This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 469.1: What The Fuck Kind Of Bug Is This?!

Inside the camp.

The gunfire had gradually died down, but the flames still burned.

A Wislander soldier lay on his back on the ground, his bulletproof vest completely destroyed, his right leg bleeding profusely from two gunshot wounds.

His face was twisted in pain.

When he saw the exoframe passing by, a flash of terror flickered in his eyes. He quickly drew his pistol and pulled the trigger.

But all he heard was a dry click, the hammer hitting an empty chamber.

“Fuck...” Spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva, he tossed the pistol away. As if he had made his decision, his trembling right hand reached for a grenade on his shattered vest and yanked the pin free.

A mad gleam surfaced on his face as he let out a hysterical roar, hurling himself toward the suit of armor.

“For the glory of the Marshal...”

Bang!

A sharp gunshot interrupted the Wislander soldier’s final frenzy.

“You called the wrong name.” Holstering his smoking pistol, Old White reached out with his right hand and picked up the armed grenade that had fallen beside the corpse.

With a light squeeze, the grenade crumpled like an aluminum soda can under immense pressure. The detonator, striker, delay fuse, and other parts burst out in all directions.

He tossed the wrecked grenade beside the body and walked off toward the rally point without looking back.

Beside the nearby highway, a dozen officers knelt on the ground with their hands on their heads, their faces ashen.

Four players in exoskeletons stood nearby, watching them closely.

Seeing Old White approaching, Night Ten, who carried his sniper rifle casually, walked up and grumbled, “These bastards really went all out. They smashed every communication device to pieces, burned all the maps and documents. We only managed to salvage a few charred scraps.”

“It’s fine. Let the ones who burned them cough it all back up,” Old White said, glancing at the line of officers kneeling on the ground.

Raising an eyebrow, he continued to ask, “Where is he?”

Night Ten knew exactly who Old White was referring to and he grinned. “I got him. That guy was about to make a run for it with his adjutant, I was watching him on the drone feed from the start. To be fair, once he realized the situation, he surrendered pretty quickly. Saved me a lot of trouble... There, he’s the one kneeling at the end.”

Old White followed his gaze and saw an old man squatting on the ground.

If it weren’t for his ornate uniform and flashy epaulettes, one would never have guessed that the man was a General, the same rank as Dillion who had a hand in controlling the Bonechewer Clan.

His messy gray hair clung to his scalp. His sunken eye sockets housed dull, lifeless pupils, like dusty stones. The deeply wrinkled face held no pride and he looked like any ordinary old man.

“Why are they so weak?” Gale asked, looking confused.

“Yeah. Was there really a Defense Battalion here?” someone else added.

From the moment they landed, they hadn’t encountered any serious resistance. It felt like the enemy had been made of paper.

Old White made a helpless expression, then turned to the highest-ranking officer among the prisoners and asked in his broken language. “There... Why so few people?”

Swofte, seeing the officer in an exoframe speaking to him, was stunned for a moment. His face stiffened as he replied with a bitter smile, “You’ve already won. Why ask something you clearly know, just to humiliate me...”

The players looked at each other, confused.

Old White’s expression also grew strange. “What do you mean?”

“Griffin...” Swofte growled, “It was that bastard who ordered my Defense Battalion to Hill 330 17 kilometers south. In his transmission, he swore the New Alliance paratroopers would show up there.”

If his Defense Battalion had stayed under his command, there was no way he would’ve been flattened by the Burning Corps... Or at least that was what he thought.

And even if he hadn’t won, he could’ve at least escaped.

Old White and Night Ten exchanged looks, both trying not to laugh.

Good grief.

They had been all geared up for an epic showdown, only to end up sweeping up leftovers again.

Swofte stayed silent for a while, but eventually couldn’t hold back the question in his heart. “I don’t get it... if you’re here, then who attacked Hill 330?”

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

If the other side were paratroopers too, then the New Alliance must have an absurd number of airborne units.

And two consecutive drops, less than an hour apart...

Just how many airstrips had they built? How many planes did they have?!

“The Death Corps,” Old White replied casually.

“De... Death Corps?” Swofte stared at him blankly.

They weren’t the Burning Corps?

Clearly, the Death Corps’ name hadn’t yet reached the ears of the Army, only known in the River Valley Province.

Old White smiled and continued, “Yeah, those guys are brutal. The way they fight with no regard for their lives... I’d say they’re even more hardcore than us.”

“But how did they get to Hill 330?! It’s impossible!” Swofte’s voice rose in disbelief. “You’re lying! I’ve studied every road to the front! Unless your trucks can fly, there’s no way you reached it so fast!”

That was 150 kilometers!

The winding mountain roads alone could easily double that in actual travel distance!

Where the hell had they come from?!

“Why does it have to be by road, can’t they just...” Night Ten was about to mock him when Old White cut him off with a cough.

“Even if I told you they marched to Hill 330 on foot, I doubt you’d believe me.” Looking at Swofte’s defeated expression, Old White shrugged. “It’s over anyway. How we got there doesn’t matter anymore.”

...

In the bridge of the Heart of Steel.

Chu Guang, who had been waiting quietly for news, finally received the first report from the frontlines.

“... The Army’s 4th Battalion’s command post has been captured. General Swofte, his adjutant, and several other officers are now in custody. We’ve recovered maps and many documents from them, though much of it was already burned.”

Hearing Old White’s report, Chu Guang nodded in approval. “Well done.”

Old White replied respectfully, “We request further orders!”

Chu Guang glanced at the holographic map in front of him. After thinking for a moment, he gave the order. “Set up defensive positions on-site. Assign some people to tally the spoils.”

Old White answered crisply with a firm salute. “Yes, sir!”

The highest-level command post on the frontline had been wiped out.

That meant that from defense zones G40 to G49, every logistical hub and support base up to 150 kilometers behind enemy lines had lost command coordination. Even their locations were exposed on the map.

The 4th Battalion was effectively crippled.

As for the Heart of Steel, acting as a mobile command center, it could now safely advance deep into what had been enemy territory.

The only weak point of the behemoth was its propellers.

They were extremely difficult to repair and unfortunately the only propulsion system the airship had. If it broke down at the frontlines, even with their directional shield, they would be in huge trouble.

Looking at the strategic markers stretching deep into enemy territory on the map before him, Chu Guang couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratification.

It was just past 9:00 at night..

From the start of the offensive, less than 12 hours had passed. Not only had they shattered an entire battalion, they even pushed the frontlines forward by 150 kilometers.

In any world, such a result would be considered a miracle of military history.

“... Originally, our plan was for the Burning Corps to assist the armor unit in the assault. Now our tanks are chasing them down...”

Standing beside him, Vanus didn’t respond.

Honestly, he was shocked too.

It was normal for plans to lag behind changes on the battlefield, but rarely did things go so well that they had to adjust the plan to be more aggressive.

According to Plan C, the New Alliance would capture defense zone G40 on the first day and begin Phase 2 on the third day, attacking Hill 330 just 17 kilometers away.

No one expected they would finish Phase 2 in a single day.

Chu Guang tapped the holographic map, hoping for a response.

There were no updates yet from Hill 330, but the drone footage from Little Seven showed only scattered gunfire. The fighting was basically over.

Meanwhile, the Goblin Corps, locked in aerial combat, weren’t doing so well.

Their W-2 pilots were skilled, but the gap in equipment couldn’t be bridged with mere skill.

The Army’s Eagle fighters had been in service in the Sunset Province for over eight years. The W-2 Mosquito had been developed and produced in under a year.

Even factoring in the Goblin engineers’ technology tree from the other world...

Though later models incorporated technology from Shelter 101, a few advanced parts didn’t make much difference in overall performance.

Production and technology were often mentioned in the same breath, but they were very different dimensions.

Looking at the five W-2 attack planes remaining on the screen, Chu Guang gave an order. “Raise anchor. Advance the Heart of Steel by 150 kilometers.”

“Notify the Goblin Corps that their mission is complete. Time for them to return.”

Little Seven’s energetic voice came through his headset. “Got it, Master!”

There was no word from Falling Feather yet. Neither the New Alliance’s Lofty Cloud nor the Army’s Cutlass had ever shown up on the Heart of Steel’s radar.

They had flown out of communication range entirely.

At 1 km/s, they were basically gods duelling in the skies. It wouldn’t be strange if they ended up fighting in another province.

Without satellites, Chu Guang could only rely on the Shelter System to vaguely sense Falling Feather’s status.

“If Falling Feather returns to comms range, notify him to land at the ground airfield.”

Little Seven buzzed immediately. “Roger, roger!”

...