Starting from the Planetary Governor

Mr. Gu's request was promptly accepted by Matins without hesitation.

It really was the kind of task they excelled in— at least one of them.

Interstellar warriors are formidable, sure, but a perpetual weakness is their lack of numbers. In any battle of significant scale or intensity, it would be extremely foolish to commit these elite but scarce interstellar warriors to a head-on fight where attrition is the strategy— they themselves would never accept such an order.

No matter how tough a powered armor is, to be honest, it can't withstand a direct hit from a 155mm howitzer shell; no matter how powerful a bomb gun is, it may penetrate the locally-produced 'Challenger' tank with no big deal, but on top-tier battlefields, if it encounters the regular Lion Tanks of the Star Realm Army, much less the Lion King Tanks, it would be like scratching an itch.

They are a scalpel, not meant to be used as a hammer.

Taking advantage of the three days Gu Hang needed to prepare his troops for a counterattack, the five warriors of the Phoenix would infiltrate behind enemy lines to seek out and mark high-value strategic targets.

Joining them were 28 warriors from the 'Storm Squad.' They were the elite marine unit from the Quintet, now trained by Gu Hang to T3 level, ensuring the strength of each individual was guaranteed. Even engaging in close quarters combat and facing off against an ordinary green-skinned grunt wouldn't be a big problem for them.

They would temporarily come under the command of Phoenix, follow orders, and act in coordination.

Without much ado, a total of thirty-three people set out under cover of darkness.

They left from the southernmost end of the entire north-south frontline. To cover their operation, the 4th Infantry Battalion of the 7th Garrison Division stationed there initiated an attack.

From the artillery positions in the rear, a battalion of gunners were allocated. Thirty cannons were pushed forward five kilometers and fired twenty rounds of covering fire in the direction of the infantry battalion's intended attack.

The first five rounds were rapid fire, and the subsequent fifteen rounds were spaced about three to four minutes apart, maintaining the overall rhythm of the bombardment.

Those greenskins were stunned by the explosions.

In the past, they had been shelled, but generally, artillery would come into play when they launched an attack — the shrimps then would call for artillery support from the rear, and fierce firepower would cover their attack or retreat routes.

The main target was still to break their advance and inflict casualties.

There were also many cases where the shrimp would retaliate after the greenskins' own big guns opened fire.

Firing at one's own position like today wasn't unprecedented, but it was only occasional.

This moment, however, with six hundred heavy artillery shells falling within an hour on a not-so-large area, was certainly something these greenskins stationed here had never experienced before.

At least, the greenskins stationed in this area hadn't seen it.

The orc leader here, named Bone Strength, wasn't killed by the bombing. His fortification was built on top of the ruins of a reinforced concrete building, further reinforced by hauling various building materials, quite sturdy. Unless hit directly by heavy artillery on this particular fortification, shrapnel and shock waves were unlikely to cause any trouble.

However, there weren't many fortifications across the entire position that could match this level of protection. In addition, the shelling was too sudden, and casualties were feared to be significant.

Of course, most casualties occurred early on; those who survived later took cover in various bomb-proof shelters. There would indeed still be considerable losses, but these were within acceptable limits.

Yet even if Bone Strength was clear on this point, he paced back and forth restlessly in his fortification, spewing green-skin profanities.

He knew that the shrimp's inexplicably aggressive shelling mustn't be mere child's play. His green brain could clearly deduce that this was likely the prelude to the shrimp mounting an offensive.

But at the moment, he couldn't run out of his fortification and kick his boys into gear, making them brace for battle.

With artillery falling every few minutes, leaving the fortification could easily get him killed.

If he were killed, he wouldn't be able to fight anymore.

So he had to continue to stew in his fury, hiding.

But soon, the opportunity to fight came.

After the last round of shelling and ten minutes without any new shells falling, he heard gunfire and the shouts of close combat.

He perked up, leading a few boys, and burst out of the fortification.

They reached the ground still warm and smoky from the heavy artillery bombardment.

Looking toward the direction from which the shots were coming, he could vaguely see the approaching shrimp in the not-so-distant place.

The shrimp advanced quickly, constantly splitting off forces to clear every fortification and pile of rubble they passed.

In many places, in Bone Strength's recollection, there were his own boys on guard. However, there were very few places where battles occurred.

In those places without fighting, the shrimp would just go in and come out again.

Bone Strength could guess that the boys he had sent to hold those positions were probably obliterated during the previous artillery strikes. Otherwise, they wouldn't have allowed the shrimp to walk in without any resistance.

How many boys had died?

He didn't know.

He bellowed loudly, "Waaagh!! Boys! Roll out! The shrimp are storming us! It's time to show how tough we are! We can't let the shrimp look down on us!"