Chapter 386: Only I Can Use the Law Chapter 386 Resource Era (6000 words)

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Protagonist:

Chen Yi

Gasa Ye and Caldwell were both old men now. Their ages exceeded 100 years, like two old trees that had seen all manner of wind, rain, and lightning.

Back then, standing atop Ma La facing a reinforced Temple Legion, they could chat and laugh freely.

Yet at this moment, both men were silent. Like two trees that had once chatted and laughed suddenly dying of a stroke.

In anyone's eyes, a mere thirty people were a tiny and frail army, a symbol of armed force weak beyond weakness.

Yet these thirty soldiers stood firm amidst the wave-like onslaught of alien mercenaries.

Wave after wave of impact brought one breach after another, the impacts never ceasing, as if there were an endless supply of troops.

A Level 4 Soldier kept his finger on the heavy machine gun's trigger after pulling it, almost never letting go.

Ammunition rapidly diminished like piglets being born; the ammunition that had been troublesome before was now as precious as life itself. The shooters' trigger-pull frequency obviously increased, while the speed of changing gun barrels instead slowed down.

They worried that if they stopped firing, the enemy would rush up.

The enemy ultimately did not rush up, but they did bring truly unexpected trouble.

These alien mercenaries were sturdy and had low pain sensitivity; they often had to be struck in a vital spot to completely lose combat ability. Sometimes, a heavy machine gun clearly broke one of their arms, yet these soldiers did not roll on the ground shouting, but continued charging in a daze.

They truly did not know, but this fearless spirit truly made it hard for the new recruits to adapt.

Occasionally one or two aliens approached the position, and they would throw javelins with long-handled steel blades—just the steel blade alone destined them not to retreat easily, otherwise how to recover this expensive cost—the aliens' javelin skills were not proficient, and this thing had limited killing power against armored soldiers; after all, real blade-and-gun fighting caused greater casualties.

However, the Native Squad had no armor.

When the fourth 200-person squad discovered this secret, shouting javelins smashed onto the stone fortifications one after another, scaring the machine gunners inside into trembling.

In pursuit of high accuracy, they often approached to within 100 meters to throw; the Earth javelin world record of 104.8 meters seemed as if everyone could reach it.

At this time, the native soldiers in the fortifications still had no casualties. The power of heavy machine guns and machine cannons was truly too great; even if alien soldiers adopted prone and bent-over postures, they could hardly persist on the battlefield for 30 seconds. In such a short time, only a very few could reach 100 meters.

And at this distance, the power of automatic rifles was already enough to slice open their skulls and stop their movements.

When the sixth 200-person squad launched a charge, their short leader chose to throw from 120 meters, and the effect seemed better.

After all, with more throwers, even if the aim was not so accurate, they could still make the new recruits feel uneasy.

When the seventh 200-person squad entered the battle, they began throwing from 150 meters.

The aliens' javelins were finely made, with long and accurate gliding distance in the air, like a short, thick rocket. This differed from javelin competitions on Earth. In events like the Olympics, organizers even moved the javelin's center of gravity forward by 4 centimeters to limit its flight, reducing the modern javelin champion's distance to within 100 meters. People in war would not do such a thing.

The Native Squad's casualties finally appeared.

One soldier was pinned through the thigh, blood spurting from the blood groove like a javelin, gushing for a few seconds before gradually falling silent.

"Automatic rifles, fall back, all Level 2 Soldiers, fall back." Hong Bi ordered with bloodshot eyes; the riflemen lying on the ground were the easiest to attack.

Three volleys, Gasa Ye slowly asked: "Mercenaries, how many have died?"

"Over 1200." Sir Caldwell was full of shock.

"1200 for one person? Can we afford that?"

Sir Caldwell was the most senior knight in Ma La; had he not offended the former Temple High Priest, he would have been promoted to Grand Knight, and his strategic vision was excellent. He withdrew the fighting qi from his eyes and calmly said: "In such a defensive position, 1200 people cannot exchange for one person."

"Cannot exchange?"

"Look at their firing positions; they could be made more solid. Their weapons are like crossbows rather than bows and arrows, so they can cover the top." Sir Caldwell had considered related issues before: "I heard West River Water Fortress has a lot of steel; if steel covers the top, even a Fighting Qi Knight would find it hard to break through..."

"Like those cavalry below their mountain?"

There was only one squad of soldiers below the mountain, but with machine cannons and armored vehicles, their firepower was not at all weaker than below the mountain. Moreover, they did not fear close approach; within 50 meters, they could form crossfire themselves—simply a situation of certain death. The alien mercenaries simply left over a hundred men to pin them down, constantly circling at long range—of course, while suffering huge casualties, slightly reducing the attack pressure on the upper part.

Caldwell nodded; this kind of combat truly made his experience hard to apply.

No one liked the arrival of the New Era, except the proletarians of the Old Era.

If facing a Modern Army, the battle at Shenqi Mountain could never happen. Facing superior firepower, one either called for aid or surrendered; suicidal charges were meaningless.

But in cold weapon armies where morale decided everything, over half the soldiers dying made the leader unable to dismount the tiger, forced to keep fighting.

Otherwise, once the attack stopped, the spirit of this unit would be completely destroyed, and it might even directly fall apart, splitting and disbanding.

But if they luckily won, this kind of tragic victory would instead give birth to an iron-blooded heroic lion.

Regardless of whether the simple-minded Black and White alien leaders thought of this point, they definitely had no retreat.

The 8th 200-person squad charged up.

The soldiers' movements were a bit hesitant, a bit heavy. They bent their waists, learned to walk in zigzags, and knew to hide in shell craters waiting for the right moment...

Casualties decreased, but this was not what the Black Leader wanted.

He wanted victory!

He stood up and said gloomily: "I, lead the squad to attack."

"I attack below the mountain." The White Leader looked at the last four replenished 200-person units and resolutely faced below the mountain.

When countless black shadows appeared under the scorching sun, Hong Bi, with a red-hot gun barrel, raised "Milan." The standard anti-tank missile had 4 spare rounds. When not in use, it felt too heavy; when in use, too few.

"This time, we must let them get close before firing." Hong Bi said this to save ammunition. He did not want to ask the soldiers how much ammunition they had left, as that would only cause psychological fear.

The alien mercenaries crawled up like ants.

The soldiers coming behind would not mourn for those in front. Only surviving soldiers could get paid, so having few survivors was not bad. As long as they could ultimately win.

The two leaders probably thought the same.

The single-shot machine cannon went "dang dang dang" without stopping. Not to say American goods were of good quality; continuously firing shells for over an hour far exceeded the design target, but the 3rd Squad Leader with ample ammunition didn't care about these, nor did the enemy.

Fortunately, "Big Poison Snake" had not yet collapsed.

On the mountain, Shi Cun Village Chief held a magazine and an old 54 with a 50-meter range, muttering: "They've started charging."

"They're dead for sure! Everyone listen to my command..." Hong Bi's words had just fallen when a shell landed among the crowd, kicking up 10 meters of smoke, and the huge roar covered the machine cannon's explosion.

"Tanks! Our tanks!" Hong Bi excitedly stood up, only to be tackled to the ground by the machine gunner beside him.

Indeed, there were six tanks, advancing with difficulty along the plowed track cleared by bulldozers.

They had not even taken up firing positions; the tanks formed a long column, each separated by over a hundred meters, with only the last two tanks close together—needless to say, the rear one had already dropped anchor.

The one who fired was the lead 59; a direct hit surely meant they had aimed for a long time.

The tanks behind fired reluctantly, kicking up swirling smoke, and the coaxial machine guns on their turrets went "tat-tat-tat." But the 7.62mm general machine guns lost their effectiveness at six hundred meters; at greater distances, the gunshots could barely be heard, serving purely as cheering.

The alien mercenaries were thrown into chaos.

The 100mm high-explosive shell had a blast radius of about thirty meters. This kind of low-density, high-power artillery fire depended largely on soldier training and sturdy cover—things the alien mercenaries had neither of.

Therefore, the high-explosive shells fired by the 59 tanks inflicted casualties far exceeding those of modern warfare, basically sweeping away all the standing soldiers.

Occasionally, mercenaries who broke through the barrage also had to endure several times the previous heavy machine gun fire.

When the last two-hundred-man unit disappeared into ankle-deep blood like yellow eels swimming into rotten mud, the battlefield fell silent.

Whether defender or attacker, both were terrified.

Gasa Ye spoke with the last shred of hope: "If we attack now, we might be able to wipe out their heavy cavalry."

He was referring to the tanks.

Caldwell sighed deeply, looking at the knight standing straight behind him, and said: "I brought ten Temple Knights; are you willing to sacrifice a few?"

"Two... three. If we can take the opportunity to destroy their heavy cavalry, we can destroy their highway... that siege highway, too annoying." Gasa Ye grew angrier as he spoke; had it not been during the Temple War, he might have deployed the heavy cavalry regiment.

Caldwell shook his head slightly and said: "Destroy their heavy cavalry? Three isn't enough."

"Then five! Incidentally wipe out the light cavalry squadron below the mountain. Not a loss." Gasa Ye used his usual tactic from the Elder Council, gradually raising the price.

But Caldwell still shook his head.

"Still not enough?" Gasa Ye said helplessly: "You think too highly of them."

"Don't we have enough knights in the city? When the enemy reaches the city walls, they're beaten until they can't lift their heads."

"Their heavy javelin troops are too powerful."

"Same thing." Caldwell gazed deeply at the craters below the mountain, shifting from military to political matters, and said: "If we lose ten Temple Knights, can we still stabilize the Elder Council?"

Gasa Ye was startled.

As Council Chairman, he led by example, sending most of his main forces onto the battlefield.

"They have this strength." Caldwell pointed at the former villagers jumping and shouting below the mountain, his voice heavy and deep as if scooped from a jar: "They will get anything they want."

His words, even as a reminder, were also persuasion.

Gasa Ye turned away dejectedly, unwilling to watch the ugly sight of the "Jiangning People's" soldiers celebrating victory.

A long while.

The Chairman asked: "What would be the worst-case scenario?"

He had to plan for the future of Ma La, and he also trusted Caldwell's judgment.

"You should ask, what would be the best-case scenario."

Gasa Ye's tone stalled: "What is it?"

"The Temple pacifies them and cedes Ma La to the other side."

The Chairman was stunned, unable to speak.

A Kite Beast flew out from the white clouds, cried "ga-gu ga-gu" three times, and landed.

A young boy weighing at most forty jin jumped down from the Kite Beast's back and handed Gasa Ye the envelope with a red feather inserted, reporting: "It is a demand from the West River Water Fortress!"

"Read it." Gasa Ye was unwilling to take the red envelope, naturally displaying a noble's bored aloofness.

The boy knelt on one knee, gently unfolding the red envelope with both hands as if holding a painting, and read clearly: "All of the West River Stockade Interim Conference Hall to the Chairman of the Ma La-State: Our side follows an open policy and hopes to reach the following three consensuses with your side... First: Ma La-State is a city-state for everyone and should be open to make entry and exit convenient for everyone; Second: The highway is everyone's highway and should be open to make entry and exit convenient for everyone; Third: Both sides do not attack each other, release prisoners."

Gasa Ye was still pondering the meaning, but Caldwell had already grasped the implication and said: "Could it be they are worried we captured their people?"

The Kite Beast was considered the fastest information transmission method on the West Continent, so in his view, the West River Water Fortress must not yet have received news of the victory. Actually, their information transmission speed was just too slow.

Gasa Ye thus hesitated; for him, stopping the war held the same temptation as destroying the enemy. He whispered to Caldwell: "Being able to use their highway is not bad, and moreover, stopping internal strife during the Temple War can also reduce the burden on the front line..."

As he spoke, he felt his reasons were truly ample, raised his voice somewhat, and asked: "What do you think?"

"They didn't say the West River Water Fortress is open."

"The West River Water Fortress was originally open anyway. Let's take it back to the Elder Council for discussion." Gasa Ye added after finishing: "I think it can be considered."

Caldwell immediately said: "I think it's not bad either."

He was Gasa Ye's good friend of many years and knew what this guy had in mind.

Don't look at how Chairman Sir just now seemed about to start a war, but his substantive goals were just two: preserve the strength of Ma La-State and destroy the enemies of Ma La-State. And the latter served the former.

During this Temple War period, if peace could be reached with the West River Water Fortress, naturally the strength of Ma La-State would be preserved—the key point being preserving Gasa Ye's strength. If he couldn't win at a very small cost, he hoped to wait until the Iyar High Priest returned to fight, so at least there would be one more person to share the decision risk.

"We return." Caldwell gave the order, and a knight immediately shouted to pass the word.

The group returned grimly below Ma La, quietly passed through the highway, and sneaked back into the city. Before reaching the Elder Council, they found a Xima Market merchant who often sold "Jiangning Goods" inside the city waiting there.

"Grand Knight Sir, Knight Sir." He skillfully stepped out half a body's length, neither blocking the Chairman's path nor failing to draw enough attention.

"You are a local merchant, right?" The Chairman's expression became haughty. After all, this was near Ma La.

"Yes. I am Konti, a messenger." The merchant was naturally obedient, but not truly obedient.

The merchants' status came from their amount of money; through business at the Xima Market, merchants accumulated large funds, lent this money to the nobles of Ma La-State, and thus to some extent controlled the nobles' economic source—this control was not through debt, but through the future. Most nobles were good at spending money but not at earning it. Therefore, when the manors outside the city could not provide their luxurious life, merchants like Konti made up the shortfall with loans. If a noble defaulted, other merchants would have other nobles apply pressure. If the nobles collectively defaulted, the merchants would stop lending, not by forcibly collecting, but by not granting the next loan.

The nobles were always short of money, whether for war, dueling practice, or supporting family servants and relatives, or for a certain young lady or mistress... In short, as long as a noble needed to spend money for a day, they would always be at the mercy of some merchant.

This was a gradual process; merchants who mastered economic power were an important component of the city-state economy, and even nobles could not afford to overlook them.

Caldwell knew well the energy of these merchants, so he did not pursue anything, only saying: "Say the message you brought."

"Yes. The generals of the West River Water Fortress hope you will transfer Shenqi Mountain and its affiliated parts to them."

"Transfer, impossible." The Chairman immediately started walking, not wanting to listen anymore.

"The Jiangning People are willing to pay." Konti said in a low voice.

The Council Chairman frowned and said, "That won't do either."

Finished speaking, he looked at Konti with suspicion and said, "West River Water Fortress just gave me an agreement, and it didn't mention Shenqi Mountain at all. What's going on with you?"

Konti laughed "hehe" and said, "I'm just... like tax farming. I pay money to buy first... then sell to the West River people."

The Council Chairman slapped Konti across the face with a "pa" sound and shouted angrily, "A joke!"

"It really isn't a joke." Konti looked into the Council Chairman's eyes with an unchanged smile, as if the one who got slapped wasn't himself, and said in an unchanged voice: "I gave them a guarantee that I could get Shenqi Mountain for them, otherwise... their Heavy Cavalry would enter the city."

"Their Heavy Cavalry is still at Shenqi Mountain." Caldwell said in a deep voice.

"You've all come back, so how far behind can they be?" Konti is a professional merchant; in other words, he has no concept of city-state or vassalage, so he said without any psychological burden: "If you agree now, you can still get a sum of money. If you don't agree, it'll be trouble."

The Council Chairman's nose wrinkled, his eyes narrowed, and he said, "You dare threaten us?"

"I dare not." Konti bowed slightly, but his face wore the same smile. He deliberately lowered his voice and laughed: "If you agree, the money doesn't necessarily have to go to the city-state... but the threat is real. If needed, I can persuade the Jiangning people's Heavy Cavalry to come bombard the city walls immediately, bombard until you're satisfied... at that time, Council Chairman, you just help pass a donation clause in the Elder Council, and then we'll hand the money directly to you."

"Clumsy." The Council Chairman spoke with righteous severity, but actually it was because the other party spoke too nakedly.

Caldwell cursed inwardly. At this moment he wanted to leave but couldn't. Needless to say, this merchant had roped him in too. After all, the elite troops inside the city had left, while quite a few officers from the slave camp had stayed behind instead, making him the strongest military force at this moment.

City-state politics has never opposed bribery. The Council Chairman smiled mysteriously and said, "Let their Heavy Cavalry come negotiate."

This sentence could be understood as agreeing to Konti's proposal, or as a firm refusal, yet it was excellent speech material one could swear by.

Konti naturally couldn't just leave like this. He stepped forward half a step and laughed: "Empty words — I can't go back and report your opinion like this."

The Council Chairman looked at him like he was a fool and said, "Do you still want me to leave you some evidence?"

"Of course not. But at least send me a few artisans to prove it to the Jiangning people. They want to know a bit about the environment there."

The Council Chairman hesitated and said, "Artisans?"

"Iron Workshop people will do." Konti finished speaking and laughed like a dried persimmon cake, saying: "The Jiangning people have so much steel, they don't need to rely on your artisans. Take a few people back, just to familiarize themselves... with Shenqi Mountain."

The last three words, Konti simply used mouth shapes. The Council Chairman likes honesty, so just satisfy him.

"Fine." Unknown which sentence persuaded the Council Chairman, he promised: "Rest assured, I'll send two people to you."

"Why bother." Konti moved closer again this time and laughed: "The Jiangning people are waiting outside. If your meeting runs too long and causes a misunderstanding, that would be bad. Sending one person is enough to settle it."

The upcoming Elder Council meeting would surely last a long time. The Council Chairman thought for a moment, beckoned a Knight, and said: "Ross Pita, you go select artisans for Konti."

This time, he walked straight into the Senate, no longer paying attention to that annoying merchant.

Konti revealed a trace of a proud smile, then concealed it in an instant.

He leaned close to Ross Pita, acting familiar, and said with a laugh: "Sir Knight, when we reach the Iron Workshop, please let me do the talking."

Ross Pita frowned and said, "Okay."

A Grand Knight can slap a merchant's face, but a mere little Knight dares not offend Konti.

Konti slightly narrowed his eyes.

Two Mount Beasts quickly turned a street corner. At this moment Konti took out a bag of Conch Shells and unceremoniously stuffed it into Ross Pita's hands, saying: "Sir Knight, later please let me be the one to choose people."

This was his true purpose.

Ross Pita hesitated repeatedly, then nodded.

Arriving at the Iron Workshop, hundreds of artisans from the 9 horizontal and vertical longhouses were all called out.

Konti looked at these raggedly clothed artisans, laughed heartily, unfolded a paper, and asked: "Iron Wind, Iron Thunder, Iron Lightning, Iron Four, Iron Seventeen, Iron Male..."

In one breath he actually called out 10 people.

Ross Pita grabbed him and said: "The Council Chairman only gave you two people."

Konti gently pulled his hand away and said: "The Council Chairman later said to let you bring me to choose people, and didn't specify a number. A bag of Conch Shells."

Ross Pita's hand slowly loosened.

Who would cross money? Knights' expenses are not small, and those hoping to become Nobles even more so.

"You all, bring all your tools and come with me." Konti deliberately didn't say where they were going.

The artisans here at the Iron Workshop are not Blacksmiths; accurately speaking, they are miners. Therefore their status is far lower than those Blacksmiths who forge metal Weapons.

They don't know what happened outside the city; the matter of Shenqi Mountain hasn't spread back yet.

Therefore, the artisans naturally assumed they were being called to work somewhere inside the city — a very common occurrence. Therefore no commotion was caused.

"Must bring all your things." Konti stared seriously downward until several artisans packed their own Divine Box-like things into crates, then covered his cheeks to conceal his delighted expression.

"Let's depart." With his movement, three Cavalry and 30 Soldiers appeared behind Konti.

Ross Pita received the third bag of Conch Shells and completely couldn't be bothered to think about the matter anymore.

... (Unfinished. If you like this work, welcome to Qidian (qidian. com) to vote Recommendation Tickets, Monthly Tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)