Chapter 107: A Temporary Change of Strategy and the "Horse"

The frontline command post was hastily constructed from tents. Before the telegraph machine, an operator adjusted the frequency to verify messages, while staff officers and generals gathered around a long table that bore a massive map.

The map was divided into two sections: one depicted jagged lines representing uneven mountain ranges, and the other was a plain dotted with countless flags.

Red marked the forces of Xuanlü, and blue represented the military strength of the Lev Territory.

Dense clusters of flags formed ring after ring, resembling the deeply layered defensive lines the Republic had established late in the First World War to repel invasions by multiple nations. Small units continuously extended the front, creating multiple defensive lines so that any enemy assault would be like wading into quicksand.

However, Lev Territory had taken it further, establishing towns that served as self-sustaining war fortresses to a certain extent.

Five large cities, including Lev City, bore the most flags—signifying their strongest military presence. Centered on Lev City, a web-like defensive network radiated throughout the territory.

No matter which direction the enemy attacked from, they could not break through swiftly. Any reckless advance risked having their supply lines cut off. Traditionally, to assault this territory, one would have to lay siege with overwhelming force, overpowering the opponent head-on.

Yet, this web-like defense now had a huge breach: many towns had been abandoned, and the final line of defense, the Third Satellite City, was severely weakened.

At that moment, the flags marking the Third Satellite City, positioned centrally, had dwindled to only two; the other three had already evacuated towards the Fourth Satellite City.

“The breach has been torn open. We must act quickly. Currently, we have two armored regiments and three mechanized infantry regiments,” the chief of staff said, pointing to their present location on the map before drawing two lines with a red pen.

“Although our initial plan successfully distracted the enemy's forces, our intentions are too obvious and easily detected. If the enemy dispatches reinforcements, our armored units will risk encirclement.”

Blitzkrieg relies on the powerful mobility and firepower of armored units, slicing through the enemy like a sharp blade to create a deep breach. Before the enemy can react, their lines collapse.

This strategy emphasizes offense without defense, boasting immense combat power. But once the enemy adapts and manages to halt the armored advance, those units become surrounded and face total annihilation.

Xuanlü was uncertain whether the enemy could withstand the attack, and even more unsure if their armored units could break out if encircled; thus, extreme caution was imperative.

War is both brutal and intricate; a single misstep can ripple through the entire battlefield, and negligence or localized defeat might doom the entire campaign.

Therefore, these commanders had to be as cautious as cats stealing food amidst reckless action.

“I plan to redeploy two mechanized infantry regiments to assault the Fourth Satellite City. If the enemy reinforces it, our mechanized infantry, in coordination with special operations forces inside the city, will launch a pincer attack to seize the city. If they remain unaware, we will hold them in place and minimize casualties among the special forces who risk encirclement.”

The road to the Fourth Satellite City was dotted with scattered forests. Though not as dense as those between the Dyna and Lev territories, it was still impassable for armored units. This hampered the transport of heavy weapons, indirectly prompting an air assault by helicopters.

Mechanized infantry, however, could rapidly traverse forest paths on motorcycles, though artillery had to be left behind.

“That leaves us short on troops here. One mechanized infantry regiment alone cannot swiftly eliminate the armored forces’ remnants after their strike.”

Fast-moving armored units rarely annihilate all enemy survivors. Typically, follow-up troops are needed to encircle and mop up the scattered enemy; otherwise, the blitzkrieg’s momentum risks being cut off from behind, leading to the frontline’s encirclement.

“We don’t need to wipe out all surviving enemy forces—only the knights. Without their organization, civilians armed with cold weapons pose no real threat.”

Xuanlü was unsure of the individual combat potential in this world, but the lower limits were roughly the same as in their original world.

With the battle plan set, orders rapidly cascaded down—from the high command issuing commands to the lowest-ranking workers and soldiers. The commands penetrated straight through like a bamboo pole, executed without discount or hesitation.

This was the Republic’s stark difference from other regimes: a near-terrifying capacity for mobilization and execution.

Massive steel beasts—tanks—lined up in orderly formation, fully armed and ready.

“For the Republic, commence operation.”

The rugged, heavy tanks roared thunderously as they charged across the plains, the armored units becoming an unstoppable torrent of steel.

The earth trembled, flocks of birds startled into flight, the vast world now shrouded in the haze of war.

Yet the enemy remained oblivious.

...

A small mudbrick town stood, its walls barely four meters high, guarded by a dozen soldiers clad in leather armor and wielding long spears.

“Father.”

A boy of sixteen or seventeen climbed atop the wall. His fine clothing betrayed his well-to-do background.

He approached a burly middle-aged man, holding out a basket.

“Father, this is the lunch Mother asked me to bring you.”

“Hm.” The stout man nodded slightly, reaching out to take the basket, assuming the stern demeanor of a strict father.

“Have you finished today’s training?”

“Yes, carrying two hundred shi for fifty thousand steps,” the boy replied promptly, pride tinging his voice.

A proper knight’s family: well-off, with an extraordinary knight for a father. His future as a knight was all but assured.

The father felt a measure of satisfaction but then spoke seriously, “Since you finished your tasks in half the time, it means you can push harder and become even better. Tomorrow, seventy thousand steps.”

“Yes! I won’t disappoint you,” the boy answered energetically, undeterred by the increased workload.

“I’ll start now.”

As he turned to leave, a large hand grasped his shoulder.

The boy looked back, puzzled. “Father, is there something else?”

“Do it tomorrow. Rest today. Go find the others and have some fun—you mustn’t forget to make friends,” his father urged.

“Okay.” A bright smile broke across the boy’s freckled face.

With light steps, he descended the wall, greeting other knights along the way, though they returned no friendly smiles.

“Harvey, bringing lunch for the captain again?” A ruddy-faced knight approached, one hand clutching an iron chain, the other cradling a boy of five or six.

Harvey returned a sunny smile. “Uncle Kark, good afternoon. Where are you taking little Kark?”

The boy in his arms looked up, his voice soft and childish. “Knight training, practicing riding. I want to be an excellent knight like Brother Harvey.”

“You’ll be great, little Kark.” Harvey reached out to pat the boy’s head, only to have it pushed away by two pudgy little hands.

“Don’t touch my head; I won’t grow tall.”

That remark sent the nearby knights into laughter.

“All right, all right, I won’t,” Harvey said, pinching the boy’s cheek playfully, causing the boy to bare his teeth in mock protest.

After teasing the boy, Harvey looked up and asked, “Uncle Kark, little Kark is still young. I don’t really recommend starting riding lessons now.”

The ruddy-nosed man waved off the concern. “I know. It’s not real horses, just getting him used to it.”

He lifted the iron chain in his hand.

Following the chain, Harvey saw a person lying on the ground with a saddle on his back and a bit in his mouth.

“My brave knight, show Brother Harvey your riding skills,” the man said as he set the boy down.

“Watch me!” The boy’s cute face took on a fierce expression. His small leather boots stamped the ground with a clatter; the golden hexagonal stars on his heels gleamed brightly.

He vaulted onto the “horse,” gripping the reins and shouting “Giddy-up!”

The “horse” began to crawl forward.

At a glance, it looked quite convincing.

The knights watching applauded and whistled in encouragement.

“Well done!”

“Good job, little Kark.”

Riding atop his “steed,” little Kark looked even prouder. He raised his right foot and kicked the horse’s flank, the sharp hexagonal star piercing flesh.

“Faster!”

The “horse” increased its crawling pace as the applause grew louder.

“Giddy-up! Giddy-up! Faster, faster!” Little Kark urged, kicking with the star on his boot, fresh blood dripping to the ground.

Suddenly, the “horse” pitched forward and tumbled, sending the boy flying.

“Careful!” Harvey sprang forward, catching the boy midair and rolling to the ground himself from the momentum.

After the roll, Harvey got up quickly, concern etched on his face. “Are you all right?”

The boy looked dazed, clearly shaken, but had no visible injuries.

“Waaah!” The boy threw himself into Harvey’s arms, bursting into tears.

The fallen “horse” scrambled up, kneeling and bowing repeatedly to Harvey, panic-stricken. “I’m sorry! Master, I didn’t mean it! Please forgive me! Please forgive me…”

It banged its forehead hard against the uneven ground, soon bleeding heavily from cracked capillaries.

At that moment, the ruddy-nosed man approached, his face cold as frost. He swung his right foot back.

Thud!

The civilian, called “horse,” was kicked flying three meters away, tumbling several times and covered in dust.

His pale, gaunt face twisted in pain as his body curled like a boiled shrimp.

“You useless wretch,” the man spat furiously.

The boy in Harvey’s arms wiped his tear-streaked face and pointed at the fallen “horse.”

“Harvey, please help me beat him.”

“Okay.” Harvey carried the boy over and kicked the civilian like a ball.

This time, the civilian was utterly lifeless, his expression no longer pained.

Harvey patted the boy’s head, smiling gently to comfort him. “Don’t be afraid. The bad guy is down.”

“Mm.” The boy sniffled softly, tears easing.

“The bad… guy has been beaten by Brother Harvey.”

Suddenly, a fiery explosion erupted behind them, bathing the entire scene in an orange-red glow, followed by a deafening roar.

Boom!

The city wall behind them shattered violently, flames raging and debris flying everywhere.

A fragment landed at Harvey’s feet—a round object smelling of rust: a severed head.

Staring at the familiar face, the boy froze, instinctively whispering,

“Father…”

He slowly turned his head, the broken wall behind him engulfed in roaring flames.

Through the blaze, a red banner fluttered faintly, and steel beasts thundered forward.

At the horizon's edge, the crimson flag rose, and the flood of steel surged onward.