Chapter 102: Combat Power

More than half of the mercenaries fled with their people and vehicles when the war broke out. At that time, it was impossible to stop them. But our research institute—our lifeblood was here—of course, we wouldn't leave. The remaining mercenaries didn’t receive any kindness from us. We had already started to distrust them,” Tian Ye recalled the overwhelming scene of small starships and batches of soldiers from the Fili Empire landing.

“Mercenaries only work for money; it’s normal for them to want to run when danger arises. But really letting them go was foolish—either all leave together or all stay. Not understanding this, they deserved to be caught,” Li Daoran thought to himself, but kept the words to himself.

“Over the following months, more people gradually left until hardly anyone remained at the base. Supplies and replacement personnel never arrived again. Those who stayed each had their own hidden motives. By then, it wasn’t that we didn’t want to leave, but that it was impossible. None of those who fled ever returned or sent any news; no one knew what happened to them—whether they escaped or were killed.

The research institute was left with only the professor and us. There were fewer than 200 guards, and none of the personnel protecting the professor left. The mercenaries, however, had mostly fled,” Tian Ye said slowly.

“How did Kazuki Okamoto find this place?” Li Daoran asked.

“For months, no supplies arrived. Our stored food and energy packs barely lasted. Desperately, some experimental creatures were used as food reserves, but it was far from enough. After discussing with Brother Chen and the others, we decided to go hunting. The Sunset Mountains are not short of animals. Gathering edible wild grass and hunting animals became our daily routine.

Kazuki Okamoto captured a mercenary squad, and that entire squad surrendered. That day, all our personnel who went out never returned. We suspect they met some misfortune,” Tian Ye said through clenched teeth.

“Was Brother Chen among those who went out that day?” Li Daoran quickly seized the key point, noticing a change in Tian Ye’s tone when she mentioned Brother Chen.

“Yes. Brother Chen was responsible for protecting Professor Yuan and led the hunting team,” Tian Ye replied, a hint of gloom in her voice.

Li Daoran paid no mind to her emotional undertones and offered no comfort. Instead, he said, “Even if there was betrayal, a single squad shouldn’t have been able to break through.”

“You’re mistaken, Daoran. No matter how strong the security of the institute was, it was still within a controlled scope. Have you ever heard of a personal research institute equipped with missiles or heavy firepower? You don’t think everyone here had mechs, do you? You haven’t even seen exoskeleton suits. Think about the destructive power and strength you can wield now. It’s not easy for one person to break into a research institute.

Don’t overestimate them. The more advanced the technology, the more powerful the weapons, but these are rarely seen in everyday life. Energy guns are strictly controlled, one per person. Having a few energy guns in this institute would be considered fortunate. For a regular military squad, breaking through here is easy. The more advanced the technology, the more the war becomes a duel among a few. The number of people matters less.

On paper, you wouldn’t stand a chance against Okamoto’s squad. But in reality, you survived and they died. The outcome of battle always depends on the people. Their hearts weren’t united, and they lacked combat experience. Losing was normal, winning was also normal—such is war,” David explained to Li Daoran.

“A fully armed soldier can be shot dead by children wielding guns, while groups of adults line up to be executed. That’s the damned war,” David sighed at the end.

“I don’t know,” Tian Ye lowered her head, unable to fathom the reason.

“Forget it. I don’t want to know exactly how he did it. But you—why didn’t you run? You could have hidden here and been safe,” Li Daoran asked.

“Originally, not so many were supposed to die. Kazuki Okamoto captured everyone and pressed them to reveal Professor Yuan’s location. Yuan knew they were after him, so he killed them one by one. Even those who surrendered but couldn’t answer his questions were killed. In the end, Yuan went out alone, hoping to trade his life for our freedom. But we weren’t willing to leave, so we went out with him. The executioner killed everyone else, and we were captured,” Tian Ye said, head bowed.

Li Daoran frowned. Tian Ye’s story was muddled and incomplete, glossing over crucial details. Something else must have happened, but she was hiding it.

“Daoran, don’t trust everything she says. People are selfish. It’s believable if one or two were willing to die with Yuan Muyie, but all of them leaving together makes no sense. And everyone else died without witnesses. But there’s no need to dig into this; it’s unnecessary. Just consider them noble. When faced with danger, human nature is not something to probe deeply. Ask about what they were researching—that’s important. Don’t lose sight of the main point,” David’s voice interrupted Li Daoran’s urge to investigate further.

“What were you researching here?” Li Daoran asked.

“It’s confidential. Your clearance level isn’t high enough. You just need to know it’s important. Besides, you wouldn’t understand even if we told you,” Tian Ye paused for a moment before replying.

“You mentioned artificial intelligence earlier? Tell me about it. Maybe I really know something. AI—everyone understands—intelligent robots like humans,” Li Daoran tried to coax her, careful not to reveal his eagerness.

By then, they were near the end of the corridor. Tian Ye glanced back at Li Daoran, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. She whispered, “Why not say human-like robots instead?”

Before Li Daoran could respond, she spoke again: “We’ve arrived. Professor Yuan is waiting inside.”

She pressed her hands against the wall, which parted in the middle. It was a disguised electronic door. Even Li Daoran’s latest exoskeleton armor hadn’t detected any anomaly in the wall before Tian Ye’s action, and he hadn’t noticed it either.

The wall slid open to reveal a vast laboratory filled with countless cages housing various small mammals. In front of Professor Yuan stood a massive computer and screen, its light illuminating the entire lab. The screen displayed countless animals running ceaselessly.

Li Daoran thought to himself, “Professor Yuan truly loves small animals and cherishes nature, even changing the usual screensaver to these little creatures.”

At the time, Li Daoran assumed the screen was merely a screensaver, like the idle animations he saw while gaming. But David, stationed on the water-blue planet, felt a surge of electricity shoot from his soles to his forehead, then cycle repeatedly. A chilling sensation swept over him, paralyzing him into a heap.

“Oh my God, what is this?! FK!!!”