Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

"Then, advance quietly, approach stealthily, and don't make a move!"

"Boom!" The words had barely left his mouth when a cannon blast rang out. Before Mandra could even understand what was happening, a shell landed right above them with a deafening explosion from the friction of the air.

"Bomb! Get down!"

Mandra cried out in alarm and leaped into the nearby bushes. The next second, a rock wall rose from the bushes, blocking Mandra from the cannonball. The Victoria-style mortar struck the newly formed and unstable magical rock wall, instantly shattering it into pieces. The flying dirt and rocks slammed into the surrounding tree trunks, leaving small craters. One tree, battered by the rain of dirt and rocks, let out a groan of despair and collapsed to the ground.

Mandra emerged disheveled from the dust cloud, covered in dirt and grime, looking like a miner fresh from an Originium mine. Coughing, she quickly gave the order:

"Retreat! Retreat! The enemy has spotted us! Move to a new position! The enemy's firepower is too strong! Move to a new position! Retreat in a dispersed manner!"

But before she could finish speaking, the dust settled, and there wasn't a soul in sight. The two-horned beasts had already chosen to retreat immediately after the shells landed, and no one had paid any attention to the safety of their leader. Only a few ordinary Deeppool soldiers, still trembling from the deafening roar of the shells exploding at point-blank range, sat slumped in place, staring at Mandela, their teeth grinding, lost in thought.

"Tsk, these guys!"

Mandela clicked his tongue, but dared not linger any longer. The Victorian army had launched an artillery barrage in this direction, and a search party would surely arrive soon; they had to evacuate immediately. Without time to deal with the terrified recruits, Mandela quickly retreated along the river, following the trail of the two-horned beast.

.........

In the distance, the Victoria Camp.

The artillery camp, which had symbolically fired a shell, was now leisurely packing up its equipment, preparing to retreat fifty meters immediately as ordered by the Chairman should the military and civilian forces in Shenchi launch an attack, to feign weakness and lure the enemy deeper into their territory.

One artilleryman joked, "We only fired one shot, not enough!"

Someone immediately objected, "No, we can't fight too much. What if they think we're too strong and stop attacking?"

Beside him, a Sarkaz sentry who had just arrived from the front-line command post, holding his flag, looked at the two Victorian artillerymen joking around with a puzzled expression and asked curiously:

"But you've already used mortars against them, aren't you afraid they'll run away?"

The two artillerymen exchanged a glance, then turned their heads in confusion and said:

"No way, I chose the smallest caliber mortar, the one with the weakest firepower, and only fired one symbolic shot. Shouldn't this be considered a provocation?"

"If they can be scared away by this, how weak must the other side be?"

The Sarkaz sentry's lips twitched. He was suddenly a little glad that he had a flagpole in his hand. Otherwise, when the cannon fired just now, his legs would have buckled and he would have really sat down on the ground. That would have been incredibly embarrassing.

written request for leave

I went to buy a computer today, so I can't type for now. I had a friend send the leave request for me.

I need to take a day off. Sorry.

====================================================================================================================================================

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Fear from the Prophets

Therese arrived excitedly, only to find that apart from a few artillerymen lounging with their legs crossed, drinking coffee and watching entertainment programs on Lentinium Channel 3 on their mobile phones, there was nothing else there. There was not even a shadow of Deeppool Commander Mandela, let alone a single Deeppool soldier.

Where is the enemy?

He stepped forward, somewhat disappointed, and began to question them.

The artillerymen, who were engrossed in their observation, were startled by the sudden appearance of Theresis. They jumped up from the ground like cats whose tails had been stepped on, turned around, straightened their helmets, and saluted Theresis.

"Greetings, Chairman!"

"Forget about the Chairman, I'm asking you, where is the enemy? Where is the enemy I told you to feign weakness and lure them deep into our territory?"

Therese asked, her anger rising.

The artillerymen exchanged a glance, shrugged, and answered truthfully:

"Reporting to the Chairman, we have not found the Deep Pool unit mentioned in the intelligence. According to the intelligence, we fired a small-caliber mortar shell into the dense forest and then immediately withdrew, but the enemy did not appear. Our unit suspects that the intelligence is wrong and has reported to the command center."

Was the intelligence incorrect?

Therese rolled her eyes in frustration. She didn't quite understand Victoria's new gadgets, but misinformation was a common occurrence. In military campaigns, the enemy often spread false information and launched feints to confuse their intelligence systems, making a skilled intelligence analyst invaluable. In the world of Zavin, the most famous example of intelligence deception in war was the German debate during World War II about whether the Allies landed in Normandy or Calais, which directly led to the success of the Normandy landings and the premature liberation of France.

Therese himself was an outstanding military strategist, adept at such tactical deception. He readily accepted the fact that he had been tricked.

This is normal; even horses stumble, and people make mistakes. Besides, Theresis was so eager to make a name for himself this time that he never expected the usually reckless Deeppool troops to suddenly resort to feints and tactics. Being caught off guard and tricked is not unacceptable. He paused for a moment, then warned:

"Do not indulge in excessive entertainment while stationed. We are in the midst of a war."

Although the enemy was a rebel organization of no more than ten thousand people.

"Understood, Chairman!"

The soldiers gave a solemn salute and put their phones back in their pockets.

Just as Therese nodded in satisfaction, her secretary gasped again, stepped forward, and whispered in Therese's ear:

"Your Excellency Chairman, we have spotted Commander Mandra and a small contingent of Deeppool troops! They are moving south and are approaching the garrison of the 5th Steam Armor Regiment of the 2nd Brigade of the 3rd Army!"

Therese frowned. This time, he was much more cautious and didn't immediately prepare to go. Instead, he asked again:

"Is the source of the information reliable? Who are the witnesses? Are there any video or photographic records? Can we determine the enemy's destination? Can we arrange an ambush?"

The secretary was clearly professionally trained; he answered Therese's rapid-fire questions in a very organized manner.

"The source of the information is the intelligence analysis headquarters of War Fortress One, and the eyewitness is Observer Number Three. There is clear camera footage on record. The enemy Deeppool forces are divided into three groups. The fastest advancing force is the mysterious black double-horned force, wearing Deeppool insignia. Next is the Deeppool leader Mandela, and the last is the normal Deeppool soldiers. Based on their speed of advance, the enemy's vanguard will arrive at the Steam Armor Special Forces' base in ten minutes at the earliest. It will be difficult to arrange an ambush, as the Steam Armor Special Forces are not good at setting up ambushes... You know the reason."

Therese nodded. Victoria's steam-armored soldiers were indeed not good at ambushes. It wasn't that the soldiers were incompetent, but rather that their military branch was inherently disadvantaged in this regard. Just as the army couldn't fly and the air force couldn't land, the steam-armored soldiers left conspicuous marks on their armor when they moved, attacked, or retreated. The rising white steam, which was particularly noticeable even in the dark, and the deep whistle that sounded like a steam train starting up, could be clearly observed and heard by the enemy even several kilometers away.

Therefore, in Victoria, steam-armored units were generally used for special operations, raids, and frontal warfare, with little success in infiltration, sabotage, behind-enemy-lines operations, or ambushes. Upon hearing that a steam-armored unit was stationed nearby, Theresis abandoned her plan for an ambush. If an ambush couldn't be set up, so be it; at least she had confirmed the enemy's location!

Theresis immediately gave the order:

"Order that steam-armored unit to intercept the enemy's advance. But in this battle, defeat is not an option. The strategy remains the same: feign weakness to lure the enemy deeper into our territory! I will arrive with my troops soon!"

The secretary saluted and said, "Understood!" He quickly turned and left to relay the instructions to the communications officer.

...............

Mandela, her clothes filthy, walked cautiously through the dense woods of Victoria. Even the slightest rustle of wind would make her stop and look around warily. A sudden bird call would send a shiver down her spine, making her hair stand on end. If one were to describe her state at that moment with an idiom, it would be "feeling like a crane crying in the wind, seeing enemies everywhere."

That shell had completely terrified her. She couldn't fathom why, while she was hidden in the jungle, completely concealed, Victoria's soldiers had launched such a precise and devastating artillery barrage against her troops. The fire blanketed the forest, easily snapping tree trunks that three people couldn't encircle with their arms, tearing thick rocks to shreds like toys, and wielding the scythe of death, claiming the lives of several Deeppool soldiers in a single strike.

That wasn't a battle at all; it wasn't even a battle. It was a one-sided massacre. The enemy didn't need to pick up a knife, didn't need to roar, didn't even need to see their own foe. They just needed to stand at a distance and fire a single shot to complete their mission. Although the shelling of Little Hill County was fierce, and the Oripathy infection from the dirty bombs was terrifying, it didn't leave Mandela with such a horrific impression—because she was completely unprepared. She was walking along when she was suddenly bombed, and she didn't even know why she was bombed!

Death itself didn't frighten her, but the inexplicable, unknown threat of death kept her awake at night. She cursed the Victorian soldiers all the way, cursing the Twin Horned Beasts who had abandoned her, belittling the ordinary Deeppool soldiers who were equally terrified by the sound of gunfire, while constantly trying to elevate herself, not wanting her cowardice to show on her dirty face.

She walked along, following the babbling of the river, stepping out of the bushes.

Standing before her were Victorian steam-armored soldiers, fully equipped and ready for battle, standing there as if they had foreseen the future!

Chapter Sixty: Acting According to the Script!

"Target found! Target found!"

Upon noticing Mandra emerging from the bushes, the steam-armored soldiers confirmed their presence to each other via the communication systems built into their helmets:

"Record the video footage and upload it to the operational database. Code name: Deep Pool Mandela. Notify Chairman Therese that the target has been confirmed and action will proceed as planned."

"This is the first time we've tried this tactic of luring the enemy deep into our territory. Brothers, make it look convincing. Are you confident?"

"Have!"

With a unified and resolute response, the steam-armored soldiers exchanged glances, faced Mandela, simultaneously raised their hand cannons, and shouted:

"Don't move! Who's there! What are you doing here?!"

If nothing unexpected happens, according to the script, at this point Mandela should raise his arms and shout, "I am Mandela, the Great General of the Deeppool!" Then a well-equipped and high-spirited squad of Deeppool soldiers should rush out of the forest, shouting, "You've fallen for our trap, Victorians! Surrender!" and launch a fierce attack on them.

The steam-armored soldiers, in a state of "panic," would put up a desperate resistance, shouting things like, "Damn it!" "Why!" "Where did they come from?!" "Where are our allies? Why aren't they coming to our aid?!"—phrases designed to increase credibility. Eventually, "severely wounded and unable to withstand the onslaught," they would retreat with difficulty. Because they were carrying the wounded, their retreat was neither too fast nor too slow, keeping them at the edge of the deep pool's line of sight to confuse them and lure them into a pursuit.

Finally, once Chairman Therese arrives with the main force and lures Deeppool into the encirclement, they will switch tactics and launch a counterattack, striving to capture Mandra alive and take Deeppool's men to safety!

Sure enough, when Mandela realized who was standing in front of her, she slowly raised her arms.

"I....."

Mandela's words caught in her throat, her raised hands trembled uncontrollably, and the sounds she couldn't utter gradually turned into sobs. Her small face was deathly pale, and her eyes seemed to be about to burst into tears, filled with the expression that said, "If I were to get punched, I'd probably cry for a long time."

It's not that Mandela lacked ambition; it was simply that her situation was too terrifying. In her view, Victoria's army was like a thousand-year-old Viet Cong, a Druid blending into nature, or a fruit spirit falling from a tree. No matter where she was, how she ran, or what she did, she couldn't escape their grasp.

She knew that staying behind to cover their retreat meant certain death, but she also hoped to fight her way out of this perilous situation. However, before she could even find a way out, she was hit in the face by a shell the moment she stepped outside. The enemy had pinpointed her location precisely in the dense forest, where she hadn't revealed her presence at all, and then fired a single shot, leaving her and her men dazed and confused, forcing them to part ways.

Having barely escaped death and survived a calamity, there was no hope of any future blessings. Dragging her tattered clothes through the woods for so long, she hadn't had a single moment of peace. No matter when or where, it felt as if an invisible pair of eyes was watching her, mocking her every move, and disdainfully observing her attempts to hide. No matter how she changed her route, adjusted her speed, or even altered her posture, choosing to crawl on the dirty, muddy ground despite the poor visibility of the night, that gaze remained ever-present, never leaving her side.

Finally, she grew restless and uneasy. In the pitch-black night, amidst the invisible gaze and the sounds of gunfire around her, she broke down, cursing everything like a madwoman. She shouted loudly, trying to regain her confidence, but fearing to disturb the Victorians, she suppressed the roar that was about to come out into a madwoman's incessant babbling. She started running, almost wearing out her pair of sorcerer's leather boots that were unsuitable for cross-country running, trying to escape this gloomy forest, this terrifying "cage of sight." In the end, she successfully ran out of the forest.

But they ran into the unexpected Victorian soldiers who were on high alert.

What utter despair! When Mandra saw the light beyond the forest, her sense of time, completely distorted by the torment of her anxious mind, made her believe that dawn had broken. But dawn didn't exist; all that remained were steam-armored soldiers with searchlights, waiting to fire at her.

Despair, madness, and finally surrendering—that's not necessarily a bad choice.

But it seemed as if God was playing a cruel joke on her. Just before she gritted her teeth and was about to utter the words "I surrender" in near-collapse, a group of Deeppool soldiers emerged one after another from the woods behind her.

They were defeated soldiers wounded and knocked unconscious by Victoria's artillery fire. After Mandela left with a rebuke, they gradually stood up.

This was certainly not because Mandela's insult had rekindled their confidence and given them the will to fight again. They simply dared not remain where they were, waiting for the attacking Victorians to capture them. The letter from the Dorians had stated—surrender or die.

Their two leaders, Ahmoni and Mandela, pondered this letter of surrender. This meant that if captured, they had no choice but to die!

Fearing death yet lacking the courage to fight again, they could only follow Mandela in a daze, hoping that this seemingly confident leader could protect them. Little did they know that their leader not only couldn't protect them, but was in no better shape than they were.

They emerged from the forest, only to be met by soldiers in steam-powered armor, and panicked instantly. Some immediately broke down, looking at Mandela and screaming in despair:

"We've fallen into a trap! We've fallen into a trap! Mandela, we've fallen into a trap! What do we do?! What do we do?!"

Mandra's raised hands trembled slightly. She turned to look at the group of about twenty Deeppool soldiers behind her. Before she could speak, a deafening blast of a hand cannon exploded not far in front of her. The cannonball flashed past her ear like lightning, exploding less than two meters away from Mandra, splashing mud that once again smeared her face, which she had painstakingly wiped clean.

As planned, the Victoria steam-armored troops launched a feint attack.

Their steam-powered armor spewed out plumes of boiling steam, propelling the warriors to incredible speeds. They calibrated their hand cannons and aimed at the soldiers in the deep pool. Although these soldiers were different from what they had expected, and didn't seem to have the smug smiles of someone who had succeeded in their scheme, but rather looked utterly devastated, that wasn't something the warriors should be concerned with. Executing orders was their duty.

At least the script was as expected—Mandela appeared, shouting, "I..." followed by soldiers pouring out of the deep pool in the forest. All that was left was to launch a feint attack as instructed, then prepare to retreat.

With that thought in mind, they pressed the trigger.

"boom!"

"Stop fighting! We surrender!" Mandela cried out in despair. But unfortunately, the sound of cannons and wind was too loud, and no one heard her.

Chapter Sixty-One: I'm Here, Come With Me