Advantage is Mine, How Can I Lose

A few hours later, Cam strode into the temporary command post, a cloth bundle in hand.

He tossed the bundle to the ground; Jack's head rolled out, hair and beard stained with blood.

A soldier stepped forward, swept a portable DNA scanner over it, and a green light flashed.

"Identity confirmed: Jack Norton, leader of the Iron Hand Gang."

Yuri dragged a metal briefcase over, his expression as sour as if he'd bitten into a lemon.

He opened the case, revealing neatly stacked Throne Coins, their crisp faces reflecting the overhead light.

As Cam packed the ten thousand Throne Coins into his backpack, Yuri's cheek twitched.

"A head for a hundred thousand..." Yuri clicked his tongue. "Governor, that price is higher than the bounty for assassinating a planetary governor."

"Next time you've got a job like this, give me a heads-up. I'll find a professional killer—twenty percent off, with after-sales service included."

Fu Haoran ignored his sarcasm and pushed a waterproof cloth bundle across the table.

"Inside are a disguise suit, a fresh identity badge, and a ticket to the Agri-World. Leave tonight. Don't linger."

Cam grabbed the money case in one hand and the bundle in the other, not slowing his pace, only tossing back a cold, hard sentence:

"I keep my word and shut my mouth. You'd better not break yours."

With that, he strode out of the command post without a backward glance, not an ounce of reluctance.

Within three minutes, Wade strode in, a rare look of delight on his face.

"Sir, Ronan led the Penal Legion to clear the control room. Not only did they stabilize the factory core, but they also found the Iron Hand Gang's vault!"

Fu Haoran looked up.

"It's been fully inventoried." Wade pulled up a list. "Forty-seven thousand Throne Coins in cash, plus a pile of jewelry and precious metals—preliminary estimate over eight hundred thousand."

Yuri perked up beside him, his eyes gleaming.

"As for weaponry: six heavy bolters, one master-crafted plasma pistol, three full sets of Stormtrooper Carapace Armor in good condition, and one set of Force Feedback Power Armor."

Wade paused, then handed over a black data crystal.

"Most importantly, this was found in Jack's personal safe."

Fu Haoran took the crystal and plugged it into the terminal.

A holographic image unfolded—a complex, three-dimensional network map of pipelines, countless lines intersecting, nodes marked with High Gothic serial numbers.

[Complete Map of Lower Hive Promethium Pipeline Network and Control Nodes]

Fu Haoran stared at the map and smiled.

"With this, we've got the entire Lower Hive by the throat."

[System Notification: Hostile faction Iron Hand Gang has been dismantled.]

[Reward: Universal Points +5000, Promethium Factory Full Control Rights (Activated)]

[Unlocked: Factory Automated Defense Turrets x8]

[Note: Congratulations! From a debt-ridden pauper, you've ascended to a mine owner burdened with heavy debts. The road ahead is long and arduous~]

After finishing his report, Wade didn't leave but voiced his concern:

"Sir, there's something I don't understand."

"Cam was the Iron Hand Gang's third-in-command. He knows a lot about our deployments. Are you really letting him go? What if he leaks information..."

Fu Haoran let out a light laugh, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"He won't." Fu Haoran wasn't worried. "Jack's dead, the Iron Hand Gang's scattered. The rest will either surrender or run. That saves us the ammunition and manpower to clean them up—this deal's a net gain."

"As for leaking intel? Cam's got his money and his ticket. He'll be scrambling to escape to the Agri-World, terrified of dying if he stays one more second. No way he'd court trouble."

"By the way," Fu Haoran added, "send a few former Iron Hand Gang members to escort him all the way to the ship. Make sure people see it."

Beside him, Yuri's eyes lit up instantly. He stroked his chin in sudden realization and muttered under his breath:

"Brilliant... absolutely brilliant. Most people fear too many eyes and ears, but you're afraid no one's watching. And you specifically pick his old comrades to escort him—you've staged the whole show!"

"I bet that kid, once he hits the port, will find someone to spread the story."

"Using one Cam to buy the trust of every gang—that's ten times more effective than spending hundreds of thousands on recruiting soldiers... You're ruthless."

"Once word gets around, which gang in the Lower Hive will still want to fight to the death?"

Yuri's shifting expression didn't escape Fu Haoran's notice.

Fu Haoran shot him a look.

Yuri immediately curled his lip, turned away sullenly, and went to tally the spoils without another word.

"Working with smart people makes things easy."

Fu Haoran pulled up the factory control interface.

As the last few resistance points went dark, the status lights for the key workshops flickered from red to green.

[Promethium Refinery Workshop: Online]

[Fuel Synthesis Line: Restored to Operation]

[Central Power Network: Connection Complete]

But Fu Haoran had no time to celebrate.

He switched to the Auspex's live feed.

The screen was stained a massive patch of red.

Dense red dots, like festering wounds, covered the entire area thirty kilometers from the Hive City's outer perimeter.

The numbers were so vast the system auto-classified them:

[Identification: Noble Private Army (Silverthorn House), approximately 8,000 units]

[Identification: Vassal Noble Private Army, approximately 15,000 units]

[Identification: Gang Militia (Mixed), approximately 150,000 units]

Wade pulled up reconnaissance data, his voice tight:

"Also, we've spotted 12 Leman Russ Battle Tanks on the enemy side, 30 Chimera Armored Transports, 6 Heavy Field Artillery pieces, 12 Vehicle-mounted Anti-aircraft Guns, 6 Sentinel Walkers, and various other vehicles too numerous to fully tally."

Wade's tone grew heavier with each word.

This wasn't even total war—just a "minor scuffle" at the noble level.

But from the paper strength, the enemy had an overwhelming advantage.

"Our intelligence network also intercepted that their supply convoy is carrying enough Promethium and ammunition to sustain a month of high-intensity combat."

Fu Haoran zoomed in on the image.

The noble coalition's supply convoy stretched for kilometers.

Truck after truck of Promethium, crate after crate of ammunition, sack after sack of rations—piled up like mountains.

Clearly, these supplies were enough to support a month of high-intensity combat.

At the same time, the surveillance feed showed the noble private soldiers' gear gleaming, while the gang militia scattered loosely at the periphery, like a crowd of beggars huddled around a campfire.

"They've stopped?" Fu Haoran asked.

"Not stopped—they're waiting." Wade pulled up a comm intercept.

Count Victor's voice rang out from the speaker, cold and dripping with undisguised contempt:

"...Let those Lower Hive scum finish squabbling. What does Fu Haoran have? A factory he just took over, a bunch of surrendered thugs."

"We outclass him in gear, outnumber him in troops, and our supplies are ample. What's the rush?"

"Let him live another two days, see just how hopeless he really is."

The recording ended.

The command room fell into dead silence.

Wade said quietly, "The staff has run the simulations. At their current advance speed... at most twenty-four hours, and the first wave of attacks will begin."

No sooner had he spoken than a communications officer burst in: "My lord! Enemy vanguard elements have already appeared on the factory's outer perimeter. They're likely scouting our situation."

Fu Haoran didn't speak.

He stared at the red tide on the screen, his mind racing through calculations.

The enemy had roughly 180,000 troops; his side barely had over 10,000.

On paper, there was no need to fight—he could just surrender outright.

"My lord," Wade's voice dropped even lower, "there's one more thing... Silverthorn House controls the entire Hive City's ammunition supply lines and battery supply chain."

"The outer perimeter's anti-air towers are also in their hands. Right now... we're an island."

Fu Haoran looked up.

"You're saying we have no outside reinforcements, no follow-up supplies?"

"Yes."

Fu Haoran leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Wade, handle the factory defenses and troop reorganization. I need to step out for a short while. If everything goes smoothly, I'll be back before the battle starts."

"Since they like to bunch up and pile on, I'll give them a fireworks show—one the whole Hive City can see."

On the other side, the coalition camp.

Count Victor sat in his command vehicle, polishing his Master-crafted Plasma Pistol.

Outside, chaos reigned.

Gang thugs brawled over who would lead the charge and who would get the spoils.

Private soldiers and scum eyed each other with mutual hostility, the entire formation in disarray.

The adjutant cautiously asked, "Count, should we enforce military discipline? If we delay any longer..."

Victor lifted his eyes and cast a faint glance.

"Enforce? Why enforce?"

He set down the gun, his tone casual yet carrying an unyielding dominance.

"It doesn't matter how many cannon fodder die."

"My 8,000 private soldiers are intact, and twelve Leman Russ tanks are on standby at all times—that's enough."

"Cannon fodder is meant to be spent."

"Count, but our current march speed is far behind schedule."

"No matter. Let our Governor stew a few more days, sleepless at night, scaring himself."

"But if we drag this out any longer, the Iron Hand Gang might be wiped out?"

Victor didn't lift his head as he said, "Just a bunch of Lower Hive scum, already abandoned."

The adjutant at his side bowed: "Count, we could just push straight through. Why wait?"

Victor let out a sneer, his tone steeped in bone-deep arrogance:

"Do you think the previous Governor died how?"

"We nobles cut off his ammunition, and he collapsed overnight."

"Fu Haoran sitting in that seat—at its core, we nodded our approval."

"Back then, the rebels won because we sent guns, sent cannons, sent heavy weapons to keep them alive."

"Now, I'm cutting off the entire Hive City's ammunition lines, battery lines, supply lines."

The adjutant fell silent.

Victor looked out at the dark, motley crowd, his eyes devoid of any concern:

"A puppet Governor, relying on a bunch of broken gear and surrendered bandits—what does he have to win with?"

"Let the gangs go first, break through his lines, drain his ammo."

"Once he's spent and dry, my Leman Russes roll in and flatten the factory directly."

"I'll make him understand the price of betraying the nobles."

Victor set down the pistol, leaned back in his chair, and delivered the classic line:

"The advantage is mine. How can he win?"