Serious

The laughter gradually died down, and the group continued through the dark underground passage. As they drew closer to the target marked on the map, the surroundings became increasingly industrialized. Massive, rust-streaked pipes coiled around the rock walls like giant pythons, while the pungent smell of chemical reagents grew stronger in the air.

Comparing the crude map he had received from the Commissar, Ruan Wenbo confirmed that they had reached the outer perimeter of the Chemical Refinery. Any major disturbance farther ahead could be heard by the sentries in the plant. He immediately raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist. The entire marching column came to a silent halt at once.

A Player was just about to raise his voice and ask, "Company Commander, what do we—"

He had barely begun when he met Ruan Wenbo's sharp gaze. Ruan Wenbo said nothing, merely holding a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. The Player immediately got the message and swallowed the rest of his question.

That silent command spread swiftly like ripples across water. The other Players quickly understood Ruan Wenbo's meaning as well, and the remaining chatter vanished in an instant. The company of nearly a hundred people became a pack of silent hunters lying in wait within the shadows.

Commissar Walter's impression that this was a company made up of [Underhive workers who had just picked up guns] was, in fact, incorrect. Earth Players who had received a proper education possessed a far broader average level of knowledge and cultural literacy than Underhive workers who had never seen the sky in their entire lives. Perhaps only Upper Nest Nobles who had received elite educations from childhood could compare to them in that regard.

Unlike Underhive workers who knew nothing and fought only through instinct and brute courage, the Players possessed stronger logical reasoning and execution skills. They understood the importance of "battlefield reconnaissance" and "keeping quiet," and clearly knew that obeying discipline could better safeguard their lives—for Players, that meant effectively reducing equipment wear and tear.

More importantly, unlike civilians who had been forcibly conscripted, they were not constantly thinking about how to run away or scrape together a meal. They did not fear war. It could even be said that they craved it.

Assassin silently moved to the front of the group and lowered his voice as he asked Ruan Wenbo, "Company Commander, what do we do next? Just wait for the main battlefield over there to start fighting?"

Ruan Wenbo carefully examined the map again, then shook his head. He clearly still remembered the lesson from the last positional battle.

"No. We know nothing about the terrain inside the Chemical Refinery. Charging in recklessly would be no different from handing over merit points. We need to send scouts first."

He told Assassin, "Go ask around the squads and see if anyone is willing to be a scout. They don't need to go too deep—just figure out the enemy's rough troop deployment and the locations of their firepoints. Also, ask if anyone can draw. I'm worried that verbal descriptions alone won't be clear enough when you return. It'd be good if someone could sketch out a simple diagram on the ground."

Assassin was highly efficient, and the Players were enthusiastic about such an exciting reconnaissance mission. Without much effort, he quickly found ten volunteers from the various squads.

He divided the ten of them into five groups of two.

"Listen up, brothers," Assassin said in a low voice as he rapidly issued instructions. "Move in pairs and operate freely. Your objective is to scout the factory's outer defensive layout, especially its firepoints and troop numbers. Half an hour from now, no matter what you find, regroup here. Safety first. Don't get yourselves killed showing off. If you die here and respawn on the spot, nobody can save you."

He deliberately patted the shoulder of the Player who claimed to know how to draw. "Buddy, stay close to your partner. Watch carefully and remember everything. We'll be counting on you when you get back."

"Don't worry, Brother Sa. I studied drawing for three years. A rough map won't be a problem." The Player confidently made an OK gesture.

At Assassin's command, the five two-man teams immediately scattered like ghosts. Crouching low and using the shadows of pipes and rocks for cover, they silently infiltrated toward different directions around the Chemical Refinery. Spreading out like this made them smaller targets and less likely to be wiped out all at once. The brother who could draw could also follow his partner and freely choose the best vantage points.

One group's operation went exceptionally smoothly. They encountered almost no obstacles, crawling forward until they soon reached a spot less than fifty meters from the Chemical Refinery's huge rusted iron gate. They hid behind a pile of discarded metal containers, where they could clearly hear the droning machinery inside the factory, along with frenzied prayers in an unintelligible language.

One of the Players peered through a gap between the containers, looking left and right toward the gate as he whispered to his companion, "I only see one exposed sentry, leaning against the gate. From the way he's nodding off... he looks like he's dozing. Where did they put the hidden sentries?"

The other Player, whose ID was [Name? Haven't Decided], shook his head and replied just as quietly, "I couldn't find any likely spots for hidden sentries either. There are only a few high points around here, those ventilation pipe openings, but they're completely bare. No one could hide up there. Sigh, if only we could enable gamemode specter."

"You're fantasizing again," his partner sniped irritably.

"What's wrong with a man fantasizing?" Name shot back righteously, then changed the subject. "All right, let's check somewhere else. But I think these brain-damaged Cultists probably didn't set up any hidden sentries at all."

His partner froze for a moment before realizing it too. "You know, that's actually possible. Maybe they think no one would dare provoke them, or maybe all their attention has been drawn to the front battlefield."

Name replied, "Still, we should be thorough. Let's take another careful look."

The group did not give up. For another ten-plus minutes, they moved like two patient lizards, sticking close to the shadows and pipes as they circled the outer perimeter of the Chemical Refinery several times.

They found more entrances. Some were enormous cargo gates, while others were maintenance passages only wide enough for one person. Yet without exception, every entrance's defenses were practically nonexistent. Other than a few drowsy exposed sentries, they found neither patrols nor anyone coming to relieve the guards.

It was truly baffling.

"This isn't right," Name's partner whispered as he lay atop an elevated pipe and looked down at a half-open side door below. "There isn't even anyone relieving the guard. Are those sentries supposed to stand watch all day?"

"Unless they're pure-blood Genestealers or Chaos Demons who don't need rest," Name cracked a dark joke, though he could not laugh himself. He glanced at the nonexistent watch on his wrist and estimated the time. "The rendezvous time is almost here. There's no point looking any longer. Let's head back and see what the other groups found."

"I have a bad feeling about this." His partner shook his head. "Either these Cultists are arrogant to the extreme, or there's some trap inside that we can't even imagine."

The two cautiously retraced their path. When they neared the agreed meeting point, they were surprised to hear voices there—and more than one or two.

They quickened their pace, crouching as they slipped through the final crack between the rocks. What they saw made them stop cold—Assassin and the eight Players from the other four groups had already arrived at the meeting point. They were gathered together in a low-voiced discussion, apparently waiting only for them.

"You're finally back." Assassin waved at them when he saw them. "How'd it go?"

Before Name's partner could speak, a Player from another group rushed to say, "No need to ask, Brother Sa. I'm guessing what they saw was exactly the same as us—this place is like an undefended public toilet. Anyone can come in, anyone can leave."

Name and his partner exchanged a glance, then nodded in unison.

"We circled the factory several times," Name added. "Apart from a few dozing exposed sentries, there was nothing. No patrols, no relief shifts, nothing."

"I just can't understand it." The Player who could draw spoke in confusion as he used a stone to sketch a simple layout of the factory on the ground. "We have respawns and a high margin for error. If we die, at worst we lose a bit of equipment durability, yet even we know to sneak over carefully."

He raised his head and looked around at everyone. "What about them? These Cultists only have one life. Once they die, they're really dead. How can they be this careless?"

"Exactly!" Another Player immediately chimed in. "These defenses are set up like a beginner village tutorial stage, like they're afraid we won't be able to get in. What the hell are they thinking?"

In the end, it was the Players' preconceived notions from all sorts of war-themed games, combined with this game's high realism. The tight defenses of enemies in other games, where the whole map immediately went on alert the moment one person died, along with the highly intelligent performance of the Astra Militarum NPCs in this game, had made them treat their enemies like Zhuge Liang. If Zhuge Liang played the Empty Fort Strategy and the Players did not become suspicious, that would have been the strange part.

But in reality, their enemies were precisely the [Underhive workers who had just picked up weapons] mentioned by Commissar Walter. If not for the overseers in the Chemical Refinery carrying whips, the Underhive workers might even piss into the molten metal... Expecting them to take defense seriously was pure fantasy.