Section 85: Madness and Vengeance

Wright was moving underground.

Under the constraints of the era, progress was agonizingly slow, and maintaining his bearings was difficult. His mission was straightforward enough: infiltrate from below, scout for vulnerabilities in the enemy camp, and signal the moment an opportunity arose. Black Sha and several other assassins would then strike, eliminating the guards and leading the ambush force hidden nearby to launch a pincer attack and annihilate the enemy.

He was not particularly confident in the outcome. The Revolutionary Army’s camp was heavily fortified; although many areas were manned by wounded soldiers, the positioning was impeccable. According to Gettini, the defense layout had been orchestrated by surrendered Han military officers. They were extremely vigilant against the enemy, yet strangely lenient toward defectors who had entered into contracts. Why?

Was it because the 50% reduction in attributes and rewards made the enemy believe defectors posed no threat? Was it because he was a newcomer, lacking deep knowledge of the battlefield scenario or the intricacies of transactions between contractors? Or was this, too, a trap?

Wright recalled Charles’s past misjudgment and subsequent betrayal, as well as the time their commander had used "Blood Rain" only to fail to eliminate their opponent. There was no doubt about it—the enemy was wicked and cunning. They had used despicable means to harm them, to harm her. Now, he had to be careful; he could not fall into their traps again.

Speaking of which, if not for the results of the previous battle and Gettini’s subsequent tests proving that the enemy camp was fireproof, the team would have arranged for an incendiary attack. He wondered why that was—was it an enemy skill? Or some sort of equipment or item?

He burrowed to a point close to the surface, listened, and hearing no footsteps, he emerged. He was beside a tent. He parted the fabric and peered inside to see a dozen women sitting in a circle.

This must be the living quarters for the families... He had lost his way. He was in the center of the main camp; even with lax defenses, the Han army could not have broken through this far. He should try somewhere else.

"I hope they lose!" As he prepared to tunnel back underground, he heard one of the women in the tent say this.

"Exactly! And they won't even let us out! If they want to die, let them die on their own! By what right do they control us?"

Huh? They weren't hoping the Han army would lose; they were hoping their own side would. He recalled how the Han army treated the farmers along the road when he returned to the main camp, and he was deeply astonished to hear such words from the families of the Revolutionary Army.

"They don't even give us the spoils after they win! They just enjoy everything themselves. It’s so unfair; they’re practically discriminating against us!" a voice full of resentment said.

"That's right!" several voices chimed in.

"And they’re so cruel! I saw it earlier at the front—he just held his blade up like that and hacked off the head of that young Han soldier! Blood splattered everywhere!"

"Too cruel! That young man surely had parents, maybe even a lover and children. How could they do such a thing?"

"Exactly! Let’s stop cooking for them! Let’s stop washing their clothes!"

"It’s too much! The enemy is human, too. How can they just kill them like that?"

"Whatever they do, our rescue is inevitable. Those fools! Why don't they understand? Why must they be so cruel?"

Are these... narcissistic lunatics? Delusional people? A group of mental patients? Wright looked left and right, but there were no doctors or nurses in sight. And that wouldn't make sense anyway—did the Revolutionary Army have a mental hospital?

No one in this era should be able to say such things. Were they contractors? That was impossible; such stupid contractors wouldn't last three minutes in the Space. The Space wasn't a slaughterhouse; it wouldn't send such trash in.

Forget it... what does it have to do with me? Time to finish the mission.

"Teacher Lank’s class is about to start, aren't we going?"

"They’re fighting, why would he still be lecturing? Besides, he’s full of those clichés all day—valuing the collective, dedication, sacrificing for the people... it’s all nonsense! Why doesn't he go die himself? He just wants to trick us into it! Does he think we’re all idiots?"

—

It was time for revenge.

Compared to that, the fact that he had waited so long was the strange part. They were his friends, his brothers, his partners. They had adventured in space together, supporting and helping one another, eventually completing the mission and returning to the Space with their mechs.

Once, he had thought things would get better. That they would shed their weakness and become strong. Instead, they were all dead. Burned to death by Wang Luo, or sent to their deaths by Wang Luo’s orders.

And here he was, actually thinking about cooperating with such a person!

He was timid; he was a coward. He should have avenged them long ago, but he hadn't dared. He had only been concerned with his own skin, skulking about here teaching those fools how to read!

Admit it! To save your own miserable life, you gave up on seeking revenge against that cruel, cunning, and despicable man!

Lank squatted on the ground, clutching his head, and let out a wail.

"I cannot be a coward any longer. They were all killed by Wang Luo—my friends, my brothers, my partners, the people I loved most. If I can watch them die and do nothing, remaining indifferent, am I even human?"

He jumped up and ran out of his tent.

What should he do? Wang Luo wasn't here now. There was fighting at the front—should he go there to help Wu Zhou? Only the powerful Wu Zhou could help him with his revenge. But if he defected again... his attributes, defense, and rewards would all decrease. No, his combat effectiveness had already plummeted. He was here for revenge, not to join the winner...

Fire.

A burning flame appeared before Lank’s eyes. His own mech softened and collapsed in the roaring inferno. Countless Han soldiers were wailing, begging for mercy, running in a frenzy, or screaming. Some of his partners had abandoned their mechs, while others had tried to drive them to find a way out, only to die inside.

Then, he would return the favor! That would be the best revenge!

He walked into a nearby tent and grabbed a dozen torches prepared for the evening’s lighting. Then, he headed toward the rear camp. Over the past few days, he had become well-acquainted with the layout of the Revolutionary Army’s camp.

The guards on duty along the way were mostly men with minor injuries. Right, the original guards had all been transferred to the front line. Some recognized Lank and saluted him, making no move to stop him.

It seemed that playing the role of a teacher for a while had its benefits. If he had tried to take revenge the moment he arrived, how could he have so easily moved in and out of the enemy’s rear camp?

Thinking of this, he felt a slight sense of relief. Yes, I must have intended to avenge everyone from the very beginning, which is why I temporarily cooperated with the enemy. Once I gained their trust, revenge would be much easier.

The wind picked up.

What would be the most appropriate way? Should he light the torches and burn these girls, children, and old men?

No. Lank continued to walk forward; the target ahead was far more valuable.

The Revolutionary Army’s supply camp.