Wait—General! Have you even considered cutting the apocalypse some slack?

The thought had barely surfaced when a vivid image flashed through Mike's mind.

His expression changed drastically. Shaking his head furiously, he forced the terrifying notion out of his brain.

No way.

Absolutely not.

There was no chance in hell he'd let Lu Nianxin set foot in the military camp.

I have to protect my soldiers' virtue!

Just as Mike steeled his resolve, a figure emerged from the ranks of the Defenders.

At first glance, the warrior looked no different from the rest—same towering height, same heavy armor draped over his frame. Even the upper half of his face was obscured behind an iron mask.

The soldier strode toward Mike and dropped to one knee.

"My liege."

His voice was deep, unwavering. He lowered his head slightly.

"Your servant seeks guidance. Where do we march? What is our purpose?"

Liege?

Mike raised an eyebrow. That was… not a term he was used to.

The guy's manner of speaking made it obvious—he wasn't from the modern era.

"And you are?" Mike sized him up. "No need to kneel. Just talk."

"My liege bestows grace."

The soldier stood, though he still avoided direct eye contact. Perhaps because of their proximity, Mike caught a glimpse of the gaze hidden beneath the mask—cold, distant.

There was no spark of humanity there.

It wasn't the look of a man. It was the look of a machine.

"Your servant is the commander of the Sacred Beast Army. Five thousand warriors stand ready at my command."

"Our duty is to defend the land. To slay beasts. A thousand and five hundred years we have fought, through generations unbroken."

Mike blinked.

He needed a moment to process that. The phrasing alone was enough to give him whiplash.

Not exactly everyday conversation.

"And your name?" he asked at last.

"My liege, your servant has no name. I am called Chongshan."

No name. Just a title. A designation.

"Like mountain upon mountain," Mike murmured, rubbing his chin. "Chongshan, huh? You asked what you should do, right? Well, there's nothing urgent at the moment. Most of my men are focused on support—protecting civilians, disaster relief, that kind of thing."

"You might not be familiar with those concepts, so I'll have someone guide you."

Turning, Mike gestured toward the military camp and called over a squad of reconnaissance officers.

"Get me a few strategists."

As the soldiers saluted and hurried off, Mike added:

"Make sure they're educated—the kind who can understand Classical Chinese, maybe even speak some."

"Yes, Commander!"

While waiting, Mike attempted to converse with Chongshan.

It wasn't easy.

Absorbing information from someone who spoke like a history textbook was already a challenge, but Chongshan also had the personality of a stone wall.

The guy barely spoke, and when he did, his words were clipped, factual, devoid of elaboration.

Great. Another walking enigma.

Still, Mike did his best to explain their current situation—the state of the apocalypse, their military objectives, the ongoing relief efforts.

By the time the strategists arrived, Mike felt like he had just pulled off a minor miracle. He exhaled in relief.

"Alright, listen up!" He turned to the assembled officers. "This is Commander Chongshan. He's leading an ancient-style military unit, but make no mistake—their combat skills are top-tier."

"Your job is to integrate them. Get them up to speed. Make sure they understand our army's beliefs and our ultimate mission."

The strategists saluted in unison.

Satisfied, Mike gave Chongshan a few more instructions before excusing himself.

There was something he needed to discuss with Jiang Xiaoci—namely, how to deploy these so-called Defenders.

"Judging from Chongshan's personality, the rest of his troops probably aren't much different."

"They're killers, through and through. Not exactly the best fit for civilian work."

"They'd be better off as guards. Military police, maybe."

Back in his quarters, Mike opened a channel to Jiang Xiaoci.

After half an hour of discussion, they finalized a plan.

She agreed with his assessment—something that filled him with a rare sense of accomplishment.

I'm actually making solid decisions now.

Not just relying on Jiang for everything.

Their organization was growing. The pressure on her was mounting.

I have to take some of that weight off her shoulders.

Can't let her burn out like Zhuge Liang. That'd be a disaster.

Stretching, Mike forced himself off the couch, shaking off his lethargy.

Then, just as he was about to get back to work, a new notification popped up.

[Due to your current ranking in the War Score leaderboard, you have been granted direct communication privileges with national military forces in the Doomsday Battlefield.]

[Incoming transmission detected. The sender is a national military unit from the Doomsday Battlefield.]

[The contact is using a special communication device. Since this is not the first transmission, you may choose to decline.]

Mike froze.

Command wants to talk to me?

It hadn't been that long since the last transmission.

Something felt off.

By now, he wasn't the clueless newbie he had once been. He had been a leader for a while—long enough to develop a gut instinct.

And right now?

That instinct was screaming at him.

They wouldn't waste resources on a trivial call.

If they're using a special device, it means whatever they need to say is urgent.

Something big is happening.

Taking a deep breath, Mike made his decision.

"Accept the transmission."

[Communication link established.]

The familiar interface flickered to life.

Before Mike could even speak—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion thundered through the channel.

"RATATATATATA—"

Gunfire. Screaming jets. The roar of distant artillery.

And amid the chaos—

"Target: Hill 033! Blow it to hell! Watch your six!"

"Air force, lock on! Three rounds—test the waters first!"

"Tank unit, confirm position! Engage in twenty seconds!"

"Tech team, deploy! All autonomous warhounds, launch immediately! Drones in the air—smother them NOW!"

Mike felt like he'd been punched in the face by sound alone.

For a second, it was as if he had been teleported straight onto a battlefield.

"Holy—"

His mind reeled.

"What the hell is going on? Why are we at war?!"

Then, through the cacophony—

"Ah, Comrade Su? My apologies—I didn't realize you had connected."

Mike barely heard the voice over the explosions.

"Who? Who's talking? I can't hear a damn thing! It's all just—artillery!"

Whoever was on the other end seemed to realize the issue. The battle noise gradually faded.

Finally, a familiar voice rang clear.

"Comrade Su, good to speak with you again."

Mike's breath hitched.

"General Wang?!"

"The very same." Wang sounded amused. "Surprised? I happen to be overseeing today's drills."

Mike's mind stuttered. "Drills? Wait, wait, wait—this is just a training exercise?!"

"Naturally."

"You're using the Doomsday Battlefield… to practice?!"

"What better way to prepare for the next war?"

Mike was speechless.

For a full five seconds, his brain refused to compute.

Then—

"General, have you ever considered… I don't know… giving the apocalypse some damn respect?!"

4o