This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 725 Unity is Strength

Chapter 725: Chapter 725 Unity is Strength

At Southern Sea Northern Island, in the military harbor’s port, a majestic warship stood in the center of the bay.

Its name was "Valiant."

At nearly 400 meters in length and approaching 70,000 tons of displacement, it looked like a monster lying in its lair. The cruisers and destroyers parked alongside it were totally overshadowed, like eggs hatched by it.

The sharply angled, sloping armor covered every inch of the ship’s surface, while thick, long cannon barrels stood erect in front and behind the bridge, pointing towards the sky.

And among them, the most conspicuous was the colossal cannon located on the foredeck!

Its caliber alone was not enough to describe its power—the train-car-sized barrel didn’t seem like something that belonged in naval warfare.

And indeed it was not.

During the Human Alliance Era, there was no such thing as a navy, and this colossal cannon had been dismantled from a starship. Naturally, its power could not be measured by conventional weapons.

At that moment, the crew aboard seemed to have received a signal as the previously stationary battleship sounded an alarm bell. Driven by its nuclear fusion reactor, it slowly moved its massive body, drifting about three to five hundred meters away from the dock.

Then, the sharply angled barrel slowly raised, then smoothly spread to the sides, splitting open its belly, revealing the once sealed cannon bore entirely.

Violent currents of electricity emitted a hissing sound, stirring the nearby air into agitation. The dramatically fluctuating magnetic field scared away the schools of fish nearby.

On the bridge of the Valiant.

The captain gazed intently at the screen that displayed the calculated firing elements and the predicted trajectory.

In the image, a conical arc across the spherical sea surface overshadowed a small island above.

That was Anle Island!

The second-largest military port in the southern sea area, as well as the main base of the rebels and the puppet authorities.

Upon learning that the submarine Cold Night had been sunk while on a mission near Coral City, President Charles immediately issued an order to bombard Anle Island!

They were to avenge the fifty comrades who had sacrificed themselves on board the Cold Night!

At this time, his adjutant approached from the side, saluted with a resolute demeanor, and reported.

"Calibration complete!"

The captain nodded slowly. After pausing for only two seconds, he decisively commanded,

"Fire!"

Blue plasma accumulated terrifying energy deep within the cannon bore, releasing in an instant with the attack order!

"Hum—!"

The waves that were slapping towards the ship’s bow were pushed back in an instant by that terrifying energy, breaking into fine mist amid the relentless surges.

The nearby seawater seemed to collapse two meters downward, then fiercely bounced back, with a scorching white beam soaring through the center of the waves towards the sky, savagely tearing through the black clouds above.

The nearly 70,000-ton battleship was pushed back by the tremendous recoil.

And this was just the first shot!

In less than ten seconds, the capacitors were recharged, and then another scorching white light surged towards the heavens.

On the nearby shore stood spectators, mainly military personnel from the adjacent naval port and the port’s workers.

After the incident at dusk, President Charles announced a curfew, and not a single person could be seen on the streets. However, the windows of the buildings were slightly ajar, watching the bolt of lightning rising from the sea.

Looking at the distant battleship that even the night sky seemed to fear, the man standing on the dock shook his head.

"Using this thing for a strategic strike mission is too wasteful. It would be better to send a cruiser over there to shoot a few drones or missiles."

His name was Vallo, a corporal in the Marine Corps. At that moment, he was clad in an ocean-blue painted exoskeleton, with unremoved ammunition still hanging on his belt.

Hours earlier, they had executed the task of occupying the Presidential Mansion and witnessed the collapse of a building and the end of a short and glorious era.

Although Charles still called himself President and everything seemed unchanged as before, everyone knew that he had become a huge "Laken."

With no power to check him.

"Without submarine cover, relying on just a few destroyers for escort is still a bit risky..." Standing next to Vallo, Sergeant Wang Pa, who was holding binoculars, stared intently at the warship and said with a lopsided grin, "If nothing goes wrong, that’s as far as it dares to go."

The battle was fought beyond visual range, both above and below the sea.

Even the Federation’s mightiest "Brave" battleship couldn’t withstand a few nuclear-powered torpedoes.

If the Federation’s battleships exist to hunt down the Army’s airships, then the Federation’s submarines are designed to counter the Federation’s battleships.

Shelter No. 70 had always feared that "people outside" would steal the treasure their ancestors picked up near the Tiangong, so over the past century, this sea area has birthed many odd ideas.

Among them were the likes of Dolphin, a "cargo ship" that could return to the seabed at any time, as well as the attack-type nuclear-powered submarines developed with their own warships as hypothetical enemies, destroyers designed with their own submarines as hypothetical enemies, and cruisers designed with their own destroyers as hypothetical enemies, and so on.

On the surface, Anle Island’s authorities had two fewer ships than North Island’s, but those three extra submarines they had were a real headache, especially now that the North Island’s authorities had lost the only submarine "Cold Night."

Clearly, Mr. Charles was well aware of his hand.

Vallo looked over to his commanding officer, puzzled, and asked,

"If I’m not wrong, that main cannon is used against ships; its effect against ground targets is probably not that great. And I’ve heard that a single shell isn’t cheap."

Putting down his binoculars, Wang Pa narrowed his eyes and succinctly said,

"The value of a strategic strike isn’t fully measured by the quantity of destruction."

"... What do you mean?"

Wang Pa looked at the subordinate standing beside him and spoke with meaningful depth.

"Why do you think there are 7 governors standing with us, aside from the one in North Island, the location of the capital?"

Vallo: "Isn’t it because of Mr. Charles?"

"It’s because they’re all within a thousand kilometers, because they have to be accountable to their residents, that’s all."

He paused, then suddenly smiled, reaching out to pat Vallo’s shoulder.

"Just like you and me, we also have to be accountable to our own identity."

With that, he walked past Vallo, heading towards the direction of the barracks.

Frankly, he agreed that the survivors of the Southern sea area should decide their own fate, stop the internal strife, and expand outward, but he did not agree with Charles’s methods.

Even if President Mongo had issues, he should have faced legal trial, not the private punishment of the Marine Corps.

However, it’s unfortunate that he was only a staff sergeant, above whom were higher-ranking non-commissioned officers, as well as those truly in command of them.

Everything had reached this point.

No matter how their children would judge them in the future, they could only continue to fight now.

He always had a premonition.

This war might be more difficult than anyone had imagined...

...

On Anle Island.

Thunderous explosions shattered the tranquility, the roaring thunder falling on both sea and land.

The half-ton mass bombs, like man-made meteors, could still cause tremendous destruction with their sheer kinetic energy, even without any explosive payload!

At the front of the shell was air compressed to a solid-like form, while at the rear a vacuum strip was forcibly trailed behind, the immense pressure difference brutally tearing at the shell’s warhead, incinerating the sparse remaining resistance coating.

During this process, the temperature of the shell continued to rise, until reaching a critical point of collapse—

One of the mass bombs disintegrated in mid-air and exploded, bursting into searing white light and molten metal, spreading towards the buildings on the island like fireworks.

Two other bombs fell straight onto the island, whipping up two trails of rolling dust.

As for the remaining seven shells, they all plunged into the sea, disappearing after blasting up columns of boiling water.

Even after meticulous calculations were made, taking into account the rotation of Earth, a distance of over a thousand kilometers was too far, in some parallel world akin to from "Paracels" to "Brunei."

The actual flight distance of the ten mass bombs through the air was far more than just a thousand kilometers, having three hit the island could be considered nothing short of miraculous.

The two bombs that hit the island directly carved out two deep pits on the mountain, fortunately not striking the harbor or the submarine factory behind the mountain, nor causing any casualties.

On the contrary, the bomb that exploded in mid-air caused greater damage, with many nearby windows shattered and roofs marred by holes and fragments melted by the metallic slag.

Having anticipated a strategic strike from North Island, the authorities on Anle Island had already evacuated tens of thousands of residents to the vicinity of the submarine factory on the southern side of the mountain.

Since most of these residents were either military personnel or employees of military factories, and most of them had strong discipline, the evacuation did not lead to much chaos.

Inside the command center, Commander Li Minghui looked intently at the sea chart spread out on the table, his ashtray beside him filled with cigarette butts.

What worried him was not just the battleships from North Island but also the bad news from the hinterlands of the south—

The governor of Ring Island had indicated in his last telegram that the residents of Ring Island had joined the South Sea Union.

This was undoubtedly bad news.

It meant not only that the Anle Island authorities would face four settlements against the eight of North Island, which held naval supremacy, but also the worrying separatist impact of Ring Island on the legitimacy of the "Declaration."

This was no small matter.

After all, their declaration was the constitution, and the legitimacy of Anle Island authorities was granted by that declaration.

Charles could afford to disregard legitimacy because he had plenty of naval guns.

But Li Minghui could not afford to dismiss it, and the reason was very pragmatic—because their fist was not big enough.

Now, never mind building a few more submarines; they might struggle even to eat in another two months.

Just now, Charles had signed his first presidential order since taking office, announcing the imposition of martial law on North Island.

And the first order he had signed was to announce a rationing system for food supplies on the island.

Since this order was not announced over the radio, Charles probably didn’t know yet.

If the guy did know, he would probably be laughing his head off...

As Li Minghui grappled with how to resolve the current problem, his guard stood at the door and saluted.

"Report! A message has come from Shelter No. 70!"

"Shelter No. 70?" Li Minghui was startled, his expression clearly showing surprise, but he quickly recovered and asked, "...What are they saying?"

The guard reported truthfully.

"They wish to communicate with you via telegraph!"

Li Minghui pondered for a moment, not hesitating, he put down his pen and followed the guard to the communications room.

After ordering the guard to keep watch at the door and not to let anyone come close, he picked up the headset hanging on the radio and put it on his head.

"This is Anle Island’s Naval Command, I am the highest responsible officer here, Li Minghui, who is this?"

A prompt reply came from the other side of the communication channel,

"Chen Jianhong, captain of the Dolphin, the residents of Shelter No. 70, and their somewhat trustworthy representative."

Li Minghui frowned, asking in a stern voice.

"What do you want to say?"

"...An idea you may find surprising, yet it is also the best solution we can think of at the moment."

"Go ahead.

"Let’s join hands, or to put it more accurately, I hope we can unite."

There was silence at the front of the radio for a while, with only the soft crackling of static, before any response came.

"To unite..."

Squeezing out the word from his lips, Li Minghui’s facial expression twitched slightly, and with an odd tone, he said, "Isn’t it a bit late for you to be saying this now?"

"I believe it’s never too late. We have studied your declaration and drafted a new one. From now on, the Shelter Managers shall no longer have management rights over all matters in the Southern Sea area and will only manage the internal affairs of the shelter according to shelter regulations. At the same time, all survivors and residents of the refuge in the Southern sea area will enjoy equal rights, not only in education and medical care but also including legislation, becoming a commander or more... Isn’t that what you are striving for?"

As he reached this point, Chen Jianhong paused before continuing.

"We have already shed our coats, what about you?"

Li Minghui narrowed his eyes.

"Who can assure you will keep your promises?"

A light chuckle came through the radio.

"Aren’t you right there, or are three submarines not enough for you to stand up straight?"

Li Minghui also laughed lightly, his demeanor gradually cooling down.

"...Don’t forget, I am the person who trusts you the least, otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting in this position."

"That’s good. If you were the type to just liste to whatever we said, I’d hesitate to take off this coat just yet... look, we have done some good things. At least the First Generation Manager educated you all. Otherwise, you’d be no different from those in the Poluo Province."

Chen Jianhong suddenly thought of something and continued.

"Right, I’ve been so busy trying to win you over, I almost forgot to mention the important matter. We’ve established the South Sea Survivor Alliance. Our plan is to rebuild the ocean current power stations, starting with the sea floor part we can control, then restore Coral City and its manufacturing facilities, and ultimately join forces with our allies to defeat the enemies from the north."

There was half a sentence he didn’t say.

To achieve this goal, they needed Anle Island’s three submarines.

Without the protection of submarines, just a few dozen mutants would be enough to give them a headache.

Even if the Alliance would support their defense, he couldn’t bear to see those people wielding small pipes and aiming guns at mutants at the bottom of the sea.

Those noble people should carry their nobility into the new era, not perish together with beasts...

Li Minghui narrowed his eyes slightly, contemplating his words over and over again in his heart.

It was indeed a good idea.

He had considered with his staff just now to rely on Anle Island’s undersea advantage to swiftly restore the production of Coral City and Anle Island’s factories, to make more submarines before Northern Island’s destroyers could start coming down in numbers.

Gaining the Alliance’s support was key to realizing this plan.

After all, mining the seabed ore deposits was currently unrealistic, since the main processing facilities were in President Charle’s possession, and they could not manufacture even one submarine with just the material reserves on the island.

"The Alliance... have you already made contact with them?"

"Yes," Chen Jianhong admitted outright. "And it’s not just the Alliance, but also the Ring Island that stands with us. Later, I also plan to win over the other three settlements that stand with you. In the most optimistic scenario, we could pull you in too, having six settlements including Coral City. Even if Charles remains tough to deal with, our power would be much stronger than it is now."

"They won’t stand on your side," Li Minghui coldly hummed out the words, yet he felt like he didn’t quite believe it, so he added, "Why can’t we look for the Alliance ourselves?"

Chen Jianhong laughed and said.

"Do you think they would choose you?"

Li Minghui scoffed coldly.

"Why not? They can even ally with the feudal lords of Luo Xia Province. Even if we’re not as good as during President Mongo’s era, we’re certainly a lot better than those feudal kingdoms!"

Chen Jianhong sighed and said.

"If you only look at the surface of issues, that’s indeed true. But if you’ve actually been to Luo Xia Province, you wouldn’t say such foolish things."

Li Minghui furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?"

Chen Jianhong continued.

"The reason the Royal Family still exists in Luo Xia Province is because the local survivors have wholeheartedly chosen their tradition and faith, unafraid of bloodshed and sacrifice. If the survivors of the Southern sea area united around you from their hearts, the Alliance would of course not mind cooperating with you. But look around you—do you have such people by your side? Or, do you have that level of ’legitimacy’?"

He paused, then spoke piercingly.

"Besides, they never allied with a king; it has always been the local survivors. They build railroads, schools, and hospitals for the local people, and they abolished slavery. Which of theese services was for the king? Kings don’t need those things! They simply didn’t coat their concept of equality onto bullets and force it onto the local people!"

"If it were better for this area without you, I think they would have no reason to let a middleman make a profit," he continued. "They could simply try doing what they’ve done in the Falcon Kingdom, like handing a gun to each of those behind you. If those guys dare to shoot at you, do you have the guts to order a bombardment on them?"

Li Minghui was momentarily at a loss for words, staring blankly at the radio, unable to speak.

Indeed...

The Southern Sea area and Luo Xia Province were entirely different places.

There was no feudal tradition here, and the education rate even surpassed that of the Alliance he so desperately wanted to win over!

The war between the island survivors and Shelter No. 70 was for equality; the war between the authorities of Anle Island and North Island was also to defend this hard-earned right—to prevent an ambitious usurper like Charles.

If he ended up becoming a "villain" like Charles, launching wars in the name of declarations and abolishing declarations in the name of war, ultimately seizing all power for himself... then the four governors would never stand by his side. Even if they stood with him now, they would certainly oppose him once they came to their senses.

After all, if both sides are equally rotten, why not stand on the side with the bigger guns?

You have to choose between faith and the sword.

Supporting the Anle Island authorities was not without risks—they all had to be accountable to their residents.

But if he chose to become a person utterly unlike Charles, to become a true hero fighting for the constitution, and after it all ended, to keep his inaugural oath, to refuse a peace sustained by lies, to seek actual unity...

That seemed no different from promptly accepting the olive branch thrown by the Southern Sea Alliance.

No matter the past, the residents of Shelter No. 70 now fought for the ideal of equality and had voluntarily shed their coats.

Why not fulfill that promise now?

All he needed to do was nod and keep his word, and they could achieve that true union, with him ending as a hero...

A struggle surfaced on Li Minghui’s face, as he involuntarily clenched the fist resting before the radio.

Had he faced this choice just a day earlier, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated to agree.

But now, he had finally risen above the masses... whether he was propped up there or whether he had always yearned for it deep inside.

He was no saint...

It was just too hard!

Seemingly sensing his indecision, the radio once again transmitted an earnest piece of advice.

"Admit it, this isn’t Luo Xia Province, nor is it Poluo Province. Neither Charles nor you have a chance of becoming the king—the guy who first got a hot seat has already thrown down his hat and run."

"If you think you’re more professional than him, you can take your impractical ideas and place a bet, but while he could escape, you definitely can’t! Either fulfill your promise made on the broadcast and finish what you’ve started!"

Chen Jianhong spoke deliberately, repeating what he had heard on the broadcast.

Whether or not it was truly heartfelt, it at least came from his own mouth.

"...We will never compromise with beasts, nor will we accept peace maintained by lies again."

"What we need is real unity!"

"Real!"

...

"...We will never compromise with beasts, nor will we tolerate the Torch Church continuing their foolish experiments, watching them drag the last pure land beneath our feet into an irreversible abyss!"

In the City of Dawn, Cohesive Mansion’s auditorium.

Over two hundred people sat in the semi-circular conference room, the solemn and respectful voice echoing over the heads of those present.

Seated here were representatives from various settlements.

The farthest came from Triumph City and Ideal City, the nearest from the neighboring Kingdom, and even from Garbage City just east of the City of Dawn, as well as Bugra Free State, attending on behalf of the Grand Canyon.

Beyond these, there were many from the Survivor Forces of the Eastern and Western Provinces, whose power varied, but most played a relatively important role locally.

The entire Conference Building was completed by a joint team of corporate and Academy construction workers, with the Army’s Thousands of Leaders overseeing the project, thereby finishing in just two months what should have taken one.

Yet, compared to the insignificant building itself, most of the two hundred plus people seated during the conference were the fruits of Alliance diplomacy.

After all, whether attracted here by the Army, Academy, or corporations, in the end, it was the Alliance that had gathered them from all over the Central Continent here.

At this moment, the respected Alliance Manager stood in the center of the auditorium, delivering an impassioned speech.

Countless gazes converged upon the man, especially those from Academy representatives, who listened with particular seriousness, activating their bionic eyes’ recording function and neck-implants’ vertical stabilizers to ensure the camera wouldn’t shake.

It was as if this were some important sociological material.

Of course, it could just be that guy’s habit—heard it’s common amongst the Academy folks.

Bennott, sitting in the front row with his legs crossed, curled his lips disdainfully, not listening carefully.

Perhaps that guy wasn’t wrong; the survivors on the Wasteland should indeed join hands to do something, at least unite on the issue of the "Mutated slime fungus," which threatened the safety of everyone’s survival.

But was this a problem that could be solved just by flapping lips?

Counting one by one those seated here, including the man on the stage, which of their represented communities had made more sacrifices than the Weilante People to tackle the Mutated slime fungus?

The companies that enjoyed themselves behind closed doors? Or the Academy that "built ships behind closed doors" in the Wandering Swamp?

Not to mention the newly founded Alliance, which probably had lost fewer people to the slime fungus than those killed by their own hands. Wait fifty years before comparing with them.

Some young officers might have forgotten, but he was all too aware of the bloody history of the Weilante People.

The War Construction Committee "created" them explicitly to deal with the slime fungi, and the reason their noses had turned from shackles to medals was because they’d fought for it tooth and nail!

As for the ally sitting beside him from that so-called Empire, Bennott didn’t even bother giving him a glance.

There is no Mutated slime fungus in Poluo Province; those guys fought their own people all their lives, fabricating labels to stick on and fight about if they didn’t have any, only calming down in recent years. However, the governor sent by Triumph City mentioned they might start fighting again soon.

Bennott couldn’t help but yawn, his gaze drifting boredly towards the corporate representatives also sitting in the front row.

He didn’t need to guess; that guy had surely reached some private agreement with the Alliance before the meeting, ready to cast an affirmative vote.

As he yawned, the person he despised most beside him reacted completely differently to the voice from the stage.

Niyan, who had attended the meeting in place of Duke Garava, couldn’t help but hold his breath, his not particularly large eyes filled with fervor and longing, like a rat hiding in the shadow of a stove, greedily gasping at a lamp flame.

If only he could follow by that great man’s side for ten more lifetimes as a member of the Mouse Tribe...

The voice’s rises and falls were like the beating of a war drum; merely listening to him speak, Niyan felt his heart pounding violently, as if it were about to fly out of his throat.

Compared to that warm, glowing figure, his "noble" Duke seemed like a mere speck of dust!

No—

How dare that sick weakling compare himself to this great person?

Not to mention that guy isn’t worthy of comparison to this great person, but even the big-nosed one sitting beside him is nothing more than a gutter rat in front of this great person.

In terms of lineage, who has a purer bloodline than those sheltered by the refuge?

In terms of ability, they stood up from the ruins in just a few short years!

Not to mention knowledge and experience—they’re the smartest people on the Wasteland, where even the smartest of brains flock to their side. Even those stingy, condescending folks in the north begrudgingly admit that they possess some knowledge that is unknown to them and are willing to exchange truly valuable things with them.

Speaking of understanding the Alliance, Niyan, who never misses a single newspaper, can confidently say that he understands this place better than the people living here, and even understands that great person better!

Without a doubt, he is a true fan of that great person!

Although he’s well aware of his status as a humble member of the Mouse Tribe...

As for that dirty bandit sitting next to him, Niyan doesn’t even bother to give him a glance.

Duke Garava doesn’t see it clearly, nor does His Majesty, but he knows very well which beast has harmed his kin the most.

Chu Guang, standing at the podium, suddenly felt an unexpected chill as if something was spying on him.

It turns out, having too high a perception isn’t always a good thing—it can lead to paranoia.

The vast majority of people sitting here are watching him, hanging on his every word, every sentence.

Certainly, there’s no need for anyone to be sneaking peeks...

Despite his confusion, now is not the time to worry about such trivial matters.

As he brought his speech to a close, Chu Guang clenched his right fist and placed it firmly on the podium.

"...Ladies and gentlemen, since entering the Wasteland Era, we are facing the most severe crisis in two hundred years!"

"If we don’t take the opportunity to completely smother it in the cradle before it’s fully fledged, all our efforts to rebuild this world will have been in vain!"

"We shall take the initiative to launch an attack, starting from the north against the territory controlled by the Torch Church! However, our strength alone isn’t enough to solve all the problems. I need you to temporarily set aside unresolved disputes and contentions, at least for now—"

"Let us once again unite for the same goal!"

With intense eyes scanning the entire hall, Chu Guang placed both hands on the lectern.

And just as he expected, applause started from the first row and quickly spread throughout the entire venue.

Whether they were allies or former opponents, or even the Empire with which they had just had a conflict...

Everyone, without exception, cast a favorable vote—for this just war.

In fact, from the beginning, Chu Guang never doubted that the Torch Church didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.

Those madmen used all their wits and schemes to cobble together a mere few islands, and even then, it was a lukewarm alliance at best.

In contrast, his own side, through the victory four months ago and the lobbying and mobilization of the past four months, had already gathered a force far more powerful than the so-called "Heaven" touted by those lunatics.

No matter what kind of struggle those lunatics plan to make.

From the moment they attempted to make enemies with all the survivors on the Wasteland, their fate was already sealed!