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Chapter 35: Besieged on All Sides
Tang Fang and Arroz hadn’t fired a single shot the entire time. Only Housen, like an addict craving his next fix, had emptied an entire magazine of bullets.
“Pfft, outnumbered? How about now?” Stepping over the corpses of Raman and his men, Housen turned his gaze toward the three marauders who had just obliterated the APCs. His eyes gleamed with envy as he muttered, “Tang Fang, where did you dig up these freakish things? They’re practically walking tanks.”
“The only downside is that they’re ugly as hell—but I love it,” Housen said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “How about this—can you get me one of those suits? Those grenade launchers firing nonstop like nail guns? That’s gotta be a blast.”
Tang Fang suddenly glanced into the distance, his brow furrowing deeply. “I think you should focus on surviving this mess first before worrying about gear.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t we just take care of everyone?” Housen asked, confused.
“It looks like we’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Tang Fang replied bitterly. Earlier, the three scout zerglings he’d sent to recon the eastern area had simultaneously spotted large enemy forces advancing directly toward their direction.
Armored vehicles, tanks, even combat shuttles—all were mobilized. Three full companies, nearly four hundred soldiers in total, split into three groups, were marching steadily toward their position.
It was clear the enemy was furious. They had deployed nearly half a mechanized infantry battalion to hunt down the three of them. But considering that Tang Fang’s group had wiped out an entire platoon—a force several times larger—it wasn’t surprising. As part of the Saint Violet Fleet under the direct command of the Sulru Empire’s Crown Prince, how could they swallow such humiliation?
From the enemy’s movements, it was evident they were using the same three-pronged encirclement tactic employed by Raman Valen earlier, but this time expanding their operational radius to encompass the entire ridge of the mountain range. Through a combination of encirclement and compression tactics, they planned to flush out the trio with integrated air and ground assaults.
Mobilizing nearly four hundred mechanized troops to hunt down a three-man team—if word got out, even if they all perished gloriously, it would be enough to etch their names into the annals of history.
But for Tang Fang, hollow fame meant nothing compared to survival. Staying alive was far more practical than chasing empty accolades.
“If they want my life, then they’d better be prepared to lose some limbs!” Tang Fang recalled his combat units—the queen, the marauders—and pulled up a terrain map. Then he transmitted a set of coordinates to Housen and Arroz.
The enemy was a mechanized infantry division supported by armed shuttles. With only their two legs, there was no way the trio could outrun them. Their only option now was to fight with their backs against the wall.
“Let’s move.”
Just as Tang Fang was about to set off, Arroz—who had been silent for a long time—raised a hand to signal him to wait. He stepped forward, approached Raman Valen’s corpse, and quickly dismantled the damaged powered armor before pulling out a data cable and connecting it to himself.
About five minutes later, Arroz’s voice came through the comms, sharp with disbelief. Then, both Tang Fang and Housen heard a shocking revelation:
“We’ve been betrayed! The reconnaissance team planted signal transmitters on us.”
No wonder their movements had been detected. No wonder, after sending a distress signal to base, they hadn’t received any response from command. It had all been orchestrated by their own people!
Was it Kim Youngho? Powell Taylor? Or someone higher up?
“Damn it! Those bastards!” Housen slammed his fist into a bare rock, sending shards flying everywhere.
Tang Fang took a deep breath, forcing down his anger. He yanked the chip from the processor interface of the powered armor, placed it in his palm, and snapped it in half.
Ahead, Arroz glanced at the data readings, stood up, and nodded. “The signal’s gone. It seems the issue was with that chip.”
“Let’s go. For now, we’re on our own.” Ahead lay the enemy’s pursuit, while behind them, the 3789th Division had abandoned them as expendable pawns. On Planet Namie, the three of them were surrounded by enemies on all sides. If they wanted to survive, they could only rely on themselves.
As Tang Fang led the two others toward the designated coordinates, he sank his mind into the system space, quietly calculating how to deal with the overwhelming battle ahead.
At the start of the engagement, after producing two Reapers and two Marauders, he had 60 minerals and 365 gas remaining. By killing Raman, Artemy, and others, he collected 120 minerals. During the battle, he also produced one additional Marauder. Now, his resource totals were 80 minerals and 340 gas.
As for combat units: Zerg—26 Zerglings remained, minus 5 used for scouting, leaving 21 available. There were also 2 Queens and 1 Spine Crawler. Terran—3 Marauders and 2 Reapers.
That was the entirety of his fighting force. Compared to the Sulru Empire’s deployment of three companies and nearly four hundred mechanized troops, the disparity was akin to a frog facing an elephant. No matter how one looked at it, victory seemed impossible.
Tang Fang was fully aware of how dire their situation was. The enemy had armored vehicles and tanks on the ground, and armed shuttles in the air. Even though his units were far stronger than the enemy’s equivalent forces—capable of taking down heavy units like tanks and APCs—the sheer numerical disadvantage of 10-to-1 loomed like an insurmountable chasm.
For now, all he could do was leverage the terrain to hold off the enemy’s assault. He wouldn’t give up until the very last moment. Even if death was inevitable, he would make sure to take a few teeth out of the enemy’s mouth.
Fifteen minutes later, under Tang Fang’s guidance, the trio arrived at a rugged, narrow stretch on the opposite side of the ridge. Housen glanced at the nearby acidic vapor zone intermittently spewing toxic mist and shivered involuntarily.
Arroz also surveyed the surroundings, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Looks like you’re really prepared to fight them with your backs against the wall.”
Tang Fang gave a cold smile. “Do you think we’d fare any better in Sulru hands? Either way, it’s death. I’d rather go down fighting. In this kind of terrain, if they want to capture us, they’ll have to leave at least half their forces behind.”
---
Fifty kilometers west of the ravine, Chilar Von was leading his company eastward.
Seven Windstorm single-person combat motorcycles, three Porcupine multi-functional APCs, one modified Porcupine III command vehicle, three Jackal light tanks, four Manticore heavy tanks, four Skyfire armed shuttles, three unmanned early-warning aircraft, and five unmanned fighter drones formed a winding line, advancing toward the ridge where Tang Fang and his group were hiding.
Inside the command vehicle, Chilar Von stared silently at the satellite-transmitted terrain analysis. Headquarters’ orders were clear: encircle the target area, gradually compress the enemy’s operational space, and if resistance was encountered, retaliate accordingly. The enemy’s lives didn’t matter; what mattered was retrieving the powered armor worn by those unknown soldiers.
The Sulru Empire had always been at the forefront of powered armor development. The armor worn by the unknown soldiers encountered by Raman and his men not only boasted incredible defensive capabilities but also unique features. This was crucial for research purposes and could determine the outcome of the operation. If this powered armor was a secret weapon of the Monya Empire, capturing a few suits for analysis was imperative.
The deployment of three mechanized companies totaling 389 soldiers underscored the importance of this mission.
Among the three companies executing the operation, Chilar’s fourth company was tasked with the main frontal assault—a decision he had personally requested. After all, the 24 men under his command, including Raman, had been wiped out without even uncovering the enemy’s true strength. It was a humiliation—not just for him but for the entire fourth company.
Chilar Von was determined to restore honor and avenge his fallen subordinates.
“Today, there will be no escape for you!”
In orbit, 24 reconnaissance satellites monitored the battlefield. Six of them had already locked onto the ridge. Every move of the enemy was under the control of division headquarters. From the terrain markers, it was clear the trio had shifted their position from the ravine to the other side of the ridge.
Where had those unknown soldiers gone? Chilar didn’t know. But one thing was certain: attacking these three would eventually draw out the targets of the mission.
He understood perfectly why the trio had moved from the concealed ravine to the exposed ridge. Facing encirclement by three companies, fighting in the ravine would mean being attacked from all sides. By relocating to the ridge, with the acidic vapor zone as a natural barrier at their backs, they forced the enemy into a frontal assault.
Chilar narrowed his eyes and murmured softly, “I don’t know how you managed to anticipate our moves, but against overwhelming force, all your cleverness will be in vain.”
The distance from the ravine to the ridge was over ten kilometers—too steep for APCs, but the Manticore tanks could bombard the area with their main cannons, creating a devastating fire net. And with armed shuttles and unmanned fighters providing aerial support, a single coordinated strike could level the entire ridge. What chance did three men stand?
This would be a battle without suspense!
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