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?”
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“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.