"Kamei, Arnold and I will lead teams 1, 2, 3, and 4 in a frontal feigned attack to distract these armed drug dealers. You take teams five and six to bypass the front line from the flank and find a way to surprise attack the airport and anti-air positions of the dealers, providing support space for the military technology's aircraft."

With the technical level of military technology, it is entirely possible to destroy all the anti-air and military strongholds in the coastal areas of Cuba with minimal losses.

But they won't do that because it's not worth it.

Those people below aren't the army of New America; without necessary circumstances, they have no reason to risk heavy casualties to fight for air superiority.

At most, they can provide some fire support offshore, and that's already pushing it. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Besides, Horizon Corporation has to pay for it; a round of 227 rocket artillery can easily start at millions.

This is also why those military technology soldiers are so skeptical that Horizon Mercenaries can achieve results under such conditions.

Six landing craft successively stranded in the shallow seas, where the water is about a meter deep. Although they could throttle up and push forward a bit more, there was no need for it anymore.

Sword Saint kicked open an iron door that could block machine gun fire. He was wearing a remarkably bulky black exoskeleton, a red visor on his head, and carrying a square box-like device on his back.

"Quick, quick, quick! After arming yourselves, disembark and scatter in skirmish formation. If you don't want those guys back in Night City to laugh at you, then move your asses and hurry it up!"

He barked out orders to the players, because according to the synchronized radar from military technology's floating boat, an armed force of over twenty vehicles made up of drug dealers was approaching the beach where they were landing.

Launching a direct frontal assault wasn't actually a good choice.

It's more prudent to infiltrate Cuba with multiple covert teams to sabotage, assassinate, and disrupt the local military morale before launching an attack.

But the players' style is inherently unsuitable for this kind of combat.

After all, the stealth in the cyber world isn't like those NPC blind games. Like when Zeta Technology played short-term infiltration, it wasn't much, but over time exposure was inevitable.

The players disembarking varied in appearance, but generally maintained a five-person team's setup with one MT-3 firepower unit, one new class player—a Mechanic with a small radio, a high-response sniper, a commanding captain, and a Stealth Department scout.

The freshly-transferred Mechanic can control one doorframe robot, three transport platforms, and two Hellhound robots.

It's not Lin Miao deliberately withholding resources from the players; rather, these players need to get used to controlling multiple perspective mech units for coordinated combat. Only after mastering it can they upgrade to unlock more control limit.

Otherwise, it would just be a pile of scrap metal.

However, players who think the Mechanic will be the new version's favorite immediately suffer after transfer, because their machines need to carry goods, carry people, repair, dig trenches, and handle a series of odd tasks.

In the future, they may even have to take on battlefield Flying Knife medical care, signal communications, and countless other tasks—a pure frontline workhorse.

The reality is quite different from their initial imaginations of a one-man army.

"Uh... won't the seawater damage my precious gadgets?"

Following behind Sword Saint, [I Was Young and Wild] sat on a Hellhound, extremely distressed about his robots wading through water.

Seawater erosion is a major hazard to steel; although the design department considered seawater corrosion when designing, he couldn't help but worry.

These robots are all his current assets; without them, he'd be bankrupt.

"Before saying that, I suggest you roll off your robot and walk yourself."

"No way!"

The mechanic widened his eyes, glaring.

"Before transferring, I had to rely on my two legs to walk; after transferring, I still have to rely on myself? Wasn't the transfer in vain then?"

When it comes to exploiting robots, humans can completely let loose, unburdened by moral or ethical constraints.

"Look at you, lazy bum."

Sword Saint bottled up his envy, the words dripping with sarcasm.

"Hurry up and get the drone up for reconnaissance."

Finally gaining solid ground, a transport platform released the drone.

With the ever-elevating view from the drone, the mechanic surveyed the surrounding beaches and distant woods.

In the pitch-black night, the headlights of the drug dealer convoy approaching were glaringly obvious as they turned.

"Enemy units are closing in on the beach, estimated headcount is around 120! Seventeen armed vehicles, equipped with machine guns and rocket launchers. No radar vehicles detected."

After obtaining the rough report, Sword Saint immediately issued commands in the channel.

"Attention all units, enemy detected, hurry up and enter the woods, find cover and prepare for engagement."

There's no way two legs can outrun four wheels; it'll just leave their rear exposed to enemy fire.

————

The convoy of armed drug dealers swiftly approached the radar-indicated beach.

Only they hardly resembled a regular army in appearance.

The chest rigs hung loosely, seemingly easy to tear off, and the bulletproof helmets were tilted without even securing the straps—no military demeanor at all.

This was already the heightened alert version after New America's declaration of war on Cuba. In the past, they'd likely head out with only a rifle slung across their chest.

Discipline was nothing more than a fantasy for them.

As warlords supported by the European Community, and as drug dealers in Cuba with no external threats, their troops are bound not to be strong, not even capable; they fight among themselves and can bully civilians at best.