Chapter Thirty-Seven: Miscalculation

"What did you say?" Charles seized the messenger by the collar and roared, "They went to attack the main Han camp?!"

"Yes..." The messenger trembled, understanding now why the man before him was so furious. "The Yellow Turbans didn't come this way. Instead, they gathered all their forces, bypassed the Han camp ahead, and made straight for the central base."

Charles felt the world go dark before his eyes, his body swaying as though he might collapse. The mobilization order, the chain of traps, the Yellow Turban general's head that had almost been within his grasp...

Lin Feierui.

At the thought of his commander's smile, Charles began to shake, his teeth chattering. She would never forgive him. When he proposed plans and requests, she would support him; but if he made a mistake, if something went wrong...

He hadn't been with the Wuzhou team for long. Still, he had witnessed what happened to the last person who made a mistake and was punished.

He had to find a way out! Maybe he could find an excuse... perhaps shift the blame to Zhou Suyan! Yes! She gave me the wrong information! She deliberately misled me!

In that case, as long as he slowly compensated with Universal Points, it would be fine.

Wait, there might still be a chance.

He gradually recovered from his initial panic. That's right, the Yellow Turban forces wouldn't be coming here, and the ambush had failed, but the main Han camp wouldn't be that easy to take. When the Han army returned to aid the camp, they might annihilate the Yellow Turbans and recover some of the losses.

Fortunately, the mobilization order for this pursuit hadn't specified a target. He could still command these Han troops! If they acted at once, there was still time!

With that thought, he hurried over to the Han encampment nearby.

A quarter of an hour later, the Han soldiers, having received their orders, set out in formation.

----

"Ugh!" Rank spat out the gritty sand as he crawled from the dust.

The battle was over. The Yellow Turbans hadn't bothered to scour the field—otherwise, if they'd found his escape pod, he would truly be dead.

All around him were charred corpses, the air thick with the stench of burnt flesh. Even though he knew it was fake, just a game simulation, he couldn't help but bend over and retch.

Why? Why did it come to this? The firestorm wasn't considered an attack! Universal Points and items wouldn't drop! Why use such a tactic?!

"Boss..." came a feeble voice from behind. Rank quickly got up and helped his teammate out.

Unlike Rank, the other man was in bad shape, covered in burns and abrasions. After giving him some emergency medicine from their reserves, Rank searched the area but found no other survivors.

He slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. "Dalbor and the others... are they all dead?"

No one answered. The situation he half expected—Dalbor rasping, "If you die, I sure as hell won't"—never happened.

After all, not many people were inside a mobile suit, wearing fireproof gear like him. Of the three Zaku pilots, only one survived.

He stared blankly, opened his mouth, and then broke down, wailing.

Cruel? War is nothing if not cruel.

Otherwise, would humanity's most extreme confrontation be like a children's game, meant for amusement?

----

"So you're saying he abandoned the ambush and led the Han troops away without notifying you?"

"That's right. Without a doubt, he's betrayed us."

"Ah~" She heard the schadenfreude in his voice, poorly disguised as outrage, and laughed. "I think he went to attack the Yellow Turban forces."

The short, burly man didn't deny it. Charles... she remembered his confident charm when they first met, his outstanding performance after she recruited him to the team, his gentle caresses and powerful thrusts in bed—now juxtaposed with this display of foolishness, it all struck her as quite a pity.

Yet, it wasn't time for "punishment." Perhaps he was trying to make amends, made a mistake in judgment, or was simply anxious to earn merit before she could show disappointment. That alone would give her reason enough to forgive him.

Why not forgive him? He loved her. Love was always so delicious.

As a child, she loved the taste of chocolate and ice cream. But after growing up, those flavors faded. Now, for her, the greatest delicacy was love.

Different men brought different flavors—handsome, strong, witty, humorous, timid, homebound, violent... She had tasted them all, finding immense pleasure and enjoyment in the variety.

A woman's love was pleasant too, though the types were fewer and the taste more bitter, so she indulged only occasionally.

Of course, no matter how charming a man might be, or how much pleasure he brought her, she would never allow him to threaten her status and interests.

After all, those were the foundation of her enjoyment. Without those advantages, would these men still remain by her side? Perhaps... but would they still let her toy with them?

No, by then, the nature of the game would change.

Gru had come to her, not lustful as before (sometimes he was as ravenous as a starving child), but instead speaking ill of Charles at length.

She knew well that Gru and Charles didn't get along. Sometimes, she deliberately provoked discord among the men, enjoying their competition and rivalry for her sake... that, too, was an indispensable source of pleasure.

Gru—the short, burly man—was now watching her, waiting for her decision.

Oh dear, what a headache. How could she preserve the tension yet soothe him at the same time?

"Has the main Han camp been breached?"

"No news yet. If Huangfu Song’s main force arrives in time, they can wipe out the Yellow Turbans; but if they're late, it's hard to say if the camp will fall. And our traps and mobilization order..."

"I know about that. What's the reward for capturing a camp of this scale?"

"I'm not sure. For that, you’d have to ask..."

He fell silent, unwilling to mention the name of his hated rival in her presence.

"Tell Wright to prioritize gathering news about the main Han camp and Huangfu Song’s forces from now on. The moment you learn the Yellow Turbans’ location, report to Charles immediately." She remembered the little messenger and felt a wave of delight.

He was one of the rare delicacies she’d kept for herself within the unit—surely tender and delicious. Sometimes she longed to devour him, but... when she saw the adoration in his eyes, the love that shone from his soul, she simply couldn’t bring herself to destroy him. His purity made him fragile. Though the taste was exquisite, once he started to grow jealous and possessive, just like other men, it would always end in ruin. She'd been through this before.

But... she wanted him so badly!

"You mean... but this is all his fault! Even if we wipe out the Yellow Turbans, we still take a loss!"

"I know." She embraced Gru, pulling him into her arms. "When we settle up, I'll dock his share. For now, at least he's trying to recover our losses. Don't harm the team's interests, all right?"

Gru grunted in reluctant assent.