Venetian Red, Volume 7

 

Chapter 64 NEW WORLD COUNCIL

 

A tense silence hung in the conference hall, broken only by the occasional rustle of papers. World leaders were huddled around a round table, their faces lit up by the flickering holograms of their flags.

 

 It was late December 2404, and things were getting serious. The war between the True Horde, led by the imposing Alam, and the Red Nation, under the steely-eyed Zion, was heating up. Everyone had the Red Nation's Strato Cannon on their minds—a weapon that could rain chaos from the sky. Meanwhile, the Golden Caravan had thrown in with the True Horde, while the Emerald League, in a classic twist of hypocrisy, was playing both sides, sending arms and send mercenary to the Red Nation while pretending to stay neutral.

 

First up was the Holy See, who looked a lot like an AI and represented the White Nation of Madagascar. A group of guys plopped a disk on the seat, and suddenly, a holographic dude in a white tuxedo flickered to life.

 

The Holy See, a flickering holographic projection that resembled a tired AI, cleared his throat. "Fellow leaders," his speaker  voice echoed through the hall, "we are at a precipice."

 

One by one, the leaders of the New World Council rolled in. its was take place in border of emerald and shangri-laa (green-purple nation), take place in academy of unity. its was use to serve a both elite academy of all of world and a UN like grand office. a symbol of rebuild in the fractured world

 

 

Next came an old monk type with glasses, decked out in purple—Pramansha, the leader of the Purple Nation. Then, A striking woman in a military-style uniform, a pink cloak draped over her shoulders, entered with a crisp salute to no one in particular. That was Shakanya, the leader of the Pink Nation.

 

After her, a young guy swaggered in wearing a leather outfit with some fur and gold bling. He was Mullen, the leader of the Yellow Nation. Jozen followed, rocking a dark blue Japanese outfit, and right behind him was Zion, sharp in a sleek grey tux with a bold red tie.

 

Then there was Kaveh, an ordinary-looking dude in a grey tux with medium black hair and a green pendant. He represented the Green Nation. Finally, the last to arrive was a woman with all the Asian features, sparkling in a silver dress. But wait—there was still one empty seat left for the Orange Nation, who hadn’t shown up.

 

The Holy See’s holographic image flickered like a faulty lightbulb as he addressed the room. "Fellow leaders," he began, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness, "we're at a serious crossroads. Things are tense, but there's still a chance for things to get better. Let's try to work together, not as enemies, but as… well, as people trying to figure this out."

Zion’s eyes narrowed slightly as Jozen shifted in his seat, but he kept his smile in place. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice smooth and controlled. “We are at a crossroads. The situation is… delicate. But perhaps we can find a way forward without more fighting. The Holy See’s suggestion of reconciliation is… appreciated.”

The Holy See took a deep breath, like he was psyching himself up for something. Jozen, who clearly enjoyed stirring the pot, barely managed to stifle a giggle. "They say a crisis is a good opportunity for change," he said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. "Maybe today we can actually make some changes. You know, set aside the whole 'wanting to conquer each other' thing and try for some peace and understanding."

Zion's smile tightened a fraction. “Indeed,” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “We must rise to this challenge. We must focus on cooperation and… creating a better world. Right?”

“Right,” the Holy See agreed, unfazed. “With everyone working together, we can build a future without conflict.”

“Or,” Jozen added, a sly grin spreading across his face, “we could just pretend we all love each other. That would be fun.”

Mullen rolled his eyes. Hejaz looked bored, staring off into space. Shakanya managed to keep a straight face, though a tiny smirk played on her lips. Pramansha crossed her arms, looking amused. Fang’s gaze was fixed on Zion, watching him carefully. Kaveh wore a businesslike smile, like he was about to close a deal.

Zion, feeling all those eyes on him, tried to keep his composure. He felt like he was in a zoo, not a diplomatic meeting. “I believe this conference is a chance to rebuild trust,” he said, trying for a sincere tone. “We need to be open-minded and respect each other’s… viewpoints.”

“Exactly!” the Holy See declared, raising a hand as if trying to conduct an orchestra of world leaders. “Let’s commit to solving problems through talking, not fighting. Let’s embrace change and… growth.”

Zion nodded, feeling the weight of the room’s attention. “First on the agenda,” the Holy See announced, “is the revival of the Crescent Alliance. It was a defensive pact, a trade thing… it fell apart a century ago. The idea is to balance out the Red Nation’s growing power. Some people think you’re getting a little… ambitious.”

Zion’s hand twitched towards his sword hilt, a nervous habit. “As the representative of the Red Nation,” he began, “I have to say, the Crescent Alliance started with good intentions. But it ended up being used by certain countries for their own benefit. It wasn’t exactly… neutral.”

“That’s a fair point, Zion,” the Holy See said, nodding. “It became more about control than cooperation. That’s why it was dissolved. We don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. We need a better solution.”

Jozen snickered, and Pramansha covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. Hejaz was still staring into space. Shakanya frowned slightly. Kaveh and Mullen exchanged quick, uneasy glances.

“Indeed, the dissolution of the Crescent Alliance was crucial,” Zion reiterated, feeling the pressure build as laughter rippled through the room. “We must avoid falling back into those old patterns and focus on creating a more inclusive partnership based on mutual respect.”

 

The Holy See interjected, “Now, let’s address the issue of the Red Nation's military buildup, which has raised concerns among many.” The room fell silent, the laughter dissipating as the gravity of the topic reasserted itself.

 

Zion kept his expression neutral. "Look," he said, trying to sound reasonable, "we've invested in our military. I get that it’s raising eyebrows. We’ve done some war games, bumped up spending—I see how it looks."

The Holy See’s expression tightened. “It's not just the spending, Zion. It's the… activities. It's making everyone nervous. It doesn't exactly scream 'open to peaceful talks.'"

Zion nodded, watching the reactions around the table. Hejaz, completely unfazed, piped up. “So, are we just gonna sit here and let the Red Nation do whatever they want?”

The Holy See blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. "We're here to… discuss those tensions," he stammered, trying to regain control.

A ripple of laughter went through the room. Zion’s jaw tightened. He shot a look at Jozen, who was grinning like a kid who just pulled a prank. "Right," Zion said, forcing a smile. "Because we all know who the supposed bad guy is."

Pramansha and Shakanya couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The Holy See slammed his hand on the table. “Focus!” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Zion took a deep breath. This was turning into a circus. "Holy See," he said, raising a hand. "This meeting is important. We need to talk about these issues, find solutions. We need to actually, you know, talk."

The room was thick with tension. Zion's heart was pounding, but he kept his face calm. This meeting could change everything. He scanned the faces around the table—diplomacy, suspicion, boredom.

"Thank you, Holy See," he continued, his voice steady. "This is a crucial opportunity to discuss our concerns and find common ground. We need to understand each other better." He lowered his hand, trying to project an air of calm.

Across the table, Jozen was struggling to suppress a laugh, clearly amused by the seriousness of it all. The Holy See shot him a sharp look, one that seemed to say, “Enough with the giggling, or else.”

 

“Alright,” Jozen replied, feigning innocence. “How about we let the True Horde representative talk instead? Let’s hear what they really do each year in here.”

 

Zion’s eyes flicked to Hejaz, glued to his phone, then to Kaveh and Mullen, locked in a silent, icy standoff. This was new—a non-NWC member addressing them. Despite their low expectations, a ripple of curiosity ran through the room. Fang took a steadying breath.

“Holy See,” she began, her voice clear and firm, cutting through the tension. “I speak for Alam, leader of the True Horde. We support the revival of the Crescent Alliance. The Red Nation’s aggression must be stopped.”

A hush fell over the hall. This wasn't the hesitant plea they'd expected.

“We are not here to beg for your sympathy,” Fang continued, her voice gaining strength. “We are here to tell you what is happening. The Red Nation has invaded our lands, threatened our very existence. We have fought to defend our homes, our families, our way of life. We seek only peace and stability, but Zion has given us only war.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. The Holy See leaned forward, his interest piqued.

“There is still a chance to prevent a wider catastrophe,” Fang asserted, her gaze sweeping across the room, meeting the eyes of each leader. “But it requires action. It requires unity. The Red Nation’s ambition threatens us all. The Crescent Alliance is not just a regional pact; it is a shield against tyranny. We must rebuild it, stronger than before, now.”

Zion watched, a knot forming in his stomach. Fang’s words were resonating. He could feel the weight of Mullen and Kaveh’s stares, burning into him.

The Holy See turned to Fang, his expression serious. “What of the Red Nation’s future? What is their ultimate goal?”

Fang didn’t hesitate. “The Red Nation is ruled by a tyrant. He disregards the lives of his own people, let alone those beyond his borders. The revived Crescent Alliance is the only way to check his power, to ensure a future where peace is possible.”

The Holy See nodded slowly, absorbing her words. The room was still tense, but the atmosphere had shifted. Fang’s directness and conviction had made an impact.

“This is not about the True Horde,” Fang concluded, her voice softening slightly but retaining its firmness. “This is about all of us. This is about preventing another devastating war. We must act now, before it's too late.”

Just as the air began to clear, Jozen piped up again. “Bravo! By the way, I know my nation is on the other side of the world, but did you hear about the Red Nation’s military test earlier this month? They fired a giant cannon into the Pacific, and now a lot of fish are floating belly-up.”

 

The Holy See’s attention snapped to Zion, clearly expecting a response. Zion took a deep breath, his smile sharp. “When I first heard about the missile test, I feared the worst—a nuclear warhead or something catastrophic. Thankfully, it only affected wildlife, and there was no significant damage to human life. I hope this doesn’t signal a shift in military strategy.”

 

The tension in the room eased slightly as Zion’s comments reassured some of the leaders. The Holy See then turned to Mullen, while still keeping an eye on Kaveh, who remained fixated on Mullen.

 

“Alright, do we go to war or what?” Hejaz asked bluntly, breaking the momentary calm.

 

Mullen, unable to contain his irritation, suddenly snapped. “Why do you care? You’re just a religious nut who cares about nothing but your faith!” His voice boomed, shocking everyone into silence, including Hejaz, whose expression morphed from surprise to fury.

 

The atmosphere thickened with tension as Mullen’s anger simmered, while Hejaz’s jaw clenched, fingers tightening around his phone. Jozen cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “At least some of us are starting to talk. How about the Sisterhood of the South and the Shangri-La Confederation weigh in?”

 

Flustered by the sudden attention, Shakanya raised her hand tentatively. “My words may seem foolish, but I believe there’s a better way to settle our differences than through all-out war. The world has suffered greatly from the destruction of past conflicts, and we shouldn’t repeat those mistakes. Let’s seek peaceful dialogue.”

 

The Holy See nodded in approval, and several leaders echoed their agreement.

 

“Now that’s a good point,” Jozen said, energizing the room again. “How about the Shangri-La Confederation and the Emerald League? We won’t leave until everyone has had their say.”

 

Pramanshasha quickly raised her hand, eager to contribute. “The Shangri-La Confederation supports the revival of the Crescent Alliance and advocates for a peaceful resolution to the Red Nation's aggressive expansionism.”

 

The Holy See beamed at her response, sensing a shift in the room’s energy.

 

“Alright, let’s wrap it up,” Jozen announced, glancing at the clock. “Treaties and other matters will be conducted with each representative.”

 

As the meeting wore on, the Holy See grew weary of the charged atmosphere. His gaze flickered back to Hejaz, who looked ready to explode at Mullen’s provocation, while Shakanya attempted to calm him down. The tension between the two men was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

 

Fang interjected, “I agree. Let’s conclude this meeting and discuss the treaty details. May the outcome lead to a brighter future for all of us.”

The meeting devolved into tedious speeches, filled with concerns, aspirations, and historical recounts that lulled some of the attendees into near slumber. But beneath the surface of diplomatic niceties, everyone knew the truth: the storm was coming. The fragile peace was about to shatter. As the leaders filed out, their faces grim, the seeds of future conflict had been sown. The world was holding its breath.

Chapter 65 The Feast

 

After the tense conference, all world leader start leaving the academy of unity. kassandra and zion flanked by amazon pretorian guard walk on the long hall to their transpot ship

 

“It’s bad for us,” Kassandra pressed, her eyes narrowing. “The Crescent Alliance will definitely support the True Horde.”

 

Zion nodded slowly, his composure unwavering. “That is a valid point. The Crescent Alliance has historically supported the True Horde, especially as their aggression seems to be on the rise.”

 

Kassandra continued, her voice tinged with urgency, “I don’t doubt your capabilities, but why are you letting this happen?”

 

Zion remained calm, though his body language betrayed a flicker of frustration. “The Crescent Alliance is a powerful faction, committed to peace and cooperation. It would be unwise to provoke them unnecessarily. As for my personal agenda…”

 

“Are you aware of Alam’s rising power within the True Horde?” Kassandra pressed.

 

Zion’s eyes narrowed, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “We’re all aware of the True Horde's growing influence. They are significant players on the global stage, with a strong military and ample resources. However, they’ve maintained a careful neutrality in global affairs.”

 

“Don’t give me that,” Kassandra shot back, crossing her arms. “Are you planning to destroy them or what?”

 

Zion’s tone turned icy, his voice dropping. “There has been talk about how best to deal with the True Horde. Some advocate a cautious approach, while others favor a more aggressive stance. They are a serious threat, and we must act carefully. I’m fully aware of the danger they pose.”

 

“Good,” Kassandra said, her resolve firm. “I’ll ramp up our war factory production to the limit. Our new army will start crossing the Bering Strait in January, and we’ll begin annexing Blood Khaganate territory as planned.”

 

Zion nodded in approval, pleased to have Kassandra’s strategic mind on his side. As they walked out of the building, a young man with striking white hair and red eyes intercepted them

 

“You may not know me,” he said, introducing himself with a hint of defiance. “I’m Nigel, Kaveh’s son from the Emerald League.”

 

Zion halted, turning his sharp gaze on the young man. “Ah, Nigel. What can I do for you?”

 

“One of your bodyguards is a friend of mine,” Nigel said, pointing to a female guard at Zion's side. “What have you done to her?”

 

Zion’s expression hardened. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. Do you mean the female guard who protects me?”

 

“Yes,” Nigel replied, his voice steady.

 

Zion raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What exactly do you want to know about her?”

 

“Give her back,” Nigel demanded, his tone flat but filled with intensity.

 

Zion’s eyes narrowed, a spark of annoyance igniting within him. “Why should I do that?”

 

“Because she’s not supposed to be here with you. She… she…” Nigel faltered, his resolve wavering.

 

Just then, Kaveh rushed in. “What are you doing, boy?” His gaze shifted to Zion, apologetic. “I’m sorry for my son’s behavior. He’s a bit… peculiar.”

 

Zion nodded, accepting the apology without words, assessing the situation. He returned his attention to Nigel. “You mentioned one of my bodyguards is a friend of yours. What’s her name?”

 

“Nara,” Nigel replied, his eyes sharp.

 

Recognition flickered across Zion’s face. “Ah, Nara. She did mention you briefly. But if I may ask, what is your relationship with her?”

 

“She’s my friend,” Nigel insisted, defensive yet vulnerable.

 

Kassandra interjected, “Oh, Nara? The rising star of the Colosseum? It’s only natural that everyone wants to claim friendship with her.”

 

Zion remained silent, weighing Kassandra's words against the tension radiating from Nigel. He couldn't shake the suspicion that this encounter might be more than a simple inquiry about a friend.

Kaveh, breaking free from his own escort, rushed to Nigel and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, boy,” he said, pulling him away. He glanced back at Zion, a quick, apologetic bow his only farewell. Zion gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod in return.

The tension lingered, a stark contrast to the celebratory mood brewing elsewhere. "Time for some good old-fashioned propaganda," Kassandra said, her voice cutting through the lingering silence. "Another Colosseum event should do the trick. Get the public fired up."

Zion nodded, his mind already calculating the logistics. The Colosseum had always been a reliable tool. He hoped it would serve its purpose once again.

Meanwhile, the mood was drastically different at Xian’s base. Alam practically bounced towards Fang, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Dude, your speech? Amazing! Nailed it!”

Fang chuckled, pleased. “Glad you think so. I was a bit nervous, but it seemed to go down well. The whole peace and stability thing seemed to resonate."

“Resonate? It was a mic drop!” Alam declared, his eyes sparkling. “We need to celebrate! War and all, a good feast is always a win.”

Fang laughed. “Couldn’t agree more. I’ve heard Xian’s base has some top-notch chefs. Let's go see if the rumors are true.”

They headed off, the sounds of laughter and music already drifting from the direction of the palace. The feast at Xian Palace was a grand spectacle…

Alam rose, his cup held high, commanding attention. “Gentlemen, and brave women still with us today,” he began, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “We celebrate our recognition on the world stage. But let us not forget, this was not an easy path. We lost many comrades along the way. Today, we pray for the fallen, hoping they find a better place. We fight for their dreams, for a future they believed in.”

 

As he spoke, the crowd raised their cups, honoring the heroes who paved the way for their success. A moment of silence enveloped the gathering, somber yet resolute. Everyone understood that the fight was far from over, and they were determined that the sacrifices would not be in vain. It was a silent promise of victory and a brighter future for all.

 

“Of course, we battered quite a bit of the Red Army,” Alam continued with a light-hearted chuckle, breaking the somber mood. “We destroyed their beasts! Now, eat and rest, my friends.” He took his seat, lifting his drink to his lips.

 

Fang settled across from Alam at the long table, a glint of determination in his eyes. “Thank you, my friend. You’re right; we’ve indeed taken down many of the Red Army’s monsters. But we know they will rebuild. We must prepare and keep up our momentum until we secure a final victory.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Alam replied, his grin returning. “Just like the Spartans at Thermopylae, it’s not just about winning; it’s about spreading our message.”

 

“True,” Fang agreed, nodding. “The world has seen the True Horde’s might, and it recognizes Alam as a leader. The Red Nation is a threat to peace and stability. Our message is clear: the Crescent Alliance is the only way forward, and we won’t back down until we achieve a lasting victory. Let’s ensure this triumph isn’t our last.”

 

Alam blinked, absorbing Fang’s words. “Yeah…”

 

“And we must remember the sacrifices of our fallen comrades,” Fang pressed on, his tone somber. “Their bravery has made our victories possible. We owe it to them to fight on, to ensure their deaths were not in vain.”

 

“Sure…” Alam replied, a sniff betraying his grief.

 

Fang studied Alam’s pained expression, understanding the weight of loss that hung over them. “We’ve suffered heavy losses, but we can’t let sorrow consume us. We must honor our fallen and fight for justice and peace. Let’s raise a glass to their memory.”

 

“Heh… right. Now shut up and eat,” Alam quipped, a hint of humor breaking through his solemnity.

 

Fang chuckled, grateful for the levity. “Right then, I will shut up and eat now.” sHe dug into the sumptuous feast before him, savoring the moment.

 

But the celebration was short-lived. The night sky suddenly lit up with a blinding flash. Alam’s head snapped up. Missiles streaked across the sky, desperately trying to intercept… something. But they were too slow. A second, even brighter flash illuminated the horizon, followed by a distant, earth-shaking boom. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

Alam stared at the sky, his blood running cold. He knew what it was. The Strato Cannon. Panic erupted. Soldiers scrambled for cover. The air filled with shouts and the cries of the wounded. Then, the silence, heavy and suffocating

A truck arrived, carrying the bodies of fallen soldiers. They were unloaded outside the hospital, awaiting burial. Alam stood apart, a solitary figure in the gathering twilight, watching as each body was carried past. The urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of grief, clawed at him. But he remained rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn to the ground.

Among them… Nalin.

Alam stood frozen, the world tilting on its axis. Her laughter, her dreams… all gone.

Days later, a mass grave was dug, a stark testament to the Strato Cannon's devastating power, Above it, a monument began to rise: three fists erupting from a mound of rubble, clutching a pen, a gun, and a plow. A symbol of the True Horde’s resilience, forged by an artist once persecuted by the Xian Emperor, now called back to honor the fallen. People of all faiths gathered, their prayers mingling in the cold air.

Alam attended the funeral, the single, devastating blast of the Strato Cannon a constant echo in his mind. He knew he was outgunned, outmatched in raw power. But as he looked at the faces of his people, their grief mirrored in his own, a steely resolve hardened within him. He would not break.

He walked to the podium, the weight of their gaze pressing down on him. The speech, crafted by the Grand Mufti and refined by Fang, lay before him. He took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He looked out at the crowd, their faces etched with sorrow and hope.

"One Gott," he began, his voice resonating with a newfound strength, "one Motherland, one Fatherland." He paused, the words hanging in the air.

"They sought to erase us with a single blow." His voice grew louder, "But they were wrong. We are not defined by our losses, but by how we rise from them. We are bound by a shared history, a shared faith, a shared land. We are united—multi-ethnic, multi-confessional—in our commitment to peace, tranquility, freedom, and sovereignty." He swept his gaze across the crowd.

 “The world watches us, fearing another global conflict. They speak of China, America, Europa, Central Asia, whispering of a world war 4, an another apocalypse, the final one. But I tell you now: the end of days is in Gott hands, not in the hands of men or their machines.” He paused, his eyes burning with conviction. "Let this operation be a testament to our strength, a beacon for generations to come. We will not be broken. We will not be defeated. We will endure."

Chapter 66 Remnant of russian federation

 

With the world’s eyes glued to the True Horde versus Red Nation showdown, a new conflict was brewing. Minor skirmishes between the Emerald League (the Green Nation) and the Golden Caravan were putting a serious strain on Emerald League and True Horde relations. They were both part of the NWC, but as usual, the rules were more like guidelines. Proxy wars were the name of the game, with Yellow Nation soldiers swapping out their uniforms for mercenary gear. The Green forces, already heavy on mercenaries, simply hired other mercenaries to bonk up the Yellow Nation’s cosplayers. It was a mess, and it was about to get messier.

 

The black market mafia based on Emerald League is charging Alam exorbitant prices to sell weapon supplies, making it difficult for him to secure the artillery he needs to counter red army tanks.

Carmelita suggests that a pirate base at the tip of Northern Europe might offer a better deal. alam start his journey, He orders the elite Wanderer force to escort him, ensuring he has the best protection possible.

As Alam travels from Xian to Europe, nostalgia washes over him. He passes through the Taiga, memories of his meeting with Nalin flooding back, Nalin’s laugh echoing through the trees. Then, as he crosses the vast desert of Central Asia, he recalls the fierce battles he fought to reclaim his territory from the Khaganate. the wrecks of the rusty steels can be seen scattered around.

The Ural Mountains remind him of the time he met his favorite secretary, Eleanor, back when the Wanderers were just a ragtag group of vigilante mercenaries. Each landmark brings a mix of emotions—loss, pride, and a heavy burden he carries as a leader.

Later, at the St. Petersburg harbor, Alam landed his black Hind helicopter and strolled over to a docked submarine. It wasn't just any sub—it was practically the Sea Wolf pirates' floating palace. Apparently, its missile capabilities were their way of keeping the local factions in line.

Alam walked towards it, the chilly north wind whipping around him, and crossed the small bridge to the submarine. A couple of pirates gave him the once-over. "Just armor and a cheap pistol," Alam told them, taking in their own interesting mix of arctic military gear and leather. These guys were armed with everything from rifles to, well, axes. They then escorted him up onto the submarine's deck to meet Olga, a woman with black leather dress, a silver fluffy fur draped over her shoulders, and a red feather sticking out of her black hat.

 “Hello there, woman…” Alam greets her.

 

Olga Varvara glances at him with a bored expression, clearly unimpressed. “Who are you and what do you want?” she asks bluntly, one hand on her hip, taking note of his Just armor and a cheap pistol… hardly impressive. But the way he carries himself… there’s something there. Confidence, maybe. Or just plain foolishness. We’ll see.

 

“I’m the leader of the True Horde. We’re dealing with the Red Army and struggling to get artillery ammunition from the market. I’m here to strike a deal,” Alam explains.

 

Olga raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “The True Horde, you say? And you’re struggling to obtain artillery ammunition? That’s a problem. What kind of deal are you proposing?”

 

Alam continues, “Since the beginning of the war, we’ve relied on the black market, but now I want to skip the broker. The Green Nation is taking too much profit already.”

 

Olga nods, listening intently. “I see... So, you want to cut out the middleman and deal directly with us instead of going through the black market. That’s reasonable. Dealing with brokers can be a pain, and they often take advantage of your needs.”

 

She taps her chin thoughtfully, he’s not afraid to take risks. I like that. Brokers are parasites anyway.". “So, how much artillery ammunition are you looking to get?”

 

“As much as you can bring us. We’ll pay with silver,” Alam replies.

 

Olga smiles slightly. “Ah, you want a lot, and you’ll be paying with silver. Very well, we can supply you with a decent amount of ammunition at a favorable price. However, I’d like to ask a favor in return.”

 

“What is that?” Alam inquires.

 

Olga grins mischievously. “Oh, just a little something in exchange for all this ammunition. I have a rival I’d like you to deal with—someone who’s been a nuisance and a threat to my interests. Can you help me with that?”

 

“Alright. Show me the name and location,” Alam agrees.

 

“Excellent. This person’s name is... let’s call him ‘Smith.’ He runs a competing arms dealership in the Red Zone and has been undercutting my prices. His base is in a secret underground bunker south of St. Petersburg. It’s well-guarded, but I’m sure you have your ways of handling that. His real name is James, if that helps. He has a weakness for pretty girls,” Olga explains.

 

“Smith... James... really? Those sound like cliché names,” Alam chuckles.

 

Olga laughs softly. “You’re right, they are rather cliché. But that makes it all the more amusing. This ‘James’ is a simple man with simple weaknesses, making him vulnerable and easy to deal with. So, are you up for the task? I have a feeling you’ll enjoy taking care of this little nuisance for me.”

 

“Consider it done. I have an agent to take care of him,” Alam replies. He glances at the Russian flag on the submarine. “Are you a remnant of Russia or something?”

 

She chuckles, clearly amused. “I am indeed. Or at least, the closest thing to Russia that still exists nowadays. I was a sailor and officer in the Baltic Fleet back when the Federation was still a thing. Things have changed a lot these past few years, but I still hold my heritage close to my heart as a reminder of a better time.”

Alam chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. “Hmm, so... can I get some chocolate or something?”

 

Olga raised an eyebrow, surprised by his request but grinned playfully.Chocolate? What an odd request. But… oddly charming. He’s trying to disarm me. Clever." A small, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips.

 

“Chocolate, huh? You just had to ask! I suppose I can spare a few bars. After all, what’s an alliance without a touch of sweetness, right?” She motioned for one of her sailors to hand him a few chocolate bars from the submarine's mess.

 

“I was hoping for hot liquid chocolate,” Alam joked, a mischievous smile on his face.

 

Olga laughed, clearly amused. “Hot liquid chocolate? Sorry to disappoint, but this is a submarine, not a café! And it’s freezing cold up top. I can offer you hot coffee instead.”

 

She glanced around the cabin, searching for a thermos.

 

“I expected a high-tech submarine,” Alam teased.

 

Olga chuckled softly. “Oh, we have a few tricks up our sleeves, but even the most advanced submarine can only do so much against nature’s whims. Hot chocolate would spoil in this weather, but a cup of black coffee will keep your mind sharp and alert.”

 

Finally locating a thermos, she poured a steaming cup of coffee and offered it to him.

 

“So, why is a woman leading a pirate crew?” Alam asked, taking a sip.

 

Olga crossed her arms, considering his question. “A woman leading a pirate ship might seem unusual, but most pirates don’t care about gender. They care about who can get them more loot and glory. I’ve given them no reason to think I’m any less capable than a male leader, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so. I was actually a pirate too before leading the Wanderers on carphatia,” Alam admitted.

 

Her interest piqued, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? A pirate? That explains your earlier request for chocolate. What kind of pirate were you? A daring captain or a humble cabin boy?”

 

“A slaver,” Alam said, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. “A slaver? That’s not something you hear every day. Quite the contrast with your current role.”

she then look at him on his eyes, A slaver… interesting. Most try to hide their past. He’s… surprisingly honest. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t care what I think. Either way, it’s refreshing. I’ve seen what men are capable of when driven by greed.

 

“Yeah, I’ve had my share of epic battles and chaos. Nothing in this world surprises me anymore,” Alam replied,

 

Olga chuckled softly. “Nothing surprises you, huh? That’s quite a claim. The world is full of twists and turns that could shock even the most jaded souls.”

 

She leaned back against the bulkhead, sipping her coffee. “Still, I’m intrigued by your tales. I’d love to hear more about your pirate days, the battles you fought, and the treasures you stole.”

 

Alam began to recount his past, “well.. its start when i put a land altilery to modified cannon. we loot it from abandoned military complex in tip of sumatra. well.. its actually darkess day of my life.. since its not a ordinary pirates.. but a demon cultist as well.. we do. unspeakable act to our slaves”.

 

Olga listened intently, her expression shifting to one of sympathy as he shared his story.

 

“Demonic cultists and slaves? That sounds grim. I can’t imagine the horrors you witnessed,” she said thoughtfully.

 

“But it seems you’ve moved past those days. You’ve become something more than just a slaver or pirate. What led you from that dark path to lead the Horde?” she asked, genuinely curious.

 

Alam sighed, reflecting on his journey. “A classic tale of betrayal. One of my lovers betrayed me out of fear. After that tragedy, I felt enough was enough. I went to Europe and joined the Wanderers as a mercenary.”

 

Olga’s expression softened. “A lover’s betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow, especially from someone you trust. It’s no wonder it pushed you to join the Wanderers.”

 

“Yeah,” Alam said, his voice trailing off. “I spared her, though. I just couldn’t stop loving her.”

 

Olga’s gaze softened further.Spared her… despite everything? There’s more to him than meets the eye. A weakness, perhaps? Or… something else. Something… noble.A faint memory of her own lost love surfaces, a pang of familiar pain. “You spared her despite the pain she caused you? Love can make us do things that defy logic.”

 

“Can I hug you?” Alam asked suddenly.

 

Caught off guard, A hug? Well, that’s unexpected. But… why not? It’s been a long time since… well, since anything. Besides, it’s a good way to gauge a man. A small, genuine smile appears. Olga smiled warmly. “A hug? Sure, I suppose that’s acceptable. Just don’t get too clingy; I have a reputation to uphold.”

 

“I will be clingy,” Alam replied, pulling her into a hug.

 

She laughed softly, clearly amused. “Of course, who am I kidding? You’re the clingy type. I should have known better.”

 

As they embraced, Alam reflected, “I’ve lost much, but I’ve gained much as well.”

She continued to pat Alam's back gently as he reflected on his past.

 

"It's true, isn't it? Life has a way of taking and giving in equal measure. Sometimes we lose precious things, but in return, we gain experiences, wisdom, and strength."

 

Pulling back slightly, she looked him in the eye, her expression serious.

 

"But remember, Alam, it's important to let go of the past. Don't let it consume you or prevent you from finding happiness in the present."

 

"Yeah, thanks," Alam replied, stretching his arms. "Speaking of devils... why ally with the Blue Nation? Do you think all pirates today are just Jozen's dogs?"

 

She chuckled at his question,Jozen… a useful idiot. For now. The Blue Nation… they serve their purpose. Alliances are temporary. It’s about survival, about power.amused by the implication. "Jozen's influence is strong, I'll give him that. But I wouldn't call us his 'dogs.' We're pirates! We take the path that benefits us the most."

 

Taking a sip of her coffee, her gaze turned serious. "As for why I allied with the Blue Nation... let's just say we have a common enemy and shared values. Plus, I like to be on the winning side."

 

Alam took a sip of his drink. "Do you think the Red Nation will be defeated soon?"

 

She paused, her expression contemplative. "The Red Nation is powerful, but the forces against them are relentless. They seem to be crumbling day by day. However, it's hard to predict how long the conflict will last."

 

Turning to him with a sly smile, she added, "But don't worry! I'm sure we'll have them running for the hills before we know it. Just sit back, relax, and watch the show."

 

"It's easy for you since you're in a corner of the world," Alam remarked.

 

She raised an eyebrow, They think we’re isolated here. Weak. They’re wrong. We control the sea lanes. We control the flow of goods. We have power they don’t even comprehend.A smirk plays on her lips. "Oh, really? You think being in a remote corner makes it easy?"

 

Leaning back in her chair, she studied him intently. "Let me tell you, being in a remote corner has its benefits and drawbacks. Sure, enemies won't come knocking on our doorstep anytime soon, but we also lack resources and support close by."

 

She raised a finger pointedly. "And don't forget, being in a corner also makes it easier to get trapped."

 

"Yeah, I can see that. Some people nearby still dig a ditch before taking a shit instead of having a proper toilet," Alam joked. "But on the other hand, a rich resource area like the East has been a battleground for decades."

 

She laughed at the image. "Ah, the struggles of progress. Some people just don't appreciate the luxury of modern amenities."

 

Her expression turned serious again. "And yes, that's true. The Eastern wasteland area is so wealthy with resources that it attracts all kinds of factions. It's like a playground for the greedy and ambitious."

 

"Hmhm... I'm tired," Alam said, rubbing her back. "Are you married or something?"

 

She raised an eyebrow at his sudden question but smiled a little. "Married? No, not at the moment. Being a pirate makes it hard to keep a stable relationship."

 

Leaning back in her chair, her tone slightly sarcastic, she added, "Why do you ask? Planning to propose to me, Alam?"

 

"Nah, I'm still afraid of commitment," he admitted.

 

She let out a light laugh,Commitment… a luxury I can’t afford. Not anymore. But… there’s something about him. A raw honesty. A vulnerability he tries to hide. It’s… intriguing."A thoughtful expression crosses her face. Perhaps he’s not as simple as he seems. her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Afraid of commitment, huh? That's a common fear among pirates."

 

Taking a sip of her coffee, she lingered her gaze on him. "So, you prefer to keep your options open, I take it?"

 

"Just... see how it goes. I accept whatever Gott gives," Alam replied.

 

She nodded, her expression understanding. "Ah, I see. A 'go with the flow' kind of mindset. I can respect that."

 

With a faint smirk, she added, "Or maybe you just haven't found the right person to commit to yet."

 

"Perhaps it's just me," Alam said.

 

She smiled lightly, her voice gentle. "Perhaps. Or maybe you're yet to discover that someone who'll change your mind about commitment."

 

Taking another sip of her coffee, she concluded, "Either way, as long as you're happy, that's all that matters, right?"

Alam nodded. The deal was done. The munitions problem was solved. He pulled out his comm device. "Mei," he said, his voice low and businesslike. "Smith. James. Underground bunker south of St. Petersburg. Olga's orders. Make it… convincing." He ended the call. The weight on his shoulders eased slightly. With the munitions secured, he could focus on the bigger picture.

Chapter 67 Trench of great wall

 

City of Datong, Late December 2404

Snow blanketed the rooftops and ancient monuments of Datong, softening the edges of the Great Wall of China that stood sentinel against the elements. Workers from the True Horde dug trenches near the wall, their breath visible in the frosty air.

 

Alam stood amidst the bustling activity, glancing at the wall's towering presence. “In the past, the Chinese used this wall to fend off nomadic tribes. Now, we’re using it against the Red Army,” he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice.

 

Fang, close by, nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, the Great Wall was a formidable defense against the Mongols. Today, it will serve as a bastion against the Red Army’s expansionist ambitions. It symbolizes the strength and unity of the Chinese people, and now, it embodies our determination to defend our homeland.”

 

Alam chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. “Well, I’m not Chinese by birth,” he said with a wink, “so maybe I’m a bit of a foreigner in this narrative.”

 

“True,” Fang acknowledged, a smile creeping onto her face. “You may not be Chinese by birth, but you’ve made this land your home. Your commitment to protect its people makes you a true leader in my eyes. The people can be proud to have someone like you fighting for them.”

 

“Thank you,” Alam replied, his tone shifting slightly. “But enough about me. You’ve been rather coy about your backstory, Fang.”

 

Fang grinned, leaning back slightly as she began. “Ah, my story? It starts in a small village, far from here. A quiet place where I lived with my parents and younger brother. They were farmers, toiling away so I could one day become a warrior. I guess you could say I was destined for this life.”

 

Alam raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the tale. “I have a feeling the story of a woman warrior isn’t that straightforward. There must be a deeper reason, something primal.”

 

Fang hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right. My family held traditional views; they believed women shouldn’t be warriors. But I had an insatiable thirst for battle and a desire to prove myself. I trained in secret, defying my parents’ wishes. When I finally became a warrior, it felt like a monumental achievement.”

 

“That’s quite a journey,” Alam said, his voice sincere. “But have you made peace with your parents?”

 

Fang sighed, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “We’ve come to an understanding. They still don’t approve of my career, but they support me. They know I’m following my own path. In the end, that’s what matters—doing what you believe is right.”

 

“Yeah, no regrets, huh?” Alam mused, raising his binoculars to scan the horizon. “I pity this ancient wall, though. In a week or a month, it’ll probably bear the scars of Red Army cannon fire.”

Fang’s expression turned somber. “It’s unfortunate that this historic wall will likely sustain damage. But it will also symbolize our commitment to defend this land to the bitter end. That’s an important message to send.”

“True,” Alam replied, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Imagine machine gun fire echoing off a thousand-year-old wall. It would be quite a sight for a film.”

“It would be dramatic, for sure,” Fang chuckled. “Picture this: the Red Army’s machine gun fire blasting apart the ancient stones, marching through its ruins toward Datong. Fascinating from a historical perspective, but a military disaster. They’d destroy a symbol of our resistance and advance unchecked.”

“Yeah, but before that happens,” Alam declared with fierce determination, “we’ll make them bleed. A lot.”

 

“Of course,” Fang affirmed, his tone resolute. “We won’t let them pass without fierce resistance. The Red Army will learn that they can’t just push us around—we’ll make them pay for every inch.”

 

Alam looked around, taking in the hilly terrain. “This area is perfect for hidden tunnels. We can ambush them at the wall.”

 

“Absolutely,” Fang agreed, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “The hills could serve us well. We can set traps and wait for the Red Army to walk right into them. Catch them off guard and cause chaos in their ranks.”

“Good. Now we just wait for them to come,” Alam said, a grin spreading across his face.

 

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Fang replied, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. “Let’s set these traps and prepare for our ambush.”

Later on office, Alam summoned Sima Yijin, General Sima's twin.

 

“Hey, so you’re his twin, huh? Tell me about the machine inside the mine. I know the Khaganate structure is a bit... old school. What’s this little rebellion within the Khaganate all about?” Alam asked, gesturing for him to take a seat.

 

Sima Yijin sat down, his demeanor calm and composed. “There’s an old pre-war bunker somewhere in Siberia. My brother plans to create a powerful drill machine to access it.

 

Alam nodded, remember his time when meet mad figure like ruan mei, he intrigued. “But why don’t you want to join the Red Nation? Besides the desire for autonomy?”

 

Sima replied without hesitation, “I understand Zion’s game. He wants to make his allies dependent on the Red Nation. The Khaganate is a proud society. Before the war, we had independence in food, coal, and industry. But after opening our market to Zion’s influence for technology exchange, our farmers and industries can’t compete with their superior economy. It’s made us slaves to our own country, and we’ve accumulated a lot of debt to Zion.”

 

Alam rubbed his chin, still trying to grasp the situation. “So, it’s like you’ve caught an ‘African disease’?”

 

Sima nodded. “Exactly. Before colonialism, Africa was a prosperous region, a breadbasket. But after European powers arrived, they became impoverished.

Now, we import Red Nation grain, paid for with resources we can barely afford to extract. It’s a slow bleed, Alam. They take our raw materials, sell us back finished goods at inflated prices.”

 

A memory flickered in Alam’s mind: grainy images from old Earth history vids – vast plantations, exploited workers, ships laden with raw materials sailing to distant shores. The word “colonialism” echoed in his head. He understood. A familiar story, played out on a different stage

 

Alam tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, colonialism isn’t about democracy or liberty; it’s about the submission of their subjects.”

As the conversation unfolded, Alam couldn’t help but feel the weight of Sima’s words. The parallels between the Khaganate’s struggles and historical injustices were striking. It was a reminder that the past often casts long shadows over the present, and the fight for autonomy was as relevant as ever.

With a newfound determination, Alam leaned back in his chair, a grin creeping onto his face. “Well, Sima, it sounds like we have a lot of work to do.. After all, who doesn’t love a good underdog story?”

Sima chuckled, a spark of hope in his eyes.

Chapter 68 Happy new year

 

in north of xian, City of Datong, Late December 2404

 

In the heart of Datong, snow blanketed the rooftops and ancient monuments, muffling the sounds of the bustling city. The Great Wall loomed nearby, a historical sentinel now repurposed as a strategic defense against the encroaching Red Army. Inside Alam's office, the atmosphere was tense but charged with purpose when a woman in a striking red jacket entered.

 

“I understand you're facing a difficult situation,” she said, her voice steady and confident. “The Shangri-La Confederation sent me as your eyes on the battlefield.”

 

Alam raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh wow, a New Year’s gift from an ally? So, who are you? A spy? A general?”

 

“Spy? No. General? No. You can call me Bora,” she replied with a playful smirk. “I specialize in observation and analysis. I’ll be one of your most trustworthy allies in this war.”

 

Alam sniffed, skepticism etched on his face. “I already have plenty of spies. What makes you different from them?”

 

Bora leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “The biggest difference is that I can see the big picture and understand the entire situation in no time. My intelligence is in a class of its own, helping you navigate the complexities of war.”

 

“Interesting… enchanted AI sensor, I guess?” Alam quipped, a hint of humor in his voice.

 

“My skills are the result of years of study and experience,” she corrected, her smile unwavering. “So, do you believe in my abilities or not?”

 

“Alright,” Alam said, his tone shifting to one of acceptance. “I'll trust help from a major nation like the Purple Nation. Welcome to the team. What’s your name again?”

 

“Bora,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m glad to be a helpful ally for you.”

 

“Bora… I’m Alam,” he replied, a hint of camaraderie forming.

 

“It’s an honor to meet you in person, Alam. Now, I should assess the battlefield. Call me anytime you need.”

 

Alam took a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling on him. “In December of 2404, the war front has devolved into trench warfare. Both Zion and I have lost momentum. We’re stuck waiting for reinforcements in the New Year, and they have a massive cannon somewhere in Manchuria or the Bering Strait—one that can strike targets over a thousand kilometers away with devastating effects.”

 

Bora nodded, her expression serious. “So, both you and your enemy are struggling with momentum, waiting for reinforcements. And you're aware of the enemy's cannon. It won’t be long before both sides suffer heavy losses on the front lines. You need to find a way to win this war before it spirals into catastrophe.”

 

“Yes, I know my strategy now is simple: hold the line until the Crescent Alliance army arrives,” Alam stated, frustration creeping into his voice.

 

“A purely defensive strategy won’t work against such a powerful enemy,” Bora countered. “You need to prepare a decisive attack before they get the chance. The Crescent Alliance's success hinges on their capability. If they fail, you risk losing the entire war. You must take the initiative before the situation worsens.”

 

Alam leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. “My mobile units are… well, they’ve been decimated on the steppe.”

 

“Since your mobile units are down, your ability to launch a decisive attack is compromised. The enemy's cannon poses a grave threat and can inflict severe damage on your front lines. You must find a way to neutralize that cannon before it’s too late. Do you have any tools or plans for that?”

 

Alam spun in his chair, frustration evident. “No…”

 

“Then your best bet is to find a weakness in their front line,” Bora advised. “Identify a weak point and strike it. This could allow you to break through and disrupt their operations, minimizing the cannon’s destructive potential.”

 

“Yes… so I guess that’s your task,” Alam conceded.

 

Bora nodded with determination. “I’ll scan the front lines for vulnerabilities. You can then launch a decisive attack. Just remember, I’ll identify the weak spot; you’ll need to devise the actual plan.”

 

“Did the Shangri-La Confederation send just one woman for now?” Alam asked, a wry smile crossing his face.

 

Bora laughed lightly. “Yes, just me. They’re cautious about who they send, so they avoided any spies or traitors. They trust my analytical skills to provide you with the intelligence you need.”

 

Alam narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “You must be quite exceptional. Tell me more about yourself.”

 

With a smile, Bora began, “I was born in a village on the slopes of the Himalayan Mountains. My childhood was spent playing among the flowers, which sparked my curiosity about the world.”

 

“And then?” Alam prompted.

 

“Later, I was accepted into the Monastery of Mystic Peace, where I devoted myself to spiritual enlightenment. I studied meditation, philosophy, and religion, seeking truths hidden in the teachings of great sages.”

 

Alam nodded slowly, absorbing her journey.

 

“But when the Khaganate under general Wu attacked and destroyed our monastery, my peaceful life shattered. I fled to a lowland village, witnessing the cruelty of the Khaganate firsthand—the indiscriminate killings and brutal treatment of the conquered. This experience changed my worldview: I realized peace can only be achieved through power.”

 

“Sounds heavy,” Alam said, sighing.

 

“I also understood that power without compassion leads to tyranny,” Bora continued. “So, I dedicated myself to finding a balance. I became a warrior to defend the weak, honing my skills in combat while studying the enemy’s tactics.”

 

Alam raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Do you have any war records? Maybe some numbers or facts to back that up?”

 

Bora smiled. “I have an impressive list of war achievements. For instance, when I was a knight, I led a small force against a superior army. I outmaneuvered them and won without losing a single knight. That’s just a glimpse of my military record.”

 

“Interesting… were these armored brigades or cavalry?” Alam asked, curious. “Different nations have different terms for things.”

 

“In my time as a knight, we used both,” Bora explained. “Armored brigades were more feasible at times, but cavalry was essential for speed and coverage. My tactics relied on outsmarting my opponents.”

 

“Cavalry against tanks?” Alam mused. “Good luck with that.”

 

“Exactly. Cavalry is key; they move quickly and cover ground efficiently,” Bora replied. “You have cavalry fighting tanks?”

 

Alam smirked. “In hilly and forested areas, we hide them. It’s a desperate raid; we blow them up at close range.”

 

“A daring tactic,” she said, impressed. “How many cavalry do you have for a raid?”

 

“Between 30 to 100. But we lost over 4,000 in the winter war,” Alam admitted, his expression darkening.

 

“That’s a significant loss,” Bora noted. “But it was probably worth it against those tanks. You need to find ways to deal with them while minimizing cavalry losses.”

 

“Yeah…” Alam sighed.

 

“I know it’s tough. You’re up against one of the world’s most powerful armies with limited resources,” Bora encouraged. “But hang in there. The Crescent Alliance army is on the way.”

 

“Right… so, are you like a robot?” Alam asked

 

Bora laughed. “No, I’m not a robot—just a very special woman. I don’t have any mechanical parts, but my intelligence is a cut above the rest. You might call me a ‘superhuman’ when it comes to observation and analysis.”

 

“Okay… do you have some kind of ‘hard to kill’ ability?” Alam pressed, intrigued.

 

“Actually, I do. My monk training strengthened my body, and as a knight, I was required to wear heavy armor. I’m tough and resilient. I can withstand stress and pressure,” she explained. “But while my body has limitations, my mind is much tougher.”

 

“Alright… do you have the bravery of steel?” Alam asked, his voice serious.

 

Bora smiled confidently. “Courage and bravery are part of my nature. I don’t fear death or pain. I’m willing to lay down my life for the greater good, focused solely on my mission.”

 

“Would you die for this mission?” Alam inquired.

 

“Yes, without hesitation,” she affirmed. “I’ve dedicated my life to fighting tyranny. If the mission demands it, I won’t hesitate to give my life.”

 

“Would you die for me?” Alam raised an eyebrow, half-amused.

 

Bora was caught off guard but quickly nodded. “Yes, I would protect you if needed. My life is dedicated to this cause.”

 

“Good,” Alam said, a plan forming in his mind. “I need you to be my eyes. Most of my officers are bit down, and I need to stay in Xian while my army is in Datong. I want you to become my eyes on the field.”

 

“Absolutely, I can do that,” Bora replied. “I’ll observe enemy movements and relay information. But I can’t cover the entire front alone. I’ll do my best to provide valuable intel.”

 

“Thank you. You will take command of the defense of the Great Wall,” Alam said,

 

Bora’s eyes widened in surprise. “The Great Wall? That’s a crucial strategic point. I’m honored you want me to command its defense.

later, Bora stood at the edge of the Great Wall, her red jacket is stark contrast on the nearby grim atmosphere, surveying the complex layers of defensive lines and pillboxes that stretched before her. Heavy snow piled on the landscape, transforming it into a treacherous white wasteland. Troops bustled around her, their breath visible in the frigid air, preparing for the imminent battle. The enemy forces were gathering, and the atmosphere crackled with tension.

 

“Most of the soldiers here are recruits with less than two months of training,” one officer beside her remarked, “they are weak mommas boys, who immediately begun to cry when attacked sharply”

 

Bora quickly assessed the situation and felt a wave of unease wash over her. The inexperience of these soldiers was glaringly obvious. “Short training, short shrift,” she muttered, teeth gritted as she watched raw recruits,These boys needed a backbone, and she was going to be it.

 

She began barking orders for vigorious training, her voice cutting through the cold air like a knife. She pushed them to understand the importance of their mission, explaining what was at stake and the dire consequences of failure. Bora motivated them, showing them that their courage was crucial in holding the line.

 

Later, during a New Year’s feast, Alam called her through the intercom. “Hey, girl. I noticed your rework on the defensive line. It’s fine, but don’t use all our resources at once. I stocked some iron and wood because I expect the enemy to bombard that position, so we can repair it when they finish.”

 

Bora stared at the intercom, processing the tactical implications. She knew the True Horde had powerful artillery capable of wreaking havoc. “Understood,” she replied, nodding. Preserving resources for future fortifications was wise; the battlefield could shift in an instant.

 

“Good,” Alam continued. “We’ve got reinforcements—a monk elite strike team from your nation. I want you to attack the enemy force near the mine complex in Ömnögovi Province. They’re using that base to launch their next attack. Disrupting that will slow their progress.”

 

A smile spread across Bora’s face, her eyes glinting with excitement. Taking down the enemy base would not only disrupt their operations but also create panic among their ranks. “I agree, Commander,” she said, her determination solid. “This mission is vital, and I’ll give it my utmost attention.”

 

“Thank you, and happy New Year,” Alam said before the call ended.

 

Bora stared at the intercom for a moment, a smile lingering on her lips. She was eager to contribute to the Crescent Alliance’s victory. With renewed resolve, she set out to prepare for the mission.

 

Her journey began in Datong, a city nestled in the foothills of the Hengshan Mountains, where urban landscapes met historical sites. As the monk strike team entered Inner Mongolia, with their small numbers they manage to slip the red army border guard,

 

these monk is embrace mix of new age. and some of their body is mixed with cybernetic implant. they are elite spec ops in comparison. a pride of purple nation.

 

the terrain gradually flattened into a vast, rolling steppe covered in snow. Ömnögovi Province lay deep within the Gobi Desert, its dramatic rock formations rising against the endless horizon.

 

The barren desert was a sight to behold, and Bora marveled at the untouched landscape. She felt the extreme cold biting at her skin,. The enemy base was located in this harsh environment, and she steeled herself for the difficult mission.

 

As they approached the mine complex, Alam called again. “Report in, Bora.”

 

She picked up the intercom with a stoic expression. “Yes, Commander. What is it?”

 

“The enemy lacks defensive structures and likely concentrates on certain areas. At the right time, you can destroy them by surprise.”

 

Bora nodded, her face still serious. “Understood, Commander. I’m aware of their vulnerabilities. I have a plan ready and will act when the time is right.”

 

“Very well. Report every advancement. Out.”

 

Bora hung up, her expression grim. The gravity of the mission weighed heavily on her. One wrong move could jeopardize everything they are in deep enemy territory.. Without delay, she moved forward with the monk strike team, ready to complete her mission.

 

As they ventured deeper into the empty desert, the only sounds were the wind and the crunch of snow beneath their feet. The silence felt deafening, the vast emptiness daunting. Hours passed without sight of enemy forces, but Bora remained focused. The cold air bit into her skin, and the snow mixed with sand whipped around them, but they pressed on.

 

Finally, they neared the mine complex and spotted enemy forces stationed in a nearby village. Heavily armed and well-trained,. The mine complex was a key strategic site, and Bora needed to find a weakness to exploit before the enemy could react.

 

“Trust your intuition. Do your creativity, Bora,” Alam’s voice echoed in her mind.

 

Bora smirked, her mind racing. She noted several access points to the mine complex, all guarded by troops. The village sat on higher ground, perfect for a surprise attack. She signaled the monk strike team to split into two groups and sneak up on the enemy from both sides.

 

As the attack began, the enemy was caught off guard. Confusion erupted in their ranks as the monk strike team launched a two-pronged assault. Bora’s plan was unfolding perfectly, creating chaos among the enemy forces.

 

However, the enemy quickly repositioned, setting up defenses and parking a tank inside a warehouse. This presented a challenge, but Bora wasn’t one to back down. She quickly devised a new plan, signaling her team to surround the warehouse and prevent the enemy from escaping.

 

With the second strike team in place, the enemy was cornered. Bora ordered the monks to advance and attack. The warehouse became a battleground, smoke grenades filling the air with thick clouds, obscuring vision and sending the enemy into a panic.

 

Inside, the fighting was fierce and chaotic. The red army troops, cornered and desperate, began to falter, while the monk strike team pressed on, relentless in their assault.

 

After the fight, Alam’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Bravo! Wonderful. I loved how you destroyed the tank by hitting it at the right angle.”

 

Bora smirked at the praise, bowing her head slightly. “Thank you, Commander. The enemy’s tank was a significant threat, and I had to act quickly to neutralize it. I’m glad my decisions led to success.”

 

“Well then, your team can return to Datong or continue raiding deeper into enemy territory. The choice is yours.”

 

Bora studied the map, contemplating the next move. “I believe we should continue our attack and push the enemy back. We can’t let them regroup.”

 

“Alright, just be careful. I’ll send you intel about hidden bunkers across the steppe. Use them as hideouts or a temporary HQ.”

 

Nodding with determination, Bora replied, “Yes, Commander. I’ll keep an eye on enemy movements and utilize the bunkers for our advantage. I’ll stay in touch and provide regular updates.”

 

With her resolve set, Bora turned her focus back to the task at hand, ready to lead her team into the next phase of their mission. The battle for the Gobi Desert had only just begun.

Chapter 69 New year resolution

 

The New Year’s party pulsed below, a riot of colors and laughter spilling into the chilly night air of Xian. Alam stood on the balcony, taking in the dazzling scene: drones danced in the sky, creating choreographed movements that lit up the night, while a projector cast stunning 4D figures onto nearby buildings. Fireworks exploded in the background, painting the sky with vibrant colors—a truly spectacular sight.

 

but his mind was elsewhere. He spotted General Zhang, the stoic leader of the Wanderer Group, sitting alone in his office—a solitary figure amidst the chaos. With a mischievous grin, Alam tapped the intercom, sending a cue for the general to join him.

 

A moment later, the door creaked open. General Zhang stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in thought. The weight of the past year hung heavy on his shoulders, and he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

 

“Hello, man. You working on another poem?” Alam asked, his voice light as he licked a cherry popsicle, the bright color contrasting his serious demeanor.

 

General Zhang paused, irritation flickering across his features. “No, I’m not writing any poems right now. I have something else on my mind.” He took a seat, his posture rigid, as Alam munched away, blissfully unaware of the tension.

 

Alam leaned forward, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “Alright. I want your honest opinion about the current situation.”

 

“From a military perspective,” General Zhang replied, his tone grave, “the situation is quite tense. The Red Army is gearing up for a major offensive, and we’re bracing ourselves for it. We’re confident in our abilities, but we can’t let our guard down. It’s going to be a tough battle.”

 

Alam’s brow furrowed as he chewed thoughtfully on his popsicle. “Do you think we have enough strength to hold out until the Crescent Alliance Army arrives?”

 

General Zhang inhaled deeply, his gaze steady. “Honestly? Right now, it doesn’t look good. The Red Army is larger and better equipped. If we can’t stop them soon, they’ll overwhelm us. The Crescent Alliance Army will come, but it could take weeks—maybe months.”

 

“Good,” Alam said, taking another bite. “Just yesterday, I heard the Sharing-la Confederation sent a... lone woman.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for General Zhang’s reaction.

 

The general’s interest piqued. “You mean the lone warrior they sent to support us? Yes, I heard about that. It’s an unusual move.”

 

“Yeah. I assigned her to maintain defense in Datong and conduct some raids. She’s done well so far, but now I’m more concerned about Sharing-la itself than the Red Army. Do you know what I mean?”

 

Understanding flashed in General Zhang’s eyes. “Oh, I completely get it. Sharing-la’s been unpredictable lately, especially with their aggressive expansion into Chinese territory. It’s definitely something we need to keep a close eye on.”

 

Alam chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, haha. I wonder what Zhuge Liang would do in this situation.” He winked, the reference to the great strategist hanging in the air like a playful challenge.

 

General Zhang couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed, he was one of the greatest strategists of all time. If he were here now, he might find a way to turn the tables in our favor.”

 

“Perhaps,” Alam said, a grin spreading across his face. “But he’s kinda been dead for like 3,000 years. It’s time for another Zhuge Liang to rise.”

 

Alam leaned back, swirling the melted remains of his popsicle. “You know,” he said, “this whole situation reminds me of the Three Kingdoms period. We’re caught between the Red Nation, like a powerful Wei, and the unpredictable Sharing-la, a Wu waiting to see which way the wind blows. We're Shu, holding on by our fingernails, hoping for an alliance.”

General Zhang’s eyes narrowed. “A fitting analogy. But Zhuge Liang couldn’t prevent the fall of Shu in the end.”

“True,” Alam admitted. “But he made them bleed for it. And his strategies are still studied centuries later. Maybe it’s time for a new Longzhong Plan.” (Longzhong Plan was Zhuge Liang's strategy for Liu Bei to take control of Jing Province and Yi Province and then unite with Sun Quan against Cao Cao)

General Zhang considered this. “So, you’re suggesting we focus on internal strength and seek strategic alliances?”

“Exactly. Just like Liu Bei with Sun Quan. We need the Crescent Alliance, but we can’t become dependent on them. We have to be strong enough to stand on our own.”

 

General Zhang sighed, a grin lingering on his lips. “Yes, finding someone with that level of genius isn’t easy. They don’t make them like they used to.”

 

Alam leaned back, offering General Zhang the popsicle. “Want one?, zhuge?”

 

Glancing at the bright treat but feeling the weight of the conversation, General Zhang shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m not in the mood for a popsicle right now.”

 

“Ah, come on! Are you sure you’re not writing a new poem? I’m actually a fan of yours.” Alam took a big bite, juice dribbling down his chin.

 

General Zhang chuckled softly, his annoyance fading. “No poems today. I’m surprised you’re a fan.”

 

“Your poems are short and honest. I like that,” Alam replied, his tone sincere.

 

As Alam looked out over the Bell Tower, he mused, “Conquering is easy. Defending is another story.”

 

General Zhang followed his gaze. “Indeed. Conquest is one thing, but holding the land is a different challenge altogether. The Red Army won’t give up easily. We’ll need to defend this city with everything we’ve got.”

 

“Yeah…” Alam clapped his hands together, shifting the mood again. “Anyway, why so gloomy? Do you have a wife?”

 

General Zhang chuckled, surprised by the abrupt question. “I’m not gloomy—just worried about the situation. As for a wife? No, I don’t have one.”

 

“Why not? I think many women would like a multi-talented man like you.”

 

“Not sure leading an army and facing death every day is very attractive,” he said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. “Besides, I have high standards.”

 

“High standards? Like what?”

 

General Zhang’s smirk widened. “I want someone smart, who can challenge me intellectually. Independent and driven, with a passion for life. Beauty matters, but inner beauty is even more precious. And she has to be a fighter.”

 

Alam laughed, his eyes dancing. “Believe it or not, we’ve got many women warriors in our barracks.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure there are strong women in the Wanderer Group,” General Zhang said, intrigued, “but I’m looking for more than just physical strength. I want someone who can match me in all aspects.”

 

“What about my secretary, Fang? She’s a very strong woman,” Alam suggested, a teasing glint in his eyes.

 

General Zhang raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. “That’s an interesting suggestion. She’s smart and capable. My interest is piqued.”

 

“Use your tactics fast, General. Women like that usually have someone waiting in the wings.”

 

General Zhang chuckled, glancing at Fang with newfound interest. “You’re right. I need to act before someone else snatches her away. She sounds like a unique woman.”

 

“Good luck with your hunting.” Alam patted him on the shoulder, a playful grin plastered on his face.

 

With a determined nod, General Zhang stood up, a new resolve coursing through him. As he left the office, he felt the weight of the world lift slightly, the festive sounds of the New Year’s celebration echoing in his mind.

meanwhile in other side of the world. the grid colosseum Los Angeles, California, the new year party is.. bit different. The air buzzed with anticipation, electric with the cries of countless participants flocking to the arena. This wasn’t just any game; it was a spectacle, a brawl for glory, and a chance to prove oneself in a world teetering on the brink. The Colosseum loomed large, a stark reminder of humanity's primal roots, where freedom and chaos danced an intricate tango.

 

On the podium, Zion stood tall, a figure of authority amidst the swirling excitement. His voice cut through the din, resonating with a clarity that demanded attention. The crowd hushed, eyes fixed on him, a sea of faces eager for his words.

 

“Citizens of the free world!” Zion began, his tone resolute. “We stand on the cusp of a great adventure, one that will define our future. Our enemies seek to destroy the freedom and prosperity we have achieved. They want to drag us back to the dark days of oppression and tyranny!”

 

His voice swelled, fueled by the fervor of the crowd. “We cannot allow this to happen! We must unite and fight for our freedom, our sovereignty, our way of life! Let us rise up and face this challenge head-on! Together, we can win this war! Let us not let our adversaries dictate our future. Together, we will create a brighter world!”

 

The crowd erupted into applause, cheers echoing through the arena like thunder. Zion’s heart raced, the energy igniting a fire within him. But the thrill was short-lived, as the heavy metal band struck up a raucous tune, drowning the cheers in a cacophony of sound.

 

As the first gladiators entered the arena, Zion settled into his seat beside Kassandra, his sharp-eyed secretary, and a cadre of generals. Bloodsport was about to commence, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the sight of combatants eager to prove themselves.

 

Kassandra leaned in, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You don’t want to get your hands dirty again, do you?”

 

Zion smirked, his gaze locked on the arena. “Tempting, isn’t it? But I think I’ll leave the bloodbath to the professionals.”

 

“Good choice,” Kassandra replied, her tone shifting to something more serious. “We lost many field officers in the winter war. After this game, we’ll recruit the gladiator winners to fill those gaps. So I hope you’re ready with your next speech.”

 

Zion nodded, still riveted by the chaos below. The idea of fresh blood mingling with his ranks intrigued him. He turned to Kassandra, ready to share his thoughts, when the game concluded and the arena fell silent.

 

Later, in the command room, Zion and Kassandra were joined by four figures—the Wardogs.

 

First up was Juggernaut, a hulking presence in a shiny silver exosuit, his bald head gleaming under the lights.

 

Next was Trickster, his skin a striking dark green, with hair split into two colors: white on the left and black on the right, giving him a mischievous look.

 

Then there was Weaver, dressed in the standard military garb of the Red Nation, a noticeable scar running down his cheek adding to his rugged appearance.

 

Finally, in the corner sat Wraith himself, his presence felt even in silence.

 

Kassandra shifted from playful banter to serious mode. “Sir, we intercepted a transmission from our agent in Red Nation territory. There’s been a breach at the gladiator training camp. Our assets have gone dark.”

 

Zion’s expression darkened, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”

 

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed, her voice steady. “Those assets were supposed to provide intel on troop movements and infrastructure upgrades. They’re valuable, and I’ll do everything I can to recover them.”

 

“Make it happen,” Zion commanded, his tone firm. “I want to know everything about this gladiator rebellion—who’s behind it and what their motivations are.”

 

Behind him, the Wardogs stood at attention, their faces masks of grim determination. Kassandra turned to them, her gaze unwavering.

 

“Understood, sir. We’ll launch an investigation immediately,” she assured him.

 

The lieutenants echoed in unison, “We won’t stop until we’ve identified the cause of this rebellion and neutralized the threat.”

 

Zion nodded, his mind racing with strategies. The rebellion posed a potential threat to the free world, and it had to be dealt with decisively. “Good. We need to act swiftly.”

 

As Zion exited the command room, Kassandra turned to the Wardogs. “What do you think?”

 

Weaver, the most cunning of the bunch, shrugged. “That gladiator rebellion is going to shake the whole Red Nation. Our assets will have to handle that mess one way or another.”

 

Trickster, ever the mischievous strategist, grinned. “A rebellion means opportunity. We can use this to our advantage.”

 

Wraith’s voice, a low rasp, echoed from the shadows. “Destabilization.”

 

Kassandra glared at Wraith and Trickster. “How can this be good for us? The gladiators are the backbone of their army!”

 

Trickster laughed, mischief glinting in his eyes. “If a gladiator rebellion can shake the Red Nation to its core Backbones break. Especially cracked ones.” He mimed a cracking sound. “A spark is all it takes.”

 

Kassandra crossed her arms, skepticism on her face. “I never know what’s going on in your heads, but Zion trusts you. So, I’ll leave this matter to you.”

 

Weaver nodded, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The Red Nation’s gladiators are tough, but they’re only human. After all the brutality they’ve witnessed, it’s no wonder they’re rising up. We need to turn the gladiators against their masters. Once we break their trust, the whole empire will start to fall apart.”

 

Kassandra raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re planning for a rebellion, are you?”

 

Weaver leaned forward. “They’re tired of being tools. We just need to… adjust their focus.”

Juggernaut nodded approvingly. “Clever. This way, we destabilize the Red Nation without risking our own elite forces.”

 

Wraith chimed in, “It’ll be slow work, but if we can convince enough gladiators to turn against their masters, it could trigger a chain reaction that brings down the entire empire.”

 

Kassandra remained quiet, contemplating the implications. “What happens after the Red Nation falls?”

Weaver’s smirk widened. “A new world order. Zion’s order. Pax Zionica. Finally, peace.”

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed. “Peace? By destroying one of the nations he leads?”

Weaver met her gaze, his confidence unwavering. “A necessary sacrifice for a greater future.”

Kassandra leaned forward. “Explain. Zion leads both the Khaganate and the Red Nation. How does destroying one benefit him?”

Weaver spread his arms. “The Red Nation is a tool. A buffer. But it’s also a liability. It dilutes Zion’s power. Without it…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Kassandra’s skepticism was palpable. “No more Red Nation? That’s… revolution. Is that what Zion wants? We’re still struggling to fully integrate the Khaganate, and now you’re talking about dissolving the Red Nation too? It’s insane.”

Weaver’s smile faded, his tone sharpening. “Insane? Or strategic? Our intel is clear: the Red Nation is crumbling. The gladiators are just the first crack. This is our chance.”

Kassandra crossed her arms. “And the war in Asia? The True Horde? The Crescent Alliance?”

Weaver shrugged. “Distractions. While they’re focused on us, we’ll be dismantling the Red Nation from within.”

Kassandra rubbed her temples, a headache forming. “I still don’t see how this benefits Zion. He loses a massive army.”

Weaver leaned in, his voice low. “He loses a puppet army. He gains absolute control. No more divided loyalties. No more competing power structures. Just Zion.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “And those gladiator armies? They’ll be… repurposed.”

Kassandra’s eyes widened slightly. She finally understood. The Red Nation wasn't just being weakened; it was being absorbed. Its resources, its infrastructure, its soldiers—all would be folded into Zion’s personal power base.And Zion… he wouldn't be leading two nations anymore. He'd be leading an empire.

A few days later, the atmosphere in California Red’s command center was thick with tension. A red officer approached Zion. “Sir, a transmission from Xian. Alam requests a parley.”

Zion’s eyes narrowed. “Another gambit? Like Pompey before Pharsalus, he seems confident despite his weaker position. The Crescent Alliance is still weeks away.” He turned to Kassandra. “Accept the call.”

The monitor flickered, revealing Alam’s grinning face. “Happy New Year, Red Hair! Sleep well?”

Zion offered a tight smile. “And to you, Alam. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.”

 “Did you receive my New Year gift?” Alam asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Zion nodded slowly, recalling the unexpected gesture. “I did. It was thoughtful—unexpected. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Alam chuckled, his eyes glinting. “Do you like the thrill and hate in your body?”

Zion felt those emotions stirring again, but he maintained his composure. “I felt some of both, yes. Anger mainly towards you, not the gift itself.”

“Ahaha! Flattered! Good news, perhaps it’s not just a gift.” Alam winked, leaning in closer to the screen.

Intrigue flickered in Zion’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Take a look.” Alam gestured to the side, and the screen displayed a list of Blood Khaganate officers and generals. “Recognize them? Don’t say it—maybe you don’t. You see them as pawns.”

Zion scanned the names, a flicker of satisfaction warming his expression. “They think too much. They’ll fight you.”

Alam’s grin widened. “They probably overthink. Countless plans to counter your next move.”

“Are you aware of a potential rebellion?” Zion asked, his tone sharp.

“Indeed. How will you counter it?” Alam pressed, curiosity evident.

Zion’s answer was curt. “Identifying its leaders and base is the first step. Then a targeted attack to eliminate or capture key commanders. Disorient them, make them easier to deal with.”

“Classic. No emotion?” Alam teased.

Zion’s expression hardened. “No. My duty is to protect the free world. Countering threats like this rebellion is paramount. But my duty outweighs potential threats”

 “You’re… weird. Tell me about your rise to power. How did you kill General Wu?” Alam’s tone shifted, curiosity piquing.

Zion met Alam’s gaze, his face an emotionless mask as he began his story. He recounted his days as a gladiator in the Blood Khaganate Empire, leading up to the fateful duel with General Wu, the leader of the Blood Khaganate army, then meet wraith and conquer north america

 

“Any feelings after taking his life?” Alam asked, his voice low.

Zion’s expression remained devoid of emotion. “It was necessary. The Blood Khaganate was built on violence and tyranny. Wu was a ruthless leader. Taking his life was the only way to ensure freedom for the Blood Khaganate and destroy the Empire.”

 

Alam leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do we have to be ruthless too?”

 

Zion paused, weighing his thoughts. “There are similarities between the Blood Khaganate and the Red Nation,” he began, his voice steady. “Both are ruthless, bloodthirsty, obsessed with power and control. But the Blood Khaganate was born from harsh deserts and wastelands,

and in red nation., only the ruthless survive. We will build a society where loyalty is rewarded, and weakness is punished.”

 

Alam’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not talking about nations. I’m talking about you. Do you think of yourself as ruthless?”

 

Zion contemplated the question, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire. Alam broke it with a chuckle. “If I talk about myself… yeah, perhaps I’m kinda ruthless.”

 

Zion couldn’t help but smile, impressed by Alam’s honesty. “And how about you, Red Hair?” Alam asked, his tone playful.

 

Zion’s smile widened, recalling their banter in the Colosseum. “I’m not ruthless like you, Alam. I’m more of a calculating and strategic leader.”

 

Alam raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I see. That’s precisely what a ruthless person would say.”

 

Zion laughed, the tension easing a notch as he appreciated Alam’s wit. “Touché.”

 

“Let’s do a truce,” Alam proposed suddenly. “Stop attacking me, and we’ll fight together against your rebellious general.”

 

Zion blinked, taken aback by Alam’s boldness. He fell silent, contemplating the implications of such an alliance. Admiration swelled within him for Alam’s straightforwardness. “So…” Alam prompted, his gaze unwavering.

 

“I agree,” Zion replied, his voice steady. “A truce may benefit us both in the short term. We can focus on dealing with the rebellious general and his forces. But let me be clear: this truce is temporary. Once the rebellion is dealt with, we will resume our conflict.”

 

Sniff “... okay, good enough,” Alam said,

 

“Then it’s settled. We’ll work together to address the rebellion, and we won’t attack each other during this time,” Zion affirmed.

 

Alam sniff,. “Yes, I guarantee the Wanderer and True Horde armies will stop killing your poor troops in the steppes.”

 

Zion nodded, the weight of the moment settling in. “I’ll trust your word on this. The free world forces will halt operations against the Wanderer and True Horde for now, as we focus on the rebellion. Afterward, we can resume our conflicts.”

 

“Very well,” Alam replied. “And one last thing... what’s your favorite food?”

 

Zion’s expression remained serious, but a playful spark ignited within him. “My favorite food? I really love steak. What about you?”

 

“Ahaha! A classic dictator food! You crave power and domination, don’t you?” Alam teased.

 

Zion smirked, enjoying the banter. “I do not crave power and domination. I seek to protect the free world from tyrants. Steak is just delicious and nourishing; it helps me maintain my strength.”

 

“I like chocolate cake and bitter coffee,” Alam said, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I play hard and fight hard.”

 

Zion nodded, still grinning. “I see you enjoy things that excite and energize you. Chocolate cake gives you that sugar rush, and bitter coffee is a caffeine jolt. I can see how those fit your personality.”

 

“Very well... don’t die too quickly,” Alam said with mock seriousness. “I want to see you in prison.” Then the call ended, leaving Zion in contemplative silence.

 

His thoughts swirled with mixed emotions—amusement and a grudging respect for Alam’s blunt honesty. “A temporary alliance. Like Caesar and Pompey against the Senate. A convenient arrangement until one of us decides to betray the other.”

Kassandra broke the silence. “He’s… unconventional. A dangerous quality in an enemy.”

Zion's smile faded. "This truce is temporary. Once the rebellion is crushed, we'll remind the Khan who's in charge." He turned to Kassandra. "Our forces are positioned in Asia. The Strato Cannon is ready. A swift strike against the disloyal elements within the Red Nation, then we turn our full attention to the True Horde."

Kassandra frowned. "Identifying those 'disloyal elements' is the problem, sir. The Red Nation… it's not a homogenous force. We're talking about a dozen different cultures, religions, even ideologies crammed together. It's a powder keg."

Zion’s gaze drifted to the cityscape. "Diversity can be a strength," he mused, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

"Or a weakness," Kassandra countered. "Foreign agents could exploit those divisions. Plant seeds of dissent. Turn them against each other, and against us."

Zion's jaw tightened. "Which is why we'll be watching them closely. Increased surveillance. Strict control of communications. Any hint of trouble, we'll squash it."

While the world watches us deal with our internal problems, we will consolidate our power.

Chapter 70 The Gathering Storm

 

The Wanderers had sown discord throughout the Khaganate and Free World territories. Alam knew it was a temporary reprieve. Zion would retaliate. He focused on preparing for the inevitable storm.

 

Later, Alam made his way to the underground bunker, eager for the latest updates. Croque, the ever-enthusiastic doll engineer, greeted him at the entrance.

 

“So... show me the good news,” Alam said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

 

“Hey there, Alam! I have fantastic news! We’ve kicked off mass production of the mud launcher prototype. We’ll have enough to launch the main offensive soon!” Croque beamed, her cheerful smile brightening the dim space.

 

“Indeed... dolls are good, fast workers,” Alam replied, giving her a friendly pat on the head.

 

Croque felt a rush of embarrassment but secretly enjoyed the warmth of the gesture. Physical contact was new to her, but Alam’s hand felt nice.

 

“Heh, thanks! It’s all thanks to the dolls’ hard work that we’ve been able to manufacture the mud launchers so efficiently,” she said, her pride evident.

 

“Yeah... but why are you helping me?” Alam asked, genuinely curious.

 

Croque hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Well, I suppose I’m curious about your plan to overthrow the Expeditionary Red Army and the Free World. I want to see if it’s really possible to change this planet, which has been stuck in endless warfare between these two superstates. It’s an interesting challenge, and I’m eager to see the results.”

 

With that, Alam felt a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they were on the brink of something big, and the stakes had never been higher.

 

“Hhm... interesting. So, besides being a factory worker, what else can dolls do?” Alam inquired.

 

Croque thought for a moment. “Besides manufacturing, dolls are used for various tasks like combat and maintenance. Many doll units support human soldiers on the battlefield, while others help with construction and facility upkeep. Some even serve in domestic roles, like housemaids and assistants.”

 

“Dolls as soldiers?” Alam asked, intrigued.

 

“Yes! Dolls can be outfitted with weapons and support systems, making them suitable for military applications. They maintain peak physical performance for long periods, are immune to extreme environments, and are less affected by emotions, making them obedient and responsive to orders. These traits make dolls excellent candidates for military use.”

 

“I see the idea... but isn’t using AI forbidden in warfare?” Alam pressed.

 

Croque nodded. “That’s a valid question. While there’s no specific law that outright bans AI in war, many people oppose it due to ethical concerns and potential unintended consequences. They worry that AI could become a ‘killer machine’ that loses any sense of humanity or conscience. There’s also the fear that AI might not distinguish between combatants and civilians, increasing the risk of innocent casualties.”

 

“So, people still use it, huh?” Alam asked.

 

“Yes, that’s correct. Despite the opposition, some countries and organizations still utilize AI in military operations. They believe the advantages, like better accuracy and reduced friendly fire risks, outweigh the moral dilemmas.”

 

 “Yeah, sure. Anyway, show me the weapon.”

 

Croque nodded and led Alam into the weapon manufacturing facility where the mud launchers were being produced and stored.

 

“Alright, we’re here. Take a look!”

 

She gestured toward the stacks of mud launchers neatly arranged in the facility. Thousands of them stood ready, showcasing the efficiency of the doll workers and the success of their production line.

 

In the grand hall of Xian Palace, Alam addressed the assembled warlords. The room crackled with tension. These were men who saw themselves as emperors in waiting, each clinging to the faded glory of ancient dynasties.

 

as the influence of the True Horde spread closer to Central China, they found themselves clashing with more traditional views. Some even questioned Alam's legitimacy, suggesting he wasn't "Chinese enough" to rule the region. But today, Alam stood tall and confident.

 

With a grin spreading across his face, Alam stepped forward. “Greetings, kings and generals—or should I say, wannabe kings?” He raised an eyebrow, eliciting a few chuckles. “Today, we gather to discuss the fate of China, and I thank you for responding to my invitation. We must unite against our common enemy: the Red Army.”

 

He gestured to a holographic map displaying Red Army troop movements. “One to three million strong. They will sweep through the north like a flood if we remain divided.

. If we continue squabbling over petty territory or cling to outdated ideologies, it’s only a matter of time before we’re defeated.”

 

The mood in the room shifted palpably; whispers of concern spread like wildfire. Alam watched as the gravity of the situation settled in. The warlords leaned in closer, their faces illuminated by the screen’s glow,

 

“Now, it’s clear that the True Horde has been fighting them since the beginning of this war,” Alam asserted, his voice gaining strength. “Today, I offer you all a chance to join the Confederation and repel the Red Army.”

 

A charged atmosphere enveloped the hall. The warlords exchanged solemn glances as they processed Alam’s proposal.

 

“Please,” Alam pressed, taking a seat, “the question is simple: will you unite to fight this common enemy?”

 

The silence was deafening as the attendees contemplated his words. One by one, hands began to rise—tentative at first, then with increasing confidence.

 

A thin man with glasses, seated in a corner, raised his hand. “Yes, please. My name is Li Feng, ruler of the Han Dynasty Restoration Movement. I believe a confederation is a wise decision. It would allow us to focus our forces on a single threat. We must prepare for a prolonged conflict; the Red Army will not back down easily.”

 

“Thank you, Li Feng,” Alam replied, his smile genuine. “But will you trust your army and resources under the banner of the True Horde without question?”

 

Li Feng nodded firmly. “I will place my army and resources under your banner. The stakes are too high to hesitate. We must unite if we wish to stand against their overwhelming numbers. I trust you, Alam, to lead us to victory.”

 

Alam’s heart swelled with pride. “What an honor. Thank you. And how about the rest of you?”

 

Hands shot up across the room, a chorus of support forming. The warlords seemed ready to rally behind Alam, their spirits lifted by the possibility of unity.

 

But one figure remained silent: a chubby man in body armor, his eyes closed in contemplation. Alam turned to him, curiosity piqued. “Sir, do you have something to say?”

 

The chubby man opened his eyes slowly, scanning the room with a neutral expression. “As a representative of the Qin Dynasty Restoration Movement, I find myself torn,” he began, his voice steady. “On one hand, I see the wisdom in joining forces with the Wanderer Group…”

 

Alam interjected, “Yes, sometimes pride must be set aside for the greater good. Will you and your faction be brave enough to take that step?”

 

The chubby man hesitated, weighing his options. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. I am willing to set aside my personal prejudices for a greater cause. The Qin Dynasty Restoration Movement stands ready to fight alongside the Wanderer Group against the Red Army.”

 

"Thank you," Alam said, a heavy sigh escaping him. “Then let us raise our cups—for the True Horde!”

 

Cheers erupted in the hall as cups were raised high, the sound of clinking reverberating through the air. “Long live Alam!” some shouted, their voices filled with newfound fervor. The atmosphere crackled with energy, a unity forged in the heat of impending battle.

 

With this renewed sense of purpose, the True Horde stood poised to confront the Red Army, ready to face the storm that loomed on the horizon. Alam’s heart raced with the thrill of leadership, aware that this was just the beginning of a formidable alliance—a force that could change the fate of China forever.

As the meeting wrapped up, the grand hall of the Xian Palace began to empty, the air still crackling with the energy of united purpose. Alam spotted General Zhang leaning against a pillar just outside the room, a contemplative look on his face.

 

“Well, General,” Alam called, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Good day, huh? Are you in the mood for a poem now?”

 

General Zhang lifted his head, a faint smile breaking through his stoic demeanor. “Indeed it is. The warlords of China are now united under the banner of the True Horde, ready to face the Red Army’s impending invasion. But now the real work begins. We must prepare our forces and strategies to confront the enemy directly.”

 

“Good!” Alam grinned, leaning in with mock seriousness. “Say something poetic. I’m all ears.”

 

Zhang chuckled softly, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Very well. How about this?” He cleared his throat dramatically before reciting:

 

“Though our battles may leave the fields in ruins, 

And our foes may cry of ruin and demise, 

Yet we press forth with conviction and hope, 

For in the ruins of battle, a new dawn will rise.”

 

Alam’s smile widened, his enthusiasm infectious. “Now that I like! It’s very relatable to our current situation.” He took a sip from his cup, savoring the moment.

 

General Zhang nodded, visibly pleased with Alam’s praise, but his mind was already shifting back to the pressing concerns of impending war. The gathering of warlords had been a significant step, but the true challenge lay ahead

“Do you notice something strange?” Alam’s tone turned thoughtful. “Like, do you think those warlords are really fighting for something more than just the names of ancient empires?”

Zhang considered this. “They cling to the past, yes. But they also yearn for a unified China. Nostalgia can be a powerful motivator.”

Alam stretched his arms overhead, a playful expression crossing his face. “Fighting for ancient beliefs sounds romantic, but it’s unrealistic.”

 

Zhang considered this, stroking his beard again. “There’s definitely romance in nostalgia, a yearning for what once was. But we must ground our goals in reality. Sentiment can’t overshadow the practicalities of our current situation.”

 

“Speaking of practicalities,” Alam said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “have you flirted with Fang yet?”

 

General Zhang chuckled, a warmth spreading across his face. “Ah, Fang... Yes, I’ve managed to form a relationship with her. She’s a charming woman, and her fighting skills are quite impressive. I hope to explore this relationship further and see where it leads us.”

 

“Good!” Alam clapped him on the shoulder, his spirits visibly lifted. “That makes my day even better. Stay strong, General.” With that, he turned to leave.

 

As Alam walked away, General Zhang felt a wave of relief wash over him. Alam’s encouragement was a balm to his worries. With a renewed sense of purpose, he prepared to resume his duties, ready to lead his forces into the brewing storm. The weight of the impending battle loomed large, but he was not alone. Together with Alam and the united warlords, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Chapter 71 The War Council

 

In January, Alam called a war council in Xian Palace. The opulent room felt tense as he addressed Baihu, Jax, General Zhang, and other top Wanderers. The future of their newly won territory—their survival, even—hung in the balance.

“Alright,” Alam began, his voice firm but friendly. “We control most of China now. Bringing these new territories and armies into the True Horde is going to be a huge job. We’re taking on their generals and officers too, but we’re going to test them first. I don’t care if they’re old war heroes—we need brains, not just medals.”

The room went quiet. Everyone understood: this wasn’t just about numbers; it was about loyalty and skill.

“A lot of these leaders are stuck in the past,” Alam continued. “Their armies are outdated, and they probably hate each other. Our officers will be key to making this work.”

The officers nodded, looking both determined and worried. They knew how tough it would be to unite these old enemies.

“We’re stretched thin, so we need to be the backbone of this whole thing,” Alam said, looking around the room. “Anyone want to add anything?”

Baihu stepped forward. “Sir, the Wanderer officers are ready to lead these new forces. We’re trained and ready. We’ll make sure the integration goes smoothly.”

“Good,” Alam replied. “But we need to watch for trouble. We need to be ready to deal with any problems that come up.”

Baihu nodded, understanding.

Alam rubbed his chin. “Basically, I need you all on the same page as me.”

The officers exchanged glances. They knew what he meant: total loyalty.

“Let’s talk about why China’s been divided for so long and why these warlords popped up in the first place,” Alam said. “A little history lesson will help us understand our new allies.”

One representative stood up. “Sir, the Warring States period lasted for decades. Constant fighting led to the Qin dynasty, then the Three Kingdoms: the Blood Khaganate, the Xian Empire, and the Flying Dragon. It was a mess of warlords fighting for power.”

“Exactly,” Alam said. “But why do they all use these old empire names?”

“To make themselves seem more important,” the representative replied. “To connect themselves to past glory.”

“Exactly,” Alam continued, his voice rising. “They seek to see themselves as successors of the past. But we, the True Horde, are different. We are new and original, with our own vision.”

 

“Now,” he announced, raising his cup, “we are making history for the True Horde!”

 

The assembled members raised their cups in unison, their faces set with determination. The True Horde would forge a new path, striving for a united and prosperous China.

 

As the discussion shifted, officers began to analyze the various factions they had recruited. The atmosphere was lively, filled with intense debate about their histories, reputations, and conflicts. The officers knew that understanding their new allies was crucial to their success.

 

“Let’s talk about how to deal with factions that have a bad reputation,” Alam prompted, his gaze sweeping the room.

 

One officer spoke up, cautious yet firm. “We must be mindful of those factions. While they may be allies now, we cannot forget their past actions. We must maintain control and be ready to act decisively if they threaten our unity.”

 

“Agreed,” Alam replied, his expression serious. “But some of our soldiers are vagabonds and outlaws. We need to offer them a chance to change. We must keep our eyes on them, but we won’t be overly harsh.”

 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Alam’s point resonated; many within the Wanderer Group had joined for second chances, fleeing their pasts.

 

“Yes,” Alam continued. “But as the prophet said, betrayal is one of the worst sins. We’ll tolerate their dubious reputations, but zero tolerance for betrayal.”

 

The officers nodded, understanding the gravity of Alam’s words. Betrayal could fracture their unity and lead to ruin.

 

“Now, let’s move on,” Alam said, shifting the focus to a map of China projected on the screen. “With most factions joined, we can now deal with the remaining minor factions while we maintain a short truce with the Red Nation. We will position ourselves as the dominant power in China once the truce is over.”

 

“Fang,” Alam called, “can you give us a quick intel briefing on the minor factions resisting us?”

 

Fang stepped forward, a data screen in hand. “Currently, six minor factions are opposing the True Horde. The remants Flying Dragon in East China and the Blood Khaganate in the north are the largest. The Xian Empire and White Lotus Society are smaller but significant. The Phantom Cult and Shadow Guard are the smallest but fiercely resistant.”

 

“Interesting,” Alam said, leaning closer. “The Flying Dragon? Didn’t we destroy their base three years ago? How did they revive?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Fang confirmed. “A new leader has emerged—charismatic and inspiring. They’ve rallied their remnants and become a formidable force once again.”

 

“And the Xian Empire? They still resist us in the mountains?” Alam probed.

 

“Correct,” Fang replied. “They refuse to back down, despite losing their capital.”

 

“What about the Phantom Cult and Shadow Guard? Those names sound intriguing,” Alam said, a grin forming.

 

Fang nodded, her tone serious. “The Phantom Cult is secretive and known for advanced technology and covert operations. their technology blurring the lines between reality and illusion. They say they can move through shadows, manipulate minds, and even predict the future

 

 The Shadow Guard, however, is well-armed and organized, dedicated to defending their territory. They have yet to be defeated in direct confrontations.”

 

“And the White Lotus?” Alam asked.

 

“The White Lotus Society values tradition and cultural heritage above all,” Fang explained. “They are descendants of ancient clans, believing they are the rightful rulers. They resent modernity and foreign influence, committed to preserving their way of life.”

 

“Right,” Alam said, his brow furrowing. “We should handle the White Lotus delicately. Despite their small numbers, harsh measures could damage our reputation.”

 

Fang nodded, recognizing the wisdom in Alam’s approach. The White Lotus Society’s idealism could complicate matters if not managed carefully.

 

“Alright, gentlemen and brave woman,” Alam concluded, “we’ll prioritize eliminating the remnants of the Xian Empire and the Flying Dragon alongside our new allies. We’ll gather more intel on the Shadow Guard and Phantom Cult first. Any questions?”

 

The gathered members exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. They understood the plan and the priorities laid out before them.

 

“Good,” Alam said, satisfied. “And Fang, arrange for a meeting with the leader of the White Lotus.”

 

Fang nodded, ready to facilitate the meeting.

 

Just a day later, she arrived at Alam’s office, excitement in her voice. “The leader of the White Lotus Society has agreed to meet with you.”

 

“Well, that was quick!” Alam exclaimed, leaning forward. “Where do they want to meet?”

 

Fang’s smile widened. “They prefer a neutral location to avoid any potential conflicts. I suggest the ancient ruins of a temple—a place without political or religious significance.”

 

“Great idea,” Alam said, considering the map. “How about the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor?”

 

Fang nodded enthusiastically. “That works perfectly. It’s a historical, neutral site. A fitting backdrop for a meeting with the leader of the White Lotus Society.”

 

As Alam finalized the details, a sense of anticipation filled the room. This meeting could be pivotal, an opportunity to bridge the gaps between past grievances and a hopeful future. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but Alam felt a flicker of optimism. Together, they were crafting a new legacy—a True Horde that would not just honor the past, but redefine it.

 

In the heart of winter, Alam stood at the center of the vast Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor, the cold biting at his skin as he awaited the leader of the White Lotus Society. The expansive grounds around him were eerily silent, save for the muffled crunch of snow beneath the heavy boots of his Wanderer Group soldiers, who stood vigil, eyes scanning the desolate landscape for any hint of danger.

 

The imposing mound of the mausoleum loomed in the distance, a testament to ancient power and ambition. Alam felt the weight of history pressing down on him, a stark reminder of the legacies he was trying to forge.

 

After a brief moment, a cart creaked toward him, pulled by a weary-looking horse. An old man with long, white hair and a beard stepped down, dressed in a pristine white robe that fluttered slightly in the cold wind. He bowed before Alam, his movements slow but dignified.

 

“Welcome,” Alam said, bowing slightly in return. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

 

The old man, his pale face gaunt yet composed, remained silent, his long hair framing his features like a ghostly shroud. Alam sized him up, trying to gauge the intentions of this enigmatic leader.

 

“Ehem... This is the third time I’ve visited this place since I took Xian,” Alam continued, breaking the tension. “Especially the terracotta warriors. They represent the peak of what power can give a mortal man.”

 

The old man nodded slowly, as if he understood the significance of Alam’s words. The mausoleum, with its vast array of terracotta figures, was indeed a monumental testament to the power and ambition of a long-gone empire.

 

“Now,” Alam pressed on, “you’ve heard the news. Most major factions in China have joined my True Horde confederation—both your allies and your enemies. So, the question is: why don’t you follow them?”

 

The old man’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing his stoic features. He took a moment before he spoke, his voice low and steady. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

 

“Yes,” Alam replied, leaning in, intrigued.

 

“I do not wish to kneel before another. I will not surrender my freedom or the freedom of my people,” he stated firmly. “I refuse to let a distant empire dictate our destiny.”

 

“I see,” Alam said, considering the weight of the old man’s words. “But this isn’t just about submission; it’s about survival. As the old saying goes, together we are stronger.”

 

The old man shook his head, rejecting Alam’s argument. “I do not see why we cannot stand together as equals. I know you are a powerful leader, but we can find common ground that respects our independence.”

 

Alam’s brow furrowed as he processed this. “Please, come inside. It’s cold out here.” He gestured toward a nearby tent, where a teapot awaited them.

 

The old man followed, and once inside, the warmth enveloped them. He settled at the table, clearly more at ease now that they were shielded from the elements.

 

After taking a sip of tea, Alam continued, “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I’m Alam. I was a squad leader in the Wanderer Group and led campaigns in Europe before forming the True Horde Confederation.”

 

The elder sipped his tea, a flicker of acknowledgment crossing his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alam. I have heard of your campaigns. My name is not important, but I am the leader of the White Lotus Society.”

 

“No, it is important,” Alam insisted, leaning forward. “You know the saying: a name shows character, right?”

 

The old man smiled slightly, a hint of amusement breaking through his stoicism. “Very well then. My name is Tao Zhuang. Now, may I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course,” Alam replied, intrigued.

 

“What is the purpose of the True Horde Confederation? Why have you united these factions? What is your end goal in China?”

 

Alam chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Well, after we repel the Red Nation, I plan to reduce military campaigns and focus on stabilizing the region. I’ve seen how empires fall apart after their leaders die—look at Alexander and Genghis Khan. Their generals killed each other after they were gone. I don’t want that.”

 

Tao nodded, understanding the wisdom behind Alam’s words. He recognized the futility of conquest and the chaos that often followed a leader's demise.

 

“Now, can I ask you a question?” Alam inquired, eager to understand more.

 

“Please do,” Tao replied, his demeanor calm and respectful.

 

“I’m aware your faction is small and has meager soldiers. How have you survived this long?”

 

Tao smiled, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “We may seem vulnerable, but we’ve been crafty and resourceful. We’ve hidden our true strength and used our knowledge of the terrain to our advantage. We fight with cunning, not brute force.”

 

“Classic strategy,” Alam remarked. “What sets you apart from other factions?”

 

“We are driven by philosophical and spiritual goals,” Tao explained, his tone earnest. “We’re not motivated by greed but by a genuine desire to preserve our heritage. We cherish tradition and honor our ancestors. We care for our people and our land.”

 

“Understood,” Alam said, leaning back. “If you join my confederation, you’ll retain some autonomy. We respect your culture and religion, but we will require some tribute.”

 

Tao shook his head firmly. “I appreciate the offer, but the White Lotus Society cannot join your confederation. We value our independence and will not surrender it, no matter how reasonable your proposal seems.”

 

“Why not?” Alam pressed, frustration creeping into his voice. “Our tribute system is fairer than war.”

 

Tao sighed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face beneath his beard. “Do you honestly believe we would abandon our beliefs for a fair tribute system? We desire autonomy, not subjugation. We will not sell our souls.”

 

Alam’s brow furrowed in thought. “What if I made your territory a cultural heritage site? You would become a symbol of the Confederacy’s spiritual legacy.”

 

Tao raised an eyebrow, the surprise evident in his eyes. “You would grant us that status? What would be the conditions? What would that mean for our autonomy?”

 

“Yes, but the tribute system would still be in place. I can’t have other factions envying your special status. You must understand my position.”

 

Tao nodded slowly, contemplating Alam’s words. “Very well. We accept your offer for cultural heritage status, recognizing us as a symbol of the Confederacy's spiritual legacy. We will continue to pay tribute, understanding the need for fairness.”

 

Alam clapped his hands, satisfaction filling him. “So, are you ready to join the True Horde?”

 

Tao nodded, a sense of resolution settling over him. “Yes, I am ready to join the True Horde. My faction and I will unite under this confederation, committed to preserving our heritage and beliefs while fulfilling our responsibilities.”

 

“Good.” Alam raised his cup in a toast before finishing his tea. “Before you leave, I want your insight on something.”

 

Tao followed Alam deeper into the tent, curiosity piqued. They reached the terracotta complex, the statues looming like silent sentinels. “What do you think about these statues?” Alam asked. “Do you believe that sometimes doing something extravagant is necessary? They can’t guard the emperor in the afterlife, can they?”

 

Tao regarded the statues with a mix of awe and admiration. “They may be extravagant, but they symbolize the power of the Qin dynasty—a lasting legacy. Their presence is a testament to ambition and might, even if impractical.”

 

“... So?” Alam urged, his interest piqued.

 

“What is the purpose of your visit here?” Tao asked, confusion flickering across his features.

 

“Sorry for my cryptic question,” Alam said, chuckling slightly. “I mean, is it okay to do something extravagant sometimes?”

 

Tao considered the question carefully. “Extravagance can have positive and negative implications. It can showcase power, but it can also lead to excess. It depends on the context.”

 

“Do you think this terracotta is acceptable?” Alam pressed.

 

“Absolutely,” Tao replied. “They reflect the grandeur of the Qin dynasty. They remind us of the empire's legacy.”

 

“Here’s a hard question,” Alam continued. “If I were to build a monument after this war, would that be acceptable?”

 

Tao took a moment, then nodded slowly. “Under certain circumstances, building a monument is acceptable. It can symbolize the accomplishments of a campaign. But consideration must be given to the costs and resources involved.”

 

“Of course,” Alam agreed. “It would be strange to build a monument while my people are starving.”

 

Tao nodded in acknowledgment, understanding the importance of ethics and social responsibility in leadership.

 

“Do you have anything else to say, Tao?” Alam asked.

 

Tao shook his head, his expression thoughtful yet reserved. “I have said all I need to.”

 

“Very well,” Alam said, a hint of a smile on his face. “We may meet again. Until then, farewell.”

 

“Farewell, Alam,” Tao replied, a soft smile gracing his lips. “It has been a pleasure speaking with you. I wish you success in your conquests and leadership.”

 

alam slighty smile and bow to tao before leaving ,  As he stepped away, Alam felt the weight of his decisions, but also the hope for a brighter future. The journey was far from over, 

Chapter 72 Red lotus

So, the White Lotus joined up in late January 2405. Tao Zhuang and his crew brought a weird mix of ancient rituals and solid strategy to the table. They weren't a huge army, but they had serious influence. Think scholar-farmers, artisan-techies—keepers of old traditions and lost tech.

They knew how to make the messed-up land productive again, fix broken stuff, and even brought a bit of chill to the other, more trigger-happy factions. They were cool with Alam calling the shots militarily, but kept their own internal affairs and temples off-limits. It was a good balance, and it definitely made the Confederacy a bigger player in Central East Asia.

But new territory meant new problems. China was already full of ghost cities before the wars, thanks to crazy urbanization and economic shifts. Now? Even worse. Alam, looking over one crumbling city, just shrugged. “I see… well. Let’s just dismantle those. Use the materials for bunkers or something.”

Digging deeper into the region turned up some interesting finds. One group had turned an old metro tunnel into a thriving city, abandoned Line 10 into a thriving subterranean community. Hydroponic farms, lit by repurposed streetlights, lined the tunnel walls, while a complex network of air scrubbers and water filtration systems maintained a breathable atmosphere.

Another had somehow rigged up anti-gravity—probably salvaged pre-war tech—to build a crazy amusement park inside a ruined mansion. It was a reminder that even in the worst times, people could find ways to adapt and even thrive.

Of course, there were still threats. The Remnant Xian Empire and the mysterious Flying Dragon were still out there.

One day, Alam visited Light in Tibet, eager to catch up. “Hey, I heard you got a new girlfriend,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Light’s mood brightened at the mention of her name. “Yeah... I do,” he admitted, a hint of blush creeping onto his cheeks.

 

“Mei seems like a good girl. I suggest you marry her instead of just playing around,” Alam teased. “But if you really like her... you should probably buy her a nice yak. They’re very romantic.””

 

“I think you’re right,” Light replied, a mischief lighting up his eyes. “I’m actually planning to propose soon. We’re in a good place.”

 

Alam grinned. “That’s great! Speaking of angels, I’ve got a new campaign in the mountains. The enemy has been holed up there for a year, defending their territory.”

 

Light raised an eyebrow. “A mountain fortress, huh? Sounds like a tough battle. You need more resources, right?”

 

“Sure,” Alam said, nodding. “I have fresh units and resources. I’m proposing a new grenadier unit to counter the enemy.”

 

“Interesting,” Light replied, his interest piqued. “But you need to ensure you have enough resources and support for them. Forcing them to be a grenadier unit isn’t enough; they need training to withstand the harsh mountain conditions.”

 

“Of course,” Alam acknowledged. “I’ll pick 1,000 of the best soldiers for this new unit. Any suggestions?”

 

“Definitely start with basic combat training,” Light advised. “Then teach them how to use the terrain to their advantage. They need to know how to navigate the mountains and find enemy hideouts.”

 

“Right,” Alam said, considering the tactical implications. “How do I deal with brutal close-quarters combat while scaling the mountain?”

 

“Setting traps like defensive barriers could limit enemy movement,” Light suggested thoughtfully. “But you also need to be aware of the terrain. It’ll be hard for your unit to maneuver if they don’t have enough training.”

 

“True,” Alam agreed. “I just want something effective to draw them out of their defenses.”

 

Light smirked. “Instead of forcing them out, why not exploit their weaknesses? If they’ve been surviving for years, they must have supplies. Draining their resources could force them to leave their stronghold.”

 

“Ah! I have an idea,” Alam said, excitement sparking in his eyes. “I’ll set up a fake supply base with trackers on the goods. That should make my hunting easier.”

 

“That’s a solid plan,” Light affirmed. “Control their supplies, and they’ll be forced to leave their positions. Once they do, you can strike hard.”

 

“Now, about their tunnels in the mountains,” Alam said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Should I bury them alive or burn them alive?”

 

Light’s expression turned serious. “That’s a difficult problem. You can’t use heavy artillery in the tunnels. I suggest small units.”

 

“If they’re mostly soldiers, you’ll need a larger number of capable fighters for close-quarters combat,” Light advised. “Ensure your soldiers have the upper hand in numbers.”

 

“Got it. Flamethrower units can clear their pillboxes and mountain homes,” Alam declared.

 

"Flamethrowers?" Light said, a grim smile spreading across his face. "Excellent. The thin mountain air will only amplify the effect, and the narrow tunnels will channel the flames, making escape nearly impossible. Plus, the uneven footing will make it difficult for them to aim their return fire."

 

“Excellent!” Alam exclaimed. “So after I set up the decoy supply base, the next phase is to secure the highest peak of the mountains and deal with the lower sides later. Does that sound good?”

 

Light smirked, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Once you control the highest peak, you’ll have a strategic advantage over the area below. Plus, with trackers set up, you’ll know if they try to reclaim it.”

 

“Right,” Alam said, his confidence building. “And I’ll assign smaller units to secure key mountain positions to prevent flanking.”

 

Light nodded, impressed. “Smart thinking. If your main force is vulnerable, it could lead to an ambush. Smaller units can keep an eye out for potential threats.”

 

“Exactly,” Alam replied, feeling a weight lift as he strategized with Light. “How do you cope with the mental burden? I’ve noticed I’ve become a bit too sarcastic since this war dragged on. I fear becoming evil again.”

 

Light’s demeanor shifted, seriousness overtaking his playful nature. “I’ve become quite cold after this war. Trust is hard to come by, but that coldness can be useful in my role.”

 

“Yeah, we become not quite human, huh?” Alam said, sharing in Light’s solemnity.

 

“True,” Light replied, a small chuckle escaping him. “But if being cold helps protect others, then it’s worth it, right?”

 

“Yeah, so... it can’t be helped?” Alam mused, glancing at Light. “Do all great generals and leaders cope in the same way?”

Light paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Hmm... I’m not sure. Each great leader probably has their own method for handling their mental state. Some might resort to drink, others might find comfort in their partners, and some? They just shut off their emotions completely. Honestly, I’m curious about it myself.”

Alam chuckled lightly. “Really? Well, I suppose a woman’s touch can help—at least to some degree.”

Light’s smile returned, brightening his demeanor. “Yeah, a woman’s touch is quite effective.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze warm. “You know, women are tender and kind... their touch can be incredibly comforting.”

“Indeed,” Alam replied, a teasing smile creeping across his face. “Can I ask you a hard question?”

Light smirked, intrigued. “Sure, what is it?”

“Have you committed any war crimes in your past?”

Light’s eyes widened, his jovial demeanor faltering. He seemed to retreat into thought, the weight of Alam’s question pressing heavily on him. “O-oh...” he stammered, lost in memories. “Well... hnm.”

After a moment of silence, Light snapped back to the present, his eyes turning cold. “Yes... I did. Quite a lot, actually.”

Alam nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. “I see. That explains a lot about your methods and your unorthodox strategies.”

“Yeah,” Light admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “I know I’m not exactly a good man. I have many sins in my past. If there are gods out there who want to punish me, then that’s fine. I’m not trying to deny my sins; I just want to atone for them.”

“Don’t worry; we’re all flawed,” Alam said, trying to ease the tension.

Light sighed, glancing away, his fist clenching unconsciously. “Yeah, I know.” He looked back at Alam, sadness in his eyes. “But still... if you don’t mind, please don’t tell anyone about my war crimes.”

“Don’t worry. But... what exactly did you do?” Alam pressed gently.

Light paused, his expression somber. “I prefer not to answer that question,” he said quietly. “Just believe that I regret it. I want to live a new life, as a new person.”

“I see. I have my own regrets too,” Alam said, his voice thoughtful. “But perhaps those mistakes make us wiser.”

Light nodded softly, the weight of their shared burdens hanging in the air. “Yeah, that’s true. What kind of mistakes do you regret?”

Alam answer nonchalantly. “Slavery. Assault against minorities. Stealing. Plundering and razing settlements.”

Light couldn’t help but scoff lightly, a nervous laugh escaping him. “A lot of bad deeds, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alam admitted. “It’s hard to talk about.”

“Right,” Light said, sensing the heaviness of the topic. “It’s a dilemma we need to face in battle.”

Light chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, it is. Because we’re human at the end of the day.”

Suddenly, Light’s expression turned serious. “You know, I kind of regret leaving my wife,” he said, looking down at his clenched fist. “She said she loved me and wanted me to come home, but... I can’t even look her in the eyes anymore.”

“Wait, you’re married?” Alam asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Light replied, his voice low. “That’s why it’s hard for me to accept myself. I feel like I don’t deserve to be called human with this kind of sin.”

“Do you have a child? Is your wife still around?” Alam probed gently.

Light paused, the memories flooding back. “I have a daughter. She was just four years old back then.” He looked down, the weight of his past heavy on his heart. “And my wife is still alive. She forgives me... still wants me to come back. But... I can’t.”

“I see,” Alam said, sympathy in his voice. “The problem lies within you. Your wife has forgiven you, but you haven’t forgiven yourself.”

Light nodded, the truth of Alam’s words sinking in. “Yeah, I know... I really do.”

Alam leaned forward, sensing Light’s internal struggle. “So, what about you? Is there anyone in your life? A woman or a man?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Alam replied, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

Light’s curiosity piqued. “Oh, I see. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Alam said, intrigued.

Light’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Do you have someone you care very much for? Someone other than your close family?”

“Yes, I do,” Alam said with a playful wink. “It’s myself.”

Light chuckled, surprised. “Well, that’s funny. I’m a little surprised because you seem like someone who cares about your close relatives.”

“Of course,” Alam said, his tone serious. “I don’t limit the term family to just blood relations. I see all humans as family.”

Light’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really? Do you mean it? You actually feel that way?”

“Absolutely,” Alam replied, his voice steady. “I feel a connection with most people I meet, even strangers. It’s something profound.”

Light smiled, admiration shining in his eyes. “That’s a wonderful way to see the world. Many think they understand others until problems arise, but you grasp their emotions without even talking to them. How do you do that?”

“There are two answers to that: a wholesome way and a traumatic way,” Alam said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Light’s curiosity was piqued, but he felt a bit nervous. “A wholesome way and a traumatic way? It’s not that I’m trying to pry, but is it okay if I ask about the traumatic part?”

“Let’s just say... I tortured people a lot in my past,” Alam replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

Light flinched, his eyes widening in shock. “You... tortured people?”

He felt a jolt of unease, but the desire to understand pushed him forward. “Why? Why did you do that?”

“I did it for fun,” Alam said with a wry smile. “I had a weird sense of enjoyment watching people in pain. Some might call it sadistic.”

Light felt a shiver run down his spine, a mix of disbelief and discomfort. “That’s... unsettling.”

“Yeah,” Alam said, a shadow crossing his expression. “But I have my reasons for being that way.”

“Do you still have that... weird sense?” Light asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sometimes,” Alam replied with a wink, a playful glint in his eye. “I know normal people might run away after hearing that.”

Light chuckled nervously, leaning closer. “You’re a scary person, Alam. But I’m not going to run away. I still have a question.”

“What is it?” Alam asked, intrigued.

Light paused, gathering his thoughts. “How are you now? Are you... you know... less dangerous?”

“Shhh... let me answer in a wholesome way,” Alam said, his expression turning serious. “I’ve gained another trait beside my sadism: intuition. I learn things quickly, and my understanding of morality and compassion has slowly overcome my darker impulses.”

Light smiled, impressed. “That’s really great. I’m proud of you, dude. You’re an interesting person. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Yeah, I learned it the hard way,” Alam said, his voice softening. “After facing near-death situations, I realized life is fragile and short. Pain woke me up.”

Light regarded him with newfound respect. “Your life almost ended just like that? I’m glad you’re okay now. That must have been scary.”

“More than you can imagine,” Alam said, his voice steady. “That’s why I prefer leading my men from the front. In this tech age, hiding in a bunker won’t save me when my time comes.”

Light nodded, admiration flickering in his eyes. “Damn... yeah, life is too short to be spent hiding from it.” He smiled genuinely, appreciating Alam’s resolve.

“I’ve already opened my cards,” Alam continued, a playful glint in his eye. “So, what about your war crimes? I know this conversation must be weird for normal people, but hey, it’s just the two of us.”

Light’s expression shifted as he recalled the shadows of his past. “Hahaha... yeah, it’s weird. If you want to know... it’s killing innocent people and plundering.”

Alam nodded, his tone serious. “I see. I think crossfire and plunder can’t be avoided in large-scale operations.”

Light’s relief was palpable at the mention of those two, but his smile faded at the thought of innocent lives lost. He leaned forward, his voice low. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Alam replied, intrigued.

“Promise you won’t judge me?” Light’s eyes were earnest.

“Sure,” Alam said, curiosity piqued.

Light took a deep breath, preparing to unveil his vulnerability. “Do you believe in God?”

“Sure,” Alam answered, not missing a beat.

Light continued, “Do you believe in karma? Or fate?”

“Yeah,” Alam replied.

Light smiled, looking hopeful. “Do you think I deserve to be happy after what I’ve done?”

“If you counterbalance your sins, then yes,” Alam said, his gaze steady.

Light’s smile broadened. “Counterbalance? What do you mean?”

“Well,” Alam explained, “if you stole 100 coins, you give back 100 or more. If they’re dead, you donate the equivalent. Something like that.”

Light pondered this, the wheels turning in his mind. “So, I just haven’t done enough to counterbalance my sins?”

“Exactly,” Alam confirmed. “But it’s tricky when life is at stake. After all, we’re talking about killing someone—life is priceless. The way to counterbalance is by protecting other lives.”

Light’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, I see... If I protect more lives than I take, then that counts as a counterbalance, right?”

“Right,” Alam said, pleased. “And pray that they forgive us.”

Light hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. “You sound a bit religious.”

“Yeah, kinda. It’s hard not to be in high-stakes situations,” Alam said with a shrug.

“True,” Light agreed, his expression reflecting the weight of their conversation. “It makes life a little easier, huh?” His smile faltered, sadness creeping in. “But we talk about protecting lives to counterbalance our sins... and if you think about it…”

“What’s on your mind?” Alam asked, sensing the shift in Light’s mood.

“I don’t know... It just feels like protecting lives isn’t enough to counterbalance our sins,” Light said, shaking his head. “It’s not just about the numbers, right? I could kill thousands and protect millions, and it still wouldn’t feel like balance. It seems like a loophole.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Alam said, his expression thoughtful. “But we humans just need to try. What we get after all of this is something we can’t control. When we plan a strategic move, we only control the route and timing. After that, we just wait and pray.”

Light nodded slowly, feeling the weight of their shared dilemmas. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alam studied him, his voice turning serious. “So, let me ask you again: are you afraid of death?”

“No,” Light said, surprised by his own response.

Alam raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not afraid to die?”

“Not anymore,” Light admitted, a newfound courage swelling within him. “I’ve accepted that it could happen at any moment.”

“You know,” Alam said, a hint of admiration in his voice, “that makes you exceptional.”

Light’s surprise was evident. “Really? You think so?”

“Yeah,” Alam replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s normal to fear the unknown. But not fearing death makes you stronger than most.”

Light’s smile returned, though it was tinged with sadness. “I appreciate that, but it’s also a heavy burden to carry.”

“Sure,” Alam said, understanding the complexity of their conversation. “But you know, if I were to die, I’d want to be with my close family.”

Light’s expression shifted, curiosity piqued. “Wait, you have a family?”

“Kind of,” Alam replied, glancing away. “I’m not particularly close with my relatives, but usually, the family handles the body after death.”

Light’s concern deepened. “I see... You should talk to them. It’s never too late.”

“Don’t worry; it’s not that they’re bad. I just have a different mindset.” Alam shrugged, dismissing the notion.

“Different mindset?” Light raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Care to elaborate?”

“Since I was a kid, I’ve been asking my parents and teachers about war. I was six,” Alam said,

Light laughed, the sound genuine. “Your parents must have been shocked by that! You were a special child, huh?”

“Ha! I guess I was,” Alam replied, amusement lighting up his face.

“Yeah,” Light said, his expression softening. “You’re definitely a special person. I hope I can be that kind of person someday.”

Alam smiled, feeling the warmth of camaraderie. “You will, Light. Just keep that spirit alive.”

“Let’s grab something to eat,” Alam suggested, breaking the weight of their conversation.

“Great idea!” Light exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know... what do Tibetans eat?” Alam asked, his curiosity piqued.

Light grinned. “Well, we’ve got yak cheese, some kind of meat, and noodles. Oh, and there’s this drink called chhaang. It’s like wine but made from barley.”

“Good enough for me!” Alam said, feeling lighter already.

Chapter 73 Rebel and The Double Game

 

meanwhile In the dimly lit war room of the Red Nation, tension hung in the air like a thick fog. The flickering screen illuminated a list of potential traitors, and Kassandra leaned over the table, her finger tracing the names with a mix of focus and flair.

 

“Alright, team! Classic dilemma time: strike team, strato cannon, or maybe just a little intel double-checking? You know, the usual ‘let’s not blow everything up just yet’ approach,” she said, a hint of mischief in her tone.

 

Zion, scanned the list with a serious expression. Each name represented a potential headache, and he knew that one wrong move could escalate a mere rebellion into a full-blown civil war.

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he replied, his voice steady. “We need to verify this intel before we unleash any firepower. A strike team or the strato cannon could tip our hand too soon, and we don’t want to give them a reason to rebel—yet.”

 

Kassandra nodded, her eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and pragmatism. “Good call. But do we really need to wait for the purge before we start annexing Blood Khaganate territory? I mean, who doesn’t love a good land grab?”

 

Zion rubbed his chin thoughtfully, weighing her words. “Yes, let’s finish the purge first. It’ll clear out the disloyalists and make our annexation smoother. We don’t want to rush into things and end up with a mess on our hands.”

 

Kassandra smirked, appreciating his cautious approach. “Fair enough. Just remember, while we’re playing it safe, the clock is ticking. Opportunities don’t wait for anyone.”

 

Zion met her gaze, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “Then let’s make sure we’re ready to act when the time comes. We’ll keep our eyes open and our options flexible.”

 

A few days later, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. A red officer burst into the war room,

 

“Sir! You need to see this!” The screen flickered to life, revealing a local news segment from China.

 

The host, Veronica, announced, “Welcome back to Witty World News! Tonight, we’re diving into the heart of China, where the tea is hot and the warlords are hotter! Alam, the Wanderer, has gathered China’s finest warlords like Pokémon—gotta catch 'em all!”

 

Zion’s expression darkened as he watched the unfolding situation. “This is troubling. The Warlords are as unpredictable as a toddler with a sugar rush. One moment they’re building alliances, and the next, they’re throwing tantrums. If they unite under Alam, we’re in for a world of hurt.”

 

Kassandra folded her arms, a smirk forming. “Looks like Alam played his cards right. A truce with us, and now he’s got the warlords eating out of his hand.”

“True,” Zion admitted, “but this new alliance is a real threat to the free world. We need to stay ahead of it.”

Weaver, always practical, suggested, “Let’s pick them off one by one before they unite. Classic assassination. Who’s in?”

Juggernaut, eager for action, raised his hand. “Count me in! I’ll handle those warlords. We coordinate, we strike, and they won’t see it coming.”

Zion considered this. “Taking them all out at once would be ideal, but they’re scattered. Coordinating simultaneous attacks will be tough.”

Weaver nodded, thinking quickly. “They have regular meeting spots. If we can find those, we can take them out one after another without overextending ourselves.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Zion agreed. “Fast, precise strikes. We could use targeted airstrikes and Special Ops. Maximum impact, minimal collateral damage.”

Kassandra raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. “But attacking True Horde territory breaks our truce with Alam. Just saying.”

Zion chuckled. “True, but Alam made it clear he’d understand if we dealt with the horde. As long as we don’t target him directly, we should be fine.”

Weaver nodded. “First, we secure China. The warlords are the biggest obstacle. As for Alam, I’m sure we can negotiate. He’s against the Red Nation; we just need to find common ground.”

Zion felt a glimmer of hope. “Exactly! With Alam’s help, we can dismantle the True Horde’s presence in China.”

Kassandra leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And how do you plan to turn an enemy into an ally?”

Zion’s expression became determined. “I’ll use my diplomatic charm on Alam. We’ll emphasize the shared threat of the Red Nation and explore potential collaboration.”

“Good luck with that,” Kassandra said, feigning seriousness. “Want to call him now?”

Zion nodded confidently. “Yes, let’s get him on the line.”

Moments later, Alam’s face appeared on the screen, a wide grin on his face. “Well, well, well… this is unexpected. Calling to surrender?”

Zion took a breath. “No, Alam. I’m not calling to surrender. Your gathering of warlords is a serious concern. I’d like to discuss it and find a way forward that works for both of us.”

Alam leaned back, crossing his arms. “Your massive build-up in Asia is concerning everyone. We’re on the verge of World War Four!”

Zion remained calm. “I understand the gravity of the situation. But our deployment is for defensive purposes. I have no intention of starting a global war.”

“hah!, Good. I’m not a fan of mass casualties either. So… what do you want?” Alam leaned back, arms still crossed, looking curious.

Zion smiled slightly. “I want to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. I know where this is heading. I propose an alternative.”

Alam raised an eyebrow. “Funny… last month you were trying to kill me. Now it’s all peace and love?”

Zion chuckled. “We’re both leaders. We have responsibilities. We’ve had our disagreements, but I’m willing to put them aside for the greater good.”

“Alright… I’m listening.” Alam leaned forward, intrigued.

Zion explained his plan. “The warlords in your territory are a threat to both of us. We can work together to eliminate them. We can also coordinate to weaken the Red Nation’s influence in Asia by targeting their infrastructure and military.”

Alam shook his head, smirking. “No. They’re my friends now. I know your game—you’re trying to create distrust among my allies.”

Zion nodded. “Your allies are our shared enemies. Taking them out weakens the Red Nation. But your alliance with them is temporary—just a way to balance our strength. Once we’re gone, they’ll turn on you.”

Alam laughed. “You’re wrong. My True Horde is for everyone. Even after this war.”

Zion smiled. “You might believe that, but the True Horde is a loose group of warlords. It’s fragile and will fall apart once the Red Nation is gone. You’re more of a tyrant holding onto power than a leader uniting them for the long term.”

“Thanks,” Alam said dryly. “But I’m holding my own. I have China, and you don’t.”

Zion chuckled. “True. You have the territory. But we have superior military strength and strategy. If it comes to war, we’ll win. It’s best to avoid unnecessary fighting. We’re willing to help you eliminate the Red Nation in Asia—that’s as far as we’ll go.”

Alam sniffed. “Just threats? I expected more. We’re friends, remember?” He winked.

Zion raised an eyebrow. “We were friends until you allied with the warlords and went against the free world.”

Alam’s expression changed, a hint of desperation showing. “If I had your strato cannon and elite forces, I could make the True Horde a much stronger alliance.”

Zion blinked, then nodded slowly. “So, you’re suggesting a truce where you downgrade your alliance to a defensive pact and we strengthen our trade? You want to use the strato cannon against the Red Nation and have our elite forces help you?”

“Exactly Red hair. Do you trust me with your toys?” Alam asked, eyes twinkling.

Zion considered this. “I think your offer is genuine. It’s a mutually beneficial truce. A win-win. What do you think?”

Alam frowned, rubbing his chin. “This is weird. I’d prefer you threw a tantrum instead of agreeing to my questionable proposal.”

Zion shook his head, amused. “Your proposal is unusual but practical. Your allies won’t stay with you after the Red Nation is gone. My elite forces can help you then, and the strato cannon can eliminate the Red Nation in Asia. This keeps your empire safe and weakens our common enemy.”

Alam’s brows furrowed. “Wait… you mean the Red Nation is a threat to you too? You hate your own nation?”

Zion’s expression turned serious. “The Red Nation is a threat to both of us and the free world. They have a powerful military, a strong economy, and ambitions of expansion. They threaten peace and stability everywhere.”

 

Alam tilted his head, confusion etched on his features. “What chess trick is this? What’s going on in your head? Why do you care more about those Warlords than your own army?”

 

Zion chuckled again, enjoying Alam’s bewilderment. “I’m trying to understand your motives and offer a practical solution. The Warlords are a threat to both of us, and this truce would benefit us both. The strato cannon can help us weaken the Red Nation's military capabilities, making it easier for both of us to defeat them. Those Warlords will only ally with you temporarily; they’ll turn against you once the Red Nation is out of the picture.”

 

 

Alam rubbed his temples vigorously. “WHAT?! You’re the leader of the Red Nation! Why are you even trying to fight them?”

 

Zion sighed, momentarily taken aback by Alam’s confusion. “I’m part of the Red Nation, yes, but I also represent the free world. I’m responsible for protecting my country and its people, even against a formidable adversary. It’s worth fighting for the freedom and security of the free world.”

 

“So wait… let me clarify. You’re part of the Red Nation, but you’ve formed your own faction within it? And that existing nation is your enemy? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

 

Zion nodded, resolute. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m part of the Red Nation, but I’ve formed my own faction within it. The Red Nation’s expansionist goals clash with my ideals, making it an enemy in many ways.”

 

“Why take a drastic measure like… destroying your own nation?” Alam leaned forward, skepticism etched on his face.

 

Zion’s expression shifted, turning serious as he pondered the question. “The Red Nation isn’t my nation anymore, at least not in any meaningful sense. It’s a dictatorship—corrupt and misguided for far too long. I believe that with the right leadership, it could be powerful and prosperous. But the current leader is steering it straight toward destruction.”

 

Alam nodded slowly, processing. “So you’ve formed a rebellion in your own court?”

 

“Yes,” Zion confirmed, his tone steady. “My goal is to overthrow the current leader and free the people from his tyranny.”

 

“And who is this current leader?”

 

Zion hesitated, recalling the name. “His name is Jin-Sung, known as the Red Dragon.”

 

Alam chuckled, the sound dripping with disbelief. “Funny… why have I never heard that name before?”

 

“Jin-Sung is a secretive figure,” Zion explained. “He prefers to lurk in the shadows, wielding influence without the public eye on him. Many outside the inner circle don’t know him.”

 

Alam squinted, a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes. “Why not just kill him like you did General Wu?”

 

Zion paused, weighing his words carefully. “Killing Jin-Sung wouldn’t solve the problem. He’s just a pawn for the Red Nation’s elite—a figurehead they use to maintain control. If we want to truly dismantle the Red Nation, we need to target its ruling class.”

 

Alam fell silent for a moment, contemplating. “I see… You’re putting me in a very weird situation. But what happens after Jin-Sung and the elites are gone?”

 

Zion leaned in, a confident grin spreading across his face. “Once the ruling elite is gone, the Red Nation will crumble. The military will be in chaos, and the people will rise up in rebellion. This power vacuum will give us an opportunity to act, allowing the free world to step in and take control.”

 

“You kind of remind me of Caesar,” Alam mused. “While he crossed the Alps to the Gauls, you’re crossing the Bering Strait.”

 

Zion chuckled, appreciating the comparison. “That’s an interesting analogy. Caesar conquered the Gauls with military brilliance, and I intend to do the same with the Red Nation. Though my path might not be as straightforward.”

 

“What happens if the Red Nation is truly yours?” Alam pressed.

 

Zion paused, considering the weight of the question. “If I take control, I’ll reform it into a nation that reflects my values. I’ll emphasize freedom, democracy, and human rights for all citizens. My focus will be on economic development and social progress, striving to create a vibrant, prosperous nation. I won’t be a tyrant like Jin-Sung; I’ll be accountable to the people.”

 

Alam burst into laughter, a mirthful cacophony that echoed through the room. “Hahaha! What a comedic line! How can the world trust a person like you to do that?”

 

Zion smirked, enjoying Alam’s reaction. “I sense you don’t trust me, Alam. That’s fair; I’ve given you reasons to be skeptical. But let me ask you this: do you trust the Red Nation as it stands? If they conquer Asia, do you really think they’ll spare you and your True Horde?”

 

Alam waved his hand dismissively. “Now, now… you’re the one commanding the army! If they come, they’ll kill me on your watch.”

 

Zion raised an eyebrow, surprised by Alam’s logic. “You make a valid point. I do lead the army, and I decide our next moves. If I send forces into your territory, there’s a chance we could target you and the Warlords.”

 

“Listen,” Alam said, his voice low and serious. “You’re mad. When the Crescent Alliance arrives, regardless of whether your rebellion succeeds, many people will die.”

 

Zion’s expression darkened as he replied, “You’re right. We can try to limit casualties, but war is brutal. People will die. However, I believe the sacrifice will be worth it if it means ending the Red Nation’s reign and liberating its people.”

 

Alam sighed, resigned. “Okay, in my strategic mind, the Red Army will weaken after you start your rebellion. So… please, go ahead and rebel.”

 

Zion nodded, recognizing Alam’s reluctant support. “Thank you, Alam. I know my rebellion will bring destruction and instability, but I believe the cost will be worth it. Your support could tip the scales in our favor.”

 

“DON’T put my name in the history books!,” Alam warned, a mock-seriousness in his tone. “I won’t help you; I just admire your madness.”

 

Zion’s expression turned mischievous. “I get the sense you want to keep your name out of this, so I won’t mention you. But you’re intelligent and strategic, and I believe you’ll find ways to assist me, whether you admit it or not.”

 

Alam crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Just tell me—what can I do? And after that, I hope you die in your rebellion.”

 

Zion smiled, shaking his head. “You can do nothing. This is a personal affair between me and the Red Nation. You’re just a bystander with a stake in this conflict. I don’t want you involved; that would complicate things and increase the risks.”

 

“So, I just sit here and do nothing?” Alam retorted, incredulous. “Do you think I believe that? You must have a plan, like using me as a scapegoat, especially since you’re letting me use your army.”

 

Zion’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, I do have a plan for you, Alam. But first, I need to know one thing: do you trust me?”

 

“Fifty-fifty,” Alam replied, a glint of mischief in his eye.

 

Zion couldn’t hide his surprise but remained composed. “I understand your caution. In that case, let me share my plan so we can discuss it further.”

 

“Okay… speak.”

 

A confident grin spread across Zion’s face. “My plan is to use you as a distraction. We’ll make it appear that you and the True Horde are invading Central Asia, drawing some of the Red Nation’s forces away from my rebellion. This will create an opening for me to strike from the other side, catching them off guard. What do you think?”

 

Alam considered this, his expression thoughtful. “And what happens after you take control of the Red Nation? Will we have peace?”

 

Zion’s demeanor turned serious as he answered. “That’s a good question, Alam. I’m not sure what will happen after I take control. But I know that once the Red Nation is under my leadership, I’ll be able to negotiate a diplomatic resolution to our conflict. I don’t plan to fight you or your people unless we can come to an understanding.”

 

Alam shook his head, skepticism lingering. “This is why I never trust you. You’ll always stab me in the back.”

 

“That’s not my intention at all,” Zion replied sharply, meeting Alam’s gaze with unwavering confidence. “I’ve given you my word that I won’t betray you. I’m willing to negotiate in good faith and preserve peace between our nations.”

 

Alam sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Alright, do whatever you want. Good luck with your rebellion. I don’t want your army or your strato cannon. Having them in my hands would destroy my reputation.”

 

Zion’s expression remained solemn. “I understand your concerns, Alam. The Red Nation’s army and strato cannon are threats to your reputation. I’ll keep a close eye on them and won’t act against your interests. Let’s leave this matter here for now. I wish you luck in your defense of Central Asia. I’ll proceed with my rebellion, and we’ll see what happens next.”

 

Alam chuckled, a hint of genuine camaraderie breaking through. “I hope that one day, I can truly understand you. Farewell.”

 

Zion nodded, a small smile on his face. “Farewell for now, Alam. May we find a brighter future where we can truly understand one another.”

 

The call ended. A long pause hung in the air before Kassandra nodded slowly. “I see… he didn’t take the bait. But with the right framing, Alam can still be a scapegoat.”

A mischievous smile spread across Zion’s face. “It seems that Alam is not as easy to manipulate as I thought. I will have to use more subtle means to involve him in my plans.”

Weaver raised an eyebrow at Zion’s smirk. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? If Alam doesn’t take the bait, you might be planning some kind of ruse to draw him in.”

A playful grin spread across Zion’s face. “Don’t act so shocked, Weaver! Yes, I am pondering some potential methods for involving Alam in my plans. It is clear that he is not easily deceived, but I am confident that I can find a way to bring him into my web of deception.”

Weaver’s grin matched Zion’s. “I knew it! I knew you had some kind of trick up your sleeve. But what kind of ruse do you plan on using? How are you going to fool Alam into playing right into your hands?”

Zion’s face took on a mischievous expression, as he responded with a tone that was both playful and self-assured. “I’m not going to divulge my exact plan, Weaver. That would spoil the surprise! However, rest assured that I have a few clever ideas in mind. I’m sure that once I get the ball rolling, Alam will fall for my ruse like a fly into a spider’s web.”

Weaver grinned, enjoying the back-and-forth banter. “Alright, you’ve got me curious. The ball is already rolling, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see how Alam reacts. I’m sure your ruses will be brilliant! But, no doubt, Alam will have some countermoves that are just as cunning, if not more so. The real question is, which one of us is the better schemer?”

A playful grin spread across Zion’s face, as he continued to enjoy the banter. “Ah, now we’re finally getting to the crux of the matter! We have both demonstrated our skills in the art of strategy and manipulation. But once the dice have been thrown, only one of us can come out on top. It will be a battle of wits and a test of our strategic prowess. Let the best man win!”