Chapter 81 The Mad Dragon
The True Horde had numbers, but most were just farm boys—more familiar with anime pillows and game boys than rifles. This was General Ali’s problem. A former tribal warlord turned drill sergeant, Ali believed in a harsh but effective training regimen: martial arts and firsthand experience in live combat. “These guys have the IQ of a lukewarm bath,” he’d joke, “but that’s perfect, because they actually listen.”
Ali watched the ragged line of recruits attempt a drill. "Good enough," he muttered, turning to a nearby officer. A wry grin spread across his face. "You know, the Romans liked recruiting… let's just say, simple men for their legions. Easy to train, easier to obey."
The officer, a wiry man with perpetually furrowed brows, looked at Ali with a flicker of curiosity. "Really? Where do you learn all this stuff?"
Ali shrugged, his grin widening. "I have a deep distrust of… well, most people. Especially women."
The sounds of battle soon drowned out their conversation. red army start break the truce!. Gunfire and explosions filled the air. Then, the Red Army played their trump card: a thick, artificial fog rolled across the battlefield, a technological shroud to mask their advance.
The fog intensified the Red Army's assault. Duc, armed with a rapid-fire Gatling gun, cut down waves of True Horde soldiers. Alexis, a skilled sniper with advanced night vision, moved like a ghost, silently eliminating enemy soldiers and even capturing a trench single-handedly. The fog turned the battlefield into a disorienting maze. Datong, the coalition’s last major stronghold in Northern China, was on the verge of falling.
Ali, knowing Datong’s strategic importance, had taken command of the defense. He relied on his core of True Horde officers and his own advanced exosuit. But the city's defenses were stretched thin. The fog had tipped the scales. Ali and his hastily assembled peasant army were all that stood between the Red Army and total victory in the north. They had to hold until reinforcements arrived.
The initial defense was fierce, fueled by adrenaline. But as casualties mounted, fear took hold of the peasant soldiers. Many cowered in their positions, barely daring to peek over the trench walls, rifles trembling.
Seeing their morale crumbling, Ali leaped into the open, his voice booming across the battlefield. " Seeing their morale crumbling, Ali leaped into the open, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Come on, you lot! Is that all you've got? Show them what you're made of! Remember, we’re fighting for… uh… noodles! And not having to do paperwork!"
Inspired by his outburst, a handful of braver recruits joined Ali as he charged into the swirling fog to retake a lost trench. The fighting inside the fog was brutal, close-quarters combat—a chaotic dance of blades and bullets in near-blindness. Ali’s unorthodox style shone here. A figure on horseback—almost impossible in trench warfare—burst from the fog, leaping over the trenches, drawing gasps from both sides.
Perched on his horse, Ali became a whirlwind, cutting down enemies and hurling grenades. Slowly, he pushed back the Red Army advance, a small victory that rallied more of his men.
Meanwhile, Alexis, the Red Army sniper, used her thermal goggles to hunt targets in the fog. But Ali, in a desperate move, grabbed a discarded enemy rifle and shot her. A surge of grim satisfaction washed over him.
His triumph was short-lived. Out of the fog emerged Duc, his Gatling gun spitting a hail of bullets. The heavy rounds tore into Ali's exosuit, sending sparks flying and momentarily crippling his movement.
Despite the devastating attack, Ali remained focused. Realizing the situation was untenable, he barked out orders for an organized retreat, ensuring the peasant army's withdrawal wouldn't devolve into a panicked rout
His efforts to inspire them, even in defeat, would prove crucial in the desperate fight to come. As the last of Ali’s forces fell back, the long-awaited coalition reinforcements finally arrived, engaging Duc’s forces and halting the Red Army's advance. The Datong front descended into a bloody stalemate.
In an isolated office in snowy Manchuria, the atmosphere was thick with tension and the faint scent of stale coffee. Panji walk into office, eyeing the khagan officer across the desk with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Why do you have carpet on the wall?” he asked, gesturing toward the carpet just hanging there. His gaze then drifted to the red Soviet flag with hammer and sickle hanging on the opposite wall. “I think there’s a Soviet sleeper cell in here.”
then he look at the weapon collection on display. “now that’s cool.. you now start become a american heh?”
The khagan officer rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Stop messing around. Do you know why I called you here today?”
Panji lowered his red shades, feigning innocence. “Nope.”
A sly smile crept across the officer’s face. “You’re part of a rebellion movement, and it’s time for you to go sleep in a cell.”
At that moment, two khaganate soldiers entered the room, handcuffs and weapons at the ready. Panji glanced at them, then turned back to the officer. “You made a mistake.”
The officer laughed, a sound that echoed ominously in the small room. “You’re just a stepping stone in a larger game. Boys, get him!”
In a flash, Panji spun around, drawing his pistol with the finesse of a seasoned gunslinger. He fired two quick shots, taking down the soldiers before they could react. With a smirk, he turned back to the officer’s desk, he is just dissapear . but then he popping out from his desk with his shotgun
A sharp pain shot through Panji’s shoulder as a shotgun shell grazed him, but he didn’t let it slow him down. He fired again, this time hitting the officer square in the chest. The man crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
Panting, Panji took a moment to catch his breath. His eyes fell on a document sprawled across the desk, detailing the annexation of the Blood Khaganate to the Red Nation and the impending red revolution. The words leaped out at him, and he clenched the paper tightly. “Damn… it’s started.”
he then heard to loud sound in outside. a probably a khagan backup. he then quickly barricade himself in office. and put all weapon in showcase reloaded and put it at windows.
but then its turn out its was panji soldier who clueless about the situation, panji then order them to fortified the office.
then the phone of dead khagan officer got a call from kassandra , panji then answer it”hello?” Panji said his tone is soft while he still half confuse. kassandra notice his sound, “still alive? impressive.. but i know its will happen” kassandra said her tone is amuse.
“what the fuck is this?,,,you said you will backup me till regime change!” Panji shout
“heh. im sorry honey.. politic indeed a mess.. thing i can do is betray my own word.. its not my fault.. your popularity is too hard to cant be notice.so i hope you rest in peace” kassandra then end up the call. then a helicopter rain down the office
“fuck.. they truly wanna me dead huh?” Panji said while lower his head from commotion.
later. a apc arrive then start shooting while their khaganate warrior dismount from its rear.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“do you wanna equal distribution? here the equal bullet!” Panji said while return fire, while moving to windows to windows,
gunfire lasted till half a hour. half of office building is destroyed. and few Panji soldier left. until the armored apc just slam the office wall. and make khaganate soldier pour in,
then amid the rubble. panji make a complicated hand sign.
phe soldier dont know what the heck the sign it is. but they are long enough to understand if they should just nod along. later panji then rise up from his cover and start gunblazing. now soldier know if that complicated hand sign is about shot anything its move
then amid the once office. become a ruins. among the the ruin. Panji still stood behind ruins. he and his men is bloodied from wound, he tend their wound with anything they got.
one soldier scream “aghh. they shot me in prostrate..”
Panji “ i dont know. i will inject you with Estrogen”
the soldier like just surrender with his condition “ dang. you run out the morphine then turn out with estrogen? great I’m gonna bleed out and grow boobs? ”
The battle raged on outside, the khaganate soldier now surround the building.
“i think we fuck up. but its all ancording to plan.” one khaganate officer still confident on the situation. because he think he will capture Panji soon, instead kill him. which will make him rank up soon.
Strutted around behind an armored vehicle, He raised a speaker, and the gunfire momentarily paused.
“surrender now panji.. there is no way out!”
Panji then reload his rocket, then one Panji soldier speak on radio
“they had all eyes on all side”
Panji then speak “ the only thing they see is will rocket to their face. “
then he aim on the officer armored vehicle. then take a shot. then boom.
Panji then laugh. “hahah!. you cant defeat me you fools.. im undefeatable!. you cant kill me!” Panji erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the ruins
the khaganate soldier who already surround the building is shaken, they just peek from their cover. and not return the fire. until one sniper. using a thermal scope who can see trhough wall. on his scope. he can see panji heat. a man on open arms while holding rocket launcer in one room.
then he take a shot. panji laugh then stop when a bullet struck on his neck. he then collapse.. then die.
Late February 2405 brought a stark contrast to the steppes of Mongolia, where the remnants of a bloody winter war lingered. The ground was mostly bare, punctuated by patches of golden dry grass, while skeletal trees stood like silent sentinels against the vastness.
The season had shifted to spring, but the earth still bore the chill of winter. Strong winds whipped across the open plains, sending shivers down spines and stirring the dry, brown soil.
Hazel Division was holding strong, bolstered by steady reinforcements, but the arrival of the Crescent Alliance army had forced the Red Army to make a strategic retreat and wait for american army group reinforcement.
As the Red soldiers moved, they were met with a gruesome sight: mutilated bodies lining the roads, their corpses spiked with signs reading, “Traitors of the Red Army.” The sight was disturbing, sending a wave of unease through the ranks.
“Are those really traitors, Patrick?” Hazel asked, grimacing at the sight.
“I... I don’t really know,” Patrick replied, his voice shaky. “I heard some in the Red Army turned their backs and joined the enemy. The punishment? Brutal. It’s meant to instill fear.”
Hazel nodded solemnly, the weight of war heavy on her shoulders. They continued their journey toward the nearest city, bracing for whatever lay ahead. Upon reaching the city gates, they were greeted by a chilling sight: the head of a fallen Panji hanging like a grisly trophy,
After resupplying in the city, Hazel and Patrick decided to unwind at a nearby bar. The atmosphere inside was surprisingly relaxed, with Red Army officers sharing drinks and laughter, trying to escape the oppressive weight of war. But beneath the surface, a tension simmered.
A group huddled in a corner, their voices hushed. “Did you hear about Petrov’s unit?” one whispered. “Wiped out. Every last one of them.” Another shook his head. “They said it was a surprise attack. But I heard…” He trailed off, glancing around nervously.
“So, what’s the deal with those bodies at the city gate?” Hazel asked a nearby officer, curiosity piqued.
“Those were the traitors,” the officer replied, his tone serious. “They joined the enemy and paid the price. It’s a brutal warning to anyone thinking of switching sides. we will parade their head across the land”
Hazel felt the gravity of the words. “So, the enemy did this?”
“Yes,” the officer confirmed. “This is their way of instilling fear. We mustn’t betray our own. To survive, we fight for our people.”
Two weeks later, the Red Army took up defensive positions, the Crescent Alliance steadily advancing in Mongolia and Manchuria. Alam, fresh from his triumph over the last rebel stronghold in China, joined the Crescent Alliance forces.
One day, he visited their command center.
“Greetings,” Alam said, his presence commanding attention.
Nkosi, dressed in military uniform adorned with medals, smiled as she reviewed tactical plans. “Lord Alam! It’s good to see you. Progress in Mongolia and Manchuria is going according to plan. We’re slowly capturing the Red Army's defenses.”
“Please, don’t call me Lord,” Alam replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s focus on their positions. Don’t concentrate your troops in one place. If I were you, I wouldn’t take their cities.”
Nkosi nodded, understanding the strategy. “You’re right. They’re dug in deep. A direct assault would be costly. Instead, we can strike at their weak points in the countryside.”
“Exactly,” Alam affirmed. “They’re planning something. We need to stay vigilant.”
Nkosi agreed, her expression serious. “The Red Army is definitely plotting. We need to prepare for any surprises.”
“Have you located their stratocannon?” Alam asked.
Nkosi nodded. “Yes, we’ve pinpointed its location. It’s a serious threat, but we have a plan to neutralize it. We’ll open a route to attack and destroy it.”
Alam smirked, sensing the momentum building. “Good. Now we wait for Zion’s move.”
later. the news of red revolution reach the Xian base, Alam looked at Nkosi and Artak, his expression grim.
“I see... Zion is not joking about this rebellion. He’s attacking his own troops.”
Nkosi nodded, concern etched on her face. “It seems he’s facing internal unrest. This strife could be advantageous if we exploit it.”
“But is this part of his strategy or just a distraction?” Alam pondered aloud. “I can’t read a madman.”
Nkosi paused, considering. “That’s true. We need to stay vigilant and prepared for anything. Let's monitor the situation closely.”
“Artak, have you dealt with madmen before?” Alam asked.
Artak nodded, his voice steady. “Yes, I’ve fought unpredictable opponents. You must remain cautious; they rely on surprise and aggression.”
“So, what’s the plan for dealing with Zion?” Alam pressed.
Artak thought carefully. “We may need to use unconventional tactics—trickery, stealth, anything to turn their chaos against them.”
“I’m not keen on pushing forward,” Alam decided. “I’ll secure our flanks and our backs.”
Artak appreciated the commitment. “Keeping our flanks secured is crucial. We must maintain a strong defense against any surprise attacks.”
With the stakes higher than ever, Alam and his ally prepared for the tumultuous events ahead,
Later, Alam took a tour of the front lines. It was the first time he'd truly seen the sheer diversity of the forces under his loose command. The mismatched uniforms, the different skin tones, the wildly varying ways they chose to unwind—it was a stark contrast to the relatively homogenous ranks of his original Wanderers.
On the Golden Caravan’s armored train—impressive tech, he had to admit—Alam sat in a compartment with General Zhang and a grand mufti, an old man with a flowing white beard. In the carriage behind them, the scene was… different. Soldiers were crammed together, completely absorbed in a drama playing on a small screen. A man and a woman were arguing intensely.
The woman slapped the man. A collective gasp rose from the soldiers.
Then the man slapped the woman. Another gasp, this one laced with a different kind of tension.
Finally, they kissed. The soldiers sighed in unison. A large, dark-skinned soldier murmured, “Now that’s romantic.”
A man with bright red hair scoffed. “Romantic? You call that entertainment? Give me some gladiator bloodsport.” He snatched the remote, switching the channel.
The screen now showed two naked women fighting in a grid arena—a “catfight,” as the Red Army broadcast labeled it. Whistles and cheers erupted from some of the soldiers. Others covered their eyes in mock horror. Jaws dropped. A brief but fierce struggle for the remote ensued, ending only when an officer drew his pistol and switched off the TV, launching into a furious lecture.
Alam watched the commotion with detached amusement. Zhang glanced at the grand mufti. Despite their similar traditional garb, the mufti’s was far more modest. “This was once a land of morals,” Zhang said, his voice low. “People dressed with decorum, behaved with modesty… but now.” He trailed off, shaking his head slowly.
grand mufti nod “you know story of adam? when they decend from heaven. they lost their clothes.
satan then on mission. to make people lose his sense of shame. because when people lost his sense of shame they will able do anything..
Zhang nodded, remembering firsthand the Red Army’s brutality. They claimed to liberate, yet coldly separated families in the name of efficiency. "This… this constant barrage of violence and… degradation. It's poisoning the minds of our people."
grand mufti stright up his gaze to a train window“people might say dont judge books by its cover. but when books is about glorified violence. immorality. and drug and war. there is nothing to read”
Alam’s gaze flicked to the soldiers in the other carriage, still being scolded by their officer. The cheers and the fascination with the violent and immoral broadcast were telling. The officer, red-faced, pointed at the screen. "Do you understand? This is educational! It teaches you… how not to behave! Yes. That's it. Educational."