"Even if it's just one city, one armed force, we must resist to the end. Milock Star absolutely cannot fall completely into Cachalin's hands. The people need victory, and we will give it to them. The public opinion needs heroes, and we will give them heroes." The President's gaze was far calmer than his tone: "Seize the jump points, rapidly reinforce Milock, unify ground resistance forces, mold Federal heroes, and strive for localized victories. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
General Mihailovich nodded heavily. He suddenly realized he was no longer just a soldier; he now considered political needs more than military ones.
"I hope our choices are all correct," the General muttered silently as he watched the President stride away.
...
Jason quietly crawled out of the mud pit. After spending half a day and night buried there, it was not a pleasant experience.
In the mud pit, Jason knew he was in big trouble this time.
Imperial mechs, transport vehicles, and soldiers were constantly shuttling back and forth in the jungle. It seemed the Imperial Army intended to establish a long-term presence here until the end of the war. They had even cleared a small area in the forest for ultra-light transport ships to land. Troops and supplies were pouring in continuously.
Even Fatso could figure out that the Federal forces must have retreated to the second defensive line by now. The Su-Pong-Man River Bridge might have been blown up by the Federal troops already.
Although he was in the mud pit, Fatso had the ability to discern what kind of forces the Imperial Army had stationed here and the size of those forces. This was the only amusement he had while hiding in the mud pit. Jason observed the despicable Imperial Army without moving a muscle.
During that day and night, the Imperial Army here suffered two strikes from the Federal Air Force, but they seemed to have concealed themselves well, suffering minimal losses in personnel and materiel.
However, as the Imperial Air Force gradually strengthened its aerial blockade, nothing in the jungle made Jason happy anymore. Disguised as a large clump of grass in the mud pit, Fatso's brain kept spinning, "Damn it, if this continues, I'll either be discovered and killed or starve to death."
If it weren't for the patriotic education he received since childhood, his fear of torture, and his reluctance to leave his flying car and villa in the capital, Fatso would almost consider walking over to be captured by the Imperial Army.
"No matter what, I have to escape from here." Fatso thought to himself fiercely, "If I keep up like this, I'll probably be blown to pieces before I can even get out of this forest."
After much deliberation, Fatso was at a loss. It seemed that he wouldn't have the good fortune to escape smoothly without taking risks himself.
As a reconnaissance soldier, under such circumstances, one would generally resort to methods such as assassinating enemy commanders, sabotage, disguise, guiding missiles for the air force to lock on targets, poisoning water sources, and creating chaos while surviving in disorder. But these were too dangerous for Fatso; he almost didn't want to think about them.
Assassinate a commander? If the commander dies, Fatso dies too.
Sabotage? If the supplies blow up, he wouldn't survive either.
Disguise as an enemy? Was he watching a movie? Fatso knew a bit of Imperial language and had heard the password, but what if he couldn't find suitable clothes? He usually had to go to stores that specialized in large-size clothing.
Guiding missiles for the air force? Are those few rickety planes from the Federation still intact? Even if he were an ace pilot, breaking through the blockade of the Imperial Air Force would be no easy task.
Poisoning water sources? Fatso was just a mechanical maintenance soldier now, not some kind of special forces with a bit of everything. Poison?
Fatso felt his head was about to explode from the dilemma. He was torn between two choices.
"Damn it! Let's do this!" Once pushed to desperation, Fatso's rogue nature emerged.
Jason didn't know if he was lucky or unlucky.
Just as he was gearing himself up, encouraging himself, a group of tall and strong Imperial soldiers escorted two Federal prisoners into the jungle. They passed right by Fatso.
What a rare opportunity! With no one around, Fatso acted on impulse. Without thinking too much, he jumped up in one swift move, twisted his hands, and with a soft sound, he turned the head of the Imperial soldier a full circle like twisting a rag doll's neck. The soldier collapsed like a rag doll with a twisted neck. It was Fatso's first kill, not as simple as he thought. As a follow-up, he stabbed the unfortunate soldier's throat with a dagger, followed by a knee bump that fiercely hit the Imperial soldier's groin.
When he laid the body down, he even anxiously gave the unlucky soldier's head a butt. Like stealing a chicken, he dragged the corpse into the grass.
Less than five seconds passed.
Fatso's legs were trembling incessantly, and his heart was pounding almost out of his chest.
He had killed someone; this was really playing with his life.
With these quick moves, two Federal prisoners were left dumbfounded.
Two female prisoners.
One was a pilot, the other a medic.
Beautiful and charming.
Fatso couldn't care less about these two dumbfounded female soldiers now. Shamelessly, he quickly stripped himself bare and changed into the Imperial soldier's clothes.
The two Federal soldiers felt they were about to collapse.
What kind of monster was this white and fat guy after all?