After a wave of massacres by Yin Yuan, there were only sixty-three people left in the think tank that originally had more than a hundred people.
After expressing their opinions, four people finally chose to withdraw out of fear and were sent out of the palace by the cursed tiger.
No one knows where they will be sent, maybe they will die after exiting this door.
But no one in the field cared about it. After all, if these people went back and talked nonsense, it would be trouble for them.
Just die, it’s okay to die!
The remaining fifty-nine people, headed by Mr. Song, Mr. Liu, and Mr. Tarn, established a new organization.
Strange war meeting.
"Very good. Although our current situation is very disadvantageous, we still retain hope of a comeback."
"This is a new beginning. We need to stabilize the situation on the front line as soon as possible. Even if we can't defeat the humans, we can't let them advance further."
After talking about the main task, Curse Tiger didn't even think about gambling.
The first gambling battle has not ended yet, and there are still eight months until the final battle of faith. However, all the humans present, as well as the five royal families, do not think that the alien race has a chance to come back.
Nothing else.
After the new data is released.
The sixth-level priest with the suffix Soma is really a bit too perverted.
From him on down, the highest level of human priests is only Level 2, and 99% of the priests are still Level 1.
Although the progress on the alien side is slightly faster, there are only three third-level priests who have just climbed to the high priest level, and their strength is not at the same level.
In addition, the Fire Fist tribe led by Somo also crushed others.
Thirty-eight thousand people, 27,000 people who have reached the level of fanatic believers.
It is no exaggeration to say that even if the human list is rounded down by a thousand people, there will still be less than 7,000 people in this number.
It's even worse for aliens. The alien rift they are in is based on strength.
The major event "Priest's Sorrow" broke out in advance, causing serious civil strife in many tribes, resulting in numerous deaths and injuries.
Before the unrest is quelled, developing tribes and beliefs is simply a dream.
Therefore, the five royal families decided to give up the first gambling battle.
Just admit defeat!
"What about gambling?" Mr. Song thought about it for a while, but still mentioned it.
If the third major event is triggered now and the second major event breaks out at the same time, it will definitely bring more variables to the gambling world.
However, it is impossible to even think about using these variables to suppress the huge advantage accumulated by Somo in the early stage and regain the initiative. It is even impossible to cause some unnecessary trouble.
"You don't have to worry about the gambling battle. Even if Sumo wins, there are still two years left for us to win this war. At that time, I will use the lives of humans on earth to negotiate with him and let him make a choice."
"good!"
What to negotiate and what to decide?
Cursed Tiger did not take the initiative to tell the truth, and everyone present did not dare to ask, because they knew that Cursed Tiger would not tell the truth if asked.
This involves the real secrets of the wasteland world. Except for Sumo and the high-ranking aliens, even the lords of the Yusanjia territory are unknown.
It's approaching night.
With the help of the underground transportation facilities built by the dwarves of all races, the fifty-nine members of the Strange War Association rushed to the front line.
It has to be said that after resting in the dungeon for more than two months, everyone's mental state has changed a lot.
"The long-lasting tug-of-war is like a never-ending millstone, mercilessly wearing away the original distinct spiritual differences between individuals, gradually training them into indifferent and ruthless machines on the battlefield."
"In this process, no matter how sharp the edges and corners of a person are, they will only be gradually smoothed away, and their unique self will be slowly assimilated."
Mr. Song stood at the top of the carriage and slowly pulled out the tactical ideas he had prepared.
"We have been locked in the dungeon throughout the winter, which is equivalent to resting in disguise. We did not feel the oppression brought by this high-pressure environment, but the commanders and soldiers in the opposite level were fully involved.
After three large-scale battles, the mental pressure has already reached its limit."
"To win a beautiful counterattack now, making good use of this is the key!"
It has been one year and two months since the construction of the front line.
Unlike modern wars where there is a rest period, the war between humans and alien races is almost non-stop.
The difference is only in size.
Therefore, even the new recruits who join later will inevitably become as numb as the veterans after the initial excitement and filter gradually fade away.
Mr. Song knows that the commanders at the top of mankind are determined to change all this, but they don't have many useful methods.
When it comes to rewards, the wasteland is so poor that it cannot attract humans who have experienced the modern information explosion.
When talking about the future, many people cannot see the future at all and are unwilling to think about the future. Talking too much will only increase the burden.
Talking about promotion is even more difficult. Wars are frequent, but getting promoted requires crazy involution among people.
Therefore, as long as the mental pressure of the soldiers in the level can be detonated, the next battle can have at least a 50% winning rate.
The remaining 50% depends on how quickly the human commander adjusts his response.
Based on the results of the confrontation some time ago, Mr. Song estimated that it would be difficult to achieve such a hearty result as the 'Battle of Pinggu', but it would not be difficult to recreate a 'Battle of the Pass'.
In the short term, at least the alien races must see the value of the alien war guild, so that more people can be recruited from the rear of the alien races to join.
"Mr. Song, what if the other side doesn't fight us? If they guard the checkpoint to avoid fighting and hold on to the idea of delaying the gambling fight until the end, will we have to attack day and night?"
The speaker was a blond and blue-eyed Westerner.
Mr. Song glanced at the other party lightly and called out his name, "Zen, with all due respect, did you spend your war historiography in your sleep?"
"What do you mean?" Zayn's expression changed.
"The Battle of Troy, the Trojan Horse Ploy of the Greeks, the Battle of Spartacus, the Romans' tactical siege, the Battle of Constantinople, how many tunnels the Ottoman army dug, and the naval battle of Salamis, Pegasus
The Battle of Ra..."
Mr. Song talked about more than a dozen classic battles that have taken place on Earth. They were all cases in which one side had a huge advantage and wanted to delay the battle, while the other side used tricks to defeat it.
Zayn's face suddenly looked ugly.
The reason why he wanted to clear the checkpoint and defend it, and his side could only attack by force, was because he told the five royal families sitting in front to listen.
In this way, even if the war does not go well, everyone can use this excuse to delay and prevaricate to avoid another crisis of trust.
But Mr. Song did not give himself any face and directly used this method to block his words.
At the same time, he also told others that they should either use their strength to defeat the opponent or leave quickly and find another place.
"Well, there is a new opportunity in front of us. I don't want to miss it, and you certainly don't want to miss it either."
"As long as we win this battle, no matter what the final result is, we will definitely leave a mark in history. Therefore, I don't want anyone to hesitate to move forward when the critical moment comes.
."
"Well said!" Curse Tiger stood up and took the lead in applauding.
For a moment, there was thunderous applause in the carriage, and the remaining royal family and the unknown dwarf waiters also clapped, making the dwarves in the carriage in front think that some kind of celebration was being held here.
After a long while, after the applause ended, Mr. Song turned his head and looked at Zain with a deep look.
And this look also made Zain feel cold all over, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead and down his spine.
Damn it, I've been locked up for so long, my brain has become stupid.
In an instant, he thought clearly about the reason why Mr. Song didn't give him face just now.
Cursed Tiger had just released everyone from the dungeon, making promises and guarantees, wasn't it just to defeat the humans after the level?
If everyone in the carriage is not sure and confident, then what is the necessity and value of its existence?
It's just a day and night attack, and it doesn't make any difference if it's under the command of a foreign race.
"Mr. Song saved me and everyone in the carriage."
Wanting to understand this, Zain turned his head and looked at the others.
Sure enough, there are some unexplainable and special meanings in the eyes of these people.
"Okay, there are still four hours until the destination, and we still have a lot to do."
Mr. Song spoke up again, interrupting eye contact, "There are currently twenty-seven points that require manpower to take care of. I plan to divide twenty-seven two-person teams to take charge. Mr. Liu will be in charge of the North District, and the South District will be in charge.
Mr. Tarn is in charge, and the remaining two people will stay with me in the central command."
...
Nine o'clock at night.
Dwarf transport train stops at the station.
This place is still 80 kilometers away from the frontmost alien position, and we need to use the wildebeest aliens to reach it.
But there is nothing we can do about it. Underground transportation lines are the most important material support for aliens.
Once discovered and blown up by humans, millions of aliens on the front lines will immediately be in crisis.
"Let's go, according to the group, report to me every three days."
"Brother Song, take care."
"Mr. Song, I hope to hear good news from you."
"..."
Wave after wave of people left on wildebeests.
After a while, only Mr. Song was left, Zain, who insisted on following him, and Oliden, another Westerner.
The three of them stood side by side, their figures looking a little lonely.
"Mr. Song, I was confused just now. Thank you for saving me."
Zain bent to ninety degrees and bowed respectfully.
If Mr. Song had just followed his words, the Cursed Tiger would have burst out on the spot.
"Okay, no need to say anything unnecessary, let's go."
Mr. Song waved his hand and turned around to get on the wildebeest.
He does not want to play partisan competition, nor does he want to cultivate any confidants.
Working for a foreign race is literally a job with your head tied to your belt.
The reason why we are alive today is because there is still some value in them.
If the value disappears, even if it is not hacked to death by aliens, it will be sent to the gallows by humans.
The wildebeest left the station and ran towards the front line at a speed of sixty kilometers per hour.
At about ten o'clock in the evening, the three of them finally returned to the familiar main camp.
Compared to more than two months ago, nothing much has changed here.
It's still the familiar camp layout, the familiar smell...
"Huh? What does it smell like? Why does it smell so good?"
Mr. Song got off the Wildebeest and stared at the first checkpoint on the front line in the distance, stunned.
The stench in the camp was still there, but the night wind brought a special smell from the distant checkpoint.
It seems to be a strong meaty aroma, mixed with the special aroma of chili peppers, which makes people's fingers twitch.
"Sir, it should be your Dongda cuisine...the smell of fried pork with chili pepper."
Zayn could clearly distinguish the smell in the air, and there was a trace of confusion on his expressionless face.
There is no problem with peppers, they can be grown in a greenhouse even in winter.
But the meat, where does the meat come from?
In just three and a half years, even if there are enough female species, it is absolutely impossible for humans to complete the construction of a breeding industry from scratch, let alone supply it to frontline soldiers in bulk.
"Come on, let's go over and take a look."
Mr. Song made the decision on the spot.
Under the protection of two teams of elite centaur warriors, the three people left the camp and approached the checkpoint.
The closer you get, the more obvious the smell of chili-fried meat is in the air.
At the same time, there are also some other aromas mixed in, all of which are the famous dishes of Dongda.
"So the suspicion formation is still..."
The three of them looked at each other, all a little surprised.
Even if you make vegetables into flowers, it is impossible to make meat and vegetables with such full color, aroma and flavor.
Mr. Song did not think that this was a smell deliberately released by the opposite level. He understood that if the soldiers in the level smelled this smell and could not eat it, their mental pressure would immediately increase several times.
"You can't go any further. Once you pass here, you will encounter their patrol team."
The three of them wanted to get closer, but the captain of the Centaur team stood up and stopped them.
"Look, that's the sentry tower they built. If you go there, you may encounter an ambush."
"Watch tower?"
Mr. Song looked doubtfully in the direction of the centaur captain's finger.
Sure enough, a concrete building about four meters high stood not far away, which had not been seen before.
"Humans are trying to advance their positions. Every night, they will push these marking towers hundreds of meters to build. We have tried to stop them, but the cost is too high!"
"But there seems to be no one there?"
"There is no one now, and they are afraid that we will attack at night, so there will be people stationed during the day, and they will all retreat at night."
"Since there is no one, let's go over and have a look."
Mr. Song's tone was firm. The centaur captain wanted to refuse, but after thinking of Cursed Tiger's instructions, he had no choice but to nod in agreement.
The distance before and after is only three hundred meters.
The two teams approached furtively, but fortunately they did not encounter the border patrol team at night.
When we arrived at the bottom of the guard tower, the entrance door was ajar.
Mr. Song winked, and Zaien stepped forward, pushed open the door and looked inside.
It was empty inside, with only a table and a chair.
However, on the top of the table, there is a red festive paper box with the Tianyuan mark printed on it.
"What's this?"
Zain subconsciously wanted to go up and take a look, but was pulled out of the tower by Mr. Song.
"Be careful and let them go."
The centaur captain understood and ordered a soldier to step forward and open the carton.
There are no weapons inside, just twelve packaging boxes of the same size with a piece of letter paper on them.
"Bring the letter here, let me take a look."
Mr. Song was very cautious and took a few steps back before taking the letter.