Darkstone Code-Chapter 990 - 988: High-Speed Efficiency

The Federation’s army has conducted training exercises for street combat.

Considering that there is a possibility of invasion in the future... no, there is a possibility of being invaded by other countries, the long East Coast practically lacks any defensive capability.

The Federation cannot transform the entire coastline into an impenetrable defense line. The only thing it can do is build some fortifications to delay the enemy’s landing as much as possible.

But ultimately, the enemy will undoubtedly set foot on the Federation Mainland. If the war has progressed to fighting the enemy at one’s doorstep, it means the Federation’s navy is already completely destroyed.

Without naval suppression and support, the only option is to let the enemies in and then annihilate them through street combat.

Especially the Marine Corps, their daily training involves the most content related to street combat.

Sanchez mentioned some people and places, which made the colonel somewhat impatient, "I don’t know these people or these places..."

He took a map from his adjutant’s hand, slapped it on the table, and tossed a marker onto the map, "Now use this pen to circle the targets we need to attack; that’ll make things convenient for both of us."

Without much thought, Sanchez used his left hand to circle two places on the map, then looked at the colonel, "In this city, there are only these two gangs. Eliminate them, and I can consolidate the remaining forces of the city, turning them into my people."

The colonel glanced at the map, summoned a few subordinates, and they each took out a smaller map, marking the places Sanchez had circled.

After assigning the tasks, the sky had already begun to lighten, and the colonel asked, "Anything else to add?"

Sanchez shook his head, "No."

"Very well, then let’s begin the operation!"

...

Lucas is the leader of the Eagle Gang. The previous gang leader was his brother, who died in an attack, so Lucas became the new leader; it’s like a family business.

It’s not that no one wanted to be the leader, but to be one, you at least needed money.

People here are very realistic; they follow the money.

Ambitions and dreams mean nothing here; no one risks their life for something as worthless as ambition or dreams.

If you want these people to stand by your side with guns and take bullets for you, you first need to offer them enough money to do so.

Although called a gang, they’re really striving toward becoming a small warlord; it’s the shared dream of Lucas’s family, including his deceased relatives, to become a warlord, commanding a large number of men, and becoming an ultimate regional ruler.

People at the bottom of Mariluo suffer greatly; it seems like their world is filled with poverty from birth. Many people’s annual income, converted to Federation Sol, is just 20 or 30 dollars.

Many have no stable income; they are short-term or temporary workers and finding a job is very difficult. More puzzling is that they often spend their earnings on gambling.

Here, you can often see children running around the streets without clothes—boys and girls alike, sometimes only wearing the smallest possible underwear. It’s partly because they’re young, and more so because they can’t afford clothes.

It’s incredible: how can people not afford clothes? Perhaps they are also considering this.

Good fabrics are first given to family members who can earn money and then to those who provide labor. For children who can’t work, bring in income, and often dirty or ruin clothes, there’s no need for them to wear clothes.

As they grow older, maybe they’ll get some hand-me-downs from older siblings or parents, but when they are young, they have none.

In short, this place is very poor, and people’s lives are difficult.

The Malloryans made many rules, such as only they could hold official positions or start businesses, while Mariluans were only the Malloryans’ lowly subjects, fit only for the dirtiest and most degrading jobs.

This resulted in wealth being concentrated in the hands of a few people—the true rulers, who don’t care about the lives of the people at the bottom, so the Mariluans gave them a big surprise.

If anyone is unwilling to remain impoverished all their lives, the best way is to fight for a future with their lives.

This is the main reason for Mariluo’s current situation—the long-oppressed lower class stood up, sounding the horn of freedom...

But in reality, people’s lives haven’t changed; they’re still too poor to steal anything worthwhile when they rob!

The warlords only care about their own profits; they don’t care how those ordinary people live. The Mariluans who stood up seemingly turned into the new Malloryans, and the world has become a mess.

People once believed those who stood in rebellion would change Mariluo’s situation, but unexpectedly, they pushed Mariluo further into the Abyss.

Being born in this era, and in Mariluo, may be the saddest thing in the world.

But those already born have to find a way to change their own destiny.

Lucas, who presided over the "Glory Kill" yesterday, drank too much and is now resting.

The "Glory Kill" is a religious, ritualized method of killing; it’s not simply about venting anger through killing but also carries deep meaning.

It’s like those bodies hanging from lampposts; they’re not hung there to scare anyone but to meet some specific needs.

Glory.

Or whatever.

The sleeping Lucas felt a bit thirsty, and just as he turned, he heard some sounds he had never heard before.

tongtongtong...

It sounded like... he opened his eyes and listened carefully. It was just like the winter last year when he heated a bottle of cork-sealed milk from the Federation on the stove.

His intention was to warm it slightly; no one likes drinking cold things in the dead of winter.

But he soon got cozy with the girls and forgot about the milk on the stove. After who knows how long, he heard this sound.

tong

When he went to the kitchen, the stubborn cork had flown off who knows where, milk splattered everywhere, and there was a strange smell in the kitchen.

Back then, it was this sound, like something being ejected rapidly by a gas flow, hitting the wall.

Is someone boiling milk?

That idiot probably doesn’t know to unscrew the cap first!

Someone later explained why this happened; he didn’t really remember the reason, just that before heating milk in a glass bottle, you had to remove the cork.

Lucas mocked whoever was stupid enough, and he closed his eyes, thinking he could sleep a bit longer.

But the next second, he opened his eyes wide.

It couldn’t be that many people boiling milk simultaneously, and there’s not that much milk around here!

The slightly warm touch of the gun under his pillow gave him a hint of security. He gently pushed away the girls tangled up with him and walked to the window.

It was just getting light out; smoke rose in some parts of the city, maybe from a fire last night or perhaps someone had been burned to death.

These things happen nearly every day; he didn’t find anything special about it and quickly turned his attention to the yard.

Lucas was the gang leader, soon to be a "General," and there were always guards outside his house.

In fights between warlords and gangs, don’t expect anyone to be "fair." Many Mariluo politicians and warlords have died in assassinations, making people very concerned about their safety.

But now, where there should be patrols or at least someone standing, there wasn’t a soul around the house.

Then, a faint "tongtong" sound came from downstairs, making his heart seize with a sense of foreboding.

He turned and rushed to the wardrobe, rummaging through the heap of clothes to find his bulletproof vest.

"Damn, why is this so hard to wear?" he cursed, placing his gun on the table beside him and using both hands, yet still finding it hard.

Putting on a bulletproof vest isn’t difficult—just buckle each lock with patience and pull tight.

Having never done it himself, now mixed with nerves, he couldn’t get it on properly.

Angry without knowing why, he walked to the bed, waking the two girls who had spent the night with him, "Help me put on this..."

The bedroom door opened, and the three looked to see two strange gun barrels aimed at them.

tong...

tongtong...

Lucas never figured out by the time of his death where these people came from, why their guns made a "tongtong" sound instead of a "bang," and lastly,

why they didn’t aim for his bulletproof vest?

Ryan only fired one shot, killing the young man who seemed slightly threatening. He hesitated in front of the two girls by his side.

He didn’t think those girls posed a threat, nor was he fully accustomed to this life yet.

Suddenly boarding a train, crossing the border to conduct a military mission abroad; he expected some time to adapt and hadn’t adjusted his mindset.

What was more difficult for him to accept was the attitude of the veterans.

Among the three thousand, one thousand had completed their missions in the Amelia Combat Zone and were taken from their leave, proactively brought over to participate in this action.

Each was responsible for two recruits, while another thousand newcomers went to Amelia.

A veteran glanced at Ryan, seemingly questioning why he didn’t fire, stepping into the room to shoot the three in the head again.

The entire process was silent, save for the dull gunshots, "tong...tong...tong."