Total Collapse

Kelvin held the White Raven Rifle in his hands, his body focused as he aimed, then he pulled the trigger hard. He saw a Sandfolk, who was riding a Raptor and showing off as he ordered the others to charge, fall down. Only then did he exhale the breath he had been holding.

"Hey, nice shot, buddy!" Youyou, clad in Power Armor, shouted in praise.

Anyone who could be a Cowboy in New Jade Gate certainly wouldn't have terrible marksmanship—after all, all the terrible ones were already dead. And with such good marksmanship, one could live quite comfortably in New Jade Gate, with plantation owners and mine owners scrambling to hire you everywhere.

However, Kelvin still deeply missed his time in the Galactic Homeland. He had graduated from vocational school and worked as a laborer in a small parts factory in his hometown. The pay wasn't much, but he could live quite comfortably in his hometown where prices weren't high. The factory manager was an old friend of his father's, he took good care of Kelvin, and was happy to teach him mechanical repair and assembly techniques.

Kelvin's dream was simple: by the time he was 40, he wanted to open his own parts workshop. Of course, before that, if he could marry a wife who wasn't beautiful but was gentle and virtuous, have a son and a daughter, and take care of his mother in her old age, he would be able to rest in peace, having honored his father, an orbital technician who died in an aviation accident when Kelvin was 10 years old.

But the state-owned mechanical factory in his hometown, established during Marshal Li's era, went bankrupt. Their main client, the Commonwealth Deep Space Mining Group, decided to order more efficient and cheaper autonomous mining equipment from the Alliance, and the Commonwealth government also stopped subsidizing heavy industry enterprises. The small factory Kelvin worked at, which had been providing parts and maintenance services for that state-owned enterprise, naturally had to go bankrupt along with it.

After the bank seized the factory and equipment he had spent his life accumulating, Mr. Factory Manager ended his own life in a secluded small warehouse.

Kelvin was unemployed, and his mother fell seriously ill. Kelvin could only afford the most basic medical insurance, but the insurance company told him that his tier of insurance did not cover expensive gene therapy.

His mother's illness dragged on for three years, consuming the house and survivor's benefits left by his father. When the old woman passed away amidst the suffering of poverty and illness, Kelvin, who had nothing, walked onto the street in a daze, got on an immigrant ship in a fog, and thus arrived on New Yumeng Star, becoming a promising Cowboy.

Yes, perhaps it really was quite promising. Because the boss was a good person. Although he was rude and hot-tempered, although he was full of incomprehensible curses, although he always called him "Ah Kai," compared to the glamorous and well-dressed big shots back home, that bank manager who took away the old factory manager's life's work, that insurance agent who spoke eloquently about a bunch of terms he couldn't understand, those government councilors back home who announced the closure of state-owned enterprises, they all seemed more human.

More importantly...

Thinking of this, Kelvin couldn't help but turn his head to look behind him.

The woman was oiling the White Raven Rifle. Her five-year-old daughter was holding a magazine, loading steel-nail bullets one by one. She said she used to teach Chinese at a public school, but her husband died, and the school was squeezed out by private schools that sprang up like mushrooms, so she brought her daughter to the colony to try her luck...

Such a frail woman should be holding books and pens, how could she be holding a weapon.

The woman seemed to sense Kelvin's gaze, looked over, and smiled.

Kelvin wanted to smile back, but a large hand grabbed his collar and dragged him directly behind cover.

"Pfft!" Sand and gravel splashed where Kelvin had been standing. Before he could feel the lingering fear, Old Man Wang Yougui slapped the back of his head.

"We're at war, you little brat, are you trying to die!"

Here they come, here they come, here they come, more of these incomprehensible curses, but they really felt warm!

Wang Yougui ignored Kelvin, who was covering the back of his head and grinning, and said to Sergeant Youyou beside him, "Black娃! Will your superior officer come back to reinforce us?"

"Black, Blackie..." Youyou opened his mouth, finding the nickname quite interesting, and said, "I've already informed the officer about the situation here. It's up to his judgment now. He's a good guy; if we're really in danger, he'll definitely come back."

"Oh, he'll come back."

"But I hope he doesn't come back!" the Big Black Guy added.

"Huh? Not coming back?"

"This little bit of trash can't even charge a hundred meters!" They had fought so many battles these past few days, and all victories, the Black Sergeant had become quite arrogant. Of course, everyone at Supply Station No. 12 was a bit arrogant.

"Oh, they can't charge over..."

"They can't charge over! They can't charge over! If they charge over, I'll be the first to pound them all into little pancakes!" The Big Black Guy boasted, patting the Power Hammer beside him.

Wang Yougui looked at Youyou and then at the enemies outside the valley with skepticism. Based on his ten years of experience as a militia training champion, he felt that this Black娃 made sense. He picked up his Mirror Box, fired a few shots tentatively, and then saw the Sandfolk on the opposite side drop over a hundred corpses of people and animals and retreat with wails.

Even the fiercest warrior race couldn't withstand such casualties! Moreover, they were just passing by and weren't prepared for an assault at all.

Well, they really couldn't charge over! This place was secure! The old man breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like a hero himself.

And so it was. This group of about two hundred Sandfolk was the first, but also the last, enemy encountered by the inhabitants of the canyon. This group of Sandfolk patrol that had the good fortune to discover the valley couldn't contact their commander and could only wander aimlessly on the increasingly chaotic battlefield, never to be heard from again.

The heavy artillery of Alchi Highlands had begun its thirtieth round of bombardment. They had turned the Great Elder's encampment into a sea of fire, they had shelled all the warehouses and tank barracks they could find, and they were also pounding the anti-aircraft gun positions within sight, one by one. The garrison air force, which had been cooped up in Tulon City for days under the pressure of the Sandfolk army, could finally soar out of the city arrogantly.

The garrison's aerial vehicles were actually only of one type: the Lynx-type Armored Airship. This was a multi-purpose transport vessel that could only fly at low altitudes. It could carry ten mechanized infantry soldiers and their Power Armor at a time, but it certainly couldn't fit two tanks or four infantry fighting vehicles. Its speed and maneuverability were mediocre, and its armament consisted of only two Vulcan cannons and a missile pod.

To put it bluntly, although it was called multi-purpose, its combat effectiveness and carrying capacity were both second-rate.

The only advantages were its good seaworthiness and relatively low price.

As for drones, they were certainly not the heavily armed war machines carried by aircraft carriers that could charge into enemy fire. Instead, they were civilian devices about a meter long, with a carrying capacity not exceeding 20 kilograms, and capable of carrying at most three small bombs or one Vulcan cannon... Yes, these Kingfisher Drones, with their weapons removed, were actually sold on the market and were considered rare star products in the Commonwealth's international "high-end" industrial market, mainly used for urban logistics and aerial photography.

The anti-aircraft guns used by the Sandfolk, which could be used both on land and in the air, were certainly not genuine high-end brands. They looked like they were knocked out of workshops, but they were sufficient to suppress these low-quality weapons.

However, these workshop-made items, which constituted the Sandfolk's first-ever anti-air network, were turned into history one by one amidst the Tuolun defenders rushing out from the front and the roar of heavy artillery from behind.

Thus, the garrison "air force," which had been holding back its anger in the city for half a day, launched a full-scale attack.

Sixteen airships formed eight standard combat units, deploying in a fan-shaped attack formation, sweeping over the advancing ground troops and continuously clearing out the enemy. The missile pods truly resembled giant hornets, shrieking as they plunged towards all Sandfolk encampments, war chariots, or firing positions within their guidance range, always creating thunderous roars.

Swiftly passing by the airships were one hundred and twenty Kingfisher Drones from six drone command vehicles. One-third of these small aerial vehicles were also equipped with Vulcan cannons, while the rest were loaded with bombs—small bombs, that is, by the standards of aerial vehicles. In fact, these 6-kilogram, smallest aerial bombs, could create a blast radius of over ten meters when they exploded on the ground, generating high temperatures, vacuum, and electromagnetic disintegration effects within this range. Both living beings and mechanical bodies, and even energy bodies, would suffer immense impact.

With their flight speed at its maximum, the Kingfisher Drones took only ten minutes to sweep across the Sandfolk's battle formation, happily unleashing all their bombs, then circled back to the city to reload, repair, and prepare for another takeoff. The first round of bombing was quite successful, with only towering flames and deep craters seen everywhere in the enemy's main camp. There was endless bewilderment, screams, rolling, crying, and howling. As for the drones, only three were lost, likely shot down by a stray shot by chance.

Most of the Sandfolk either died in their sleep or, having just woken up, saw a hellish scene of their companions being slaughtered. They couldn't find their weapons, their comrades, or their commanders, and could only stare blankly, then die inexplicably.

"Where is Hessen Great Elder? Where is Great Elder?" The lords and chieftains couldn't even find their guards, only shouting their only hope.

"Just, just now, several rounds of bombardment were aimed at the Great Elder's encampment."

"The, the Great Elder might have already..."

"No, no, no, the Great Elder is an apostle of God, he can't die! He absolutely cannot die!"

Regardless of whether these sorrows were genuine or feigned, by this point, even the most dim-witted lords and chieftains knew that the tide had turned.

Hanrat, the "King" of Black Mountain City, jumped onto his heavily purchased armored off-road vehicle and was the first to disengage from the battlefield. He was the first Sandfolk leader to flee the battlefield, and he naturally set an example for the others.

The total collapse of the Sandfolk began just like that.