Chapter 427.3: The Storm That Sweeps Through The Desert

Prince Wint hoped that the Honey Badger Kingdom's resistance army would replace the originally planned 12th and 13th 1,000-man armies to head to the target area and cooperate with the allies in the attack.

The plan was extremely risky.

The target military base was located behind the Army's front lines, meaning they would receive no support. If held up by the enemy, with enemy troops arriving, they could potentially be wiped out.

Moreover, even if the enemy's reinforcements didn't arrive, the mission was still extremely tough. That place was garrisoned by the Army's elite.

Having clashed with the Army in Oasis No.3, Yard knew better than anyone the strength of the Army's elite forces.

Obviously, Prince Wint did not want his own troops to suffer unnecessary losses, hence he proposed letting the Honey Badger Kingdom's resistance army take the lead, as a way of repaying the Lion Kingdom for sheltering them for over a month.

Yard could have refused to carry out this nearly suicidal command, but after some thought, he eventually agreed. After all, it might be the opportunity his sister traded her happiness for...

Moreover, the southern overlord of River Valley Province had promised that the supplies captured would be handed over to the Lion Kingdom, and he could take this chance to keep the captured equipment for himself.

After all, those tanks, once in the hands of the Lion Kingdom, would only be driven into trenches to be buried and used as stationary turrets. It was better for him to arm his loyal troops.

The resistance army needed that equipment, whether to reclaim lost lands or to ensure an independent and autonomous status!

For that, Yard brought almost all the elite of the resistance army, forming a full 1,000-man team, and personally led them here.

So far... At least the intelligence was correct.

Yard took out a map from his chest, shook off the sand on it, and spread it out on the ground.

He stretched out his index finger, traced along the lines on the map for a while, and finally stopped at a red circle, muttering softly, "... This is the place."

Beside Yard, a middle-aged man with deep wrinkles on his face spoke in a low voice. "Shall we launch the attack?"

His name was Klav, formerly the captain of the royal guard and now a commander of the resistance army, one of Yard's most valiant and capable officers.

"Yes." Yard nodded, his index finger tapping on the map, looking at the camp shrouded in the night ahead, and continued in a low voice, "Our allies will launch an attack from the north side of the base, but before that, we need to attract firepower on the south side to create an opportunity for our allies to attack."

An officer couldn't help but ask, "Do we really have allies?"

Yard spoke with unwavering certainty. "The New Alliance will support us, they have made a promise!"

Except for Klav's composed expression, the other officers around looked at each other, falling into silence.

The New Alliance...

They were on the north side of Oasis No.9.

Even if they crossed the Falcon Kingdom's northern front line directly from the New Alliance, it would still be over 800 kilometers. The battle plan was made two days ago, how could they possibly arrive in such a short time?

In the eyes of many, they might have been sold out by Prince Wint or someone else. There might not be any allies at all.

Not everyone in the Lion Kingdom was as sympathetic as the royal family. Many ministers and nobles believed that it was because they harbored members of the Honey Badger Kingdom that war was waged against them.

Those people would rather they go and die immediately, using their bodies to hold back the Army's offensive on the northern front, to buy time for mobilizing other kingdoms' forces and external powers' intervention.

Perhaps the kings of the desert will ultimately be victorious. But all of us will die here.

Yard turned and looked at his subordinates, reading the pessimism in their eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke with intense emotion, "I know what you're thinking, but now is not the time to think about those things."

"We only have one chance, and all we can do now is believe... We have to believe in our compatriots and brethren, believe in our brothers and sisters... We need to believe that justice will eventually triumph over all evil."

"Even if we can't live to see the end, our blood will eventually soak the sands, and our souls will live on forever. We will fight under the watchful eyes of the Spirit of the Desert!”

Fire reignited in their eyes as doubt disappeared from their faces.

"The Spirit of the Desert will stand with us." With his palm pressed against his forehead, Yard got up from the ground and returned to the backside of the dune, gently patting his subordinates' shoulders. "Go, warriors of the kingdom, dig the trenches past your chests, load your rifles, and set up our guns! We’ll show them what we’re made of!”

"Even if today this place is where we lay our bones, don't let our allies look down on us!"

...

Several kilometers away, spots of lights filled the camp.

Standing in the watchtower, a sentry couldn't help but yawn, counting how much time was left until his shift ended. They were currently in Camp 350, a logistics hub for the north camp.

Although the strategic value of their location was important, so much so that General Griffin dispatched elite troops to guard it, the soldiers stationed there had not fought a single battle so far.

The only thing they could do every day was bathe in the sand or stare at the distant cacti. Compared to wasting their lives, they would rather go to the front line. At least they would have a chance to fire their guns.

They felt that the situation would be much better than it was, where they could only talk to the sand to pass the time.

Just then, a sudden, earth-shattering explosion came from afar, startling the duty sentry, who instinctively ducked behind the railing.

Before he could recover, five gas canisters with white smoke trailing behind them, traced five thick parabolic paths through the air, landing heavily in the camp.

Boom!

With a series of ground-shaking explosions, the noisy military base instantly burst into five balls of fire.

Amidst the piercing alarm bells, soldiers who had been sleeping jumped out of bed, grabbed their gear, and assembled at their battle positions.

Putting on his steel helmet, a centurion walked over to the sentry post, grabbed a guard, and demanded with his spittle flying everywhere, "What happened?!"

The sentry was probably a newbie. He stood nervously at attention, his speech hurried, "Sir... It was the guerrillas' homemade cannons!"

Those gas canisters transformed homemade cannons were very common in Sunset Province, second only to those cast-iron cannons that required brooms when cleaning the barrel after every shot.

In particular, residents of the desert would fill iron cans with homemade explosives made of sugar, then mix in some nails or sand. Although the power of those bombs couldn't compare to C-4 or TNT, they had the advantage of being cheap. A small workshop could produce quite a few.

Sunset Province's oases were never short of food, especially sugar-producing sugarcane.

A 500 kilograms gas canister bomb could even scare a tank of the Conqueror class. Of course, provided it landed right on the turret cover...

The Army's soldiers were well-trained as they quickly recovered from their initial panic.

Two 10-man squads had already run into the bomb shelters where the mortars were stored, and based on the approximate direction of the source observed from the watchtower, they began their counterattack.

Startled by that thunderous barrage, the commander of the 1,000-man army, Piman, quickly dressed and stepped out of the barracks.

Having a rough idea of what had happened, he wasn't panicked and calmly called over a centurion, giving him orders, "The shells came from the south, about 5 kilometers away. Take your men and show those fools what we’re made of!"

"Yes!" The centurion who received the order crisply saluted, then ran off to a nearby barracks, calling his subordinates to action.

Watching his departure, Piman's brows relaxed slightly, and he pulled a cigarette from his pocket to light it.

It was just a guerrilla raid.

It was far beneath something he needed to concern himself about.

The power of those five gas canisters might look big, and the sound was indeed loud, but in fact, it hadn't hurt many people. All it did was to blast a few sandbags.

The bomb shelters deployed around the camp greatly limited the spread of the shockwave and shrapnel, with most of the force going upwards like a cone.

Something where a heavy artillery shell wiped out an entire 100-man team could only happen to the Lion Kingdom's royal army. Even members of the reserve army who were trained by them, knew how to protect themselves as much as possible during shelling.

The only thing Piman couldn't figure out was...

With so many military bases, why did the Lion Kingdom's people specifically pick their camp? Was it a coincidence?

Did some information leak?