slightly solemn expression, while the one standing next to him, having no family, showed an eager demeanor, excitedly muttering,

"Finally a tough battle!"

The previous private troops at the governor’s mansion were too frail. They looked sturdy enough but couldn’t even scratch the paint off his exoskeleton’s breastplate.

According to the locals, this Grey Wolf Army was an elite unit of the Imperial Army, and directly under the command of the Emperor of the West Winds— a true ace of land battles!

For someone who enjoyed fun, naturally, the stronger the enemy, the more thrilling it was.

After all, against an opponent that crumbled at first touch, there wasn’t much sense of achievement in victory, and even boasting on the Forum wouldn’t attract much praise.

So far, the performance of this troop was fairly standard. Both the speed of deployment and the steady progress strategy made it difficult to pinpoint any glaring flaws.

The survivors dragged from the city worked from morning till night, faces down and backs to the sky, shoveling with their spades.

It seemed they considered those unfed folks too slow, as supervisors with whips soon appeared on the battlefield. After a few lashes, those survivors indeed started working faster, with a few scrawny young men even collapsing from exhaustion.

The officer leading the supervisors was quite satisfied with the situation before him.

These survivors’ energy was like toothpaste: if you squeezed hard enough, something would still come out.

Hidden in the distance, players nibbled on dried food from their backpacks and watched the group of survivors work, staying atop the building until dark fell.

As The Sun set, the soldiers did not allow the survivors to eat. Instead, they collected the tools they had distributed and drove them out of the encampment.

A group of ragged survivors limped toward the settlement, each face strained with resentment but daring not to speak out.

Spotting a group of survivors heading toward their part of the city, four players thought quickly, tossed down a hundred-dollar bill, exited the civilian house, and seized an opportunity to block some of the group.

"Hey, hey! Folks up ahead, don’t go! We have something to ask you!" By Some Mistake removed his helmet’s visor and waved with a smile.

Seeing the four Exoskeleton-clad Iron Men, the dozen or so ragged survivors visibly displayed scared expressions.

They had just endured the Empire’s whip and did not wish to suffer under these Iron Men’s whips anymore.

However, nobody ran away.

Looking at the rifle hanging in front of them, their legs felt as if they were filled with lead, even though the safety was on and it wasn’t loaded.

At that moment of fear and discomfort, an Exoskeleton-clad man approached them unexpectedly and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"Have a cigarette to calm down. I don’t need to teach you how to smoke, do I?" he said in imperfect United Human language and playfully handed out cigarettes to everyone.

Cigarettes were considered valuable in the Wasteland, ranking just below bullets and alcohol and even slightly more valuable than bread due to their portability.

Although he didn’t smoke much himself, he always brought several packs on missions as they were more effective than money at easing locals’ suspicions.

These locals, although often so poor they had to eat soil, did not find tobacco leaves or pepper to be rare. Some even crushed their own tobacco leaves to smoke or sold them to supplement their family income.

As they clutched the cigarettes under their noses and took a puff, they instantly realized what they were, and their faces showed surprise.

They had never seen such luxurious cigarettes in their lifetime, holding them preciously and hesitating to smoke them.

Family Man thoughtfully pulled out a lighter and lit them for everyone, so they no longer had to decide whether or not to smoke.

After leading the dozen-plus people into an alley to puff away, Family Man asked with a laugh,

"Seeing as you all work so hard, how much do those Grey Wolfs pay you?"

Hearing this, the dozen survivors all looked gloomy, one particularly forthright man cursed outright,

"Money? Those stingy bastards don’t pay at all!"

Several others quickly chimed in.

"Exactly!"

"Not only do they not pay, they don’t even take our stuff!"

"Damn it, they even took my dirt-gathering basket..."

While speaking, several people’s eyes stayed fixed on the lighter in the Iron Man’s hand, filled with envy and desire.

Family Man looked surprised.

"They don’t pay you? And you still help them dig?"

The straightforward man said angrily,

"It’s not just about not getting paid. We even have to bring our own food!"

Family Man pressed further,

"Why don’t you just not go then?"

Everyone shook their heads at this.

"That won’t do. They’ve occupied that red soil. If we don’t go, there’s no soil to eat."

"If they’re short of people, they’ll come to catch us here. We all live around here, and we’ll still have to go."

"What happens when they show up, we can’t say."

"My three daughters are all grown up."

"Damn these creatures!"

"We hope they get buried in the red soil!"

The survivors began to complain all at once, their anger growing as they talked.

Hearing this, Family Man’s eyes twinkled, and he suddenly said cheerily,

"How about this? They don’t pay you, I’ll pay you!"

The people in the alley paused, looking puzzled at him.

"You... will pay us?"

"Exactly," Family Man nodded, smiling, "But you’ll have to remember, since we’re paying extra, you guys need to work even harder! Starting tomorrow, if they want you to dig a 1.5 meters hole, you dig two meters, if they ask for two meters, you dig 2.5 meters! Give them an extra fifty centimeters!"

The survivors were stunned.

The straightforward guy looked skeptically at the Iron Man in front of him and asked in disbelief,

"Are you really going to pay us?"

Family Man spoke with a grin,

"Of course we’ll pay! And it’s cash daily! For each person... we’ll give twenty West Winds currency!"

Twenty West Winds currency!

The word made everyone’s eyes widen.

Such a good deal was inherently unbelievable to them, but the cigarette hanging from their mouths made them half believe it instinctively.

Maybe these Iron Men really were rich?

A young man from the Rat Tribe swallowed his saliva,

"Is... is that for everyone?"

Family Man answered with a smile,

"Absolutely! We treat everyone equally!"

Then another asked,

"Can we bring more family members?"

Family Man replied promptly,

"No problem! We pay per head... Ah, but let’s exclude kids, we don’t count anyone under twelve. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll be here counting heads, everyone who does as we say gets paid!"

His eyes twitched, then he added,

"You can help by bringing more people over, for each one you bring, we’ll give you an extra five! But this matter must be kept secret; don’t let those outsiders know. Otherwise, it’s not just the money you’ll lose, you might well lose your lives too."

At this, faces lit up with joy, and not a single one seemed scared by his last remark.

He had no family members and they had not agreed on a time and place on the map to split the money, so he simply sent these people away.

The next day, before dawn, over a thousand people gathered at the Jinjialun port in "North Suburb" and walked toward the position of the Grey Wolf Army.

Seeing the dense crowd of shadows, the soldiers on the front line were startled; they thought that the people from the Alliance had come to attack until they walked closer and realized they were a group of residents from the settlement.

"What are you doing here!" one soldier yelled.

A few of the leading survivors shouted back righteously.

"We came here to work!"

"Your officer called us here!"

"He told us to come back tomorrow, saying if we dared not to, he would come to the settlement to catch us."

"Let us start working!"

Listening to the clamorous noise, several soldiers on duty were stunned, looking baffled at the group and not knowing what to do. They hastily sent someone to consult their superiors.

At this moment, their superior was in an anti-cannon hole that had just been dug the previous day, snoring away. When awakened, he was disoriented, fumbling to put on the hat hanging beside the bed.

"Did the Alliance come to attack?!"

"No," said the soldier hurriedly as he watched his officer quickly putting on military boots, "A group of residents from Jinjialun port came to our position. They said you ordered them to come here, to dig earthwork..."

The officer who was putting on his shoes paused for two seconds, stopped tying his shoelaces, and nodded.

"Is that so? What’s the matter?"

The soldier was also stunned, unsure what to do next.

"Well..."

"Give them shovels, tell them where and how to dig; do I need to teach you that? Dammit, making a fuss over such a small thing! Call me if the Alliance really comes to attack!"

The officer cursed, threw away the shoes he had just put on, and tossed his hat onto the bed, then turned over and lay back down.

He had only slept just after three in the morning; this trivial matter had woken him, and he thought it was absurd!

After being scolded, the soldier felt aggrieved but seeing his officer had started to snore again, he could only run to find those in charge of logistics at the frontline position to distribute the digging tools to the survivors.

The survivors who received the tools immediately went to the battlefield and started to work hard, sweating profusely—a stark contrast to their behavior the day before.

By mid-morning, a supervisor carrying a whip arrived at the battlefield only to discover, to his surprise, that he had no use for the whip.

"Strange."

"When did these beasts get so diligent?"

A few supervisors gathered together, curiously watching those who were toiling sweatily, heads buried in the trenches. Unable to contain their curiosity, one went over to ask.

"Really curious, why are you so diligent today?"

The hardworking survivors, without lifting their heads and with their backs to the supervisor with the whip, shouted.

"Sir, if we’re lazy, we get whipped, but we still have to do the work."

"Yes, sir, we’re afraid of pain."

"If we finish our work early, we won’t suffer once the war is over."

These were the words taught to them by the person who brought them to earn money.

Of course, they dared not lift their heads, especially not to look at the supervisor’s face, fearing that doing so would give them away.

The overseer nodded, not doubting their words but still couldn’t help but coldly mock them.

"If you had this awareness all along, worked diligently in your daily lives, you wouldn’t be this wretched and unrecognizable."

Instead of becoming soldiers like him, they could have opened a small business or learned a trade, instead of living worse than animals, tied here to dig the soil.

In the end, it was just sheer laziness.

The overseer looked down at them for a while and, seeing they worked hard even without the need for whipping, decided against using the whip and turned to rest in the shade under a camouflage net.

On the other side, General Arai Yang, who had completed the combat deployment, was inspecting the positions.

He first inspected the crucial artillery positions, anti-aircraft artillery sites, and various machine gun fire points, then he glanced over to the front line.

He then surprisingly found that the previously slack laborers were working energetically.

As if there was a gold mine buried beneath their feet.

How curious.

When had these lazybones become so diligent?!

Putting down his binoculars, Arai Yang turned to his adjutant.

"How much money did you pay them?"

The adjutant proudly said,

"Report, sir! It cost us nothing!"

"No money?!" Arai Yang looked at him dumbfounded, wondering if he had misheard.

The adjutant chuckled with a boastful tone,

"I’ve heard from people below that the local residents are all hoping for our swift victory, so that their lives can return to normal soon. Therefore, they came to help early in the morning, bringing their families along."

Having said that, he paused and continued,

"After all, it is the Emperor’s foresight, the general’s renowned might, and with the right place, right people, and right time, losing this battle would be difficult."

Although suspicious in his heart, Arai Yang did not refute his first point and merely nodded, dismissing this insignificant matter.

He did not need the laborers to dig the trenches to any particular standard, just that they provided sufficient cover for his soldiers.

The real battlefield was in the city; these trenches and fortifications were used for deploying troops and supplying ammunition to the front lines.

"Still, let’s give the local residents some benefits. Once the work is done, give one loaf of bread to each person as compensation for delaying their other jobs."

The bread he mentioned was, of course, not the soft, white type smeared with butter and jam which he ate in the morning. Instead, it was the black bread mixed with a large amount of bran, even stones and sawdust.

This type of bread, a staple for most lower-class citizens and middle-lower class farmers of the Empire, cost a few West Winds coins for half a pound, varying in price depending on the quality of the bread.

The bread was unfermented, tougher than biscuits, and could even be used as a weapon in a pinch, usually broken up and soaked in water before consumption.

But still, it was much better than eating dirt or those gas-producing beans.

The adjutant respectfully nodded,

"Sir, I will arrange that shortly."

Arai Yang nodded and then asked,

"By the way, any new messages from Rajesh?"

Rajesh was his capable subordinate, not only an Awakener but also skilled in marksmanship, especially proficient in disguising and intelligence gathering.

Before the army had departed, he had already sent him and another two scouts to Jin Galun Port to gather intelligence on the Alliance’s local activities.

It had been two days since the last contact.

Before formulating the next combat plan, he needed the latest intelligence.

The adjutant hesitated slightly and shook his head.

"No new intelligence has been received... The recent troop deployment of the Alliance must have changed significantly. I guess Rajesh, the soldier, wants to wait until things stabilize before reporting."

General Arai Yang frowned slightly.

"...It seems we have to give him a bit more time."

He always had a bad premonition, but it seemed too early to make a judgment now.

Not daring to get too close to the front line, Arai Yang was sure that the Alliance soldiers hiding in the settlement were also watching this area, so he just glanced from a distance before retreating behind a cover and barrier.

The Sun gradually set below the hills.

An officer in charge of the construction at the frontline inspected the site contentedly nodded, then crawled back into the anti-cannon hole.

This depth was undoubtedly sufficient!

At this rate, they might complete the construction of the outlying positions of Jin Galun Port in three days at most, a speed that the Alliance soldiers could hardly dream of.

At the same time, at the edge of Jin Galun Port settlement, a group of sweaty survivors stood in line nervously in front of an alleyway.

This street was their own home, and several entrances to the neighborhood were monitored, so there was no worry of outsiders seeing them.

However, since they were receiving money from the "Iron Men," most were worried, fearing both the Iron Men’s reneging and the Imperial soldiers discovering them once they took the money.

But when a brand-new banknote of a 20-denomination was put into their hands, nearly all nervous expressions turned into eager smiles.

"Thank you, master!" a man with a bedsheet tied around his waist said, clasping his hands together gratefully, almost ready to kneel on the spot.

The man responsible for distributing the money was delighted but maintained a civilized demeanor and chided gently,

"Don’t call me master, I can’t accept that. We provide the money, and you provide the labor — it’s a transaction, understand? It’s not us giving you a handout."

The man clearly didn’t understand as he nodded and grinned.

"Okay, master!"

"...Damn, speaking to deaf ears here, get moving," Step Into the Sky dismissed him with a wave, done with the useless talk.

Not far from the alley, two players wearing exoskeletons gathered together.

Watching the group queuing for money, Mountain River Entering Dreams couldn’t help remarking,

"You guys are really damn enduring."

Today, he had received a task to transport several boxes of West Winds currency from the bank on Tulip Street to his frontline comrades.

Initially curious what the money was for, everything made sense after witnessing this scene.

Seeing his comrade greatly shocked, By Some Mistake chuckled and said,

"The guy in our team is indeed talented; he’s more brilliant than me; we should have made him the captain."

Mountain River Entering Dreams envied him genuinely.

Other squads were full of talents, whereas his squad, with four members including two new recruits, could mess up even something as simple as taking shelter from rain.

Leading this team was truly exhausting.

"Speaking of which, have you picked up any clues these last two days? What are those guys up to?" Mountain River Entering Dreams casually asked.

By Some Mistake replied with a smile,

"Don’t know, but by their actions, they seem to plan on advancing steadily. You guys at the Lowell Camp should be careful."

Mountain River Entering Dreams looked surprised.

"You think they’ll target Lowell Camp as their main direction of attack?"

By Some Mistake tried to analyze,

"Most likely, but it’s hard to say. I just feel that the strategic significance of Lowell Camp is slightly greater than that of the Governor’s Mansion. Plus, the Governor’s Mansion is located higher than the northern urban area, making it tough to take down without significant effort and hard to hold. But if they capture Lowell Camp, they could force us to retreat to Tulip Street, returning our front line to the state it was at the beginning of the Second Stage."

Once the Alliance’s front line contracted to near the port, they could no longer bribe local survivors and slaves to act as temporary troop sources.

Conversely, capturing the Governor’s Mansion would only mean pre-moving the urban warfare from the slums to Tulip Street near the port without any other strategic benefit.

Moreover, their supply lines could be targeted by the Alliance or the local militia trained by them.

Mountain River Entering Dreams pondered for a moment, feeling it made sense.

Just then, a shirtless local approached, addressing By Some Mistake.

"Sir, someone outside is looking for you, a young lad from the Mouse Tribe. He says his name is Ah Xin, and he’s your servant."

Mountain River Entering Dreams, surprised, glanced at By Some Mistake.

"Servant?"

"Nah, not really; it’s a misunderstanding," By Some Mistake chuckled in Mandarin, then looked at the NPC and continued in United Human speech, "Let him in."

The shirtless local nodded.

"Alright."

They were inevitably involved in shady matters, so any unfamiliar face appearing here would prompt their vigilance.

But if it’s the servants of these Iron Men, it wasn’t a concern.

That meant they were trusted.

Accompanied by two locals, the kid named Ah Xin arrived here.

His expression was a bit frantic, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his clothes stained with mud and water, bearing a scratch on his face and a bruise on his arm, appearing to be from a recent incident.

Seeing familiar faces, his panic instantly vanished, and he stepped forward excitedly.

"Tuning Fork!"

By Some Mistake looked at him, surprised.

"Hey, Ah Xin... what happened to you?"

"Just a minor injury, don’t worry about it..." Swallowing nervously, Ah Xin continued, "I have brought you... no, three people to meet."

Guessing the kid wanted his help to intimidate someone, By Some Mistake glanced at the late hour, smiled, and said,

"Wait a bit; once we finish up here, we’ll head back to the Governor’s Mansion. We’ll come with you then. If anyone gives you trouble, we’ll pay them a visit—"

"No, you misunderstood," Ah Xin inhaled deeply, calming down, "No one is troubling me. I wouldn’t bother you over something small. I just want to... give you a gift."

Before the Iron Man could ask further, he hurriedly continued,

"They are General Arai Yang’s men!"