Felix's final words were like a ten-thousand-pound hammer, shattering something deeply ingrained in Zephirin's heart.
He realized that before Felix, he had not even a shred of power to retort.
"I... am tired.
"
In the end, he conceded defeat.
"I admit, what you say makes a lot of sense, but... I need to think about it." The previous cold arrogance on Zephirin's face was gone, replaced by an extremely complex expression, as if he was still hesitating and struggling.
Felix understood his concerns and did not press him.
"I'm not pressuring you, Zephirin," he said, his tone softening considerably, becoming gentle. "I just want to tell you what we are doing, what our ideals are. As for who you ultimately choose to side with, or how you choose to act... that is entirely your freedom."
"You... you really aren't afraid of death?"
Zephirin asked, his voice hoarse.
"If I can die for an ideal, I believe it's worth it."
Felix gave him a meaningful look, his tone profound: "Moreover, compared to my single life, being able to liberate hundreds of thousands of people still suffering under oppression makes my sacrifice insignificant."
After saying this, Felix turned to leave.
As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped. "Zephirin, do you know? Back then, I was just like you. I thought the Free Liberation Front organization could never possibly succeed. But when I met the Pioneer, he said something to me. Now, I pass those words on to you."
"I hope that if there is a spark of heat, it emits a glimmer of light. Even if it's as insignificant as a firefly, it can still illuminate a point of light in the darkness. There's no need to wait for a torch.
If there is no torch in the future, then let us... become the 'torch' that illuminates others!"
With that, Felix left the Room.
"Let us... become the torch that illuminates others!"
These words were deeply engraved in the depths of Zephirin's heart.
This noble of esteemed status gazed at the wall, sinking into a long silence.
He thought of many things in his mind: the Montoya Family, and also Mesharl's charge.
But in the end, the image etched in his mind, the one he could not forget, was the occasional, unextinguishable glimmer of light in the eyes of those Slaves whom the nobles regarded as 'property'.
It was so dazzling, so bright!
He also thought of these tenacious rebels, who, in the face of repeated encirclements and suppressions, even in the most hopeless situations, not a single one surrendered, possessing a resilient vitality that flared up again and again like a wildfire!
And so, he spent the entire night awake, tossing and turning.
Zephirin had forgotten how long it had been since he had suffered so much.
If he could completely abandon so-called 'principles' and throw himself into the embrace of the 'nobles' without hesitation, perhaps he wouldn't be in such pain.
Yet, precisely because Zephirin, who had walked step by step to this day with the ideal of saving Komo, could not deny his past ideals, nor could he deny this 'correct ideology,' this was the source of his pain.
Groggy and sleepless all night, Zephirin was awakened by a piercing alarm.
This is... the highest-level alert?
Generally, when this alarm sounds, it means a major situation has occurred on the front lines!
Thinking this, Zephirin forced himself to perk up, hastily threw on his clothes, and strode out of the Room towards the command center.
As soon as he entered, he saw Mesharl's gloomy face, along with a group of staff officers whose expressions were livid.
What happened?
Zephirin's heart sank. Could Soul Severing City have fallen?
But upon second thought, he found it impossible.
Although they had taken the main force of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, the Archon within Soul Severing City was no lamb to the slaughter, nor was he someone to be trifled with. The rebels alone simply could not have captured Soul Severing City.
"Lord Grand Arbiter, what has happened?"
In front of outsiders, Zephirin still addressed him as Grand Arbiter.
"See for yourself!"
Mesharl's expression was extremely grim as he forcefully thrust a battle report into his hand.
Zephirin dared not delay for a moment. He immediately lowered his head to read it, and his own face changed drastically in an instant: "This... this is impossible!"
The content of the battle report stated that at 05:37 this morning, the Anvil Heavy Armor Group, originally the reserve force later assigned as the vanguard, was ambushed by the main force of the Free Liberation Front on its way back to reinforce Soul Severing City. The Anvil Heavy Armor Group... was completely annihilated!
No wonder Mesharl and the numerous staff officers' expressions had become so ugly!
The Anvil Heavy Armor Group was no ragtag bunch. The fact that they were appointed as the 'general reserve' by Mesharl in the campaign to suppress the 'Painful Nest' proved they were a battle-hardened elite force!
Yet, such a battle-hardened elite, equipped with the finest, most advanced weapons and a large number of heavy armored units, was completely wiped out by an army composed merely of Slaves and mixed-bloods. This was simply unbelievable!
After all, the gap in weaponry and equipment between the two sides wasn't even on the same level!
The rebels' weapons and equipment were mostly looted, primarily Laser rifle, and were almost all crudely made, lacking any significant siege capability.
One must ask, how on earth did such an army manage to completely annihilate the Anvil Heavy Armor Group?
"L-Lord Grand Arbiter, is this news... confirmed?" This battle report was simply too shocking, so much so that Zephirin's first thought upon seeing it was that it must be false intelligence spread by the enemy.
"I have already dispatched people to verify it."
Mesharl's face was expressionless, but his tone carried a chilling coldness: "The Anvil Heavy Armor Group has been confirmed as completely annihilated."
"How... how was this even accomplished?" Zephirin was once again profoundly shocked deep within.
Just yesterday, he still believed that apart from relying on schemes, the Free Liberation Front was no match for them in a direct confrontation!
And today, he was slapped in the face. They had directly annihilated a heavy armor group!
"How was it accomplished?"
Mesharl sneered, a disquieting chill flashing in his eyes: "Naturally... because there is a traitor among us!"
A traitor?!
Zephirin's pupils contracted sharply. Almost instinctively, he thought of Felix Jin!
"Someone, late last night, stole my identity verification. Posing as a headquarters staff officer, they sent an order to the Anvil Group Army." Mesharl's tone was sinister. "The order stated that Soul Severing City was under attack by another cabal, commanding the Anvil Group to split into three directions to advance towards the city, while abandoning all heavy weapons and equipment, and to accelerate the rescue effort with all their might. This is what gave the rebels the opportunity for total annihilation."
Zephirin's heart pounded wildly. He had already guessed who this 'traitor' who sent the false intelligence was!
However, the next moment.
Mesharl's gaze was gloomy, carrying a warning and a hint of killing intent: "This person is an old acquaintance of yours... Felix Jin. What do you think should be done with him, Staff Officer Zephirin?"
Zephlyn's pupils trembled, but his throat was stiff, unable to utter a single word.
Reason told him that he should now distance himself from Felix, clarify his stance, and must, as much as possible, prove to Lord Meshar that he had absolutely no connection with him.
But whenever these words surged up, they were blocked inside his mouth.
He looked at Felix, who was being held by several Trueborn warriors, covered everywhere with marks of torture, with hardly a patch of good skin left.
Felix was in a terrible state, yet his eyes were still so bright, so dazzling, even making Zephlyn feel a guilt that made him dare not meet his gaze.
"Zephlyn!"
Suddenly, a low roar like thunder, filled with anger, yanked Zephlyn back to the cruel reality.
It was Meshar.
The Grand Arbiter of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy now had a terrifyingly gloomy face, his eyes seeming to hide blades, making one shiver with fear.
"I, I am..." Zephlyn stammered, his tightly clenched fists damp with sweat, yet his mind involuntarily recalled the words Felix had spoken when they met last night.
Seeing him like this, Meshar took another step forward, those hawk-like sharp eyes fixed directly on him.
"Staff Officer Zephlyn, answer my question!"
His voice suddenly rose several degrees, carrying terrifying killing intent, like a knife stabbing into Zephlyn's heart.
"I believe, we should..." Zephlyn bit his lip fiercely, his eyes wide with strain, lowering his head, not daring to look at Felix, as if using all his strength, said: "Anyone who dares betray the Cabal must... must be sentenced to death!"
He thought this answer should satisfy Meshar.
However, Meshar was still not satisfied, saying coldly: "I don't want to hear this nonsense! Staff Officer Zephlyn."
Zephlyn certainly knew what Meshar wanted to hear.
Felix King's identity was too special; he was both a member of this operation's staff and his close friend.
And he, Zephyrin Montoya, was a member of the same family as Meshar.
If handled poorly, it could easily lead the inherently cunning and suspicious Archon Hernandez to suspect the loyalty of the Montoya Family, and whether the repeated failures could possibly have been deliberately caused by Meshar?
Therefore, Meshar had to clear the suspicion from them in front of everyone!
And sacrificing one's own for the greater good was clearly a good choice.
Zephlyn took a deep breath, mature rationality instantly overwhelming his remaining sensibility.
"Your Excellency, Grand Arbiter, I believe... we must subject Felix King to severe interrogation." His tone showed not a hint of fluctuation, cold and hard as a rock, his gaze even more unflinching, staring directly at Felix: "We must find out why Felix became a spy for the rebels, and whether there are other spies within our ranks!"
These words could be said to have no flaw whatsoever.
From discovery to handling, it was almost perfect. Meshar's tense expression finally relaxed considerably after getting the answer he wanted: "Good, well said, Staff Officer Zephlyn."
With that, he turned to look at Felix King: "Felix, I'll give you one more chance."
He grabbed the hair of Felix, who could no longer stand, forcibly lifting him up: "When did you join the rebels? Who else in the Cabal is your accomplice? Hand over the list, and I'll give you a quick death!"
Felix, already tortured beyond human recognition, barely opened a slit through his swollen eyelids, glanced at Zephlyn beside him, then at Meshar, pulled the corner of his mouth up into a curve, and then... spat a mouthful of blood onto Meshar's face.
"In... your dreams!"
Meshar, sprayed with blood, was almost at the peak of his rage.
He dragged Felix by the hair, slamming him hard onto the ground, and still not satisfied, viciously kicked him several times.
Thud! Thud!
Amidst the dull sounds of flesh impacting, Felix painfully curled his entire body into a ball.
Yet even so, he still clenched his teeth tightly, not letting out a single scream.
"Talk!" Meshar bent down, grabbing his hair, lifting the agonized Felix up, and said coldly: "Think of your family, think of them. Just hand over the list of others, and I'll spare them, grant you a quick death. Otherwise... I'll let you experience the most terrifying torture of Gomo!"
"Ha..."
""
However, Felix's reaction shocked everyone present.
He pulled the corner of his mouth into an extremely sarcastic sneer, saying haltingly: "There's... such a good thing? Then I... really must thank you, for letting those scum come down... and accompany me..."
""
This sentence left Meshar purple with rage, unable to utter half a word for a long moment.
He hadn't expected this guy not only to be unafraid of death, but even to wish that he would exterminate the Jin family as well!
"Good! Very good! Excellent!"
Furious and helpless, Meshar could only finally order that Felix King be subjected to the most terrifying extreme punishment!
He would be handed over to a Blood Singer skilled in torture.
After tasting all kinds of horrific, inhuman tortures, his soul would then be stripped out and imprisoned in an extremely special container.
This container could be said to combine cruelty and terror, the pinnacle work of the Haemonculi.
The soul imprisoned within could feel every moment its soul slowly flowing into the Warp, with the source being the existence every Aeldari fears most, the embodiment of desire... Slaanesh!
However, the soul imprisoned in the "container" would never die.
Because the "container" would constantly inject it with pain, despair, and other desires, ensuring the tortured must "live," enduring the cruel punishment, forever.
Even in Gomo, known for its pain and darkness.
This punishment was extremely terrifying, even without exaggeration, it could be crowned with the title of the most terrifying, most cruel, ranking first among the punishments most feared by the Aeldari!
After all, there is no Dark Eldar who does not fear Slaanesh feeding on their soul.
Watching Felix King, who still wore a smile even as he was dragged away, Zephlyn's heart was deeply shaken!
To die for an ideal... wasn't this exactly the wish they had made in their youth?
Seeing his silence, Meshar thought Zephlyn was heartbroken over his friend's betrayal, his tone softening slightly as he patted his shoulder: "Don't worry, I will speak to Lord Hernandez. He won't blame the Montoya Family for this."
Zephlyn lowered his eyelids and asked a question: "Lord Meshar, why do you think... he joined the rebels?"
"Perhaps he's gone mad."
Meshar didn't dwell on this question, just said it offhand.
"Yes, he's gone mad..."
""
Zephlyn got the answer he wanted, closed his eyes, and murmured to himself: "But the one who is mad... is it him... or is it Gomo?"
At this moment, his soul gave the answer!
The one in the wrong was not Felix, but this city, those high and mighty nobles, Hernandez, it was... this twisted, dark, and detestable class and order!
He, Zephyrin Montoya, had gained enlightenment!
To save Gomo, the shackles of the old era must first be shattered!
The news that the Anvil Army Group had been completely wiped out spread everywhere as if it had grown wings.
The first to be enraged was the Archon of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, Gregory Hernandez.
He could not imagine, no matter what, that the massive elite legion he had sent out had not only failed to restore the reputation lost in the previous two defeats but had instead turned the Iron Thorn Conspiracy into a complete laughingstock!
A mere pack of low-life beasts and scum dared to set foot in his city!
They were even wantonly carrying out Carnage against the noble groups that supported him, right under his nose.
In just a few days, over a dozen families had been completely wiped out by these damned scum.
And every time Emrys eliminated a family, he would have their heads cut off and hung on the doorframes of their respective homes, while their bodies were uniformly ground into meat paste and scattered in the gardens of these nobles.
Such "Khorne-like" behavior was, it must be said, extremely shocking!
For a time, the entire Soul Severing City was filled with panic, as every family lived in fear, terrified they would follow in the footsteps of those who came before.
Yet these people were elusive; even though Hernandez made a firm resolution and sent out a large number of Incubi to search, even digging three feet into the ground, they simply could not find any trace of Emrys and his group, as if they had vanished into thin air.
But every night, these people would reappear, carrying out the next round of Carnage under the moonlight!
And now, Gregory Hernandez, already plagued by a splitting headache, received more bad news.
The elite legion led by Meshar, specifically the "Anvil" Heavy Army Group serving as the general reserve, had been ambushed and wiped out on their way to provide reinforcements!
"Useless! All of you are useless—!"
Inside the cold palace, Gregory Hernandez, the Supreme Archon of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, was incensed.
He smashed a skull in a fit of rage, his eyes seemingly spitting Fire: "Where is Meshar? What on earth is he doing! My 'Anvil' Heavy Army Group was wiped out by a bunch of beasts just like that? I need an explanation!"
The heavy group codenamed Anvil was an elite legion he had spent a great deal of effort and resources to build.
What exactly did they encounter to be completely wiped out?
This battle report was something Gregory Hernandez simply could not understand.
How could a bunch of low-level Half-breeds, Slaves, and Aliens with no equipment or training wipe out his elite heavy army group?
It made no sense!
"Archon My Lord, the report says... they were ambushed," said the enchanting and charming female Drukhari / Dark Aeldari leaning into his embrace, her tone coquettish.
"Impossible!"
However, Gregory Hernandez's reply was firm: "Even if they were ambushed, with the equipment those beasts have, it's impossible for them to eliminate my heavy army group in such a short time. There must be some hidden story here!"
"Perhaps it was an accident?"
The woman's crimson lips looked as if they were coated in blood as she spoke in a frivolous voice, "It's war, isn't it? Aren't there all sorts of accidents?"
If anyone else had said those words, Gregory would likely have had them flayed alive.
But this woman was different; she came from the mysterious Lilithu Sisterhood and was a Succubus!
A Succubus not only possessed an incomparably beautiful appearance and "techniques" that could leave one exhausted, but she was also a poisoner proficient in toxins and possessed an extremely clever mind.
And every successful Succubus was the favorite plaything of the Archons.
Of course, the power a Succubus held was not something a mere concubine could compare to; sometimes their status was even higher than that of an Arbitrator.
Listening to the analysis of the person in his arms, Gregory Hernandez fell into silence.
Indeed, as she said, war is often full of accidents; even if the probability is low, it is not non-existent.
His heavy army group was indeed strong, but... there were too many factors that could influence the course of a war. Moreover, the battle report only contained the result without specific details, making it difficult to deny the rebels' combat effectiveness based on these scattered clues.
"I think Meshar was too impatient, which is why he accidentally fell into a trap."
The woman opened her arms and hooked them around Hernandez's neck, pressing her whole body against him. She brought a large, soft part of herself to Hernandez's lips and smiled seductively: "I think you're overthinking it. What you should do most now is blockade Soul Severing City and wait for Meshar to return with the main army. When the time comes... once Emrys, the culprit, is captured and the rebels lose their leader, won't they collapse at the first blow?"
Gregory Hernandez, who was already wavering, felt his furrowed brow relax upon hearing the woman's charming words.
He nodded in agreement: "You're right, Daphne, I was too impatient."
As he spoke, he reached out to pull the woman into his embrace, tasting the large, soft thing at his lips: "I will immediately order the blockade of the entrances and exits of Soul Severing City. Once Meshar returns and captures Emrys, I will make him taste every kind of pain before he dies!"
Daphne held Hernandez, letting out charming and hurried gasps.
The atmosphere in the cold palace suddenly became a bit more erotic.
"My Lord~ be a little gentler," Daphne panted coquettishly, her face flushed.
Gregory Hernandez released the woman, still wanting more, and said with some regret: "A pity. If I didn't have things to do later, I would definitely make you, you slut, satisfy me properly!"
"Going to see 'Viktor' again?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, the flush on her face not yet faded, looking extremely enticing, like a ripe fruit.
In particular, those two bountiful fruits caused the desire Gregory Hernandez had just suppressed to surge once more.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look away, and gave a reluctant nod as an answer to Daphne's question.
However, Daphne didn't seem to want to let him off; she leaned in again, her red lips exhaling a pale pink mist as she blinked: "My Lord, why do you still keep him? Wouldn't it be better to kill him, to avoid any further mistakes?"
It was truly strange that someone like Gregory Hernandez, who had overthrown the previous Supreme Overlord, would still keep the other person alive.
According to the unspoken rules of Gomo, Viktor should have been dead long ago, yet he had been kept until today.
Hearing this, Gregory Hernandez seemed to think of something, and his expression became extremely unsightly: "I have a use for keeping him."
"Alright...
"
Seeing that he was unwilling to elaborate, Daphne didn't ask further and instead got up from him: "Then I won't disturb your work."
Gregory Hernandez chuckled and slapped her buttocks, the force creating a ripple: "Wait for me to return."
With that, he stood up and left through a small door behind the palace.
And just a second ago, Daphne, who had a face full of blushes and looked shy, immediately returned to normal after he left.
"Old fox...
"
Daphne sneered, then flicked her fingers a few times, and a psionic communication was connected.
"The mission failed. Gregory is very cunning and didn't fully trust me, but it's certain that Viktor is still To Live, imprisoned somewhere."
A moment later, an obscure psionic cipher entered her mind.
"Mission continues. Find Viktor."
"Yes."
Daphne's eyes were cold as she ended the psionic communication.
Looking at the small door Gregory had left through, her red lips curled into an arc, a cold light flickering in the depths of her eyes.
These past few days, Meshar had been plagued by headaches.
First, rebel squads within Soul Severing City wantonly slaughtered low-to-mid-level nobles, beheading them and hanging their heads on gates as a warning and deterrent.
It must be said, if one could set aside their opposing stances, Emrys's tactic of "pulling the rug from under them" was absolutely brilliant in its treachery.
Don't misunderstand, in a city like Gomo, "treachery" is a compliment.
One must know that Emrys could only rely on the lowest strata of a few communities—those Half-breeds,
Slaves, and Alien scum.
But what about them?
They possessed the most sophisticated equipment, well-trained and powerful Trueborn warriors, and complete and abundant logistical supply resources.
Yet, despite all this, what should have been a one-sided crushing victory was forcefully turned around by Emrys, who found a weakness and achieved a desperate comeback!
Brilliant! Splendid!
Even though he wished he could devour Emrys alive, Meshar had to admire this human.
With just a few words, he could stir up trouble and cause undercurrents throughout Gomo. He was simply a born... Tzeentch!
Meshar stared at the tactical sand table with bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept for days.
The complete annihilation of the Anvil Heavy Armor Group was not only a huge blow to morale but also presented a more serious problem.
That is, the rebels had captured a large quantity of heavy weapons, vehicles, armor, and so on. They were no longer the rebels who could be kneaded and had no power to resist!
Considering that the rebels were best at outflanking and encirclement tactics, and now had abundant heavy equipment supplies,
Meshar ultimately had no choice but to strictly order all troops to maintain formation, prioritize reconnaissance of the road ahead before advancing, and absolutely not give the rebels another opportunity to individually encircle any unit.
However, this prevented them from being "surrounded like dumplings," but the speed of their troop reinforcements became extremely slow.
This situation was not what Hernandez wanted to see.
The daily psionic communications from Soul Severing City, and the news of how many more nobles were slaughtered today, were like a red-hot Anvil, frantically stimulating and provoking Meshar's already fragile nerves.
"Have you found any trace of the rebels?!"
Meshar's eyes were bloodshot, completely devoid of his usual calm and collected demeanor, showing a hint of madness.
"Grand Arbitrator, according to intelligence gathered by the forward reconnaissance…" a staff officer stammered, "The rebels seem to have utilized a secret Webway to escape our encirclement and ambush the Anvil Group."
Within Gomo, Webways crisscrossed, but not every Webway was absolutely safe.
For example, many Webways were extremely chaotic; once entered rashly, one could be thrown to a location no one knew.
And the rebels had exploited one such extremely dangerous Webway to successfully penetrate the rear of their army, ambushing, cutting off, and capturing a large amount of supplies, as well as the Anvil Heavy Armor Group.
"I understand…"
"6"
Meshar was silent for a few seconds, merely giving such a bland response.
What could he do?
Send the army into the Webway to search for the rebels' tracks and then seek revenge?
As a seasoned Commander, doing so would be tantamount to suicide!
Everyone knew the risks of the Webway. The rebels could risk their lives to infiltrate and raid, but could they do the same?
No!
Not to mention whether he had the ability to make the army obey his orders and risk death to enter the Webway in pursuit.
Even if he did give the order, Meshar could guarantee that within an hour, his head would be chopped off by his "own people"!
"How much longer until we reach Soul Severing City?" Meshar was physically and mentally exhausted, no longer thinking about anything else.
"At most, two more days."
Based on the route and daily marching speed, the staff officer quickly calculated the time.
"Good."
Meshar sat in his chair, closing his eyes to feign sleep: "Order all legions that upon encountering the enemy, they must never attack without authorization."
He was no longer thinking about annihilating these rebels and capturing their leader, Emrys. He only wanted to bring this army back as quickly as possible to suppress the rebels within Soul Severing City, which would also be a way to account for Hernandez.
But as luck would have it, things went awry.
"Report!"
Suddenly, a piercing voice intruded upon the wartime communication channel.
Meshar, who had been feigning sleep, immediately opened his eyes, his bloodshot pupils emitting a terrifying glint: "Speak!"
"Large numbers of rebels are gathering in the southeast and northwest directions of Soul Severing City!"
"Important facilities such as Ghost Track, Iron Spine Ridge, and Blood Rust Factory are under fierce enemy assault and are sending urgent calls for help!"
Upon hearing this news, Meshar's first reaction was: "Impossible! This is absolutely impossible!"
His face turned purple, and he growled in a low voice: "These places are all garrisoned by the most elite Warrior Corps. How could they be surrounded by mere rebels? And how could they be calling for our help?!"
Soul Severing City's ability to stand in Gomo relied on the vast energy and resource supply lines: Ghost Track and Iron Spine Ridge. These two routes maintained the city's massive daily demand for materials and suffering souls, making them the most crucial supply lines!
And the Blood Rust Factory was a fortress regarded as the "heart" by the Iron Thorn Conspiracy! It produced a large amount of pain energy, including various important materials. Once it fell, the consequences would be unimaginable!
But precisely for this reason, the Iron Thorn Conspiracy had stationed a large number of elite Warrior Corps in these places.
How, then, could mere low-level rebels break through?
However, in the next second, Meshar seemed to realize something, and his expression immediately turned extremely grim.
"Your Excellency, Grand Arbitrator, the rebels possess a large number of heavy armored vehicles, and even aerial vehicles. Their weapons are sophisticated, they fight without fear of death, and their numbers are immense. The Warrior Corps at Ghost Track, Iron Spine Ridge, and Blood Rust Factory are almost unable to hold on!"
"Buzz—!"
This news made Meshar, who had not slept for days, almost black out.
No wonder, no wonder!
He wondered where mere low-level rebels got the courage to attack three elite garrisons.
It turned out they had captured equipment from the Anvil Heavy Armor Group!
At this moment, Meshar saw stars, his head felt like tens of thousands of flies were buzzing, and blood rushed to his brain.
"Pfft—!"
He finally couldn't hold it in anymore, spitting out a mouthful of blood, his face as pale as gold leaf.
"Grand Arbitrator!"
The surrounding staff officers immediately rushed forward in a panic, hastily supporting Meshar, who was about to fall.
They weren't truly worried about him, but rather feared that if Meshar died here, they would be the ones to "take the blame"!
Meshar, surrounded, was mentally and physically exhausted, and said in a weak voice: "Quick, order… the vanguard, and the aerial fleet, immediately! Right now! Go to Ghost Track, Iron Spine Ridge, and Blood Rust Factory. You must… ensure the safety of these places!"
If these places were lost, the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's strength would suffer a huge blow!
At that time, whether the Iron Thorn Conspiracy would still have the ability to deter other restless Conspiracy Groups would be a question mark.
"What a tactic! What an… Emrys!"
Meshar, gasping for air, finally realized the terrifying nature of this enemy.
Up until now, they were clearly the ones holding the advantage, but what was the result?
It was the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, holding the advantage, that was repeatedly maneuvered by Emrys, constantly exhausting their strength while being worn down.
"Emrys… is too dangerous!"
Meshar, lying on the chair, showed a fierce glint in his eyes.
After a moment of thought, he saw the silent Zephlyn nearby and, remembering his harshness last time, his hardened heart suddenly softened.
As the supreme Commander, he bore inescapable responsibility for the failure of this rebel suppression.
And with Hernandez's suspicious nature, he would never tolerate his continued presence, so it was time to cultivate the next successor.
Zephlyn was excellent; he only lacked a meritorious achievement now!
Thinking this, Meshar had a plan in mind. He beckoned Zephlyn to come over.
"Zephlyn, I have a task for you." Meshar's voice was soft as he said, "Take my badge and immediately return to Soul Severing City in secret. Find the leader of the Lilithu Sisterhood and tell them… that they owe me a favor and it's time to repay it. Have them assassinate Emrys Valshius at all costs. Afterwards… the credit for this will be yours!"
Zephlyn looked at the "badge" that was placed in his hand, his eyes flickering for a few seconds.
"Yes, Your Excellency, Grand Arbitrator."
Cutting off the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's main army from reinforcing was merely one link in Alpha's grand strategy.
His goal was to completely muddy these waters!
And the fact that Elias and Gork were able to completely annihilate the Anvil Heavy Armor Group was an unexpected joy.
"Very good! Elias and Gork have done an excellent job!" At this moment, Emrys, who was inside Soul Severing City leading a behind-enemy-lines squad and maneuvering against the enemy, was overjoyed upon receiving this battle report.
Annihilating the heavy armor army on the outer lines would not only deal a huge blow to the enemy's strength, but also provide an opportunity to make up for the weapon shortages of his own legion.
At the same time, Elias and Gork fully utilized their subjective initiative, and under circumstances where communication was extremely difficult, they "took the liberty" to attack Ghost Track, Iron Spine Ridge, and Blood Rust Factory, which also attracted the attention of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy and dispersed the pressure here.
After all, in front of the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari, who are most skilled at stealth and assassination, even with Emrys relying on the magic of Kamar-Taj, it was very difficult to keep so many people hidden right under their noses.
Now that these important strongholds have been attacked, it is bound to divert most of the main force.
This is equivalent to, in a disguised way, buying them space.
"This is a good opportunity!" Emrys's eyes scanned the map, and he instantly locked onto a location: "For our next step, we must take this place!"
Everyone followed the position of his finger and looked over, suddenly feeling a bit confused: "This seems to be a communication base station, right?"
"That's right, it is a communication base station."
Emrys nodded and stated his considerations: "Cutting off the enemy's lifeline and holding back the main legion is merely the first step. If we want to reap the fruits of victory, we must rely on the vast, greater number of the grassroots masses!"
"Now?"
Tarun was the Commander of this behind-enemy-lines combat squad, and he had been promoted from being a Half-breed.
He raised an objection: "Pioneer, I believe our current priority target should be to find the Archon of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, and while their main army has not yet returned, directly decapitate him; wouldn't that be better?"
Facing the objection raised by Tarun, Emrys was not angry.
Within the Insurgent Army, everyone's status was equal, and there was no hierarchy, which is why Tarun could bravely raise his doubts.
Emrys shook his head and said: "No, let alone whether the Archon of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy can be assassinated by us and what the probability of success is, just considering the current situation, he cannot die yet."
"Why?!"
Tarun widened his eyes, clearly not understanding.
"Two reasons." Emrys held up two fingers and said: "First, the success rate of the assassination is very low. Given Hernandez's cunning, it is impossible for him to be without defense; he must have kept a powerful force to protect himself. Second, Hernandez currently serves to stabilize Gomo. Once he dies... we will face more complex and chaotic situations, at which point all Conspiracy Groups will unite to target us, so he cannot die yet."
As far as the current situation is concerned, although the Insurgent Army has been winning consecutive battles and the Iron Thorn Conspiracy has been suffering setbacks everywhere, as if the fruits of victory are within reach, in reality, the situation of the Insurgent Army is still very dangerous!
Don't forget, up until now, the only one truly participating in the "encirclement and suppression of the Insurgent Army" is the Iron Thorn Conspiracy.
There are more Conspiracy Group forces watching from the shadows.
What are they waiting for?
The answer is very simple: they are waiting for the Insurgent Army to deplete the strength of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy as much as possible.
There are two benefits to doing this.
First, regardless of whether the Insurgent Army can successfully overthrow the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, it will wear down their vital forces and strike at their reputation.
Second, several consecutive failures in suppression will not only cause the reputation of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy to hit rock bottom, but the chaotic situation will also allow them to find an opportunity to join the competition for the supreme power of Gomo!
These Archons of the Conspiracy Groups are like poisonous snakes hiding in the bushes, flicking their cold tongues, waiting for them to reveal a fatal flaw!
The Archon of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy is well aware of this, which is why he will not use his full strength to annihilate this Insurgent Army, in order to prevent other Conspiracy Groups from seizing the opportunity to take power by force.
"Therefore, we must mobilize more people to join this just war!"
"We need more comrades to completely break the shackles that bind us and shatter the rule of the aristocratic class!"
Emrys took a deep breath and clenched his fist: "Just like this, clench our fists. Only by uniting can we overthrow the old order of Gomo, and this communication base station... is the first step we take!"
"We want to tell those vast numbers of companions who are still suffering from oppression that we have already achieved the first stage of victory!"
"The myth of the Trueborn is not unbreakable! The Iron Thorn Conspiracy is not invincible!"
After mobile warfare and guerrilla warfare, Emrys was about to unleash his second "great magic weapon"!
That is, public opinion warfare!
Someone once said, if you don't fight for the high ground of public opinion, then others will!
At this point in time, the Insurgent Army has been winning consecutive battles, which is the best time for "propaganda".
He wants the concepts and ideals of "equality" and "freedom" to shine like light, illuminating those communities that are still in darkness!
"I understand, Pioneer!"
Tarun took a deep breath and nodded vigorously: "Rest assured, I promise you, I will take this communication base station!"
"Bastards!!!"
Inside the spire at the highest point of Soul Severing City, Gregory Hernandez had a ferocious expression on his face as he threw a battle report onto the ground.
"How dare they!!!" He ground his teeth, producing a terrifying grinding sound, and in his pupils, a shocking blood-red killing intent flickered: "It seems my rule has been too indulgent and too benevolent, that there are still so many beasts who dare to rebel!"
The content on the battle report was very simple: since the Insurgent Army occupied the communication base station, they had been broadcasting their manifesto, as well as the news of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's repeated defeats, to all surrounding communities and cities under the name of "Voice of Truth".
For a time, several cities and communities originally under the rule of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy erupted into riots one after another.
Nearly a million Half-breeds and Slaves from the grassroots communities spontaneously responded to the Insurgent Army, renamed themselves the "Free Liberation Front", and joined this massive rebellion.
Now things were a mess; Gomo had become a place of smoke and fire everywhere!
Not only that, but even other restless Conspiracy Groups were testing and questioning the strength of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy.
After all, in the eyes of these Archons of the Conspiracy Groups, since you have replaced the position of the Supreme Overlord Viktor, you naturally must have the strength to match it, but now you cannot even suppress a mere grassroots Insurgent Army, so what qualifications do you have to sit in this position?
"Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!!!"
In Gregory's eyes, there was a shocking blood-red killing intent, and he was so angry that he gritted his teeth.
If it weren't for this human, how could things have evolved into this?
Soon, a psionic communication filled with immense anger was transmitted by him to Meshar on the front line.
"Meshar, I command you!"
Hernandez's furious, murderous voice made Meshar shudder involuntarily: "Immediately lead the legion back to annihilate the Painful Nest, including all the surrounding grassroots communities; kill them all, every last one of them!"
"???"
Meshar was completely dumbfounded.
No, he was on the way back with the legion, and it looked like they were about to arrive, but with one word from you, they have to go back again.
Are you kidding?!
This is war, not child's play!
On the way back to reinforce, they have to turn around again; how many resources will be consumed during this period? Moreover, it is highly likely they will fall into an encirclement; these are all crises!
Furthermore, a more important point is that the current propaganda of the Insurgent Army has already dealt a huge blow to their morale.
If they continue to use their previous methods, violent bloody suppression and slaughter, it will only stir up more chaos, and not only will there be no benefit, it will only cause more Half-breeds and Slaves in the areas ruled by the Iron Thorn Conspiracy to join the Insurgent Army!
What should be done now is to temporarily appease and comfort other grassroots communities; waiting until the main force of the Insurgent Army is suppressed to take revenge would not be too late!
"Lord Hernandez, I think..." Meshar tried his best to dissuade Hernandez from his absurd decision.
But unfortunately, Hernandez, who had already made up his mind, did not give him any chance to argue.
"Meshar, this is an order!"
Hernandez said coldly: "You must execute it! If you cannot execute it, then I will replace you with someone else to execute it!"
You don't fear an opponent like a god, you fear a teammate like a pig.
Meshar lowered his head bitterly and sighed: "Yes, Lord Hernandez."
At this moment, he seemed to have already sensed what the fate of this main legion would be, but he was powerless to do anything about it.
"Lord Hernandez, what about—the Blood Rust Factory, Iron Spine Ridge, the Ghost Track—" Meshar stood from the perspective of the big picture, still wanting to do his best to save the current situation.
He used words as subtle as possible to remind this Archon, who was already blinded by rage and only cared about "reclaiming face," that what he should truly care about was not face, but these important strongholds!
"You don't need to worry about these places anymore."
A cold voice directly interrupted Meshar. Hernandez's tone was filled with dissatisfaction: "I have already ordered Derrick Elliot and Amalfi Gerard to lead a total of four Marauder Groups to suppress the rebellion. As for you—Meshar Montoya, you have already disappointed me three times. This is your last chance!"
Upon hearing that four Marauder Groups were going to suppress the rebellion, Meshar felt a slight sense of relief. However, after learning who the leaders were, his heart instantly sank to the bottom. He hurriedly said, "Lord Hernandez, I believe that with the abilities of Darek and Amalfi, they are not suitable to serve as Legion Commanders. They should be replaced with—"
"Meshar—!"
A sharp, piercing voice, carrying intense fury, crashed into Meshar's mind like a roar!
"Are you teaching me how to do my job?!"
This roar made Meshar feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, his back drenched in a cold sweat. "No, Lord Archon Hernandez, I only—"
"Enough! Meshar!"
Hernandez interrupted again without mercy. "Know your place! Execute the order! I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense!"
"...Yes."
Meshar opened his mouth, his eyes dimming as he helplessly accepted the command.
The communication ended.
The frontline command room fell into an extremely oppressive silence.
Except for Meshar's heavy breathing, the other staff officers hardly dared to breathe, fearing they would be used as a punching bag!
"Lord Hernandez is simply—simply acting recklessly!!!"
Meshar clenched his fists and smashed them hard onto the edge of the sand table. His knuckles cracked, his temples throbbed, and his eyes were filled with hideous bloodshot veins. He looked as terrifying as a fiend, completely devoid of his usual elegant noble demeanor.
Hernandez's idea was practically treating war like a game!
This wasn't playing house!
This was war!
It involved legions of tens of thousands, not a few hundred or a few individuals who could just turn around and go back!
What about the supply of resources?
Would they be ambushed on the way back?
Even if nothing happened, what was the point of sending tens of thousands of troops back now to surround a low-level community with zero strategic value?!
Hernandez hadn't considered these issues at all!
Meshar knew this Archon very well. He was good at schemes, politics, and reading people's hearts, but—he was not good at war!
Once a war begins, it must follow its own laws, which no one can interfere with. It was clear that this Archon wasn't considering— "L-Lord Grand Arbitrator, watch your words!"
A nearby staff officer immediately spoke up in warning, terrified.
If these words got out and reached the ears of the already suspicious Hernandez, not only would Meshar, the frontline commander-in-chief, be in trouble, but even they, the staff officers, would suffer!
Realizing his slip of the tongue, Meshar only let out a deep sigh. In that instant, he seemed to age decades. He slumped powerlessly into his chair, his eyes losing focus and turning hollow.
He didn't understand. He had worked so hard for the Montoya Family and the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, exhausting his heart and soul and risking his life for so many years, only to receive suspicion in return.
Could Darek and Amalfi handle this?
No, they couldn't!
These two had been under his command before, so he knew their capabilities all too well. To say they were completely useless might even be a compliment to them; if they had any use at all, they wouldn't be so utterly worthless!
Derrick Elliot was a notorious coward with several priors. Even when his side clearly had the advantage, he had abandoned his Marauder Group and run back alone. If his family didn't have some influence, he would have been executed long ago!
The other one, Amalfi Gerard, was even more impressive. Leading a full Marauder Group, he was wiped out by a Planetary Defense Force temporarily recruited from some Hive City in the Imperium of Man.
Afterward, Meshar learned from the surviving Trueborn that this idiot had actually ordered the Marauder Group to deploy in formation and engage the Imperium's Planetary Defense Force in a battle of attrition. Ultimately, in the brutal trench warfare, his personnel were lost, and he had no choice but to crawl back in disgrace.
Abandoning their own advantages and the core high-efficiency, surprise-attack tactics of the Drukhari to fight a war of attrition with humans—what was he if not an idiot?!
Can such a person command a war?
Can they serve as a Legion Commander?
That's definitely a no!
Was it because there were no other, more excellent Legion Commanders in the Iron Thorn Conspiracy?
Of course not!
He had promoted many talents with excellent qualities, but this time—not a single one was chosen.
What was the reason?
Meshar knew perfectly well. It was nothing more than Hernandez restricting his power and being wary of the Legion Commanders he had promoted. Only talentless people like Darek and Amalfi would stand unwaveringly by Hernandez's side!
Because without Hernandez's support, pieces of trash like them would be nothing!
Meshar sat powerlessly in his chair, exhausted, feeling as if several layers of shackles had been placed upon him.
It was like having a great situation only to watch it being driven into the ground—a feeling of utter helplessness.
"Lord Grand Arbitrator, what... what should we do now?" the staff officer asked cautiously.
Meshar let out a heavy sigh.
"Inform the entire army. The rear becomes the vanguard, the vanguard becomes the rear, and the left and right wings are to remain on high alert—we are going back."
At this point, what else could he do?
Hernandez had already clearly expressed his dissatisfaction. Under such circumstances, any suggestions he made would only invite more dissatisfaction and serve no other purpose.
"Send a message to Darek and Amalfi," Meshar said weakly, his eyelids drooping. "Tell them that once they arrive at the strongholds, they must not be provoked into battle by the rebels. Just hold the strongholds and wait for me to suppress this area before I join them."
"Yes, Lord Grand Arbitrator."
The staff officer hurriedly turned to send the communication.
"Grand Arbitrator, will they... will they listen to your orders?" a staff officer who knew those two hesitated and asked.
"Heh—"
Meshar gave a self-deprecating, cold laugh.
Listen to his orders?
No, he was eighty percent sure those two would absolutely not listen to him, but—this was already the limit of what he could do.
In any case, the Iron Thorn Conspiracy belonged to Gregory Hernandez; he could play with it however he wanted. Meshar had already done his best.
Meshar closed his eyes.
"Zephlyn... this is all I can do for you. The Montoya Family will depend on you from now on."
Derrick Elliot and Amalfi Gerard had harbored deep resentment ever since they were demoted by Meshar.
They never believed those few failures were their own responsibility; instead, they blamed their failures on Meshar's lack of vision!
What if they had been given a bit more troops?
What if their equipment and vehicles had been a bit more sophisticated?
What if their luck hadn't been so bad?
Unfortunately, during Meshar's reign, they were constantly overlooked, even demoted all the way from Legion Commanders to minor Captains in the Zhen Sheng Zi Warriors. Meanwhile, many people of humbler origins and smaller family influence were promoted instead!
This caused a massive buildup of dissatisfaction toward Meshar in their hearts, as they believed this noble from a minor family was intentionally targeting great nobles like them.
Until today, when they were personally promoted by Hernandez and appointed as Legion Commanders, finally allowing them to hold their heads high.
Leading four full-strength elite Marauder Groups under the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, the two set off toward the Ghost Track and Ironthorn Ridge with total confidence.
While on the way, they suddenly received a secret message from Grand Arbitrator Meshar.
"Telling us to hold our positions and not move out?"
Derrick looked at this communication order, and a wave of unpleasantness immediately surged in his heart.
"Ha, who does this old man think he is?" Beside him, Amalfi wore a look of disdain after seeing the content. He spat on the ground and sneered, "Who doesn't know that Lord Hernandez is already tired of him? An old fossil who's going to step down sooner or later dares to tell us what to do?"
"Exactly, does this damn old fossil really think he's something great?" Derrick followed with loud mockery, jeering, "He wasted so many resources and couldn't even take down a mere Painful Nest. He's simply trash. If Lord Hernandez had sent us, we could have slaughtered those beasts in less than a day!"
"Look at this, look at this!" Amalfi expressed deep agreement, pointing at the message's content with a sarcastic tone. "This old fossil even wants us to wait for him to rendezvous before wiping out the rebels. I think not only has his brain gone soft, but his courage has shrunk too. He's actually afraid of a rebel army made of those beasts!"
"Hahahahaha, you're right. He's old; the world belongs to us young people now!" Derrick was clearly brimming with confidence, puffing out his chest like a proud swan with his nose in the air. "We will prove to Lord Hernandez that we can suppress mere rebels within a single day!"
"Hold position? What total bullshit!"
Amalfi waved his hand grandly. "Only weak cowards hold positions. We will take the initiative to attack and let these audacious beasts who dare to revolt experience the terror of the Trueborn! Let them know that we are forever their Masters!"
"You are absolutely right! Truly my good friend!"
Amalfi's bold words won Derrick's approval. His face flushed red, and his emotions were pushed to a peak as he shouted excitedly, "We must prove to that old fossil! We are the most outstanding!"
The reaction of the two perfectly matched Meshar's prediction.
Thus, Derrick and Amalfi hit it off immediately. They directly ignored Meshar's warnings and orders, forcing the legion to travel day and night at maximum speed to reach the front line and engage the Insurgent Army in a decisive head-on battle!
The first battle would be the decisive battle!
They wanted to use the Trueborn's military might to make those lowly beasts realize who the true Masters of Gomo were!
1
The Ghost Track and the Ironthorn Ridge were two routes located exactly at the southeast and northwest corners of Soul Severing City, used to transport vast amounts of resources to supply the city's massive daily consumption.
The Blood Rust Factory happened to be located right in the middle of these two routes.
After several days of intense offensive, the Insurgent Army had successfully captured and occupied parts of the area, but the Iron Thorn Conspiracy still had many fortified bunkers obstructing them, making it difficult to fully conquer the area for the time being.
Gork, who was leading the offensive legion, had not closed his eyes for several days. He had even personally led suicide squads in several charges, but they were all repelled at the last moment by the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's heavy defensive artillery.
As the war reached this point, the Insurgent Army had suffered heavy losses, but the defenders had also lost quite a lot. Both sides were nearing their limits, and it was entirely a battle of sheer will!
Whoever faltered first would lose.
"This is bad, Gork!" Elias, covered in dust and blood with no shortage of bullet marks on his body, strode into the command room. "We just received news that four Marauder Groups are heading this way. We have to retreat!"
"We cannot retreat!"
Gork said coldly, "Tell your men to hold the line!"
"Are you crazy? We can't keep fighting like this!" Elias was shocked. "Gork, are you trying to wipe out all our seeds here? Tens of thousands have already died. We can't stay bogged down here anymore; we must retreat!"
"I said—no retreat!!!"
The gladiator warrior had now transformed into a cold-blooded general. He slammed his hand onto the crude sand table and replied angrily, "We've suffered heavy losses, but the enemy's losses are also heavy! If we don't take these three important strongholds now, we'll never have such a good opportunity again!"
"But war—war isn't fought like this!" Elias's heart ached, his eyes turning red. "The enemy has a large number of solid bunkers, pre-dug trenches, heavy artillery, and air support. Our soldiers only have their lives. To pit human lives against them like this—even if we take these strongholds, our people will be wiped out. What's the point!"
The argument between the two made the others afraid to speak.
"The point?"
Gork's fierce gaze swept across the room like a blade. "I'll tell you the point! If we don't take this place, the enemy will have a steady stream of weapons and equipment support, and a steady stream of reinforcements! What will we fight with then?!"
"The Pioneer used himself as bait to win this opportunity for us. Why should we give it up?!"
"I understand everything you're saying, Gork."
Elias clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. He gritted his teeth and said, "I'm begging you, let the frontline troops pull back! When the time comes, I'll be the vanguard and personally take those strongholds for you, okay?"
"No! No one is allowed to retreat!"
Gork's expression was indifferent, and the pressure he radiated was as low as the dead of winter. "I'm telling you, Elias, if you don't take the Ghost Track and the Ironthorn Ridge, I'll strip you of your rank! No matter how many people die, I don't want your casualty numbers—I only want the Ghost Track and the Ironthorn Ridge!"
"Do you—do you really want to watch as they're all sacrificed?! These are—our seeds!" Elias cried out in grief and despair, his voice breaking.
"Even if we are all sacrificed, there will still be brothers from other legions to inherit our legacy and liberate Gomo!"
Gork stood as firm as an iron tower.
The Insurgent Army would not retreat a single step!
Southeast of Soul Severing City, Northwest Frontline, Insurgent Army Headquarters.
With a cold expression, Gork, in his capacity as Legion Commander, ruthlessly issued the order to continue the fierce assault.
Elias, a member of the frontline Guerrilla Division, looked utterly distraught.
He was speechless.
He knew very well that he could not change Gork's decision.
But the even more painful part was that Elias knew Gork's decision was the most correct choice at the moment.
Once this opportunity was missed and the Iron Thorn Conspiracy caught its breath, the Insurgent Army would no longer have any possibility of capturing the three major strongholds!
Because of his prestige over the years, Meshar Montoya was suspected by Hernandez and transferred away from the main frontal battlefield to besiege the Painful Nest. He took a large number of elite battle groups with him, leaving the defensive forces of the three major strongholds empty.
Meanwhile, inside Soul Severing City, the decapitation squad led by the Pioneer was risking their lives to conduct harassment operations behind enemy lines, drawing away most of the enemy's attention.
Right now was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the Insurgent Army to seize the three major strongholds!
"I... I understand."
Elias gave up the argument.
At a critical moment, since the Legion Commander had already issued the order, all disputes and doubts had to be set aside to execute the command!
"What's the situation on the eastern front?" Gork's gaze quickly swept over the crude holographic sand table as he asked in a hurried tone.
"It's not optimistic. Two full Marauder Groups are advancing toward the Ghost Track at an extremely high speed." Elias suppressed the pain in his heart and stated the current predicament in a professional and rapid tone: "According to intelligence from the reconnaissance squad, they are carrying a large amount of heavy siege equipment, including vehicles. They are less than four hours away from our No. 3 position."
"Too fast..."
Upon hearing this, a rare trace of worry appeared on Gork's rock-solid face: "What about the situation on the western front?"
"It's not good either." Elias shook his head with a heavy expression and said, "There are also two Marauder Group ground units advancing rapidly. The pressure on the flank of the Ironthorn Ridge Pass is immense. It's predicted... it will be breached in two hours at most."
Now, all the pressure fell on Gork's shoulders.
He was the one who made the decision to continue the offensive. This legion, which had experienced several days of bloody battle and suffered nearly half its casualties, currently numbering only a meager thirty to forty thousand people—the lives of everyone and the hope of the Insurgent Army were all tied to him alone!
Everyone's gaze was Spotlighted on the silent Gork.
His massive body, like an iron tower, stood before everyone as if he were a petrified statue.
In the silent command room, there were only heavy, uneven sounds of breathing.
Gork stared intently at the sand table, his eyes flashing with the light of calculation. Caught between the three surrounded strongholds and the pincer attack of the reinforcements from both the east and west, his brain worked at high speed, trying to find that slim chance of survival.
"The enemy wants to advance from both the east and west. Their equipment and troop numbers are all superior to ours."
After a moment of silence, Elias said in a solemn tone, "If we are to continue the offensive and seize the three major strongholds, we must split our forces. Even so... once one of the two routes is breached by the enemy, we will face a situation of being attacked from both front and back. At that time... the entire line will collapse!"
Gork remained silent.
Did he not know that he needed to split forces for rescue?
Of course he knew, but the problem was that the forces besieging the three major strongholds were already insufficient. Once forces were split for rescue, the frontal assault power would be inadequate.
That way, even if they could stall the enemies from the east and west, it would merely be delaying the inevitable failure.
But if they didn't split forces for rescue, given the current situation on both lines, once they were breached, the result would be total annihilation!
It was a dilemma!
"Do you know who the Commanders of the eastern and western front units are?" Gork suddenly asked with a frown.
"Derrick Elliot and Amalfi Gerard."
Elias's tense face relaxed slightly for once, and he let out a long breath. "It seems the conflict between Hernandez and Meshar has become irreconcilable. This time, Hernandez didn't choose the Legion Commander recommended by Meshar, but chose these two instead. According to my investigation, their reputations in the Iron Thorn Conspiracy are not very good. One is called the 'Flying General' and the other is called the 'Pig General'."
"Pfft... Hahahaha..."
A young staff officer couldn't help but laugh out loud.
This could be considered a rare moment of relief under extreme pressure.
"Don't underestimate any enemy!"
Gork reprimanded in a low voice, his brow still furrowed. "And don't take Hernandez for a fool. Even if these two Legion Commanders are idiots, are the heads of the Marauder Groups under them idiots too?!"
The few staff officers who had just laughed immediately lowered their heads in shame. "Sorry, we were too careless, Legion Commander."
Gork could naturally see Hernandez's intention.
He simply thought this was an overwhelming situation, so he sent these two idiots to get some easy credit.
And the truth was indeed so.
With four full Marauder Groups advancing from both east and west, wouldn't defeating an Insurgent Army composed of Half-breeds and Slaves with a casualty rate of over 50% be as easy as taking something from a pocket? There was no possibility of any accidents!
Beneath Gork's seemingly rugged exterior, there was actually a meticulous mind.
He was thinking that this might become... the opportunity for them to turn defeat into victory.
Everyone, including Elias, stopped speaking so as not to disturb Gork.
This decision could only be made by Gork.
And they also believed in Gork. This warrior who had emerged from the arena and survived one bloody battle after another was also the creator of this legion. No matter whether his decision was right or wrong, they would choose to obey!
This was both the trust between comrades and their trust in Gork!
The silence lasted for a long time.
Finally, the heavy atmosphere was broken. Gork suddenly looked up, a resolute light erupting in his eyes.
Elias had seen that look before; it was the look of a 'gambler' who had staked his life, staked everything, and poured in his all!
The other staff officers in the headquarters also straightened their backs and pricked up their ears, knowing that the Legion Commander had made a decision.
"No splitting of forces!"
Gork's rough fist slammed hard onto the edge of the sand table. His decisive voice, like an unstoppable sword, cut through the dull and oppressive command room: "Tell the blocking units on the east and west lines! I don't want their casualty numbers; I only want the positions! The men must live and die with the positions! Use whatever means necessary, you must stall the units on the east and west lines for three days! I only need three days!"
"All main force units, continue to strike hard for me!"
"Now, we have reached a critical moment of survival. Whether the Insurgent Army can gain a foothold depends on this battle!"
"Inform all frontline Commanders and fighters: I, Gork, will live and die with them!"
"Do not fear sacrifice! Show the grit to bite through hard bones. Even if your teeth are broken, you must take Ghost Track and Ironthorn Ridge for me in the shortest time possible! If the NCOs fall, the company Commanders take over; if the company Commanders fall, the regimental Commanders take over. If we run out of men—I'll lead the charge myself!"
This was a monumental gamble with all the chips on the table!
And there were only two outcomes.
Either the blocking actions on the east and west lines would fail, and the main force of the Insurgent Army would face a pincer attack from within and without, leading to total annihilation and eternal damnation;
Or they would seize the only chance of survival, taking Ghost Track, Ironthorn Ridge, and the Blood Rust Factory before the east and west routes were breached, and rely on the strong fortresses and terrain to complete a desperate counterattack!
Besides these, there was no third possibility.