Chapter 694.2: You Call This A Counterattack?!
Of course he had heard that a group of blue skinned Mutant Humans who made their living fishing lived near the Death Coast, but what stunned him was that those Mutant Humans had actually appeared here?!
Even if they swam in a straight line, the distance from where they were to the Death Coast was close to 1,000 kilometers.
Could those Mutant Humans really swim that far?!
And when he heard that they could even fire torpedoes, his expression changed completely.
“Can you take me to the scene?” he asked.
The player scratched the back of his head, looking a little reluctant. “It’s not far. Just head west along the coast for five or six kilometers and you’ll see it. Our guys should still be over there cleaning up the battlefield... I’ve still got to fish here. If I keep chatting, those idiots will come up and scare all the fish away. How about I find someone to take you?”
Hearing that the battlefield was five or six kilometers to the west, Muda immediately thought of the two wrecks the sonar had detected earlier, and excitement crept onto his face.
If those ships had really been sunk by the Mutant Humans, there might be clues left behind!
Seeing that the shelter resident was eager to end the conversation, Muda didn’t delay him any further and sincerely thanked him. “Thanks! I’ll go over myself.”
With that, he returned to the speedboat with his men and restarted the engine.
After heading west another five kilometers, he soon spotted a group of people in exoskeletons on the beach, dragging wave-washed corpses into dug-out pits for burial.
They noticed Muda standing on the speedboat as well. One of them, Prone Model, recognized him at a glance as the guy he’d once drunk with, and waved with a grin. “Yo, you’re back?”
Muda called back, “Just got back. I heard two ships sank here last night. If it’s convenient, I’d like to go take a look.”
Prone Model waved casually. “No problem. Before Ample Time left, he told us that if you were interested in those two wrecks, we should take you over. Oh, do you need me to send someone to help you locate them?”
Muda shook his head. “No need, we’ve already got the coordinates. Thanks!”
“No problem!” Prone Model said with a smile. “Just in case, I’ll still arrange for two Electric Mantas to accompany you.”
With that, he contacted the engineering team via VM and dispatched two fully charged Electric Mantas from French Fry Harbor to assist.
Those things weren’t just used for underwater welding, they could also discharge electricity to drive off Mutant Humans, a new use they had discovered through practice.
Considering that the neural interference device on the speedboat had limited power, Muda didn’t refuse.
Once the two Electric Mantas arrived, he gave the order to proceed, following them to the area where the ships had sunk.
The condition of both cargo ships was horrific. Their hulls had been torn open, seawater flooding in and dragging them down to the seabed, where they lay embedded one ahead of the other among jagged rocks.
Bloated, mangled corpses floated nearby, some snagged on the hulls, others tangled in seaweed, left to be pecked at by fish. It looked like hell itself.
When Muda jumped into the water in a deep-diving suit and saw the scene, his scalp prickled and his stomach churned violently.
The two Electric Manta drones, arcs of electricity dancing over their tops, swam slowly to the bow of one of the ships. Crackling currents drove away the scavenging fish, clearing a path forward for him.
Following one of the Electric Mantas, Muda swept a flashlight around the bow area. He quickly spotted the breach on one side of the bow. In that instant, his pupils contracted sharply, disbelief and shock flooding his eyes.
The damage pattern from the explosion was almost identical to the scars previously shown in the newspapers on the hull of the Golden Coast survey vessel!
While determining whether it had been caused by the same model of weapon would require professional analysis, the discovery alone made his jaw drop.
He snapped a photo of the blast, then searched nearby with his flashlight. Sure enough, near a reef he found fragments left behind by a torpedo.
It was just a palm-sized piece.
The crudely made stainless-steel casing was exactly the same as the one they had found near the Golden Coast survey ship.
First, signals from a neural interference device had been detected near the power station. Then, despite being blamed for 12 sunken cargo ships, not a single weapon had been found aboard the Dolphin.
And now, those aquatic Mutant Humans, whom the so-called experts with their consultant titles had sworn would never leave the Death Coast, had not only appeared 1,000 kilometers away, but had even brought along the very weapons used to sink the Golden Coast...
Did those people ever tell a single truth?
Anger burned in his eyes as his fists clenched, a curse squeezing out between his teeth.
“Damn it...”
...
While the South Archipelago Federation maritime patrol was busy collecting evidence from the two wrecks, far away on the Poro Sea, a nuclear fusion powered submarine was racing toward Port Gallon at nearly 50 knots.
For diesel-powered cargo ships and a group of inexperienced sailors, a 2,000 kilometer journey meant crawling across the sea for a full week. For the Dolphin, it wouldn’t even take a day, 22 hours would be enough if the seas were calm.
Aboard the submarine were not only Dilrang and the 100 or so battered Xilande Empire soldiers, but also over 500 players from the Burning Corps.
More than half of them had arrived at French Fry Harbor that morning aboard the Bull and Horse Group’s airship. They had barely stepped off before boarding the submarine along with ammunition shipped from Dawn City.
They were the New Alliance’s elite. The weakest among them was at LV25. Not only were they equipped with Type 5 Light Cavalry and Type 6 Heavy Cavalry exoskeletons, there were also 20 brand-new DLZJ-1 Ethereal exoframes!
In addition to standard infantry gear, support equipment such as 88mm mortars, Y-2 quad-rotor attack drones, and Dove missiles was fully stocked.
To make room for ammunition and loot, Ample Time had Chen Jianhong empty the cargo hold overnight, transferring the containers to the newly built warehouses at French Fry Harbor for players interested in scavenging to sort through.
Looking at the rows of exoskeletons and exoframes radiating killing intent inside the hold, Chen Jianhong felt uneasy and couldn’t help but turn to Ample Time. “I believe I said this before, the Dolphin is a cargo submarine. We’re not a warship, and we shouldn’t be taking part in any offensive military operations.”
Ample Time smiled. “I know. But every citizen of the New Alliance has a duty to uphold the New Alliance Constitution. Besides, this isn’t a proactive attack, it’s retaliation. They declared war without warning, and we’re forced to respond.”
Rolling his eyes at that reckless logic, Chen Jianhong couldn’t help complaining, “I’ve never heard of retaliation that goes 2,000 kilometers out of our way?!”
“Well, now you have,” Ample Time replied jokingly, patting him on the shoulder and soothing him patiently. “Relax. You won’t take part in any fighting. Just wait in a safe area until we’re done, then pick us up.”
Seeing that the captain still had reservations, Ample Time added, “If you really can’t accept it, just think of it as humanitarian aid.”
Chen Jianhong froze. “... Humanitarian aid?”
“That’s right,” Ample Time said solemnly. “Based on information from other shelter residents, we suspect Port Gallon is involved in human trafficking and organ trading. Normally we wouldn’t reach that far, but since they provoked us first, we plan to cripple their port, beat them up, and rescue some people along the way.”
Chen Jianhong was struck speechless. “...”
Did this guy just slip up?
He mentioned humanitarian aid one moment, then immediately revealed his true intentions the next.
Still, Chen Jianhong didn’t object. He had heard a bit about what went on in the Poro Province, after all, many survivors at French Fry Harbor had fled from there.
If they could bring more people out of that hell, it would be a good deed.
The catastrophe two centuries ago had turned the entire planet into wasteland. Civilization hadn’t just declined systematically, it had mutated in the process.
In his view, the only places on the planet that still counted as a normal place were the survivor factions led by shelter residents.
Nearly every shelter resident harbored, to some degree, a desire to save the world, and Chen Jianhong was no exception. There was no real need for excuses like passive retaliation.
Saving suffering survivors...
For him, that alone was reason enough.
...
Elsewhere, in the submarine’s hold, Dilrang lay blindfolded, hands bound behind his back. After several futile attempts to break free, he finally gave up. The rope was made of Devil’s Silk. Unless his arms could turn into the mandibles of a Devil Moth, there was no way he could cut even a single strand.
Listening to the sound of waves echoing through the hull, even someone as slow as he was could guess what those blue rats were planning, most likely to do to them exactly what they themselves had done, land at Port Gallon aboard civilian cargo ships.
Shameless bastards!
Despicable cowards!
If they had any guts, they’d fight him like real men!
He cursed silently, not realizing he was cursing himself as well. Only when exhaustion set in did he stop the roaring in his mind, press his face against the cold deck, and pant as his heavy eyelids drooped.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He might even have slept for a while, until hunger pulled him back into consciousness. That was when he noticed something strange, the sound of the sea was different from before. It was deeper and more muffled, like the murmuring whispers of ghosts.
A faint unease crept into his heart.
And when he imagined being blindfolded and trapped in the confined hold for an entire week, that unease quickly turned into fear.
“Hey!” he shouted despite himself, stretching his chin forward against the deck, trying to get a guard’s attention. “At least take off my blindfold!”
No one answered.
Just as his anxiety mounted, footsteps sounded ahead, followed by the faint click of a lock.
Because his eyes had been covered for so long, his hearing was unusually sharp, quickly picking up the subtle noise. Guessing it was someone bringing him food, he seized the chance and shouted loudly, “Can you take off my blindfold? Are you really afraid of a prisoner with his hands and feet tied?!”
To his surprise, the person didn’t seem to be bringing food at all, at least, there was no scent of food in the breeze drifting in from the doorway.
“Shut up. You’re home. Get up and get lost.”
H-home?
Dilrang froze, and then a look of terror spread across his twisted face.
He might have dozed off, but there was no way he would have slept for a whole week. They couldn’t even have left the Poro Sea yet, how could they already be there?!
A horrifying thought surfaced in his mind.
Could it be... Were they planning to dump him into the sea to feed the fish?!
“No! I’m not getting off!”
Watching the man scream like a lunatic, the player who’d come to fetch him felt utterly helpless, of all jobs, he had drawn the least pleasant one.
Too lazy to argue with the prisoner, he grabbed Dilrang by the collar, lifted him like a chick, and shoved him out of the cell. “Behave yourself!”
