Valley Manor

Mantan Valley Manor was truly one of the few beautiful places in this wasteland world.

At least, it was as far as the scenery went.

A narrow river flowed gently past. Its unpolluted water nourished the surrounding land, giving rise to a swath of green.

A wall of piled stone enclosed a broad stretch of shade. Several buildings dotted the grounds, while crops in the fields grew vigorously, swaying in the breeze as if showing off the coming harvest.

It was nearly dusk. The river bend reflected the setting sun, gleaming gold like a mirror and making the surrounding scenery seem even more beautiful.

The sky slowly turned a soft orange. The sunset's afterglow gradually faded, giving way to a brilliant starry sky—Nuxiao Planet had no natural satellite, no moon. At that hour, half of Little River Bend's farm was bathed in the sunset's afterglow, while the other half was lit by starlight, creating a beautiful and peaceful scene.

"How beautiful," Yan Fangxu said with a sigh. "I haven't seen a sight like this in ages. For a long time, I was either aboard a starship or looking out at devastation after landing on Nuxiao Planet. The last time I saw something like this was many years ago."

"I can't bear to ruin it either," Gu Hang replied casually. "But I don't want the supplies I need left here, only for that man named Vaughan to use them to drive up food prices and fleece the people. This beautiful manor and farm are fated to be mine. We'll make them even better."

An hour earlier, Gu Hang's troops had already arrived and dealt with the sentries on the perimeter.

After that, they began resting nearby. The manor had grown tense after the sentries stopped reporting in, but Gu Hang didn't care. His people had already surrounded the area. Anyone who wanted to run could go; taking a large quantity of supplies with them, however, was out of the question.

The soldiers rested, Gu Hang admired the scenery, and the people in the manor trembled with fear.

When the sun had just set, it was time for the planned assault.

"Make your move," he said to Yan Fangxu beside him.

The skirmishers began their advance. Four black armored vehicles emerged from the sparse woodland, their engines roaring through the valley. The Servitor soldiers leading the charge gripped their Assaulters and rushed toward the manor's defenses, their bullets tearing through the air with piercing shrieks.

At the same time, mortars began pounding the manor. Explosions rumbled like the din of hell, and smoke billowed, enveloping the grounds. Wherever the shells struck, grass and trees went up in flames, the earth was blasted apart, and sparks and shrapnel hammered the manor's stone walls and rooftops with a series of thuds.

The raiders immediately fought back, firing from behind buildings and rubble walls. Gunfire crisscrossed until it was impossible to tell who was shooting. All they could see were bullets flying through the air, kicking up dust and stone chips.

The raiders' resistance was fierce. There seemed to be one or two hundred of them inside. Despite the mortar bombardment, the hail of bullets, and their casualties, they still dared to stand their ground, pop up, and return fire with ferocity.

Their equipment and fighting spirit were both far superior to those of the Prisoner-Dead bandits they had encountered before.

The Prisoner-Dead bandits still used handmade Pipe Rifles. Their accuracy was atrocious, and their power was weak; when they hit the Servitor soldiers, they couldn't even pierce their Plasteel body armor. Most of the casualties in that battle had been caused by the mutated Greenskin beasts.

These mercenary outfits active around Revival City were much better equipped. At the very least, they had automatic rifles, giving them far more firepower, with stronger and more accurate bullets. They even had machine guns.

Using cover to target the advancing Servitor soldiers gave them an advantage, and every so often a Servitor soldier was hit and fell.

A fallen soldier wasn't necessarily dead. Their body armor and helmets were lightweight, but they were still made of Alloy Plasteel and offered excellent protection. Most of those who went down had been shot in the legs, and a considerable number could rejoin the ranks after recovering.

Overall, however, the attack was visibly going poorly. And the closer the advancing soldiers got to the manor, the worse it became. At shorter range, the enemy's fire grew more accurate and fiercer, and the soldiers would suffer heavy casualties.

From far away, the enemy had trouble piercing their body armor. Up close, bullets might punch through it, and even if they didn't, the soldiers' unprotected faces, necks, and limbs were far more likely to be hit.

Under normal circumstances, if Gu Hang wanted to take the manor quickly, he would have to accept the inevitable casualties. A direct assault would probably cost half a company.

To avoid heavy losses, they would have to prepare for a protracted fight. They could dig trenches from the perimeter toward the manor and trade fire in a drawn-out standoff, pounding the defenders with mortars until their manpower and ammunition were depleted. Then they could launch the final assault and keep casualties under control.

But Gu Hang had no intention of suffering excessive losses, nor did he plan to spend ages wearing down these mercenaries.

He did have a weapon that could settle the fight in one stroke.

In fact, he had two.

The first was the four Strider Type V armored vehicles. Once they closed the distance, their vehicle-mounted autocannons roared in sustained bursts. Their twin 45-millimeter cannons fired side by side, rapidly sweeping away a stretch of rubble wall with projectiles that could have been bullets or shells.

Each enormous round packed tremendous destructive force. Stone flew everywhere, and the walls were reduced to wreckage.

The mercenaries were relying on the walls for cover, but they couldn't withstand such a ferocious attack.

The four Striders advanced, firing mercilessly as they went.

The shells tore through walls and the bodies of many mercenaries, leaving mangled remains that filled those nearby with horror.

Once the Strider Vs opened fire, the mercenaries' resistance was thoroughly suppressed.

With the Servitor Infantry Company pinned down, the Waste Cave Infantry Company advanced in a second wave alongside the four Striders. Even the mortar positions began moving forward as the Striders pushed ahead. As they closed in, the mortars' accuracy and destructive power would continue to increase.

Just then, a mercenary suddenly appeared on the flank, carrying a long, tube-shaped weapon. Its construction looked crude, but there was no doubt: it was a rocket launcher.

Whether this man had been struck by a flash of inspiration or was simply an exceptionally capable veteran, he managed to score a direct hit.

He took aim and fired. The rocket streaked forward, trailing a long plume of flame, and struck an armored vehicle that was firing.

The mercenary smiled and immediately dropped the launcher, ready to find new cover.

But as soon as he ducked behind the wall, the wall beside him shattered. A tremendous force flung him to the ground, and his vision filled with a haze of blood.

He saw one of his hands fly away. He saw his lower body lying not far off.

He understood the grim truth: a large-caliber autocannon had hit him and severed him at the waist. The cover he had relied on hadn't helped at all; the rubble wall had been smashed to pieces.

But what seemed even more impossible was that the vehicle that had killed him was the very one he had hit with the rocket launcher.

The last thing he saw was the armored vehicle emerging from the smoke, without a scratch on it.

Why?

He died in pain and confusion.