Chapter 199: Combined Arms and the Peeling Tactic
Translating or editing web novels on your own? Or Love reading web novels that never get official translations?
Absolute Mystery now offers early access to the tools we built to streamline our own translation workflow.
Join our Discord Server
Chapter 199: Combined Arms and the Peeling Tactic
Yu Shengding observed the airship fleet heading towards the Farlay Dynasty, though not directly to its capital.
He had always favored the heart-digging tactic—striking deep into the enemy's core to both disrupt and demoralize. But times had changed.
In the past, his use of the heart-digging tactic had focused primarily on psychological warfare, akin to the stratagem of Besiege Wei to Rescue Zhao, aimed at relieving pressure elsewhere.
Now, however, his assault on the Farlay Dynasty was not about relieving pressure but outright conquest.
Taking the capital of the Farlay Dynasty with the heart-digging tactic would indeed devastate enemy morale in the short term. But one must not forget—this was a world where divine right still held sway.
Though the divine council rarely interfered in mortal affairs, that did not mean they couldn’t. If the capital fell, the gods could easily manifest a divine miracle to rally the people, seizing control of both military and religious authority in the name of divine will.
If that happened, his tank forces stationed in the capital would likely find themselves encircled, cut off like water without a source. Once their ammunition ran dry, their destruction would be inevitable.
Though the loss would merely be a batch of steel constructs, the cost of war remained steep.
Thus, Yu Shengding now leaned towards launching a blitzkrieg, employing the peeling tactic with combined arms—advancing swiftly, layer by layer, while selectively using the heart-digging tactic to dismantle regional command centers. They would fortify each captured territory, gradually occupying the entire Farlay Dynasty.
The downside of the peeling tactic was that it gave the enemy time to react, allowing them to establish layered defenses.
But the mechanized forces he now commanded had once crushed Vilia. Their greatest advantage was their speed.
Before the Farlay Dynasty could even organize a defensive perimeter, his forces would already be deep in their heartland.
This was also why his first strategic target was the Aufanton Line—the stronghold of the former Empire of Infer’s elite border troops.
Once these soldiers were recruited and reorganized, they would become a formidable fighting force.
History had proven that soldiers bearing the label For the Motherland—Infer were almost never successfully integrated into other armies.
But who could blame them? The soldiers of the Empire of Infer had endured unimaginable psychological torment in recent years.
When the two armies had clashed, blood debts had been forged.
And then—without firing a single shot—they had been captured overnight due to the failure of the steam divine patterns.
Though the Farlay main force had been too preoccupied with their offensive to deal with the prisoners, the garrison troops—composed of the elderly, the weak, and marginalized officers—had nowhere to vent their fury. Now, tasked with guarding these prisoners, they took their rage out on the Infer captives.
This series of events had subjected the former Empire of Infer soldiers to an unprecedented psychological upheaval—from the despair of capture, to the collapse of faith after being branded heretics, to the helpless fury of abuse, and finally, the reforging of belief upon their sudden liberation.
How could they not join the ranks of their liberators?
In no time, countless former Empire of Infer soldiers picked up weapons from the fallen airships, climbed into tanks, and launched a blitzkrieg against the Farlay Dynasty.
Simultaneously, as this news spread instantaneously across the Empire via the internet, Infer erupted in an uproar! The entire nation was in shock!
A chain reaction—one that even Yu Shengding and the high command of Infer had not anticipated—had begun.
...
...
Infer·Pu'en.
At dawn, before the window-knocker could rap on the pane, Qiao Yifang had already woken up. (Window-knocker: a human alarm clock.)
He had grown accustomed to waking at five o'clock.
According to the Empire of Infer's Working Hours Act, designed to protect workers' rights, shifts were supposed to begin at six in the morning and end at six in the evening, with a one-hour break at noon—totaling an 11-hour workday.
But in reality, cunning factory owners almost always demanded workers arrive a quarter-hour early, sometimes even earlier.
Likewise, evening shifts were often extended by a quarter-hour, or even longer.
As for the noon break? Forget about it.
Countless workers had staged a great strike thirty steps ago, shedding blood to secure this so-called 11-hour workday, yet it remained little more than an empty promise.
To avoid having his salary docked for tardiness, Qiao Yifang had long since trained himself to wake at five.
Even though the National Working Hours Act of the Workers' State stipulated that factories could not start operations before seven.
With his eyes open, Qiao Yifang didn’t rush to dress. Instead, he habitually murmured the prayer chant of the Internet God, accessing the internet to check the time.
5:03 a.m.
He exhaled, feeling a small sense of pride at his precise internal clock.
Next, he opened the Empire of Infer Gazette, skimming through the latest news. Unsurprisingly, yet another city of the former Empire of Infer had surrendered to the Workers' State.
Beyond that, there were updates on the Workers' State’s crackdown on remnants of the Imperial faction.
For example:
At 11 p.m. last night, Marquis Maletz was captured at his secret hideout.
The operation’s success was largely credited to the red-armband warriors of the Workers' State.
Turns out, an elderly woman living nearby had noticed something odd—Marquis Maletz’s hideout was modest, yet the groceries delivered there were suspiciously lavish.
Guided by the principle of better safe than sorry, and motivated by the 10-shilling bounty, she wasted no time reporting the anomaly.
Coming from a working-class family, Qiao Yifang’s literacy was limited.
But even with his limited reading skills, he eagerly clicked on the news video, watching the reporter’s live coverage with relish. He couldn’t help but envy the old woman’s reward—damn, a marquis? That tip must’ve been worth at least a penny, right?
That was nearly a month’s salary for him!
Honestly, why don’t we have any Imperial remnants around here?
Still savoring the news, Qiao Yifang smacked his lips—until a sudden knock at the window startled him.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The window-knocker had arrived.
Qiao Yifang blinked, checked the internet time again, and realized with a jolt that it was already six.
He scrambled up, wolfed down last night’s leftovers for breakfast, and hurried out the door.
By now, the streets were bustling with workers heading to their shifts.
Not daring to linger, Qiao Yifang rushed toward the factory. Even though the National Working Hours Act prohibited operations before seven, what if the factory owner played word games and started early?
When he arrived, a crowd of workers had already gathered at the factory gates.
Many shared the same anxious look.
As they waited for the door-opening, chatter filled the air.
"Hey, catch the news? Marquis Maletz actually got nabbed?"
"Who the hell is Marquis Maletz?"
"Damn envious! The informant probably got at least 1 shilling as a reward, right?"
"1 shilling? You’re really underestimating Marquis Maletz! Remember when Count Elio was captured? The reward was 5 shilling!"
As they chatted, their voices suddenly grew hushed.
"Hey, hey, did you hear? The Aufanton Line has fallen. Isn’t that even bigger news?"
"Not sure. There’s been no solid info about the Aufanton Line on the internet."
"Could it just be fake news spread by those remnants of the old imperial faction?"
"How could it be fake? I’ve got a friend who works in military logistics, and now his factory’s completely shut down. It’s because all the steam divine patterns have failed—even the weapons are useless. How could the Aufanton Line possibly hold?"
The workers whispered among themselves.
The failure of the steam divine patterns—it’s an open secret.
No matter how hard they try to cover it up, they can’t.
No one’s stupid. Forget the old imperial faction’s propaganda about 'blasphemers'—everyone still has some basic reasoning skills.
Qiao Yifang, who had been in a decent mood earlier, grew heavy-hearted upon hearing the discussion about the Aufanton Line.
A pay raise and reduced hours were certainly valuable, but what good would they be if the entire nation fell?
Those damned Huo Lai people would surely turn them all into slaves, driving them into the mines for endless labor. Their women would be taken, their children enslaved—they’d have no future.
Recalling the Empire’s recent propaganda, Qiao Yifang felt increasingly lost and weighed down!
But just then, a sudden commotion erupted from the growing crowd outside the factory gates.
"Real news!"
"Everyone, real news!"
Yu Shengding observed the airship fleet heading towards the Farlay Dynasty, though not directly to its capital.
He had always favored the heart-digging tactic—striking deep into the enemy's core to both disrupt and demoralize. But times had changed.
In the past, his use of the heart-digging tactic had focused primarily on psychological warfare, akin to the stratagem of Besiege Wei to Rescue Zhao, aimed at relieving pressure elsewhere.
Now, however, his assault on the Farlay Dynasty was not about relieving pressure but outright conquest.
Taking the capital of the Farlay Dynasty with the heart-digging tactic would indeed devastate enemy morale in the short term. But one must not forget—this was a world where divine right still held sway.
Though the divine council rarely interfered in mortal affairs, that did not mean they couldn’t. If the capital fell, the gods could easily manifest a divine miracle to rally the people, seizing control of both military and religious authority in the name of divine will.
If that happened, his tank forces stationed in the capital would likely find themselves encircled, cut off like water without a source. Once their ammunition ran dry, their destruction would be inevitable.
Though the loss would merely be a batch of steel constructs, the cost of war remained steep.
Thus, Yu Shengding now leaned towards launching a blitzkrieg, employing the peeling tactic with combined arms—advancing swiftly, layer by layer, while selectively using the heart-digging tactic to dismantle regional command centers. They would fortify each captured territory, gradually occupying the entire Farlay Dynasty.
The downside of the peeling tactic was that it gave the enemy time to react, allowing them to establish layered defenses.
But the mechanized forces he now commanded had once crushed Vilia. Their greatest advantage was their speed.
Before the Farlay Dynasty could even organize a defensive perimeter, his forces would already be deep in their heartland.
This was also why his first strategic target was the Aufanton Line—the stronghold of the former Empire of Infer’s elite border troops.
Once these soldiers were recruited and reorganized, they would become a formidable fighting force.
History had proven that soldiers bearing the label For the Motherland—Infer were almost never successfully integrated into other armies.
But who could blame them? The soldiers of the Empire of Infer had endured unimaginable psychological torment in recent years.
When the two armies had clashed, blood debts had been forged.
And then—without firing a single shot—they had been captured overnight due to the failure of the steam divine patterns.
Though the Farlay main force had been too preoccupied with their offensive to deal with the prisoners, the garrison troops—composed of the elderly, the weak, and marginalized officers—had nowhere to vent their fury. Now, tasked with guarding these prisoners, they took their rage out on the Infer captives.
This series of events had subjected the former Empire of Infer soldiers to an unprecedented psychological upheaval—from the despair of capture, to the collapse of faith after being branded heretics, to the helpless fury of abuse, and finally, the reforging of belief upon their sudden liberation.
How could they not join the ranks of their liberators?
In no time, countless former Empire of Infer soldiers picked up weapons from the fallen airships, climbed into tanks, and launched a blitzkrieg against the Farlay Dynasty.
Simultaneously, as this news spread instantaneously across the Empire via the internet, Infer erupted in an uproar! The entire nation was in shock!
A chain reaction—one that even Yu Shengding and the high command of Infer had not anticipated—had begun.
...
...
Infer·Pu'en.
At dawn, before the window-knocker could rap on the pane, Qiao Yifang had already woken up. (Window-knocker: a human alarm clock.)
He had grown accustomed to waking at five o'clock.
According to the Empire of Infer's Working Hours Act, designed to protect workers' rights, shifts were supposed to begin at six in the morning and end at six in the evening, with a one-hour break at noon—totaling an 11-hour workday.
But in reality, cunning factory owners almost always demanded workers arrive a quarter-hour early, sometimes even earlier.
Likewise, evening shifts were often extended by a quarter-hour, or even longer.
As for the noon break? Forget about it.
Countless workers had staged a great strike thirty steps ago, shedding blood to secure this so-called 11-hour workday, yet it remained little more than an empty promise.
To avoid having his salary docked for tardiness, Qiao Yifang had long since trained himself to wake at five.
Even though the National Working Hours Act of the Workers' State stipulated that factories could not start operations before seven.
With his eyes open, Qiao Yifang didn’t rush to dress. Instead, he habitually murmured the prayer chant of the Internet God, accessing the internet to check the time.
5:03 a.m.
He exhaled, feeling a small sense of pride at his precise internal clock.
Next, he opened the Empire of Infer Gazette, skimming through the latest news. Unsurprisingly, yet another city of the former Empire of Infer had surrendered to the Workers' State.
Beyond that, there were updates on the Workers' State’s crackdown on remnants of the Imperial faction.
For example:
At 11 p.m. last night, Marquis Maletz was captured at his secret hideout.
The operation’s success was largely credited to the red-armband warriors of the Workers' State.
Turns out, an elderly woman living nearby had noticed something odd—Marquis Maletz’s hideout was modest, yet the groceries delivered there were suspiciously lavish.
Guided by the principle of better safe than sorry, and motivated by the 10-shilling bounty, she wasted no time reporting the anomaly.
Coming from a working-class family, Qiao Yifang’s literacy was limited.
But even with his limited reading skills, he eagerly clicked on the news video, watching the reporter’s live coverage with relish. He couldn’t help but envy the old woman’s reward—damn, a marquis? That tip must’ve been worth at least a penny, right?
That was nearly a month’s salary for him!
Honestly, why don’t we have any Imperial remnants around here?
Still savoring the news, Qiao Yifang smacked his lips—until a sudden knock at the window startled him.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The window-knocker had arrived.
Qiao Yifang blinked, checked the internet time again, and realized with a jolt that it was already six.
He scrambled up, wolfed down last night’s leftovers for breakfast, and hurried out the door.
By now, the streets were bustling with workers heading to their shifts.
Not daring to linger, Qiao Yifang rushed toward the factory. Even though the National Working Hours Act prohibited operations before seven, what if the factory owner played word games and started early?
When he arrived, a crowd of workers had already gathered at the factory gates.
Many shared the same anxious look.
As they waited for the door-opening, chatter filled the air.
"Hey, catch the news? Marquis Maletz actually got nabbed?"
"Who the hell is Marquis Maletz?"
"Damn envious! The informant probably got at least 1 shilling as a reward, right?"
"1 shilling? You’re really underestimating Marquis Maletz! Remember when Count Elio was captured? The reward was 5 shilling!"
As they chatted, their voices suddenly grew hushed.
"Hey, hey, did you hear? The Aufanton Line has fallen. Isn’t that even bigger news?"
"Not sure. There’s been no solid info about the Aufanton Line on the internet."
"Could it just be fake news spread by those remnants of the old imperial faction?"
"How could it be fake? I’ve got a friend who works in military logistics, and now his factory’s completely shut down. It’s because all the steam divine patterns have failed—even the weapons are useless. How could the Aufanton Line possibly hold?"
The workers whispered among themselves.
The failure of the steam divine patterns—it’s an open secret.
No matter how hard they try to cover it up, they can’t.
No one’s stupid. Forget the old imperial faction’s propaganda about 'blasphemers'—everyone still has some basic reasoning skills.
Qiao Yifang, who had been in a decent mood earlier, grew heavy-hearted upon hearing the discussion about the Aufanton Line.
A pay raise and reduced hours were certainly valuable, but what good would they be if the entire nation fell?
Those damned Huo Lai people would surely turn them all into slaves, driving them into the mines for endless labor. Their women would be taken, their children enslaved—they’d have no future.
Recalling the Empire’s recent propaganda, Qiao Yifang felt increasingly lost and weighed down!
But just then, a sudden commotion erupted from the growing crowd outside the factory gates.
"Real news!"
"Everyone, real news!"
Rating
0
0
There are no comments for now.
Subscribe
to be the first to leave a comment.