The battle for Xian City was a chaotic dance of strategy and explosions. Jiang's meticulous planning had thankfully gotten most civilians out of the danger zone before the real fireworks started. The True Horde soldiers swarmed over the walls, securing the city block by block. It was a wild scene: Xian Camel Brigade charging alongside futuristic cars, tangling with Wanderer armored vehicles. The whole thing had become a glorious, noisy mess – a proper stalemate.
With a heavy sigh, General Alam gathered his thoughts. “Alright, our Spec Ops operation is the turning point of this war. No room for mistakes.”
Fang nodded, a serious glint in her eye. “The success of the Spec Ops team will determine everything. They must eliminate the Emperor and his inner circle without collateral damage. This is a high-stakes game, and we can’t afford to lose.”
“Good. Now proceed,” Alam ordered, the weight of the moment settling on him. He watched Fang go, the air thick with anticipation. Minutes bled into hours, the setting sun surrendering to a starless night. As midnight fell, the distant echoes of gunfire dwindled.
The Wanderer Spec Ops team, led by Jiang, moved like ghosts toward the Imperial Palace. With Xian’s AI sensors and generators sabotaged, the city guards were practically blind, making the shadows their perfect allies. Silence was their sharpest weapon.
“Stay sharp, team,” Jiang whispered, adrenaline humming through him. They moved through the inky darkness, the faint moonlight barely illuminating their path to the palace gates.
The heavy iron doors loomed ahead, a few Imperial Guards standing watch, looking uneasy in the darkness. Jiang signaled the team to form up, weapons drawn. “Remember: quick and quiet.”
They slipped through the gate into the courtyard, weapons raised, eyes constantly scanning. The courtyard was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the distant chaos still echoing through the city. Jiang led them with precision, his instincts razor sharp as they navigated the shadows.
As they crept toward the palace entrance, the interior was even darker, lit only by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows. The tension was palpable; each creak of the floorboards sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive silence.
They reached the Emperor's chambers. Two guards stood watch, their faces grim, weapons at the ready. Jiang signaled. Two team members silently flanked the guards, while Jiang and another prepared to breach the door. Jiang gave the signal, and the door burst open, revealing a lavishly decorated room. The Emperor sat on his throne, surrounded by several advisors. The guards reacted instantly, raising their weapons. The room exploded in gunfire. The Emperor, startled, half-rose from his throne, a look of stunned disbelief on his face as a bullet found its mark. His advisors scrambled for cover, some diving behind furniture, others frozen in terror as the Spec Ops team moved with deadly efficiency. A burst of fire silenced a screaming advisor. Another clutched his throat, blood staining the ornate carpet. In the chaos, Jiang spotted a guard reaching for an alarm bell. With a swift, precise movement, he fired, the guard collapsing before he could sound the alarm.
The mission was complete. Back at HQ, Alam paced. The silence amplified the distant city sounds. Each minute stretched. He checked the comms, willing it to ring. Waiting was torture for him. Then, a soldier burst in, breathless.
“General Alam! Mission accomplished! The Emperor is dead!”
“Good! Now pull back and disengage. I don’t want any confrontation with the enemy. By morning, they’ll surrender when they hear their leader is gone,” Alam ordered, relief flooding through him.
“Yes, General! The Spec Ops team will retreat immediately,” the soldier confirmed, eager to follow orders.
“Casualties?” Alam pressed, his brow furrowing. “About ten percent, General. But their sacrifice was not in vain. We’ve struck a decisive blow against the Empire of Xian,” the soldier replied, pride creeping into his voice.
Alam nodded grimly. The night was far from over. He turned to Fang. “Order the workers and engineers to join our defense perimeter. It’s all or nothing now.”
“Understood, General. I’ll give the order immediately. We must prepare for a potential counterattack,” Fang replied, her determination matching his own.
Alam turned on his recorder, clearing his throat. “Alright my soul.. My comrade. This is will our finest hours.. I just beg you to stay wake.. Stay focus like this is our last time we will meet again.. Victory is imminent.. Make sure we will see the sunrise together”
His words resonated through the ranks, igniting a fire in the hearts of his soldiers. A roar of defiance erupted from the Wanderer Army, echoing into the night. But beneath the bravado, a tense silence settled.
The long hours of waiting stretched on, the darkness punctuated only by the crackling of campfires. they all tired and the silentness is make them sleepy despite their boots are filled by mud and water Then, just before dawn, the sounds of marching feet grew louder, signaling the enemy’s approach.
Alam’s heart raced. “They’re making a last charge! Everyone, get inside the buildings! Our task is to survive. Luckily, we blocked the river again before crossing into Xian. Just wait for the dam to rise again; a second flood is our ace in the hole!”
The Wanderer Army scrambled for cover, taking defensive positions as the enemy advanced. The battle was far from over, but the second flood was already underway,
As the enemy advanced, the floodwaters began to rise, a watery wall against the Empire’s last gasp.
“This is divine intervention!” Alam exclaimed, watching the enemy ranks falter. The floodwaters churned, trapping men, clogging artillery, and jamming weapons with thick mud. Horses and camels floundered, their footing lost in the rising muck, trapping the enemy and securing the victory for the Wanderers.
“Looks like the Wei River decided to join the party,” one officer chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Guess they didn't factor in the tides of war and the actual tides."
The last pockets of resistance crumbled under the weight of the flood and the Wanderer counter-push. The city was secured. A week later, Alam surveyed the scene. The palace throne was a smoldering ruin—a symbolic bonfire of victory. The citizens, for the most part, were cautiously accepting of their new rulers.
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“Fang, what’s the status of the remaining enemy forces?” he inquired.
“There are still small pockets of resistance, but they’re scattered and weak. Most have been eliminated or fled. Our control over Xian is solid,” she replied, pausing briefly. “Our troops are diligently mopping up any stragglers.”
“Good. We need to maintain our supply lines and hold this city. The conquest of Xian is crucial for cementing our reputation across China,” Alam asserted, determination shining in his eyes.
“Indeed, capturing the capital is a pivotal step in our campaign. It will serve as a stronghold for further advances,” Fang agreed.
“By the way, have we secured the terracotta warriors?” Alam asked, curiosity piqued.
“Yes, they’re under our control. The terracotta warriors are a symbol of ancient power. Their capture bolsters our prestige,” Fang confirmed.
“Excellent. Show me the statues,” Alam said, eager to witness their legendary presence.
As Alam approached the site of the terracotta warriors, he was struck by their majesty. The figures stood as silent sentinels, embodying the might of the ancient Empire. He felt a surge of pride wash over him.
In that moment, Alam understood the significance of their capture: the past and present collided, signaling the rise of a new power in China. Victory was not just close; it was inevitable.
Alam contacted Zao to assess the local situation in their newly acquired territory. “So, what’s the behavior of our new subjects?” he asked.
Zao replied, “The people of Xian are wary but mostly accepting of us as their new overlords. There haven’t been any overt challenges to our authority, though some pockets of resistance remain. Overall, the populace seems relieved that the fighting is over and are willing to comply, hoping for fair treatment.”
“Good. Keep up the good work,” Alam responded, satisfied.
He then reached out to Fang. “What’s the status of our supply lines? Any threats from local enemies?”
“Our supply lines are secure,” Fang reported. “We’ve taken control of vital infrastructure, and the remaining enemy forces are too isolated to pose a significant threat. Everything is running smoothly.”
“Excellent. We need to deal with those pesky remnants of the enemy,” Alam said. “I want to form a new unit focused on rooting out insurgents blending into the population.”
“I can start recruitment immediately,” Fang replied. “We’ll use infiltration tactics to identify and eliminate any threats.”
“Before we act, let’s offer them one last chance to surrender,” Alam suggested.
“Agreed. The threat of annihilation might convince them to submit,” Fang confirmed.
“Keep me informed on every progress,” Alam instructed before heading to the nearby village to visit Luo, the middle-aged tea seller who had welcomed him during his first day in Xian. The village was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos in the city, reflecting the newfound control the Wanderer Army had established.
Alam strolled through the village center, expecting to find bustling life but instead encountered an eerie silence. Not a soul stirred in the peaceful streets. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and birds chirped, but the absence of human activity left him unsettled.
“Hmm... Luo?” he called, hoping to draw out the middle-aged tea seller he had met before.
He knocked on her door, hand hovering near the pistol tucked at his back, just in case. Silence enveloped him, but then he heard muffled sounds from within. His heart raced as he waited, senses on high alert.
Finally, the door creaked open, revealing Luo, her expression a mix of surprise and suspicion. Alam flashed a quick smile. “Oh, hey again! Good to see you.”
Her eyes softened momentarily, but the wariness returned as she cautiously studied him. “What do you want?” she asked, guarding her emotions.
“Can we have some tea again?” Alam asked, hoping to ease the tension.
Luo hesitated but nodded, her demeanor relaxing slightly. “Sure, come in.”
As they settled, Alam asked, “So, have you heard the latest news?”
She blinked and nodded, a faint smile creeping onto her lips. “Yes, I’ve been keeping up with things. The Wanderer Army is in control now.”
“You’re quieter than before. Do you... fear me?” he probed, sensing her caution.
Luo shook her head, yet her smile was faint. “Not fear. Just... cautious.”
“Do you have children?” Alam inquired, trying to bridge the gap.
Her gaze softened, but shadows crossed her face. “I had a son... he died in the fighting.”
“I’m sorry. What about your husband?” Alam pressed gently.
“Gone,” she whispered, grief heavy in her tone.
“Now you live alone?” Alam asked, feeling the weight of her loss.
“Yes... alone,” she confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He took a sip of tea, the warmth contrasting with the chill of their conversation. “The village feels quieter lately. Are people working in Xiangyang and Xian after the battle?”
“Reconstruction has begun,” she replied, her tone melancholic. “They’re working hard to restore what was lost.”
Alam smirked, “Yeah, the man who caused this must be... naughty.”
Luo let out a small laugh, her eyes lighting up with mischief. The tension between them cracked, and they enjoyed a brief moment of levity before she looked pensive.
“Do you plan to spend the rest of your life here?” he asked, curious.
She pondered, sipping her tea. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve learned to take life one day at a time. My son and husband... life is unpredictable.”
“Yes, it is,” Alam agreed, reflecting on the chaos surrounding them.
Luo sighed, her expression clouding with sorrow as memories of her son and husband washed over her. She blinked rapidly, fighting back the grief that threatened to resurface.
“Can I ask you a heavy question?” Alam ventured, his voice cautious.
Luo nodded, her demeanor shifting to one of solemnity.she know alam is bit bold, She set her cup down, a small smile flickering across her face, encouraging him to proceed.
“Are you sure?” he pressed, gauging her readiness.
“Absolutely,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a hint of apprehension.
“Alright... which was sadder? The loss of your husband or your son?” Alam asked, the gravity of his question hanging in the air.
Luo’s expression darkened, and a grimace crossed her face as the question struck deep. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought them back. “I can’t really compare... both were devastating. But if I had to choose, I’d say losing my son was the worst. He was my only child. Watching him die in battle, helpless to save him... that’s a gut-wrenching feeling I’ll never forget.”
“I see,” Alam replied, his heart heavy with empathy. He rubbed her hand, seeking to offer comfort.
Luo closed her eyes, breathing deeply at the touch. The silence stretched between them, a moment of shared sorrow. Finally, she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever have children,” Alam admitted, “but I treat my soldiers like family. Losing good men—it's a pain I know all too well.”
Luo nodded softly, her eyes warming. She understood his attachment, sensing the grief he carried. In that quiet connection, a shared understanding passed between them, a moment of respite from the harsh realities of war. Alam sighed, the moment fading as the weight of his responsibilities returned. He looked out at the ruined city, his mind already turning to the tasks ahead.
Later, back at the Wanderer’s new base in Xian, the True Horde Confederation flag rose over the city, a symbol of their victory.
The next day, the war council convened. Alam didn't waste time on pleasantries. “Thanks for being on time, everyone.” He gestured to a large screen displaying a graph. “We planned a slow takeover of China, but after the Xian campaign…” He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s just say we’re a little ahead of schedule.” The graph showed a dramatic spike in the True Horde's treasury after the capture of Xian. It had previously flatlined. Now it was reaching the top of the scale
Another screen displayed a list of weapons, tools, and other future expenditure for the True Horde.
Murmurs of approval swept through the room as Alam continued, “We need to isolate the remaining factions, cut off their supply lines, and watch them squirm. Blockade, blockade, blockade!”
He paused for dramatic effect. “We’ve got a foothold at a main city port and allies in Hong Kong, but it’s not enough to form a proper blockade. From our new base in Xian, I’ll send generals Zhang and Jax to deal with Liaoning. Once we have that secured, Shanxi and Hebei will be cut off. It’s like a game of chess, only with way more swords and less thinking.”
“Brilliant plan, Chief!” one general chimed in, nodding vigorously.
“If we pull this off, Beijing will be next!” Alam declared, his eyes gleaming with ambition. “Any questions?”
Silence reigned as the generals exchanged glances, nodding their heads in agreement. The plan was solid, and they were all in.
“Alright then,” Alam said, his tone shifting to one of mischief, “if there are no further questions, let’s have a feast! I mean, what’s a successful campaign without a little celebration?”
Laughter erupted around the table, and the atmosphere turned jovial. A massive feast was prepared, and the generals dug in, sharing stories of past glories and future conquests.