Chapter 705.1: Elite Troops?!

Kapil was a Wolffolk.

From as far back as he could remember, his parents had repeatedly told him the teachings of the Wolf God, how the wolf packs were united, how they were ferocious and brave, tireless, and invincible in battle. There was once a time when the wolves running across the wastelands were the greatest threat faced by the survivors of Poro Province...

In the end, the survivors prevailed, but not easily. To commemorate this worthy opponent, and to inherit its valor, they planted a totem for its deity in Tassen, City of a Thousand Pillars, hoping to receive its grace and blessing.

From that moment on, the Wolf God gained its first followers.

And those blessed by the Wolf God were not only born warriors, but also the pride of the Xilande Empire. They were born to fight, to kill, and to plunder.

For that reason, Kapil was always proud of his identity as a Wolffolk, and he strove without pause to become a soldier of the empire.

His efforts did not betray him. Thanks to good nutrition and the influence of his upbringing, he stood out from tens of thousands of peers who applied for enlistment. First he was selected for recruit training, and then, due to outstanding performance, he was assigned to the Gray Wolf Army and answered directly to the emperor and groomed as a reserve officer.

Not every Wolffolk had the chance to join the Gray Wolf Army, still fewer could become officers in this elite force.

He was the pride of his parents, and the pride of his people. The one who bestowed this honor upon him was the great Wutuo Xilande, the Supreme Emperor himself.

He swore to return that glory to His Majesty, to repay the boundless imperial favor, to earn ever more military merit, and one day to become a general standing above ten thousand men.

Now, at last, he had his chance, to offer his loyalty to His Majesty with the battle will of a feral wolf!

Yet at that very moment, what entered his eyes branded despair in him.

“Charge!”

As the ringing in his ears from the shelling gradually faded, it was replaced by his officer’s hoarse roars, chaotic footsteps, and a tide of battle cries and screams.

What lay before him was not merely beyond his expectations.

It was beyond everyone’s expectations.

The cramped slum shown on the map had already vanished. The mud houses and shacks had been demolished, leaving nothing but shattered bricks and rubble.

He did not know what magic the “iron men” had used. He only knew that in just over a week, they had removed more than a thousand buildings that once stood there.

From the nearest cover to the Governor’s Manor on the high ground stretched nearly 600 meters of open ground. The expanse was like an impassable chasm. Aside from broken bricks and construction debris, there was nothing.

To bypass the chasm from either side meant either facing a pincer attack from the direction of Rowell Camp, or swimming in from a more distant stretch of the coastline.

It was even more unrealistic than charging across those 600 meters. And besides, they had already arrived. There was no choice but to advance.

The shouts urging the attack rang out again. Soldiers clutching their rifles launched assault after assault toward the distant Governor’s Manor, only to be cut down in swathes like wheat beneath a scythe.

The concentrated streams of bullets were like the teeth of a chainsaw in motion. Watching the battlefield that was filled with the flesh and blood of the Gray Wolf Army, Kapil felt his heart nearly leap out of his throat.

For the first time, he felt how small life truly was. For the first time, he saw a fear on his comrades’ faces that he had never seen before.

It was not a battle, they had been sent to die!

In the blink of an eye, an entire company was wiped out.

Friendly troops lying among the broken bricks were pinned down by machine guns mounted on the Governor’s Manor rooftop. They either wailed in agony or crawled forward with difficulty.

There was no cover at all to support further advance, only the bodies of fallen comrades littering the ground...

Rifles from within the city fired toward the Governor’s Manor, but they could not suppress those long-prepared firepoints in the slightest.

New Alliance soldiers had welded steel shields onto their machine guns, not to mention the heavy armor they themselves wore.

Seeing the previous company nearly annihilated, the officer turned his gaze toward those behind them and shouted, “Quick! Charge!!”

Staring at the insurmountable position and the comrades being beaten into the dirt, fear flickered in Kapil’s eyes.

But the order to attack had been given. If he dared hesitate for even a moment, what awaited him would be worse than death.

That was the path he himself had chosen.

Kapil clenched his teeth, forced down the terror in his chest, and squeezed out a roar through gritted teeth. “For the Empire...!”

Amid the scattered responses, he emptied his mind and howled as he burst from cover, ten comrades charging behind him. Yet just as he finally summoned the courage and took his first step, a mortar shell landed not far away, blasting him into the air. He hit the ground like a discarded rag.

The comrades behind him fared no better. More than 20 years of sweat and pride turned into thick pools of blood, crudely smeared across the broken bricks...

...

Kapil and his men were not the first Wolffolk to spill blood for the Xilande Empire in this battle, and clearly not the last.

A new round of shelling fell into the slum 600 meters in front of the Governor’s Manor, swallowing both the soldiers firing from near the mud houses and those who had just crossed cover to launch another assault.

There were still about 100 buildings there that hadn’t yet been demolished. However, the residents had already taken their compensation and left. All that remained were armed men, and the New Alliance could fire without restraint.

At the same time, machine-gun positions deployed on the Governor’s Manor rooftop and courtyard walls unleashed ferocious fire. The gunfire rattled endlessly, as if the bullets would never run out.

The pride of the Wolffolk fell in droves. In moments, yet another company was pinned down and destroyed on the battlefield strewn with broken bricks and blood.

Streams of tracer fire poured down like a torrential rain. Here, a soldier’s life could be measured in seconds.

That Ratfolk youth who had sworn an oath to the “iron men” truly kept his promise, forcing soldiers of the empire to fight while lying on broken bricks.

At this moment, the first battalion that had been tasked with assaulting the Governor’s Manor found itself reduced to target practice. They had already left behind over 500 corpses, yet achieved nothing beyond burning through some New Alliance ammunition.

“Damn it! I remember this place being a slum!” Watching the machine guns continue to fire, the commander who had been reassigned to Prince Dilip cursed from behind a mud house.

A bandage was wrapped around his forehead, and he wore a steel helmet he had just picked up. Earlier, a fragment had grazed his head, nearly killing him. The original plan had been simple. All they had to do was to cross one street, suffer at most 200 to 300 casualties, and engage the New Alliance in close combat.

But now, a street only a few paces wide had been stretched into a 600 meter road of death.

They had no armored support, scarcely any artillery, and were instead being battered senseless by New Alliance artillery and machine guns.

“We’re already over 50% casualties! Keep fighting like this and it’s no different from suicide! We need artillery cover! I repeat, we need support!” the commander shouted again into the radio after grabbing it from the radioman.

He had been calling for artillery for more than 10 minutes.

Prince Dilip himself had promised that artillery at their rear was preparing to fire and would soon strike the enemy positions, urging him to launch the attack quickly. Yet, his men were nearly wiped out and not a single shell had landed.

He felt more violated than if he had been fucked by a dog.

After a burst of static, an awkward voice came through the handset. “I’m coordinating it... damn it, what is that idiot Alyang doing?! I’ve been calling for artillery forever, how come I haven’t even seen a shell land...”

Listening to the nonsense coming through the line, the commander felt his scalp go numb, yet he dared not reprimand the person on the other end. He swallowed and reminded him in a trembling voice, “Sir... where is the artillery unit you directly command?!”

New Alliance firepower was too fierce and too accurate. Fire a few rounds and they would likely have to retreat back into cover. It really was hard to receive support.

If all else failed, hauling guns forward by truck into the city and firing directly toward the Governor’s Manor would still be better than panicking where they stood and eating the New Alliance’s bullets.

He was about to suggest it when the other end fell silent for a moment, then replied vaguely, “... There was a problem earlier during counter-battery fire. We can’t reach them for now. We’ll have to let that idiot Alyang figure something out.”

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