The southern coastline of the Welch Governorate was littered with wood rafts and small boats stranded on the shore.
Amidst the motley collection of vessels were planks with untrimmed branches and waterlogged crates, looking as if struck by a disaster at sea.
And indeed, that was the true story.
Most of the Weilante people crouching by the shore bore expressions of palpable fear; some shivered with soaked shoulders, while others hung their damp clothes on tree branches, sneezing by the bonfire.
And not far from them, people occasionally struggled out of the sea, dragged ashore with the help of their compatriots.
The Triumph City Near Sea Defense Fleet had their sailors working desperately to help them, using rubber dinghies and ropes to save those unlucky ones swept away by the tides and bring them to shore.
The Weilante people, huddled on the coast, each had their unique experiences in Bartoya Province, but their current plight was largely the same, all soaked to the skin like drowned rats.
Due to the border closure policy of Triumph City, most ferries from Bartoya Province to Welch Governorate were stuck at the Welch harbor.
Desperate to evacuate the displaced, the Southern Legion commandeered every available vessel, even including fishermen's boats and bathtubs stolen from homes.
The majority of the Weilante people, without any preparation, found themselves into this journey dubbed as a mission.
Those who managed to board proper ferries were extraordinarily lucky or were family of a Ten Thousand Leader.
Many were simply deceived into the northern docks of Bartoya Province, only to board landing craft meant for troops.
These landing crafts typically had small fuel tanks, and the Southern Legion, naturally, could not provide spare fuel cans for them.
Many ran out of power two-thirds of the way, forcing people to paddle their way through the remaining journey.
Some unfortunate souls were even worse off.
Without even getting a landing craft, they were violently herded onto rafts by gun-wielding alien soldiers, tied together to a motorboat that dashed across the sea.
Some rafts fell apart mid-way, leaving the Weilante clinging desperately to cobbled-together sticks, awaiting the rescue of the Near Sea Defense Fleet.
What's more infuriating to those sailors of the Near Sea Defense Fleet was the realization that the participants of this deadly exodus were mostly the old, women, and children.
The young men of the Southern Legion were either sent to the frontline or serving in the military.
The few remaining men were either wounded soldiers withdrawn from the front or engineers, technicians, and citizens working in respectable professions in the city.
On the deck of a Near Sea Defense Fleet destroyer.
Looking at the elderly rescued by the soldiers, Captain Maloc couldn't help but speak.
"Are you crazy? Triumph City has closed its borders; even if you landed on the Welch Governorate, you wouldn't make it there!"
"Clo...Closed borders?" the old man in the blanket looked bewildered, sneezed, and shivered as he spoke, "We haven't heard about it... the Personal Body Guard soldiers told us there'd be boats waiting at the shore, but when we got there, the big ship was gone; only a few small boats that could be capsized by a wave were left!"
When he said this, he became more agitated, and his lips quivered in anger, "Damn Teil... we got to the shore, and there was nothing! He lied to all of us!"
As soon as he finished, another middle-aged man wrapped in a blanket muttered.
"Personal Body Guard? You must be from Yavente City; those who drove us away were from the 117th Ten-thousand Men Team, nasty bunch. They just said the Alliance invented some Mortal Serum, proclaimed a plague was coming to kill all Weilante people. They didn't mention anything about Marshal Julius's funeral or boats waiting; just shoved us into trucks."
Hearing their conversation, a slender woman spoke up and joined in.
"Hah... they actually told you that much nonsense? We lived in a small town in the north of Bartoya Province, thought even if there was a war, it wouldn't reach us. But the Alliance hadn't even arrived, and we got beaten by our own."
The old man glared, as if he'd heard something unbelievable.
"They dared to beat you?"
The middle-aged woman smirked and whispered.
"The servant army doesn't care about that. They yanked us onto the truck... only telling us in the truck that they were taking us to Triumph City, damn it!"
The man wrapped in a blanket clenched his fist and cursed in a low voice.
"Damn..."
The deck was filled with a cacophony of voices, people sharing their experiences and venting their frustrations with those around them.
Chaos.
Anger.
And disbelief.
This was everything Maloc heard from them, and the whole scene playing out in Bartoya Province.
After listening to the myriad of voices, he gritted his teeth, nearly grinding them to pieces.
"This devil..." he squeezed out the words and was tempted to order a march south to obliterate the scoundrels driving the Weilante into the sea.
Seeing the hatred and anger in his eyes, the adjutant walked to his side and lowered his voice.
"Calm down... Our most urgent task now is to save people."
"Save people..." Maloc slightly tugged at the corner of his mouth, looking southward with an air of hostility, "No matter how we save, we can't stop them from driving people into the sea!"
The adjutant lowered his voice and continued to persuade.
"You only have one destroyer, we can't just drive the destroyer onto the shore... Besides, starting a war now would only play into their hands!"
Maloc's eyes narrowed slightly, suddenly realizing something in an instant.
The Southern Legion driving the people northwards was clearly intended to defy the Imperial Guard and even Triumph City's border lockdown orders, attempting to breach the coastal isolation zones with "human wave tactics."
He didn't understand why Teil was doing this, but it seemed that everything they did was to spread the "Mortal Serum" hidden among the refugees to the Vellante Province across the sea.
And the current situation was still under Triumph City's control only because they had nearly 500,000 troops available.
And these 500,000 troops were the fundamental reason Triumph City could ensure border stability and establish nearly 20 isolation zones!
If war broke out, at least half of these 500,000 troops would have to be dispatched to Batoya Province!
By then, Triumph City would be unable to attend to the refugees at the border, allowing them to infiltrate into the city unchecked.
Not to mention the Southern Legion still possessed over a dozen iron airships, meaning that if a real fight broke out, it might not end quickly. Once both sides were at war, the Mortal Serum would effortlessly spread throughout Vellante Province, plunging both sides' civilians into the agony of war and plague.
If he acted, it would be equivalent to helping the other side achieve the most challenging wartime mobilization, giving them an excuse for war!
But why?
Maloc wore a baffled expression, staring with wide, bloodshot eyes.
He couldn't understand what the leaders of the Southern Legion were up to.
Does the extermination of the Vellante people hold any real benefits for the Southern Legion?
He would rather believe the Alliance stole the Vellante's gene source code and created the "Mortal Serum" against them.
At least that way, he could feel slightly better, avoiding self-doubt and confusion.
Otherwise, he couldn't help wondering if the Southern Legion had stolen the gene source code of the Vellante people.
After all, only those folks had the opportunity to do so.
Moreover, from their desperate efforts to spread the virus to Triumph City, their suspicion was undoubtedly the greatest.
Otherwise, why would those people act as if nothing happened after the Imperial Guard announced "the gene source code was stolen," driving their civilians out of Yavente City under the guise of attending Marshal Julius's funeral?
But the question returned to its original point.
They themselves were Vellante; why would they do this?
Looking towards Yavente City, and the planks scattered by the waves, Captain Maloc let out a suppressed roar.
"So what do we do now? Just watch?"
"Let's save people first. Strategic matters are beyond our control," said the adjutant, sighing deeply as he gazed at the vast sea, "I heard that researchers from the Academy have arrived... Hopefully, they can find a solution to the problem."
Meanwhile, about ten kilometers from the destroyer along the shoreline.
A team of Vellante soldiers, dressed in protective suits, arrived at the beach in trucks under their officer's command, preparing to establish isolation zones and refugee relief points.
At the same time, a long, shuttle-shaped silver aircraft flew in from the east and landed steadily on a rocky shore approximately 200 meters from the beach.
Its high-tech design and Academy emblem were starkly out of place amid the widespread devastation.
The hatch slowly opened, and a group of people descended the gangway from the research ship.
Standing beside the gangway, Night Ten looked at the refugees on the beach with a complex expression, unable to suppress a click of the tongue.
"Wow... that's a hell of a lot of people."
Looking at the holographic screen expanded from his wristwatch, Jiang Xuezhou said with a grave expression.
"According to Triumph City, they estimate over five million survivors may flood in from the Whirlpool Sea, at a rate of about 40,000 to 50,000 a day... We haven't reached the peak yet."
Night Ten shook his head and said.
"It's hard to understand... What's the benefit of doing this? Stabbing themselves in the back? Is that Teil crazy?"
Jiang Xuezhou said gravely.
"Insane or not, it's clear they've completely ignored the lives of other Vellante people."
Due to her outstanding performance in the Poluo Line, she was recently promoted to C-Class Researcher, no longer the Little D Grade who followed her mentor around every day.
After becoming a Level C researcher, she not only gained the authority to promote researchers but also acquired her own laboratory and a research ship allocated by the Research Department.
Responding to Triumph City's call for help and cooperating with researchers dispatched by the Alliance Biological Research Institute to solve the virus named 'Mortal Serum' was the first task she received upon becoming a Level C researcher.
Strictly speaking, it's not very appropriate to assign such a big task to a Level C researcher, but because her mentor has a significant voice in external affairs and intends to promote her, the work came to her.
However, to be honest, Jiang Xuezhou actually hoped that her mentor would send someone more reliable.
Or at least someone with expertise in the field!
But since the order was already given, even though she was quite flustered, she had no choice but to brace herself and face it.
Fortunately, the Alliance's biotechnology is not much inferior to the Academy's, so if she slacks a bit, it shouldn't be too big of a problem.
"To achieve victory, one has to be harsher on oneself than on others... I guess that's what Teil probably thinks. According to our... information from the Alliance, the Mortal Serum is a weapon of indiscriminate impact. It's said that even the Weilante people, including the Awakeners, could be infected. It's just a matter of probability."
Standing behind Jiang Xuezhou, Chen Yutong lightly shook the hair that fell on her shoulder and continued speaking in a professional tone.
"Instead of analyzing how our enemies plan to surprise us, I'd suggest we start working quickly… like screening the patients from the crowd to prevent further spread of the virus."
As she spoke, her gaze fell on the group of soldiers not far away.
Although those soldiers were wearing protective suits, expecting them to differentiate patients was clearly unrealistic.
Luckily, the Alliance had been tracking clues related to the 'Mortal Serum' for a while, having zeroed in on this thing ever since its experimental strain first appeared in the Poluo Line, and even developed the necessary test reagents for screening patients.
If this invisible war were likened to a race, they had already taken the lead in the first battle.
Even so, Jiang Xuezhou's face still showed a trace of worry as she whispered.
"…But the problem now is that we only have ten thousand test reagents, and just at this isolation point alone, there are over ten thousand people, with nearly 50,000 new refugees arriving every day."
As soon as she finished speaking, Night Ten, standing beside her, immediately spoke without hesitation.
"That's easy. First, distinguish the refugees by arrival batches and assign numbers according to the specification of a thousand-person team, a hundred-person group, ten-person squad, trying to keep those with family ties together. Then, conduct a thousand-person level screening to filter out the virus-carrying thousand teams, followed by hundred-person level screening, then ten-person, and finally down to individuals."
"In theory, with just four rounds of testing, we can identify the 'Mortal Serum' carriers from the crowd."
The 'Mortal Serum' requires a vector for transmission, and the movement trajectory of these carriers is likely to converge on the macro level, leading to a concentrated distribution of infected personnel probabilistically.
Based on the login time and location, they are densely distributed in several limited sample intervals.
With this detection method, even when dealing with ten thousand refugees, you might not even need 200 test reagents, so the ten thousand we brought this time are more than sufficient.
As for the new refugees that arrive later, we can just transport a few more batches from the Alliance.
Night Ten suddenly felt like he was playing a pandemic simulation game.
Upon hearing his suggestion, Jiang Xuezhou was dumbfounded for a few seconds, her eyes starting to shine.
"That's amazing..."
Hearing such an exaggerated compliment, Night Ten almost choked on his own saliva, cleared his throat, and said.
"Don't do that... It's just a group testing, nothing difficult. With some time, you could surely think of it too."
This method is said to be quite common in tech laboratories. He didn't believe she didn't know it; she probably just didn't think of it at the moment.
Compared to that, he had even crazier ideas, but there was no need for them.
Jiang Xuezhou's face blushed uncontrollably, and she said embarrassedly.
"I... I'm not in that field, I'm researching machinery and AI."
Night Ten couldn't help but facepalm.
"…Then what did the Academy send you for?"
Jiang Xuezhou's eyebrows twitched slightly: "How would I know? It wasn't me who volunteered to come!"
Watching the two bickering, Chen Yutong teased a bit.
"Alright, you two, save the flirting for another time. Now is not the time for playing around. Just follow Little Brother Night Ten's group testing suggestion... Time to work."
Flirting?
What kind of flirting is this!
Jiang Xuezhou's face turned scarlet, and she was about to argue when Night Ten beat her to it, expressing his dissatisfaction.
"What do you mean by little brother? Hmph, I'm not little anymore, okay! Already an adult!"
As everyone knows, in the game 'Wasteland OL', which is an R18 game, minors aren't allowed anywhere near the helmets.
"Oh?" Chen Yutong glanced at him with a cheeky smile, then looked at Jiang Xuezhou, whose face was as red as a lantern, and dropped a cryptic remark, "Let's just leave it at that, then."
...
While Night Ten was attempting to prove to a certain young woman that he wasn't as small as believed, Brother Battlefield at the Triumph City Glory Court was engaged in a thrilling battle of wits with a centenarian.
To speak bluntly, when the words "please declare war on the Southern Legion" came from Rezer's mouth, Brother Battlefield almost instinctively agreed, blurting out "Okay."
In fact, if it had been him in the past, he would have unhesitatingly chosen this path.
After all, he was the Pangolin.
Wasn't this exactly the kind of work the Pangolin did?
However, in merely a split second, he snapped back to reality.
Knowing well that Triumph City had closed its borders and was mobilizing the Vellante to attend Marshal Julius's funeral, it was inconceivable that the Southern Legion's leadership wasn't aware of the consequences this would entail.
They had long been prepared to sever ties with Triumph City and even wished for Triumph City to initiate this conflict!
This isn't too hard to understand; the Southern Legion and Triumph City share blood bonds thicker than water—a familial and spiritual connection even stronger than that of the Federation from the New Continent or the Empire from the Far East.
So much so that even though Triumph City abandoned the name "Legion," Yavente City did not discard it and continued using the Southern Legion's banner.
It is precisely because of this bond between both sides that there are severe divisions within the Southern Legion's leadership and grassroots regarding the matter of Triumph City.
If the Southern Legion's leadership were to declare war on Triumph City, the outcome would be clear: more than half of the soldiers would defect, and the rest would be reluctant to act.
But the reverse is not necessarily true.
If the "betrayer" were Triumph City, the Southern Legion's leadership would have ample reason to rally the grassroots soldiers, convert their bewilderment into hatred, and march on Triumph City in the name of restoring order.
Once the machinery of war is set in motion, as long as they can keep Triumph City's troops in check, the "Mortal Serum" would inevitably pierce through Triumph City's walls and, in turn, propel the Southern Legion's plan.
War reaching this point may not have been in the Southern Legion's original plan, but they clearly anticipated such a reaction from Triumph City and deemed this situation acceptable.
After all, when the virus reveals its power, this internecine war would naturally cease, and public sentiment on both sides would shift towards an entirely exclusionary stance as the "plague against the Vellante" continues to spread...
In just a few short minutes, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group had clarified their thoughts.
He inadvertently glanced at Rezer, who had crushed the chair's armrest, and silently cursed, "MMP."
The act was quite realistic.
This old man definitely knew that declaring war now was absolutely not a good idea.
Actually, thinking about it, the old man had lived 172 years—what major storms hadn't he seen?
He was even carried out by Marshal Julius from a laboratory filled with the dead.
Such a person wouldn't get angry; if he were to get angry, it wouldn't be just now.
There was only one possibility—
This old codger was testing him!
Taking a deep breath, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group spoke in a firm tone.
"It's not the time to declare war... The urgent matter is to rescue people; saving lives is the priority."
"Just rescue people?" Rezer frowned and said in a deep voice, "Pardon my frankness, but your mercy will only be seen as weakness by them. This beast has already sunk its teeth into our flesh; only by severing its head with a single blow can we stop its gnawing."
"This is not weakness, but calmness," the Battlefield Atmosphere Group looked at the old man seriously and said in a steady voice, "Commander Rezer, do you have the sword capable of severing this beast's head right now?"
Rezer did not answer but stared at him unwaveringly.
"I assume you don't," continued the Battlefield Atmosphere Group, "Precisely because the beast's teeth are sunk into our arm, we need to remain more calm. Without that sword, acting rashly will only waste our strength and allow the beast to expand our wounds during the struggle, thus gaining the upper hand."
"So what do you propose?" Rezer sat back in his chair, with a stony expression, waiting for his response.
Taking a deep breath, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group continued calmly.
"The beast is at the end of its rope; it's poured all its remaining strength into this last tether. If it were me, I'd hold onto this only tooth, letting it exhaust its last energy in its struggle... At that point, it will be at everyone's mercy."
There was a sparkle in Rezer's eyes.
"Be more specific."
"Adopt an unchanging response to changing circumstances, conquer with no move as the supreme move," countered the Battlefield Atmosphere Group, meeting his gaze. "How many they send over, we take all. Not only will we take them, but we'll gather every strength available to us and even proactively help them with their transport! We might even mobilize the New Federation and the Eastern and Northern Empires to assist our compatriots suffering in the Bartoya Province."
And during this process of demographic shift, they naturally dismantled the Southern Legion!
Looking at the bright-eyed old man, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group clenched his fist and said with firm determination.
"Since the Southern Legion intends to use the people as their Copper Wall and Iron Wall, we'll strip away all their bricks!"