First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Guerrilla Warfare

Zhao Zhuoluo searched the two bodies for bullets. They were carrying submachine guns, with only four rounds left in total.

The ammunition in the supply crates was mixed across four types, but not evenly distributed. Machine gun rounds were most abundant, followed by submachine gun bullets, then handgun rounds, with Lian Sheng's sniper rifle ammunition being the scarcest.

Combining both supply crates, there were only five sniper rifle bullets—extremely scarce by any measure.

Now that they were cooperating, Zhao Zhuoluo didn't hide anything. He briefly mentioned the locations where he'd found marker tags yesterday. Without a map, he couldn't give precise directions, only rough descriptions whose accuracy couldn't be verified.

The two decided to start clearing the nearest areas first, following a circular route.

Previously, they had lain in ambush; now, they were taking the initiative to attack.

Lian Sheng handed the sniper rifle to Zhao Zhuoluo to carry, switching to a submachine gun herself, immediately feeling much lighter.

Zhao Zhuoluo was very familiar with this area—he knew where ambushes were likely and where dangers might lurk.

"Look for fresh footprints," Zhao Zhuoluo said. "When the instructors place supplies, they clean up nearby footprints as they leave."

The two judged targets based on surrounding footprints, cover, terrain, and subtle movements in the grass. As it turned out, not everyone had Lian Sheng's level of endurance. Most students, after holding a sniper position for too long, couldn't resist shifting slightly.

The moment they moved, Lian Sheng's gun followed. And so, their kill count soared.

Instructor Fu lounged sideways in his chair, legs crossed, sighing nostalgically: "You wouldn't believe it, but when she first joined, she couldn't even tell the difference between gun types. I had to teach her how to hold one."

The other instructors diligently working nearby: "..."

They couldn't take it anymore—this guy really needed to get lost.

And so, Instructor Fu was chased out by the group.

Zhao Zhuoluo led Lian Sheng across the mountain, racking up kills.

Logically, until all personnel had rotated through, the mountain should have maintained around two hundred people. But as they moved forward, the number of encounters dwindled. And judging by the bullet counts on the "corpses," most were newcomers who had just arrived.

This suggested that somewhere, a large group had formed.

Correspondingly, Lian Sheng noticed that Zhao Zhuoluo was deliberately leading her in repeated loops, sniping enemies within a certain radius. She remained silent, raising no objections.

As dusk approached, Zhao Zhuoluo finally broke from the loop, heading in another direction.

There was an area with particularly dense vegetation, including two plants Lian Sheng recognized—common wild herbs.

Zhao Zhuoluo motioned for her to crouch, avoiding detection.

Lian Sheng said, "I can't see anything." Her field of vision was entirely green.

Zhao Zhuoluo: "I know. Let's try anyway."

This area lacked large rocks or thick trees and wasn't far from a marked point. With the right angle, a shot could penetrate.

Zhao Zhuoluo chose a tree with sparse foliage—nothing to block the sightlines—and climbed up. He rotated, scanning the surroundings. Not daring to put full weight on the branches, he mostly relied on arm strength, hanging one-handed. Using the sniper scope, he relayed positions to her.

"From your current position, about three meters to the right..." Zhao Zhuoluo paused, then said, "Look up, thirty degrees to the right. There's a pointed tree about four meters tall. The marker is at its base, left side."

Lian Sheng nodded.

Zhao Zhuoluo kept looking and spotted something suspicious.

Truthfully, the person was well-hidden—nearly indistinguishable from the grass. Except that the green "grass" was vaguely human-shaped.

With no free hands and unstable footing, Zhao Zhuoluo leaned down to report to Lian Sheng.

"About three meters to your front-left, third tree in—the one with thinner leaves. He's prone at ground level. His head's about twenty centimeters left of center." Zhao Zhuoluo said, "You can—"

Before he finished, Lian Sheng fired.

Since visibility wasn't guaranteed, she fired twice, adjusting her angle.

After shooting, Lian Sheng quickly moved to another position to avoid counterfire. She looked up and asked, "Hit?"

Zhao Zhuoluo: "...Not sure."

He raised the scope again to check.

The grass-man remained motionless, but another man stepped out from behind a tree. After scanning the area warily, he sprinted toward the supply point.

"Ready, supply point!" Zhao Zhuoluo sounded uncharacteristically tense. As the man neared the opening, he barked, "Suppressing fire!"

Lian Sheng was holding a submachine gun—the most commonly chosen weapon among students, so ammunition was relatively plentiful.

Most male students stood between 1.8 to 1.9 meters tall, and their crouching posture while retrieving items varied the height further. With visibility uncertain, hitting a moving target was extremely unlikely.

Lian Sheng swept a cross pattern diagonally.

Zhao Zhuoluo hadn't specified a firing range because he doubted she could hit anything. He'd only wanted her to create confusion and slow the enemy down. Almost as soon as he spoke, he slid down the tree and charged toward the target.

Zhao Zhuoluo vaulted past obstacles, finally getting a clear line of sight. The man turned to flee but, in a panic, rolled back behind cover. Reaching out blindly, he fired wildly.

Zhao Zhuoluo shot him cleanly in the wrist, knocking the weapon from his grip.

The man emerged, hands raised, shouting, "I surrender! I'll join you!"

Zhao Zhuoluo put a bullet in his chest without hesitation: "That's not how this works."

The boy collapsed dramatically, clinging to Zhao Zhuoluo's leg.

Zhao Zhuoluo calmly confiscated their ammunition and checked the supply crate. Lian Sheng ambled over leisurely.

The haul was substantial—clearly, these two had claimed many kills.

Seeing the boy's pitiful expression, Lian Sheng consoled him: "Take a break. Go down, use the bathroom—sounds nice, doesn't it?"

The "corpse": "..."

After securing the point, they found the position ideal. As long as they watched for snipers in the trees—though few could hit a sniper blind—they were relatively safe.

They sat down to eat some dry rations.

Just as they settled, six defeated contestants carrying white flags marched down the main path, escorted by an instructor.

The instructor detoured to collect their two "corpses," resembling nothing so much as a reaper gathering souls.

The two exchanged glances around mouthfuls of bread.

How had six people been eliminated so quickly? And all at once?

Zhao Zhuoluo said, "Probably Ji Fangxiao's group took over further ahead. They love that spot—close to the stream, easy movement, lots of passersby. Newcomers who don't know better keep wandering in."

Lian Sheng asked, "Who?"

Zhao Zhuoluo blinked. "The freshmen?"

"..." Lian Sheng said, "I meant Ji Fangxiao."

Zhao Zhuoluo: "..."

He was starting to think communication with Lian Sheng was fundamentally flawed. Shooting her an exasperated look, he explained, "A senior in his fourth year. Pretty influential, knows a lot of people."

"So what? They're teaming up, claiming territory, trying to monopolize the last fifty spots?" Lian Sheng cocked her gun. "But this isn't a team event, is it?"

"No, but we form squads too, competing with them for kills." Zhao Zhuoluo said. "Whether it's individual or team-based, there's always individual competition. But for bigger gains, it inevitably becomes a group battle."

It made perfect sense.

Lian Sheng asked, "How many are in your squad now?"

Zhao Zhuoluo said, "Us."

Lian Sheng didn't react at first. She pointed between them, and Zhao Zhuoluo nodded solemnly.

Lian Sheng: "..."

Zhao Zhuoluo said diplomatically, "Our squad's luck hasn't been great."

Lian Sheng: "..."

The two they'd ambushed earlier were likely Ji Fangxiao's men. If the group realized their perimeter had been breached, reinforcements would come.

Lian Sheng asked, "Are we leaving, or fighting?"

"We wait." Zhao Zhuoluo said. "We agreed to regroup here at five."

It was nearly time.

The light faded quickly after sunset, the world turning gray before their eyes.

Lian Sheng's goggles finally activated their night vision—but the color distortion was disorienting. She adjusted the settings repeatedly.

Though called night vision, it was nowhere near as clear as daylight, rendering mostly silhouettes.

Looking down, she noticed the signal lights had dimmed too, visible only as faint green glows through the goggles.

They waited quietly for half an hour when a voice whispered from the left undergrowth: "Cheng Ze."

Hearing this, Zhao Zhuoluo stood and signaled. The two groups merged seamlessly.

Cheng Ze had picked up a few allies along the way—four people in total.

The group crouched again, blending into the grass.

Cheng Ze asked, "Who's this?"

"Lian Sheng." Zhao Zhuoluo introduced them. "Teammate. A, B, C, D."

Cheng Ze: "...Screw you!"

In this darkness, who could tell who was who? "One-two-three-four" and "A-B-C-D" were functionally identical.

Cheng Ze asked, "How'd you take this point?"

Zhao Zhuoluo: "As planned."

The plan had been to fire blind through the brush. Zhao Zhuoluo and Fang Jianchen worked well together and knew the training terrain intimately, so the strategy wasn't surprising.

That Lian Sheng could pull it off was impressive.

"The legendary freshman, huh?" Cheng Ze took ammo from Zhao Zhuoluo, reloading his gun and distributing the rest. "Thanks for taking out that nuisance. The peace and quiet is nice."

Lian Sheng looked uncomfortable: "How much longer? I really need to pee, so hurry up."

The group was deeply moved. It had been years since they'd met someone so refreshingly blunt! What a spirited girl!

Zhao Zhuoluo said, "We're moving now. Stay at the rear, follow our lead. We'll whittle them down guerrilla-style while waiting for backup."

Unless these people were cleared out, newcomers wouldn't stand a chance. The longer they held their positions, the slower the exercise would progress. The longest recorded session had lasted three days before being forcibly ended.

Though Ji Fangxiao's record was stellar, from an activity-design perspective, his tactics were like stirring a cesspit with a stick—making everything miserable. Hence the anti-Ji Fangxiao coalition.

Lian Sheng asked quickly, "How does guerrilla warfare work here?"

"Send a fast runner to draw fire while the rest pick off targets." Cheng Ze said. "Don't worry, their accuracy drops at night."

Someone at the back questioned, "But is her accuracy good enough? How did Brother Fang get taken out?"

Lian Sheng rose slightly from her crouch: "Less talk, more action."

She sounded like someone who disliked unnecessary chatter.

After years with Fang Jianchen, Cheng Ze had developed a deep appreciation for laconic snipers. He hadn't held a normal conversation with one in ages. Emotion welled up in his chest.

Cheng Ze's original weapon had been a machine gun, later swapped for a scavenged submachine gun.

Though they'd collected mostly machine gun ammo, few chose it—with its rapid "brrrrt" fire rate, even a full stock vanished in seconds.

Now, it finally had a use.

They sent a decoy with the machine gun to draw fire while the others flanked, Cheng Ze mopping up stragglers.

The night vision goggles reduced everything to monochrome silhouettes. With so many branches and leaves, details blurred, distorting depth perception. But human outlines stood out starkly.

Lian Sheng had to find her own position despite being unfamiliar with the area.

After following for a while, she settled directly behind Zhao Zhuoluo. Steadying her stance, she began firing.

A quick scan suggested this was enemy territory. Four or five guards patrolled the perimeter, with another four or five responding to the disturbance.

The trees blocked most targets from her line of sight.

But in group combat, individual kills mattered less than providing cover for allies.

Several times, just as Cheng Ze lined up a shot, bullets would streak past him to strike his intended target. Or shots would land near enemies who'd just peeked out, forcing them back into cover. The others noticed it too.

At first, they thought she was reckless—any slight deviation could hit them instead, making them hesitate.

Only after the second or third time did they realize the sniper behind them had near-supernatural precision.

She was paving their way forward, clearing a path so wide and smooth that their advance became effortless.

Despite never having worked together, Lian Sheng adapted seamlessly to their rhythm.

Under night's cover and the chaos of battle, her greatest weakness—needing to reposition frequently—was negated.

Securing kills, assists, controlling the field—she was the perfect all-around sniper.

After emptying one rifle, Lian Sheng discarded it and grabbed a submachine gun. Mid-volley, Zhao Zhuoluo shouted, "Fall back!"

Enemy reinforcements were closing in.

The group retreated, diving back into the grass and vanishing.

This spot really was perfectly chosen.

---

Translator's note: Check out the new translations I've started, The Day I Hold My Blade and Dedication to the Nation's Splendor. They're by the same author as this one; so, if you're enjoying this, you'll definitely enjoy those two as well!

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