Salen was the last of the major powers’ leaders to arrive, even arriving half an hour later than the Academy’s Chief Technical Officer, almost stepping into the conference hall precisely on ti.
Chu Guang looked at his face, sensing the pride written on it, and was well aware of why this was so.
If anyone was the biggest beneficiary of the army’s disbandnt, it was undoubtedly this triumphant fellow in front of him.
As the eldest son of the army, almost half of Julius’s family business was in the hands of the Eastern Empire, while only a single province in Vellante remained for Triumph City.
He gloriously bid farewell to Julius, becoming the undisputed emperor of millions of square kiloters of land!
At least the funeral in Nord City was over!
"I’m also very pleased to see you, Emperor of the Eastern Empire. I can tell you must be in a good mood."
They greeted with a bear hug, Salen patted Chu Guang’s arm, grinning as he spoke.
"Thanks to you, I have fulfilled the long-held wish of successive commanders of the Eastern Legion."
He surely should thank the Alliance.
General Kras died in the Grand Canyon, and Griffin, carrying the last will of the eastern expansionists, crashed into the wall of the River Valley Province. The old military aristocracy with land beca the largest political force in the Eastern Legion.
Including the later upheaval in Triumph City, fundantally it was also because the radicals of Vellante were influenced by Alliance ideologies.
The death of Diocletian led to the collapse of the Roman Empire, but it also brought about the glory of Constantinople and the later Byzantium.
In a certain sense, the Eastern Legion—or rather, today’s Eastern Empire—is in the sa position, just with a more detailed inner core difference.
Seeing the jubilant Salen, Chu Guang slightly nodded, speaking in a gentle tone.
"I believe this is also the longstanding wish of every Vellante person in the Eastern Empire; the soldiers of the Expeditionary Army can rest in peace."
Understanding the hidden ssage in his words, Salen laughed heartily, then gave a thumbs-up.
"I truly appreciate smart people because we can quickly reach a consensus without wasting ti with riddles."
After a pause, he spoke up.
"Olet and his direct line are now officers of the Eastern Empire. According to our investigation, they were deceived by Teilmon."
"Who is Olet?"
Chu Guang really didn’t know this na.
Perhaps it appeared in the Guards Corps intelligence or on the official forum, but it wasn’t important to him.
He was just a frontline commander, at most a pawn on the chessboard, but no matter how notorious, he was overshadowed by Teil.
As for those major war criminals that caused a stir in both the City of Dawn and Ideal City, such as Commander Ryan, who ordered the bombing of Lion City resulting in the deaths of tens of thousands of civilians, and John who executed orders, it is unlikely the Eastern Empire would interfere with their trials, as the costs of protection do not outweigh the benefits.
However, Salen, thinking himself clever, "understood" his implication and winked at him.
"Fair enough! Of course, we won’t let you suffer a loss. How about this, we’ll leave the big fish Guryang to you guys. By the way, give the scoop, which state’s interests are the core for the Alliance in the Poluo Line, and I’ll consider how to split this cake best."
Splitting the fish is fake; this guy wants to negotiate how to divide Poluo Country with him...
Chu Guang looked at the self-proclaid clever emperor with a half-smile, and said in a teasing tone.
"What use do we have for so much land? The few acres ford in the River Valley are enough for us to plant, and the surplus seeds can even be given to others. As for you, aren’t you satisfied with over ten million square kiloters? Your core population is quite small. Aren’t you afraid they’ll unite and rebel if you add another million or so?"
Although this first sentence made Salen scornful, he couldn’t help but twitch his eyebrow at the latter part.
It didn’t exactly sound like a threat.
However, thinking about what happened in the West River Empire, he couldn’t help but shiver.
Perhaps being overly greedy for hundreds of thousands more square kiloters isn’t a good idea.
At least the Vellante people have so semblance of dignity. Falling to the sa fate as the Sun Tribe or the Bull Tribe, rolling around in the mud with a bunch of loaches, is truly unnecessary.
Salen squeezed out an unnatural smile, dismissing the fleeting thought.
"Enough, that’s certainly enough... we just want a buffer zone, after all, there are quite a few Vellante refugees living in the southwest corner of the Zobar Mountains."
Chu Guang chuckled.
"The two representatives from Poluo Province are still here, how about talking to them?"
Salen’s expression gradually stiffened.
He knew that even talking would be futile. Neither Absek nor Laxi would ever agree to cede any of the thirteen states of Poluo Province, and the end result would inevitably be wanting to exchange land by using lives!
However—
He wasn’t entirely without opportunities.
The rigid muscles gradually squeezed out a smile, Salen continued staring at him and said.
"Don’t act like you’re a white lotus either, how do you account for the ten thousand square kiloters in Lowell State?"
Chu Guang smiled faintly and said.
"Jinjaron Harbor has always been the local people’s own Jinjaron Harbor. Their mayor, their representative council, were all elected by themselves. There never was an Alliance-appointed official or representative holding any position there."
After pausing, he continued.
"I hope West Sail Port is the sa. The Vellante people can stay in the area, but they must return the town hall and court to the locals, in whatever manner that is, or else you’ll have to be psychologically ready to continue the war the Southern Legion hasn’t finished."
This statent was quite firm.
And it was no longer a threat of soft power, but rather a more assertive hard power threat.
Reading Chu Guang’s deeper aning, Salen’s face still held that unchanging smile.
Though the Alliance wasn’t forced to make substantial concessions, after so probing, he managed to figure out the Alliance’s bottom line.
The model adopted by the Triumph City Official Group did not cross the Alliance’s bottom line, whereas the Southern Legion’s model thoroughly overstepped it.
This makes things much clearer.
"We will return West Sail Port to the locals, but only if you stop interfering in the internal affairs of the Poluo Province area."
Looking at the beaming Salen, Chu Guang also smiled faintly, speaking in a gentle tone.
"That depends on the extent of your involvent, whether direct or indirect, and whether you comply with the ancient covenant."
As long as the Eastern Empire doesn’t launch an ard invasion of the Poluo Province area, he indeed wouldn’t intervene in the cooperation between the two.
The sa goes for the Falcon Kingdom.
The Alliance has done everything it could locally, but ultimately the survivors there are more willing to align closely with the Eastern Empire, and this was their own choice.
In just a few brief remarks, the negotiation over the post-war order for four million square kiloters ended.
Both the Eastern Empire and the Alliance achieved their desired results, and both Absek and Shava could breathe a sigh of relief.
At least the Emperor of the Eastern Empire promised to withdraw troops from West Sail Port.
Even if the Vellante take down and remove every last screw from West Sail Port, it’s still better than fighting another war to reclaim the territory.
Moreover, how much can they actually take with them?
Surely, they won’t be able to take away the rebar planted in the ground and the concrete wrapped around it.
Nor can they take away the knowledge stored in the heads of West Sail Port’s residents.
As long as they are given enough ti, rebuilding a prosperous West Sail Port is only a matter of ti.
Seeing Absek’s grateful look towards Chu Guang, he simply smiled faintly and said nothing.
He didn’t send troops to support the Poluo’s resistance against the invaders out of a desire for gratitude nor to beco their patron, but rather for all survivors in the Eastern part of the Central Continent who might face the Legion’s nace.
This naturally included the Alliance.
Therefore, there was no need for them to be grateful to him, nor should they see him as any kind of savior.
Just continue forward with these mories.
As long as facing their own hearts and past with sincerity, whether they are Vellante or Poluo people, the future will be bright...
Amidst the expectations of billions of survivors, representatives from various forces gradually entered the eting hall located in the belly of the Grand Canyon.
The spacious eting center was like a circular theater, with the tables and chairs sharply carved out of granite, seemingly cut from a whole granite vein by lasers or so other ans!
The crystal-like chandeliers hung roughly fifty ters high, resembling inverted pyramids growing from the do, emitting a soft milky white glow downwards.
It is said that this doomsday facility was completed before the war.
It can only be the Era of Infinity Prosperity that could have built such a magnificent wonder.
Entering the conference room, Absek resembled Liu Granny entering the Grand View Garden, unable to control the awe in his heart.
More than two hundred years ago, the survivors of the Human Alliance Era sat here discussing how to face their future fate.
At that ti, the concept of the Wasteland Era probably didn’t even exist.
Facing the drop to minus 50 degrees and a sky without a hint of light, no one knew if their apocalypse would end, and what to do if it wouldn’t.
Moved by the scenery, Absek couldn’t help but muse.
"It turns out... when the Wasteland Era started, it was probably decided in the Wasteland Era’s 50th year."
If by the Wasteland Era’s 50th year the harsh winter hadn’t ended, then those past 50 years would be counted as the Doomsday Era.
What later generations take for granted was not considered so by people at the ti.
Although today’s survivors in Tiandu curse him as worthless, calling him a butcher who killed more Poluo people than Anush, and saying he taxed grain like a bandit robbing farrs, who knows, they might one day nostalgically rember him just like Lowell.
After all, who can guarantee that soone won’t soday do the things he wanted to do yet didn’t dare?
During Anush’s tenure, fewer people died compared to under his rule as the supre leader, and that is a true statent.
The guy led the Heavenly King’s Army to rob the nobles’ estates clean, let the slaves sleep with the sisters and young ladies they had only dared to dream about all their lives, and let Duwata have his pick of wives and concubines, while Shaluk’s house was piled with gold and jewels...
It was that one shot of his that woke them from their unfinished dreams, but shouldn’t unfinished dreams be kept alive?
Perhaps he should write an apology for his sins.
"Hahaha! Interesting, so damn interesting..."
Thinking this, Absek couldn’t help but laugh out loud, even shedding tears from laughter, sweeping away his previously gloomy mood, freeing himself in an instant.
The collapse of the Heavenly Palace made him relinquish his obsession with the throne, no longer yearning for the impossible eternal, while joining the Silver Moon Sect made him let go of his obsession with power, no longer suspicious of everyone.
Now, he has finally attained his completeness—letting go of everything he previously could not.
He finally saw his own dry well.
It was never the thick walls on either side or the unreachable clouds above that trapped him—
It was himself all along.
"Whether it’s rit or fault, leave it to posterity to judge!"
Like Mayor Otto of Free State, he finally faced his inner self and fully realized who he was just as the Ga was about to end.
And at that very mont, the nightmare that had haunted him for so long finally cleared up...
...
Those present marveled at the grandeur of the conference hall, and so lanted how nice it would be to use the money to build another shelter.
Only a few can reconcile with the past, and even fewer can erge from past glory.
Absek’s performance was relatively decent, at least he could think like a normal person.
But the likes of the lord of Dam City were left with their jaws dropped, looking left and right for their confidants, utterly lost without their left and right arms.
The truth is, a pig in the right place doesn’t necessarily understand everything, nor can it withstand all the storms.
As for the true leaders, they had long been calmly seated in their respective places.
Whether it was the leader of Triumph City, the Manager of the Alliance, the Chief Technical Officer of the Academy, mbers of the board of directors of enterprises, or Salen of the Eastern Empire, the emperor of the Northern Empire who was as strong as a bear, or the foreign minister in a formal suit sent by the president of the New Union Gang...
All topics worth discussing had been discussed, and what hadn’t been discussed indicated it wasn’t worth ntioning; sitting here, they were just going through the motions.
However, the hosts of the eting were equal, ensuring even the leaders of minor forces received enough respect and everyone found their place before the eting began.
No matter how laughable their stories may be, or who seed like a clown to whom, sitting here, they were all choices made from the heart by those Waste Land Wanderers.
At least at this mont!
And just as everyone was seated, a solemn and dignified voice echoed in the conference hall—
"Thank you all for taking the ti to be here..."
"I am the Chief of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee."
Many were already aware of the old man’s identity, and so were fortunate to have seen his different faces.
However, this ti he did not speak in riddles or waste any words.
After briefly reciting the opening remarks, he ceded the floor to the young attendees present—
"I announce the official comncent of this Human Conference!"
Thunderous applause filled the room, and Zhou Xianlin, sitting in a corner of the venue, even stood up excitedly, raising his hands above his head.
The leader of the Red River Alliance, not far away, glanced at this madman and sneered dismissively but eventually clapped along with everyone else in attendance.
Even Salen, sitting at the front row of the venue yawning, graciously clapped.
For him personally, the real topics of discussion had already been set before the eting started.
He not only t with Chu Guang but also representatives from enterprises and the Academy, as well as several representatives from forr Legion forces.
This included the young man who inherited Julius’ armor and gained the recognition of the Forbidden Army.
As for other survivor forces, in his eyes, they were as insignificant as ants, and he didn’t care what they thought.
However, seeing the serious expressions on the faces of the other leaders at the table, he took an interest and straightened up from the granite-carved chair.
"Heh, let see what these youngsters have to say... "
...
The thunderous applause was like New Year’s Eve firecrackers, sending off the already distant Wasteland Era of the year 214.
As for when the new era would arrive, it could only be determined long after the eting concludes.
At this mont, in a remote corner of the wasteland, blocked on the road to the front lines, Niyan spent a simple New Year in the car with his most trusted student and assistant Feodo.
Looking at "Mr. Mouse," who couldn’t bring himself to write the manifesto despite considering for a long ti, Feodo’s face was full of confusion.
His impression of the ntor was not like this.
Even when serving as a servant under Duke Garava, this gentleman was upright.
But why?
Reached here, this proud intellectual bowed his head.
Is it just because that guy kills like crazy, even killing his own people when he goes berserk?
Anger grew in his heart as he muttered lowly.
"... If you can’t write it, I can write it for you. If you’re afraid, I can die in your place."
After speaking, he reached out to grab the paper and pen from Niyan’s hand, but was quickly snatched away by the latter.
"Don’t get involved in this ss!" Niyan reprimanded him briefly, then continued pondering over the blank paper.
Feodo was unyielding, staring straight into his eyes.
"That’s your student, you taught us to stand upright, but why don’t you support them?"
Niyan put down the paper and pen, struggling to turn himself to face his student.
"I only ask you one question: Have you thought about what will happen after you overthrow Laxi?"
Without hesitation, Feodo replied.
"Of course, we will establish a representative assembly and then create our basic law like the survivors of Giant Stone City."
Looking at the young man standing with a straight spine, Niyan laughed, unable to hold back a coughing fit.
"Rely on you? Just you kids who still need to ask your parents for tuition, handing out salaries to those workers returned from overseas?"
Feodo’s face flushed red, unsure why the teacher ntioned those overseas workers, only knowing that the look in his eyes doubted their capability.
"You must not look down on us!"
Niyan shook his head, gently panting as he spoke.
"I don’t look down on you; I love every one of you deeply. That’s why I’m always against politics in the classroom. We should give truth to the children, which is also my largest disagreent with Sir Cabaha... cough cough, he said harsh dicine is needed to cure the disease, bent corrections must go to extres, but I say if he goes on like this, even if there are a thousand more universities, they’ll turn into a thousand pillars, nailing us all on them."
If one only gains knowledge from books, it’s inevitable to use conscious shapes to view objective problems.
And this will certainly fall into the blind man touching the elephant trap.
Absek is just a dock worker; he doesn’t understand grand theories, but he has rich social experience, can get along well with various crowds, and knows what they want.
Only people like him can balance the lustful Duwata, the greedy Shaluk, and the one who loves artworks and befriending intellectuals, Nigeli...
And precisely because of this, when the army ca, only Shaluk fled, not all three fools running away, leaving a group of self-interested idiots waiting to be picked off one by one.
Even if the alliance moves the capital to Tiandu, it’s no use; "Butcher," "Jungle Mouse," "Iron General" can only run with their heads covered, maybe the smartest ones flee faster.
Yet, nonetheless, such "unthinking" diocrities are precisely the ones scholars like Sir Cabaha despise most. Even if Absek pulled him from under Anush’s knife, they’d still think this bunch of bandits without a guiding principle won by luck.
Sir Cabaha never said this to him, but Niyan knows that’s exactly what he thinks.
They vaunt themselves as radicals, thinking everything would improve if everyone listened to them, becoming idealists in their fantasies and insane in most people’s eyes.
At most, letting the alliance attack the imagined enemies, believing everything would be fine as soon as the enemy made a mistake, and the enemy’s mistakes are inevitable because they are wrong.
This is fundantally different from idealists, similar to how pragmatists might resemble nihilists, yet are never nihilists.
These madn have only two ends: either used as a tool by a thorough Machiavellian, or after a lucky success, burning themselves and all followers completing a self-pleasing martyrdom.
In a daze, he suddenly realized what he should write, picked up the pen resting on the paper, only for the pen to drop to the ground along with several blood clots red like soil.
"Teacher!"
Feodo exclaid, pulling Niyan, who collapsed in the car, up, only to see the unstoppable blood flow.
"What happened?" The driver, hearing the commotion, quickly turned his head and seeing Niyan’s condition, his face turned pale, "Sir, what’s wrong with you—"
"Forget everything! Just drive!"
Stunned by the color of the blood, Feodo’s brain went blank, impulsively grabbing the driver’s collar and yelling at him.
The driver wasn’t frightened by the blood; having driven for the Moon Clan Resistance Army’s leaders before, he was half a soldier. Yet, as he was about to step on the gas, he saw the crowd of vehicles ahead.
Carriages and ox carts crowded the road...
They were all refugees migrating east from the front lines.
The 30,000th Boloro Team was advancing towards the west bank of the Tasang River, rumored to be the elusive "Jungle Mouse"! The undisputed military god of the entire war!
But now, this man aid his gun at them...
A civil war is brewing!
"Think of sothing fast! Right, why not drive through the dirt road outside!"
Feodo shouted desperately, his face full of despair, yet not realizing that even a dirt road is still a road. If they drove onto the rough terrain, their car might fall apart before reaching two kiloters.
This was the only road they were traveling; there was no second path.
Fortunately, the driver responded quickly, imdiately opening the car door and pulling Niyan from the back seat.
"Hold onto him! I’m going to find help!"
Without hesitation, the driver ran swiftly, soon stopping a convoy from a wealthy household among the migrating masses, attempting to trade his gun and car keys for two horses, and promising that whether or not he saved his owner, there would be benefits for them.
The wealthy household was savvy enough; upon seeing the gun, they knew the person in trouble had a complex identity.
Thus, they didn’t accept the gun and car keys but instead dispatched three strong young n on horses to help, voluntarily staying behind to watch over the vehicle.
In these tis, having a gun makes you the master; to casually use a gun to settle debts, one must possess endless firearms!
This favor was a deal well made!
While the wealthy household was pleased, three sturdy horses galloped across the wilderness, heading with the unconscious Niyan towards the nearest town.
There, stationed was Laxi’s military. Where there’s a military, there are doctors and telephones!
Galloping for 20 miles, under the stars and moon, the party finally reached the closest town.
Upon learning about Niyan, the local garrison commander imdiately reported the situation to higher-ups, requesting aid and arranging for the military dics to administer ergency treatnt to him.
Standing beside the sickbed, Feodo was filled with remorse and self-bla, silently praying for his comatose teacher.
At that mont, Niyan suddenly coughed and opened his eyes, a faint light gradually returning to his unfocused pupils.
"Teacher!" Feodo exclaid in surprise, rushing to the bedside.
Niyan seed not to hear; instead, he suddenly reached out with his stick-like hand, firmly grasping Feodo’s arm.
"Run..."
Feodo was bewildered, looking at him in confusion.
"...What?"
Niyan inhaled deeply, his gaze towards the ceiling tinged with despair, using every ounce of his strength to speak word by word.
"Run, as far as you can... You all... are not his match."
Feodo tightly held his teacher’s hand back, leaning closer.
"Who?! Do you an Laxi?!"
The driver coughed in response, signaling to the young man that this was Laxi’s military camp.
But the nearby company commander acted as if he hadn’t heard, pretending not to know and looking away.
He certainly knew what happened in Mammoth City, and upon seeing Niyan here, he knew everything; unlikely as it seed, higher-ups should be on the way here.
Yet, he intended to act as if he heard nothing, calmly heading outside to light a cigarette.
Sadness flashed in Niyan’s eyes; he didn’t utter any na he hoped for.
Not even the na of a living person.
"Low... el..."
Anush had been Lowel, but halfway through his slaughter, he was shot dead on the throne.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, forgetting the Heavenly King’s army entirely, forgetting how they ca to be.
Thus, a new Lowel arrived, showcasing his butcher’s knife, filling the ground with severed heads.
As for the civil war.
When everyone expected it to co, maybe it wouldn’t after all.
It didn’t matter anymore...
Better to leave it as a fantasy for future generations, imagining what the war would be like if it broke out.
It’s actually the sa.
Feodo stared at him blankly, thinking he misheard, completely frozen in place.
He muttered, moving his lips, mumbling.
"Lowel... isn’t that a dead person..."
He knew his teacher had cursed General Lowel for a whole year, even the entire "Red Soil" centered around him, yet he didn’t expect his teacher’s hatred to have perated his bones to such an extent.
He felt it shouldn’t be this way.
The remnant evils left behind by the United Human military officers were certainly detestable, but didn’t deserve such ancestral grave digging.
As people often said, there’s no rit but there’s hard work, and who could deny that no one survived by eating soil?
Besides, his teacher also said Sir Cabaha wasn’t good, that over-correction wasn’t good.
But when he wanted to ask further, Niyan had already breathed his last.
The damnable Duke Garava, after Witch Todd died, half-heartedly changed his heart, while the most undeserved person left just before dawn...
Feodo wailed, crying until his eyes were bloodshot, like a child who lost a loved one.
The driver’s eyes reddened too, raising his hand to cover his nose.
He wasn’t a soldier, but sort of was before, yet never expected his leg would be run until breaking only to reach such an end.
Why?
Why do good people live short lives!
Why does heaven treat him like this!
Hearing the commotion from the room, the company commander rushed in from outside, followed by Laxi returning from the front lines and the local division’s commander.
This nearly six-foot-tall giant hadn’t cried when he lost a battle, hadn’t cried when injured, and of course hadn’t cried now, but was furiously mad with red eyes.
"No!!!"
"You damn bastard, co back! Your battle isn’t over yet! I forbid you to leave!"
"Leader! He’s already dead!" Watching Laxi attempt to pull Niyan up at the bedside, the commander behind him pulled the emotionally distraught man with red eyes, "Figure out what to do first!"
Finally calming down, Laxi staggered back to the doorway, suddenly seeing the red-eyed, scared student, stepping forward to grab his shoulder.
"Your teacher died... no, the gentleman said anything before he passed!?"
Although he’d boasted before about "not fearing death", facing the true murderous god in front of him now, Feodo was still paralyzed with fear.
This man truly clawed his way out of a pile of corpses.
Every word he spoke seed drenched in blood, the sheer killing aura enough to make even the King of Hell shudder.
His teacher might have been right...
He’s all talk, all else weak.
Yet Laxi didn’t sha his cowardice, nor did he hurry him like he did the teacher, instead patiently waiting.
Finally, Feodo, like a terrified girl, squeezed out a sentence from his trembling lips—
"Lowel... my teacher said, I... we aren’t his opponents."
"He wants us to run quickly."
Laxi’s expression halted, seemingly not expecting the final words to be these.
Letting go of the young man’s thin shoulders, he strode out of the room.
At this mont, he resembled an enraged bull, roaring against the cloudy skies and morning mist.
"Lowel—"
"Damn you all!!!"
Elsewhere, having taken custody of Ross and other Weilante captives, Commander Yakale of the 110,000 team led his troops day and night, heading towards the outskirts of West Sail Port.
The positions they once couldn’t capture, were now as if nonexistent.
They took the army’s train to Sulak County, where the villagers welcod them as warmly as they did the Weilante people, offering them stewed lamb and hot tea.
Looking at the flattering county chief, Yakale felt annoyed and gave these dishes he hadn’t tasted in a long ti to his subordinates.
The guy nad Ross handed over his gun but wouldn’t say a word to him.
He knew why; the guy didn’t truly believe he lost to him deep down, and Yakale indeed couldn’t shalessly mock the other, wondering why certain battles weren’t fought on certain hills.
Until dawn was breaking, conquerors made of steel appeared one after another on the wilderness.
The rumbling sound of the tracks startled the soldiers who were dozing off, and they scrambled to find cover, only to see their own flag from the distant military formation.
Well, turns out they were on the sa side!
Having stayed up all night, Yakale was stunned for quite a few seconds until his people cald him down.
The group headed south in Sulak County, where a flashy off-road vehicle stopped before them.
Two officers stepped out of the car, and one of them, a ten thousand leader with shining military boots, saluted him and laughed.
"I am the ten thousand leader of the 101st troop of Poluo Country! This is our commander, Iron General, General Groove!"
Yakale widened his eyes and muttered.
"What the hell is an Iron General, I am the Diamond General, Gold General, and Paint General still..."
Groove, being a rough fellow, was not angered by this. Instead, he instinctively laughed heartily and patted his shoulder.
"I’ve heard of your great na, brother! I worked on the southern line, you know Gibson, right? He’s the loser under my command!"
"Oh, oh, I think I heard of him..." Yakale nodded blankly. He happened to acquire a few cannons from Gibson, although it was the alliance’s Skeleton Corps that took them for him, but his subordinates also contributed a bit.
So that’s why this guy is gone; turns out he was driven south.
Seeing that he had heard of Gibson’s fa, Groove laughed heartily.
"Right, it wasn’t easy confronting that bastard! At first, he dared to face us head-to-head; later on, he hid in his positions and refused to co out. I eventually took over his lair, but he wouldn’t accept defeat, stubbornly tough like a damn duck! By the way, where’s Yishel? I’ve wanted to et him for ages, why isn’t he here?"
As he said this, Groove’s face was full of eagerness, as he had been a fan of Yishel since before the Northern Winds operation. Unfortunately, he never had the chance to et him.
Yakale looked at Groove puzzled, not understanding why he asked such a question.
Isn’t it you guys who asked to co for contact?
Turns out the commander is also a little shrimp.
"He has to guard against Laxi..."
Groove’s face showed a disappointed look, nodding with lingering regret.
"Okay... By the way, brother, how’s my equipnt?"
In the distance, dust billowed as the storm of steel rolled across the plains like a whirlwind.
Yakale stared at it for a long ti, wishing he could engrave that scene into his eyes, and after a while, he finally squeezed out a word from his mouth.
"Damn, amazing..."
...
On the other side, the misty dawn at the west bank of the Tasang River.
Yishel sat despondently on the position until daybreak, contemplating the lights by the Tasang River all night.
New Year.
Another New Year...
Watching the migrating crowd, his thoughts instantly returned to that evening where destiny was decided.
It was then, in his desperate situation, that he finally recognized his fate, abandoning the pursuit of becoming Poll in Giant Stone City, forsaking the fantasies of the Silver Moon Goddess, ceasing to chase unrealizable ideals...
And precisely because of that, he used Poluo people’s wisdom to deceive everyone, not only saving Little Ruby and everyone in the church but also keeping them alive until the very end.
Since then, his life has been smooth sailing, not only designing to help his old boss Anvo escape the whirlpool of Tiandu, but also impressing nurous bigwigs including Absek, to the point where he now sits at the position of northern field army’s commander.
Even the Weilante people were so admiring that they printed his portrait on poker cards.
Everything is developing in a good direction.
Whether for Poluo people or Weilante people.
Recently, the communication status has slightly recovered. He has heard news about so people he helped before and learned so outside information from their letters.
Like Lady Margaret’s family, who reportedly lives happily at No.1 Settlent.
The residents of Evernight Harbor were not overwheld by difficulties; they’ve built new hos on the wilderness.
Her husband continues to fulfill his vows to build churches for the Silver Moon Goddess, but he himself seems to have no ti to pray.
Among the couple’s letters was a postcard from Little Ruby, with a picture of a cute mammoth on it.
Thinking of the little mammoth ward Yishel’s heart, and suddenly he wanted to have a kid.
Maybe start by dating soone.
He was also in his pri years; probably it wouldn’t be a problem to date a female student.
Everyone got a happy ending, but for so reason, he suddenly felt a sense of panic, just like the day he cowered in a corner, trembling, unseen by Anush.
But this ti is different.
This ti it feels like when his old boss opened the church door, it wasn’t Anvo, but the wicked ghost nad Anush, staring at him, Little Ruby, and everyone else with slick eyes, and inwardly planning how to tornt each of them.
Yishel suddenly broke out in cold sweat and seed to hear sothing -
’I’m back.’
"Ah—!"
Right then, the air raid alarm sounded on the opposite bank of Tasang River, and it was sounded three tis.
Yet for so reason, there was no explosion sound this ti, nor the roar of planes flying low.
It seed like the alarm was not alert but a kind of lant.
Yishel furrowed his brow, suddenly having countless possibilities flashing through his mind, even letting his thoughts go beyond Tasang River.
At that mont, his complexion suddenly turned deathly pale, suddenly raising his head.
"Caught in the sche!"
On another side, at the West Sail Port train station platform, Ross carrying a suitcase and accompanied by several officers under his command stepped off the train and saw the defeated Gibson hemd in the middle by Poluo Country soldiers.
With submachine guns slung over their shoulders, those two soldiers were holding pu-9 submachine guns, their impassive deanor as if escorting a prisoner.
Looks like Poluo Country has already taken over this settlent.
Yet, those Poluo people didn’t rudely treat Gibson but kept his dignity intact as a defeated person... sothing Ross hadn’t expected.
There weren’t only Poluo people at the train station but also so Weilante people; however, judging by their vital spirit and upright posture, they were clearly from the Eastern Empire.
They were busy packing boxes, taking away everything they could.
From the soldiers’ reactions, it was evident that they had received permission from Poluo’s high command or even Absek himself.
Seeing Ross alight from the train, Gibson smiled weakly and extended his right hand.
"Glad to see you well, Leader Ross."
Continuous failures had completely crushed this man’s confidence; Ross couldn’t help but wonder whether he could still stand strong.
But what right did he have to ridicule him?
"Sa flight?"
Gibson nodded weakly and gave a faint smile.
"Yes, Salen promised to reunite with my family at New West Port. They said the place needed capable Weilante people like us... though I don’t know what I can do after the war ended."
Honestly, he never imagined Poluo people would spare him, given that southern troops mainly involved police actions, and during such actions, distinguishing between civilians and soldiers is inevitable.
Ross was silent for a mont, then sighed.
"Let’s talk after you get ho. There’s always a need for us sowhere."
The car to take them to the port was almost there.
Before getting into the car, Gibson looked complexly at the port behind him.
He felt no sentint for this place, for when the port was initially built, he wasn’t here.
"What do you think this place will beco?"
"I don’t know, don’t want to know," Ross shook his head, "they have so many people and just won all the wars, it won’t be worse than before we ca here."
Perhaps, the Weilante people are the sa.
An Evernight Port without the Southern Legion... at least Blackwater Alley will beco history.
Thinking of this made Ross suddenly less despairing about the future.
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