The chubby guy felt utterly wronged.
Tears mixed with rain streamed down his face. His life at this moment was unbearable.
When it was time to fight, he wasn't allowed to leave; when he was allowed to leave, he couldn't escape. At the last moment, he even guided someone to a way out, only to be abandoned himself. Crying or not, Tian Xingjian wasn't stupid—he picked up his gun, turned around, and ran deep into the forest. His movements, though clumsy-looking, were as agile as a fat rabbit.
As long as the Imperial mechs didn't enter the forest, he had an 80% chance of sneaking back. If the mechs followed the Federation units, even better.
He could sprint across open terrain, and once he reached the not-so-raging waters of the Su Peng River, his fat body and exceptional combat swimming skills would allow him to easily make it back to the garrison. Roast meat, hot chocolate, tea—maybe even some liquor if luck favored him.
But Tian Xingjian quickly shook these foolish thoughts out of his head. Thinking of such things while exhausted, hungry, and emotionally drained would only make him feel even more broken.
First, he needed a hiding place. If the heavy mechs reached the battlefield and decided not to pursue northward, this forest would become their base.
He could already imagine being caught, stripped, and hung like a sheep from a tree, whipped mercilessly for his fat. Truly tragic.
He carefully judged his direction and dashed forward. To increase his survival odds, he needed a few tools.
The Federation armor unit's old camp was not far. Tian Xingjian quickly arrived and rummaged through the supplies. He found several single-soldier grenades, a large block of compressed solid energy, and a discarded energy machine gun.
Most importantly, he found the mechanical arm used by maintenance soldiers. With it, he could assemble bizarre vehicles from any parts he saw. In his previous twenty escapes, fifteen were successful thanks to this skill. This time, the materials seemed even more sufficient than before.
But the weight wasn't something he could carry alone. Using the mechanical arm, he dug a hole and buried everything except the grenades in batches. Without hesitation, he set a fire and ran.
As the fire ignited the ammunition in the sequence Tian Xingjian had planned, he had already reached a stinky mud pond in the forest.
Within minutes, he buried himself completely in the mud. Only a hollow tube protruded to the pond's edge, camouflaged among grass, to avoid infrared and bio-radar detection. His stealth combat suit alone wasn't enough. He slowed his breathing and heartbeat to a dangerous level—a strange technique taught by the "Bear" instructor at Recon Training Camp.
Tian Xingjian was naturally gifted at these bizarre skills. He thought if he could survive like this until the end of the war, he wouldn't mind burying himself even deeper.
Outside the forest, the Imperial mech squad did exactly as he predicted. They didn't pursue; instead, they gathered the scattered single-soldier mechs and set up camp. This meant if he waited for them to leave, it would almost be impossible to get out.
But poor Tian Xingjian didn't know this. Once he relaxed, exhaustion hit like a tide, and he quickly fell asleep in the mud.
Meanwhile, the command center of the Lelei Federation was already in chaos.
Phones rang incessantly. The central computer processed tens of thousands of front-line reports. Operations staff looked pale as they input data into virtual sand tables.
The holographic projection of Milok Star above the hall was full of holes. The color red, representing the Empire, spread rapidly across the virtual planet. Of over sixty colonized cities, more than forty were surrounded, sixteen captured, and one completely gray-black—signifying total destruction.
Federation ground forces, having lost air support, were scattered. Blue icons of troops were divided and quickly disappearing amid red.
In the command office, Admiral Mikhailovich reported the situation to the president.
"As of now, the Federation has completely lost control of five colony planets. The 11th and 12th Space Units in the Galileo system have almost been wiped out. Only one 'Orion'-class battleship, several light cruisers, and a Titan-class carrier on rotation survived. The local Milok fleet in the Newton system, facing overwhelming odds, withdrew after losing 50% of its ships."
The admiral's voice was hoarse. Six months of undeclared war with the Chalrin Empire had left the Federation unprepared; defensive organization was impossible, let alone counterattacks. With three major star systems and eight sub-systems under its domain, the Federation faced its toughest test since inception.
The Federation's military had always been weaker compared to the well-prepared Chalrin Empire. The pigeon-hawkish government and parliament had underestimated the aggressive Imperial royal family. Budget proposals by the military were repeatedly rejected.
Funds were insufficient, ships outdated, training inadequate.
Worse, many commanders were purely academic, with no battlefield experience. The nation had been too peaceful. Legendary generals from the independence war three centuries ago existed only in textbooks and statues.
Now, the Federation needed time. A general mobilization order had been issued. Factories and docks were working at full capacity, producing new mechs and warships, while batches of recruits entered training. Could time bring the Federation a glimmer of victory?
"The 4th, 6th, and 7th Space Fleets, forming the First Mixed Combined Army, have assembled in the Central Star System. The jump points are blocked by the Empire; reinforcement to Newton system is impossible. Headquarters has ordered them to defend in place."
"The 1st, 2nd, and 8th fleets drawn from the Baimu Star Domain are assembling in the rear. Maintenance and ammunition replenishment will take time. The 3rd and 9th fleets are rerouting through the public domain to find a new jump point. The 5th and 10th fleets protect the capital's main planet."
"All local fleets are undergoing restructuring; after supplementing ships and personnel, each is expected to expand into 5–6 mixed fleets."
President Hamilton finally put down his teacup and waved his hand. "Explain your difficulties. What do you need me to do? Anything the military requires, I will support unconditionally."
"The domestic situation is unstable. Five colony planets, nearly 300 cities, hundreds of millions of people. If Milok Star falls, we'll be completely passive, and strategic counteroffensive becomes impossible."
He turned to the window, back to the admiral. "We have no way back. If Milok falls, I'll be the first president in history to resign in shame. You will be the first general removed. Without sacrifice, there is no victory. We must gamble everything."
Handing him a document, he continued, "This is all the force mobilization the Federation can gather in three months. Survive these three months, and we can reach strategic parity. With nearly double the resources and production capacity of the Empire, a full counterattack could be possible within a year."
Mikhailovich chewed over "No sacrifice, no victory."
The president's eyes were calm. "Even if only one city or one force remains, we must resist to the end. Milok Star must not fall. Citizens need victory—we will give them victory. Public opinion needs heroes—we will give them heroes. Capture the jump points, reinforce Milok, unify ground resistance, create heroes, achieve localized victories. Understood?"
The admiral nodded heavily, realizing he was no longer a mere soldier; he had to consider politics.
"Let's hope our choices are correct."
Tian Xingjian quietly crawled out of the mud. Half a day and night buried in the stinky pond had been uncomfortable.
He realized he was in deep trouble.
Imperial mechs, transport vehicles, and soldiers patrolled the forest continuously, seemingly determined to garrison here until the war's end. They even cleared a small landing zone for ultra-small transport ships. Troops and supplies piled up like a mountain.
Even his toes could calculate that the Federation had likely retreated to the second line of defense; the Sujiang Bridge might already have been blown.
Buried in mud, he could distinguish the size of the Imperial garrison just by sound—a solitary pastime.
Throughout the night, the Imperial army had been hit twice by Federation air strikes, but their concealment was good, and losses minimal.
As Imperial air dominance increased, nothing in the forest delighted him. He muttered, "Damn it, if this continues, I'll either be discovered and killed or starve to death."
If not for childhood patriotic education, fear of torture, and attachment to the capital's mansion and flying car, he might have surrendered.
"I must escape," he vowed. "Otherwise, I'll be shredded before I even leave this forest."
Recon soldiers would typically take extreme measures—assassinate commanders, sabotage, disguise, guide air strikes, poison water—to survive in chaos. For Tian Xingjian, all were too risky.
Assassinate the commander? Both die.Sabotage? He'd blow himself up.Disguise? No proper uniform.Air strike guidance? Surviving Federation planes?Poison water? He's just a mechanic.
His mind almost exploded. Trapped, desperate, his bachelor spirit flared.
Just as he summoned his courage, tall Imperial soldiers were escorting two Federation prisoners past him.
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Seeing no one around, he impulsively jumped.
In less than five seconds, he twisted one soldier's neck with a light snap; the man fell like a ragdoll.
He then stabbed the throat with a dagger and delivered a knee strike to the groin.
Dragging the corpse into the grass, he tapped it with the gunstock to be safe.
Two legs trembled uncontrollably, his heart almost bursting.
He had killed someone. This was real life-and-death.
The rapid movements left the two prisoners stunned.
Two female Federation soldiers—one pilot, one medic.
Beautiful, delicate.
Tian Xingjian had no time for them. Naked in a rush, he quickly changed into Imperial clothes.
The two female soldiers were close to breaking.
This pale, fat man—what kind of monster was he?