This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 323.1: The Rainbow Through The Clouds

Heavy rain poured down on the lands.

At the foot of the mountain 5 kilometers south of Pinewood Forest Valley, tanks continued passing through the main gate one after another, accompanied by the marauder infantry, heading towards the frontlines.

According to the operational plan devised by Dillon, they would take advantage of the rainy weather to assault the New Alliance's defensive line.

During that time, the aircraft of the New Alliance would undoubtedly take the risk to attack their armored formations, but the interference caused by the heavy rain made the threat from those aircraft less significant.

Quadruple anti-aircraft guns were already aimed at the sky, whether they were 7mm or 12mm caliber.

Opening the hatch, Bagro poked half of his body out of the tank's turret. The gunner sitting beside him immediately complained, "Hey, you're letting rainwater in!"

"A little water won't hurt..." Ignoring the guy, Bagro peered through binoculars to look at the southern sky, furrowing his brow, "It doesn't feel quite right."

It was too bright in the distance.

Although he could not pinpoint what exactly felt wrong, he sensed that the rain was different from the usual.

"What could be wrong?" The driver said with a smile, "As long as we drive over their trenches, they'll scatter like roaches in a sewer."

"If only it were that simple." Bagro chuckled insincerely, then retreated back into the tank.

On second thought, that might be the case.

Even if the enemy tried pulling some tricks, so what?

In face of the tank's treads, any cunning scheme was a joke.

Bagro removed the radio hanging on the inside of the turret, shouting to the other tanks in the formation, "Advance at full speed!"

"Before the downpour ends, we need to cover our infantry and help them rush up to their high ground!"

Usually, the tanks of the Fang Clan were commanded by a tank operator from the Army, while the driver, gunner, and loader positions were all filled by trained marauders.

Of course, not every tank was like that.

The 27 tanks were divided into 5 columns, advancing in an arrowhead formation.

In the gaps between the arrowheads, besides the quadruple anti-aircraft trucks, there was also an overstaffed company following closely.

Bagro led a total of 7 tanks in the attacking vanguard. Meanwhile, the company that followed behind them was led by a marauder named Wabu, who served as the company leader.

Wabu was an ability user with barbaric lineage and was once a bounty hunter, active in a place known as the City of Sin in the Bugra Free State. Driven by his desire for blood and spoils of war, he willingly joined the banner of the Bonechewer Clan.

Most of the subordinates he commanded were similar in nature.

They were fiercer and more ruthless than the average marauders. Among them were former gladiators. Some were former private soldiers of slave owners, and even guards for merchant caravans. Although their reasons for joining the Fang Clan varied, their shared longing for the most primitive desire was the same.

Being held captive by them would not be much better than falling into the hands of other marauders. In fact, the methods the Bonechewer Clan used to torture captives were still learned from those outsiders.

Singing battle songs, Wabu led his followers forward in the rain.

However, at that moment, a loud thud rang out from the side, splashing mud several meters high and startling everyone in motion, causing them to quickly fall to the ground.

The singing abruptly stopped.

However, the expected explosion did not occur.

Wabu annoyedly got up from the ground, wiped off the mud from his face, and strode quickly towards the mud pit created by whatever had fallen, grabbing someone straight away, "What just happened?!"

The anxious marauder he grabbed spoke, "Something, something fell from the sky just now."

"I'm not blind! I'm asking you what the hell fell from the sky just now!" Wabu pushed the person with force, causing that person to stumble, then he pointed with his thick finger towards the mud pit. "Go take a look." freewёbnoνel.com

What good thing could have fallen from the sky?

He dared not approach.

If it exploded just as he walked over, he would truly be having the worst luck ever.

"Yes, yes!" Though the marauder was frightened, he dared not resist. He jogged closer to the mud pit only to find a deformed steel pipe sticking out... Or something similar.

Out of curiosity, he crouched down, extended his hand to touch it, but quickly recoiled as if he got an electric shock.

"Hiss..."

It’s ice cold!

It almost froze a layer of his fingers off!

Wabu shouted with a hoarse voice, "What is that?"

"I don't know, just a metal can, about this big, and it's empty inside..." That marauder stood up and answered, gesturing with his hands to outline its approximate shape.

Although Wabu did not fully understand his gestures, he still felt slightly relieved.

Earlier, he thought it might be a bomb dropped by New Alliance’s aircraft, but now it seemed unlikely.

Come to think of it, where were the planes in the sky anyway?

Dropping bombs from above the clouds?

They would be truly lucky if they actually hit anyone.

Wabu raised his voice, calling for the scattered group to regroup, "Maybe it's a dud rocket. Whatever it is, let's not bother with it for now. Stick a branch next to it to warn the others to stay away, and let's keep moving! Onward to victory!"

...

Above the layer of clouds.

A H-1 Dragonfly utility plane was towing a trail of ethereal white fog, soaring over the layers of milky clouds.

Upon closer inspection, frost had already formed on the plane's tail.

Standing at the open rear cargo door, Bathroom Goer, dressed in thick winter clothing and secured by a rope, was reaching out to support an aluminum alloy ammunition rack fixed on the cabin slide.

Originally meant to hold 37mm cannon shells, the rack was now stuffed with high-pressure steel cylinders, each about a meter in length.

Those high-pressure steel cylinders were secured with iron wires, their tops were open, continuously pouring a white mixture of solid and liquid towards the outside of the cabin.

To put it simply, they were dry ice!

They were the source of the white fog!

In fact, producing dry ice was quite simple. It involved pressurizing carbon dioxide or air inside Container A to liquefy it, then cooling it and releasing pressure to make it rapidly absorb a large amount of heat, causing the carbon dioxide inside Container B to quickly condense into a snowflake-like solid.

The entire process did not involve any chemical reactions. It was purely a physical process. Generally speaking, if the condition to manufacture high-pressure steel cylinders was fulfilled, dry ice could be made.

Since they were unsure whether artificial rain would require 10 kilograms or 100 kilograms of dry ice, they simply carried 3 times the recommended maximum amount... Which was 300 kilograms, and flew back and forth several times across the airspace.

"Settled... We've done our part; the rest is up to fate." As the last bit of dry ice emptied out, Bathroom Goer exerted force to turn the winch, closing the door hatch. He let out a sigh, took off his gloves, and put them in his pocket.

Athlete Foot stepped forward to inspect the ammunition rack, thereupon his brow suddenly furrowed, "Why's one missing?"

Bathroom Goer, who was resting, looked up, "One what?"

"Damn it! What else could it be? One of the high-pressure steel cylinders!"

Bathroom Goer was taken aback, "Huh?"

“Your ass!” Athlete Foot could not hold back. “Don't you remember what I told you? Keep an eye on them, don't let them fall off. How did one end up falling?"

Bathroom Goer rolled his eyes, "How am I supposed to see? The fog was so thick earlier! Besides, weren't you the one who tied down the high-pressure cylinders?"

Athlete Foot looked worried as he said, "What do we do now? If the enemy picks it up..."

Bathroom Goer consoled him, "Forget about it! The dry ice inside is all used up. Even if they find it, they might not even be able to tell what it is."

He didn’t seem wrong.

Athlete Foot felt slightly relieved.

At that moment, Unprofessional Retort, who was seated in the control cabin, shouted, "What are you guys arguing about? Is the dry ice emptied? Do we need to take another loop?"

Sitting back in his seat, Athlete Foot fastened his seatbelt and shouted, "It's empty. Let's head back."

"Roger." The aircraft tilted to the side.

The H-1 Dragonfly turned its nose and started heading back.

For their Heavy Rain Plan, the New Alliance's operational headquarters had formulated 2 options. One was to use rockets to disperse silver iodide, while the other was to spread dry ice using aircraft.

If neither worked...

They would simply give up.

There was nothing in the world that would guarantee absolutely occurrence, nor was there anything that would absolutely not happen.

There was a probability that those huge dark clouds would remain quiet, maybe the heavy rain would pour without any dramatic effects, or perhaps the other side was not waiting for a change in weather at all... Everything was possible.

All plans were built upon speculations based on limited information.

Chu Guang also did not have a hundred percent certainty that the enemy would immediately go all in upon seeing the heavy rain.

However, judging from the aerial footage captured by the drone flying at low altitude, Chu Guang knew that he had made the right bet.

27 Conqueror 10 Tanks poured out from the blast-proof bunkers, followed closely by 50 modified anti-aircraft trucks.

Deployed at the rear, the 100mm cannons fired off a volley of shots at the New Alliance's positions, raining down hundreds of shells in just a few minutes.

On the surface, it seemed to be a retaliation for the previous rocket barrage, but it was actually a cover for the main forces to advance.

The Fang Clan had chosen to stake everything!

Meanwhile, the New Alliance had long since prepared themselves.

The players squatting at the frontline were rubbing their hands together, fully prepared and waiting for the decisive battle!

...