Chapter 703.3 Sneaky Bastards in Port Gallon

Of course they didn’t dare look up, especially not at the overseer’s face. One look and they might give themselves away.

The overseer nodded. He didn’t doubt them, though he still couldn’t help sneering coldly. “If you’d had this awareness earlier and worked harder day to day, you wouldn’t be so poor you don’t even look human anymore.”

Even if they didn’t become soldiers like him, if they could have run a small trade or learned a skill. If they did that, they wouldn’t be worse off than beasts, tied up digging dirt.

In the end, it was just laziness.

The overseer watched them for a bit. Seeing that they worked hard even without the whip, he couldn’t be bothered to use it and went off to cool himself under the camouflage netting.

Elsewhere, Alyang, having completed his deployment, was inspecting the positions.

He first checked the crucial artillery and anti-aircraft emplacements, as well as machine-gun nests, then moved to the frontline to take a look.

To his surprise, he found that the same laborers who had been dragging their feet before were working at full steam, as if there were gold buried underground.

How odd.

Since when did these lazybones become so hard working?!

Lowering his binoculars, Alyang turned to his adjutant. “How much did you pay them?”

The adjutant replied with a smug grin. “Reporting, sir! We didn’t spend a thing!”

“No money?!” Alyang stared at him, dumbfounded, suspecting he’d misheard.

But the adjutant chuckled and said proudly, “I heard from the men below that the local residents are all hoping we win quickly so their lives can return to normal. That’s why they dragged their families over at first light to help.”

He paused, then continued, “At the end of the day, it’s because His Majesty has the people’s hearts, your reputation is renowned, and we have heaven, earth, and men on our side. It’d be hard to lose this war.”

Though doubtful, Alyang didn’t refute the first half of that statement. He merely nodded and set aside the trivial matter. He didn’t need the laborers to dig perfect trenches, just enough cover to provide his soldiers with a defensive line.

The real battlefield would be in the city. These trenches and works would only be needed to move troops forward and deliver ammunition.

“Still, give the locals something. When they’re done, hand out a loaf of bread per person as compensation for delaying their other work.”

By bread, he didn’t mean the soft white kind he ate in the morning with butter and jam, but black bread mixed with large amounts of bran, and even gravel and sawdust. That was the staple food of most of the Xilande Empire’s lower classes and lower-to-middle farmers. For a few Xilande Coins, one could buy half a pound, depending on quality.

It wasn’t fermented, harder than biscuits, and could even be used as a weapon. People usually crumbled it into water to soak before drinking it.

But no matter what, it was far better than eating dirt or those bloating beans.

The adjutant nodded respectfully. “As you say, sir. I’ll arrange it shortly.”

Alyang nodded, then asked, “By the way, any new word from Rajesh?”

Rajesh was one of his most capable subordinates. He was an awakener, an excellent shot, and especially skilled at disguise and intelligence gathering.

Even before the army advanced, Alyang had sent him and two other scouts into Port Gallon to collect intelligence on the New Alliance’s activities.

It had been two days since their last contact. Before making the next operational plan, he needed fresh intelligence.

The adjutant hesitated slightly and shook his head. “No new information yet... The New Alliance’s troop deployments must be changing rapidly. I suspect Sergeant Rajesh is waiting until things stabilize before reporting.”

Alyang frowned slightly. “... Then we’ll have to give him a little more time.”

He had a bad feeling, but it seemed too early to draw conclusions. Not daring to get too close to the front, Alyang was certain the New Alliance soldiers hiding in the settlement were also watching their positions. He only took a distant look before retreating behind cover.

The sun gradually dipped behind the hills.

The officer overseeing the frontline construction came by to check, nodded in satisfaction, and returned to the artillery shelter.

The depth was more than sufficient!

At this pace, they would finish constructing the outer defenses of Port Gallon in at most three days. The New Alliance soldiers probably wouldn’t even dream their construction speed could be so fast.

At the same time, on the edge of the Port Gallon settlement, a group of survivors, soaked in sweat, stood nervously in line at the mouth of an alley.

That was where they lived, and lookouts were posted at each entrance, so there was no worry about outsiders seeing them.

Still, since they were collecting money from the iron men, most people were anxious, afraid the iron men would go back on their word, and afraid that taking the money might be discovered by soldiers of the Xilande Empire.

But when a crisp, brand-new 20-denomination banknote was pressed into their hands, nearly all those anxious expressions melted into eager smiles.

“Thank you, sir!” A man with a bedsheet tied around his waist clasped his hands in gratitude, so moved he looked ready to kneel on the spot.

The man handing out money, Heaven Stepping, was delighted inside, but kept up a civilized demeanor and scolded him. “Don’t call me ‘sir’. I can’t accept that. We pay money, you provide labor, this is a transaction, understand? We’re not giving alms.”

The man clearly didn’t understand, but nodded and bowed with a grin. “Alright, sir!”

“... Damn it, I spoke for nothing. Move along.” Heaven Stepping waved him off, too tired to argue.

Not far from the alley, two players in exoskeletons stood together.

Watching the line of people collecting money, Mountain River Dreaming couldn’t help but sigh, “You guys are way too damn sneaky.”

Just that day, he had received an assignment to transport several crates of Xilande banknotes from the Tulip Street to the frontline.

At first he wondered what so much money was for, until he saw what was happening.

Seeing his stunned ally, Coincidence chuckled, “The guy on our team really is a talent. Smarter than me. He should be the one leading the squad.”

Mountain River Dreaming looked at him with genuine envy.

Other squads were full of capable people. As for his squad? They had four people and two were newbies. They couldn’t even take shelter from the rain without screwing it up.

Leading his team was honestly exhausting.

“By the way, have you figured out anything these past couple of days? What are those guys planning, exactly?” Mountain River Dreaming asked casually.

Coincidence smiled. “No idea, but judging by their posture, they’re probably planning to advance steadily. You guys at Rowell Camp should be careful.”

Mountain River Dreaming looked surprised. “You think they’ll make Rowell Camp their main focus of attack?”

Coincidence tried to analyze it. “Probably. Hard to say for sure, but I feel Rowell Camp has slightly greater strategic value than the Governor’s Manor. The Mansion sits on higher ground in the northern districts, it’d take a lot of effort to chew through, and it wouldn’t be easy to hold. But if they take Rowell Camp, they can force us back to Tulip Street and reset our lines to where they were at the start of the second phase of our offensive.”

Once the New Alliance’s lines contracted to the port area, they would be unable to recruit local survivors and slaves as temporary manpower.

By contrast, retaking the Governor’s Manor would mean little beyond shifting the street fighting from the slums to Tulip Street near the port, and it could even risk supply lines being cut by New Alliance forces or local militias trained by them.

Mountain River Dreaming thought it over and found it reasonable.

Just then, a bare-chested local approached and said to Coincidence, “Sir, someone’s looking for you. A Ratfolk lad. He says his name’s Axin and that he’s your servant.”

Mountain River Dreaming heard this and looked at Coincidence in surprise. “Servant?”

“Oh, no such thing, just a misunderstanding,” Coincidence laughed in Mandarin, then turned to the NPC and continued in Federation language, “Let him in.”

The bare-chested local nodded. “Alright.”

They were doing something shady. Any unfamiliar face showing up would naturally put them on guard. But if it was a servant of the iron men, that was fine. He was considered one of their own.

Accompanied by two locals, the boy named Axin was brought over. When he arrived, he looked flustered with his hands in his pockets. His clothes were smeared with mud, and there were fresh abrasions and bruises on his face and arms.

Seeing familiar faces, the panic on his face vanished at once. He hurried forward in delighted strides.

“Coin!”

Coincidence looked at him in surprise. “Oh? Axin... what happened to you?”

“Just some minor injuries, nothing to worry about...” Axin swallowed and continued nervously. “I need to take you to see someone... No, actually, there are three of them.”

Guessing the kid wanted his help to scare someone, Coincidence glanced at the late hour, then smiled at the boy. “Wait a bit. Once we’re done here, we’ll head back to the Governor’s Manor. We’ll go with you then. Whoever’s messing with you, we’ll pay them a visit, ”

“That’s not it. You misunderstand,” Axin took a deep breath, calmed himself, and said, “No one’s messing with me. I wouldn’t trouble you over something like that. I just want to give you a gift.” Without waiting for a response, he blurted, “They’re General Alyang’s men!”

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