(This chapter contains 4500 words, combining two chapters into one.)
Mu Fan thought the robot would answer him.
However, there was no response at all…
Mu Fan asked a few more times, but still got no response.
All he could hear was the sound of the transport vehicle bumping along the uneven road.
Looking back at the quiet carriage behind him, isolated by thick steel plates, Mu Fan suddenly felt as if he had entered a prison.
Above the partition separating the carriage from the driver's compartment, there was a camera performing its monitoring duty diligently.
Mu Fan believed any unusual activity from him would be transmitted in real time to the Intelligence Center of the 149th Division.
With his back to the camera, Mu Fan walked to the very end of the carriage and looked through the observation hole in the heavy door at the rolling Earth Dragons behind him.
"Black, I think what's being transported isn't the cargo—it's me."
A soft voice sounded as Mu Fan casually pulled out a pack of compressed biscuits, tore it open, and swallowed it down. Just sitting in the vehicle for two days without any interaction, his first mission was utterly boring.
"Humph, you're worrying over nothing. Just keep moving and press your wrist against the communication window. Master Black is the best at handling such situations,"
Black replied with a cold laugh.
Thus, under the watch of the camera, Mu Fan pretended to be nonchalant and returned to his position, leaning his wrist against the communication window.
"Is our route secure?"
"This is my first mission and I don't want to mess it up."
A seemingly frustrated voice was heard.
…
149th Division, Intelligence Center.
Major Gerry was quietly observing the real-time surveillance of the two transport vehicles.
To him, Mu Fan's behavior seemed a bit amusing—he had just attempted to strike up a conversation with a robot that was simply programmed for fixed functions. It was like his brain was waterlogged.
However, soon after, the private named Mu Fan gave up the attempt and walked back toward the end of the carriage.
It seemed he had hit a dead end, a normal reaction to the situation, the Major nodded to himself.
After a while, when Mu Fan turned around and walked toward the window, Major Gerry laughed out loud and soon lost interest. This kid was really simple-minded.
And his brain must be waterlogged too.
After the laughter, Gerry ceased to focus exclusively on watching this fool; instead, he proceeded to routinely inspect other surveillance feeds.
However, no one knew that just below the camera was a partial blind spot in the surveillance. When Mu Fan's palm rested on the metal window, it happened to be out of the camera's sight.
And even fewer people knew that when Mu Fan's left wristwatch quietly pressed against the steel mesh window, the blue eyes of the driving robot flickered.
"Force field construction in progress, completion at 44%...67%..."
"Signal camouflage initiated, hacking the central control chip, progress at 40%, 75%..."
"All hacking complete."
"Video surveillance signal modification complete."
"Upper command information acquired."
"In this field, Lord Black is invincible."
Mu Fan was intently listening to Black's progress report when suddenly the head of the black robot driving the transport vehicle rotated 180 degrees and spoke.
The last sentence came from the front.
Mu Fan raised an eyebrow, his left index finger pointing upward, without saying a word.
"I've already taken control of this vehicle, and the one next to us will be under control in 10 seconds. Don't worry, if they don't remain convinced that you're a good kid, I lose," Black declared.
Looking at the dumbfounded robot in front of him, Mu Fan's mouth twitched.
"Can't you stop being so sarcastic!"
When Major Gerry glanced at the monitor again, Mu Fan in the footage had already given up talking and had frustratingly lied down in the corridor to sleep.
"Major… this?"
The intelligence officer hesitantly looked toward Gerry.
"That's enough, don't worry about it anymore. Just check intermittently over the two days."
Seeing this scene, Major Gerry finally eased his mind and no longer paid attention.
The Intelligence Department didn't have internal surveillance facilities and audio collectors, so Black naturally didn't know the conversations of several people.
But through monitoring the military network, the intelligence personnel had finally deduced that their surveillance on Mu Fan had subtly lessened.
Black's stealth program lingered in the communication channel at the end of the supplies department, untouched by what it perceived as rudimentary defense programs.
In the "completely normal" surveillance footage, Mu Fan continued to sleep soundly.
But in reality, Mu Fan was already seated in the passenger seat, experiencing the unique charm of Planet Epsilon E73.
Wind, desolation, hills.
A vast, grey expanse with not a hint of green.
Even the moss was brownish, and though it looked dry, it felt quite moist to the touch.
Apart from some tenaciously surviving plants, Mu Fan had not yet seen any animal life.
All along the way, he had also not noticed any signs of large creature activity.
With the window wide open, Mu Fan rested one hand on the door, the earsplitting rock music Black intentionally played filling his ears.
Blaring, intense drum beats paired with raspy voices perfectly encapsulated the desolate, post-apocalyptic vibe of the battlefield.
Even in Mu Fan's incredulous gaze, the spare black robot beside him rhythmically swayed, causing the transport vehicle to rock as it drove.
Once Black took control of the driving robot, Mu Fan instantly completed his identity shift.
He truly became the person in charge of the two transport vehicles.
To put it in Black's words—it was a transformation from "grandson" to "master."
Turning his head, looking at the robot who was intently enjoying the thrill of driving, Mu Fan called out:
"Black?"
"Hey, boy, want to switch to the next song?"
The robot's blue electronic eyes glanced at Mu Fan, still unable to stop swaying with the music.
The conversation had already failed before it started…
Mu Fan simply closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, clearly Black was not yet over the excitement of acquiring a new body.
Once the infiltration succeeded, as the host, Mu Fan naturally knew the true state of the two transport vehicles.
The two robots had no signs of manual manipulation; they simply followed the preset driving programs. In the data banks of these robots, this route was designated as a secure route opened by the Federation military.
So, it was unlikely he would encounter any dangers on the road.
Except, within a few kilometers after entering the Fire Hills area, where they might face minor harassment from small enemy groups.
However, the destination for the material support, the 104th Division's 27th Infantry Regiment, would definitely come to meet them.
Without low-flying aircraft and relying on the transport vehicle's speed, it would take two days at the fastest, and these two days were destined to be boring and lengthy.
Though, considering it was a support mission, what role could he play alone?
Under the grey skies, a man and two vehicles gradually disappeared into the distance.
...
"Have you heard? The stingy commander of the 149th Division actually sent us support materials."
Covered in thick mud, an old soldier clutched his pulse rifle, sensing the rustling noise from the artillery fire striking intensely above the air raid shelter.
Joe Pate, a second-level sergeant of the 27th Infantry Company and a veteran who had fought on the frontier for over nine years.
In his own words, back when he was in a B-level military school, he had brutally beaten a military higher-up's son who had paralyzed someone in an accident and then tried to flee the scene.
He ended up being vengefully stationed at the frontier, where he stayed for nine years.
During that time, from space stations to small asteroids, Joe Pate had narrowly escaped death several times, ultimately ending up still stationed in an old war zone where fierce conflicts still existed.
Officially, it was glorified as a way to train newcomers.
Having long been away from the stable life of peaceful planets, he had almost forgotten what normal, comfortable life was like.
However, if given another chance, his answer would still be yes, and he would have been even more ruthless.
Scum like them deserved to be beaten again and again.
A long career in combat had long since given Joe Pate a fiery temper, and he had grown from a green student into a seasoned soldier who killed without batting an eye.
The Fire Hills zone was one of the more fiercely contested areas among the more than thirty war zones of the 104th Division.
The outspoken division leader was no better than them; now, he couldn't even manage to provide regular material aid to his soldiers.
"Ah, this damned society."
Thinking this, Joe spat viciously.
Boom, boom!
The sound of intense artillery fire roared above again, and falling stones painfully hit him.
"These sons of bitches from the Frontier Army, depending on their surplus of ammunition, bombard us for half an hour daily. If it weren't for 27th Infantry Company's unyielding will, other weak divisions' soldiers would have fled long ago. Joe, do you think we got anything good in the supplies this time?"
Next to Joe Pate, a robust black sergeant asked, hunching his neck.
"Good stuff? Do you expect the garbage-like Quinton to provide us with anything good?"
"Yeah, right. So, what if the enemy enters the Fire Hills zone and we don't go to support?"
"Of course, we go. Capture every man and vehicle; why refuse what is freely given?"
Dust constantly shook down from above; all the soldiers closed their eyes, quietly waiting for the bombardment to end.
As for counterattacking?
Their troops in the Fire Hills zone were surviving on beggarly supplies, a miracle in itself.
Finally, when the routine artillery fire ceased, a group of people emerged from the dusty air raid shelter, dusted themselves off, and stood within the external fortifications looking toward the distant howitzer formation.
Days of dealing with all kinds of artillery had become as routine as eating and drinking, especially since both sides extremely disciplinedly refrained from using gas attacks, making this more like a daily standoff.
After confirming that the soldiers from the Gardot Empire in the distance had ceased their attacks, Major Jerome, the leader of the 27th Infantry Company, stood under a staggered boulder with his messy, bird's-nest-like blond hair and began a focused pep talk.
Of course, the content was the routine morale-boosting, not without speeches about killing the opposition, gaining honors, and eventually getting promoted, wealthy, and leaving this godforsaken place.
This caused the soldiers of the infantry company to burst into laughter.
The once full-strength company of 178 soldiers had dwindled to just over ninety.
On this planet, there were countless such areas requiring sustained defense, around five or six hundred in total.
Of course, the 27th Infantry belonged to one of since the Fire Hills ABCDE five subdivisions, they only belonged to the Fire Hills D defense area.
While giving his speech, Major Jerome's waist radio communicator vibrated.
Immediately, all soldiers' eyes focused on him.
With his hair a disheveled mess, the Major bellowed, "What are you looking at!"
Then, he calmly connected the call, made a couple of grunts, and then hung up Sky Communication.
Glancing sideways with a pair of eyes, he eyed the group of battle-scarred soldiers in front of him and cracked a grin, "The supply truck is here, ten kilometers away. It's in the layered rock hills of the Gardot territory; they've never been here before, they can't get in."
"Ha ha ha ha," a burst of laughter echoed.
"Joe, take your assault team over to meet them. Have the boys get their spirits up; don't let the momentum of our 104th Division's 27th Infantry falter. Show those soft soldiers what real warriors look like!"
"Sir!"
Joe Pate snapped a military salute, then turned around to face the members of the assault team, his face twisted into a feral grin, "Puff out your chests, let those woman-like soldiers see what a real man is. All Sergeants, suit up in your Exoskeleton Armors, we're going to receive the supplies!"
Amidst a chorus of howling, over twenty soldiers, looking bedraggled, laughed uproariously as they quickly changed into their gear with textbook precision.
Four all-terrain mine-laying vehicles, two jet motorcycles, and seven Exoskeleton Armored soldiers—the group of just over twenty moved agilely toward the distant layered hills.
Elsewhere, Mu Fan was utterly unaware that members of the 27th Infantry's assault team were already happily on their way to meet him.
He had just been notified by Black that the standard reporting protocol had been done, and the next step was to wait for the other party to come to meet them.
They couldn't rush forward blindly; the Fire Hills were filled with tactical mines – and they were anything but vegetarian.
Having been worked over by the old soldiers, the Fire Hills had long since become an extensive minefield.
At that moment, Mu Fan, his pack strapped to his back and fully dressed, stood by two heavily loaded supply vehicles, surveying the distance.
True to its name, the Fire Hills wasn't just a single hill but a terrain of low rock fire stone hills layer upon layer.
The whole area's reddish-brown color made it look like a series of lit torches.
Perhaps that's how the Fire Hills got its name.
So, his task was to survive here for thirty days?
Mu Fan licked his lips; through the mask of his respirator, he faintly smelled smoke that the filter couldn't completely block.
Just then, a sudden movement caught Mu Fan's attention. With his extraordinary vision, he could see a squad of fully armed mechanized infantry suddenly emerging from beneath the ground's layers and quickly advancing toward him.
It looked like the approaching troops were finally here.
However, to be cautious, Mu Fan very conscientiously raised his OW42 rifle, though it was heavy and not as advanced as the OW76 he had previously handled, and even less useful to him than the dagger he held.
But for strangers, a pulse rifle was evidently more effective.
In the rising clouds of dust, the awe-inspiring soldiers had already reached Mu Fan.
Four sharp angled mine-laying vehicles swiftly surrounded the supply vehicles, followed by the manned jet motorcycles that arrived and disgorged about a dozen gun-wielding soldiers, and finally, seven Exoskeleton Armored soldiers covered in scars stopped in front of him.
"I am Mu Fan, supply escort officer of the 149th Division. Identify yourself!"
Mu Fan strictly adhered to his warrior protocol.
He certainly didn't want to screw up such a straightforward task; verifying identity was essential.
The soldiers who had just encircled Mu Fan and two black robots stopped dead, and so did Joe Pate.
"Just you alone?"
"I am the sole escort officer, Mu Fan." The young man replied evenly.
Hearing Mu Fan's response, the group of soldiers burst into laughter,
"Ha ha ha ha, this guy comes here alone pointing a gun at us to identify himself. Where did this rookie hatch from? The most basic private... The 149th Division really outdid themselves, sending a private to rescue us."
The Black Sergeant's expression turned cold, his face showing displeasure at Mu Fan.
Click, click, click, suddenly, over twenty gun barrels were pointed at Mu Fan.
Joe, as the team leader, walked up to Mu Fan with a grimace, then revealed a mocking smile,
"Rookie, this isn't a place for you to recite your manual. But to give you an explanation, and to thank you for the supplies, I won't give you a hard time this once."