My Post-Apocalyptic Shelter Levels Up Infinitely!

After the Yin Yuan slaughtered a large number of people, only sixty-three people were left in the think tank that originally had more than a hundred people.

After the statement, four people finally chose to withdraw out of fear and were sent out of the palace by the Curse Tiger.

No one knew where they would be sent. Maybe they would die after leaving this door.

But no one in the field cared. After all, if these people went back and talked nonsense, it would be a trouble for them.

It's okay to die!

The remaining fifty-nine people, led by Mr. Song, Mr. Liu, and Mr. Tarn, formed a new organization.

Alien War Association.

"Very good, although our current situation is very disadvantageous, there is still hope for a comeback."

"This is a new beginning. We need to stabilize the situation on the front line as soon as possible. Even if we can't beat humans, we can't let them advance the front line."

After talking about the main task, the Curse Tiger didn't even think about the gambling fight.

The first gambling fight has not ended yet. There are still eight months before the final battle of faith, but all the humans present, as well as the five royal families, do not think that the alien race has a chance to turn the tables.

Nothing else.

After the new data was released.

The level 6 priest with the suffix of Su Mo is really a bit too abnormal.

From him down, the highest level of human priests is only level 2, and 99% of the priests are still level 1.

Although the progress of the aliens is slightly faster, there are only three level 3 priests who have just climbed to the level of high priests, and their strength is completely not on the same level.

In addition, the Fire Fist Tribe led by Su Mo also crushes others.

Thirty-eight thousand people, 27,000 people who have reached the level of fanatics.

It is no exaggeration to say that even if the list of humans is rounded down by 1,000 people, it can't make up the fraction of 7,000 people of this number.

The aliens are even worse, and the alien rift where they are located is based on strength.

The big event "Priest's Sorrow" broke out in advance, causing serious civil strife in many tribes, with deaths and injuries.

Before the unrest is quelled, developing tribes and developing beliefs is simply a dream.

Therefore, the five royal families decided to give up the first gambling fight directly.

Admit defeat immediately!

"What about gambling?" Mr. Song thought about it and still mentioned it.

If the third major event is triggered now, and the second major event breaks out together, it will inevitably bring more variables to the gambling world.

However, if you want to use these variables to suppress the huge advantages accumulated by Su Mo in the early stage and take back the initiative, don't even think about it, and it is unlikely to cause some unnecessary trouble.

"Don't worry about the gambling. Even if Su Mo wins, there are still two years enough for us to win this war. At that time, I will negotiate with him with the lives of the people on Earth and let him make a choice."

"Okay!"

What to negotiate, what to decide?

Curse Tiger did not take the initiative to speak, and everyone present did not dare to ask, because they knew that Curse Tiger would not tell the truth even if they asked.

This involves the real secrets of the wasteland world. Except for Su Mo and the high-level aliens, even the lords of the three royal families' territories do not know.

It was getting close to night.

With the help of the underground transportation facilities built by the dwarves of all races, 59 people from the Alien War Club rushed to the front line.

It has to be said that after resting in the dungeon for more than two months, everyone's mental state has changed a lot.

"The long-term tug-of-war is like a millstone that never stops, ruthlessly wearing away the original distinct mental differences between individuals, and gradually training them into cold and ruthless machines on the battlefield."

"In this process, even the most sharp-edged people will only be gradually smoothed out, and their unique selves will be slowly assimilated."

Mr. Song stood at the head of the carriage and slowly dragged out the tactical ideas he had prepared.

"For a whole winter, we were locked in the dungeon, which was equivalent to resting in disguise. We did not feel the oppression brought by this high-pressure environment, but the commanders and soldiers in the opposite level, they participated in three large-scale battles in full, and their mental pressure had long reached the limit."

"Now if we want to win a beautiful counterattack, making good use of this is the key!"

It has been one year and two months since the construction of the front line.

Unlike modern wars, there is still a rest period, and the war between humans and aliens is almost non-stop every day.

The only difference is the scale.

Therefore, even the new recruits who joined later, after gradually fading away the initial excitement and filter, will inevitably become numb like the veterans.

Mr. Song knows that the top commanders of the human race are willing to change all this, but they don't have many useful means.

Talking about rewards, the wasteland is poor and blank, how can it attract humans who have experienced the modern information explosion.

Talking about the future, many people can't see the future at all, and are unwilling to think about the future. Talking too much will only increase the burden.

Talking about promotion, this is even more difficult. Wars are frequent, but getting promoted requires crazy internal competition among people.

Therefore, as long as the mental pressure of the soldiers in the level can be detonated, the next battle can at least get a 50% winning rate.

The remaining 50% depends on the speed of the human commander's adjustment and reaction.

According to the results of the previous confrontation, Mr. Song estimated that it should be difficult to achieve such a hearty result as the "Battle of Pinggu", but it is not difficult to replicate a "Battle of the Pass".

In the short term, we must at least let the alien race see the value of the Alien War Conference so that we can draw more troops from the alien rear to join.

"Mr. Song, what if the other side doesn't fight with us? If they guard the checkpoints and avoid fighting, thinking of dragging it out until the gambling fight is over, do we have to attack day and night?"

The speaker was a blond and blue-eyed Westerner.

Mr. Song glanced at the other party lightly and called out his name, "Zen, forgive me for being blunt, did you spend your war history in sleep?"

"What do you mean?" Zen's face changed.

"The Trojan War, the Greeks' Trojan Horse, the Battle of Spartacus, the Romans' tactical siege, the Battle of Constantinople, how many tunnels the Ottoman army dug, and the Battle of Salamis, the Battle of Pella..."

Mr. Song said more than a dozen classic battles that had taken place on Earth in one breath, all of which were cases where one side had a great advantage and wanted to delay time, and the other side used a trick to break through.

Zen's face suddenly looked a little ugly.

The reason why he pointed out that the checkpoints were defended and his side could only attack was to tell the five royal families sitting in front of him.

In this way, even if the war is not going well, everyone can use this excuse to delay and prevaricate, so as to avoid another crisis of trust.

But Mr. Song did not give him any face at all, and directly blocked his words in this way.

At the same time, he also told others that now they should either work hard to defeat the opponent or leave quickly and find another place.

"Okay, there is a new opportunity in front of us. I don't want to miss it, and you certainly don't want to miss it either."

"As long as we win this battle, no matter what the final result is, we will definitely leave a strong and colorful mark in history. Therefore, I don't want anyone to choose to move forward, but at a critical moment, they will hesitate to move forward."

"Well said!" Zhuhu stood up and took the lead in applauding.

For a while, the applause in the carriage was thunderous, and the remaining royal family and the dwarf waiters who didn't know why also applauded, making the dwarves in the front carriage think that some kind of celebration was held here.

After a long while, after the applause ended, Mr. Song turned his head and looked at Zen with a little meaning.

This look also made Zane feel cold all over, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead and back.

Damn, I was locked up for too long, and my brain was dumb.

In an instant, he figured out why Mr. Song didn't give him face.

Curse Tiger just released everyone from the dungeon, and promised and guaranteed, wasn't it for the purpose of defeating the humans behind the level?

If the people in the carriage don't have confidence and confidence now, what is the necessity and value of existence?

It's just a day and night attack, and it doesn't make any difference if it's commanded by a foreign race.

"Mr. Song saved me and everyone in the carriage."

After understanding this, Zane turned his head and looked at the others.

Sure enough, there were some special meanings in the eyes of these people that were hard to explain.

"Okay, there are still four hours to the destination, and we still have a lot to do."

Mr. Song spoke again, interrupting the eye contact, "There are a total of 27 points that need to be taken care of by manpower. I plan to divide 27 two-person teams to be responsible for them. Mr. Liu will be responsible for the northern area, Mr. Tarn will be responsible for the southern area, and the remaining two people will follow me to stay in the central command."

...

Nine o'clock in the evening.

The dwarf transport train stopped at the station.

It is still 80 kilometers away from the front alien position, and it still needs the help of wildebeest aliens to reach it.

But this is also unavoidable. The underground transportation line is the most important material guarantee for the aliens.

Once it is discovered and blown up by humans, millions of aliens on the front line will immediately fall into crisis.

"Let's go, report to me every three days according to the group."

"Brother Song, take care."

"Mr. Song, I hope to hear good news from you."

"..."

Waves of people left on wildebeests.

Soon, only Mr. Song himself, Zane who insisted on following him, and another Westerner, Oliden, were left.

The three people stood side by side, and their figures looked a little bleak.

"Mr. Song, I was confused just now. Thank you for your help."

Zen bent down to 90 degrees and bowed respectfully.

If Mr. Song had just said something along his words, the curse tiger would have jumped up on the spot.

"Okay, no need to say anything extra, let's go."

Mr. Song waved his hand and turned to get on the wildebeest.

He didn't want to play any party competition, nor did he want to cultivate any confidants.

Working for the aliens is a job that is literally tied to the belt.

The reason why they are alive today is that they still have a little value in them.

If the value disappears, even if they are not chopped to death by the aliens, they will be sent to the gallows by humans.

The wildebeest left the station and ran to the front line at a speed of 60 kilometers per hour.

At about ten o'clock in the evening, the three finally returned to the familiar main camp.

Compared with more than two months ago, there is not much change here.

Still the familiar camp layout, familiar stench...

"Hmm? What's that smell? Why is it so fragrant?"

Mr. Song got off the wildebeest and stared at the direction of the first checkpoint on the front line.

The stench in the camp still existed, but the night wind brought a special smell from the distant checkpoint.

It seemed to be a strong meaty aroma, mixed with the special aroma of chili, which made people salivate.

"Sir, it should be your Dongda dish...the smell of fried meat with chili."

Zen could clearly identify the smell in the air, and a trace of confusion appeared on his expressionless face.

There is no problem with peppers, they can be grown in a greenhouse even in winter.

But meat, where does the meat come from?

In just three and a half years, even if there are enough female species, it is absolutely impossible for humans to complete the construction of a breeding industry from scratch, let alone supply it to frontline soldiers in bulk.

"Come on, let's go over and take a look."

Mr. Song made the decision on the spot.

Under the protection of two teams of elite centaur warriors, the three people left the camp and approached the checkpoint.

The closer we get, the more obvious the smell of chili-fried meat is in the air.

At the same time, there are also some other aromas mixed in, all of which are the famous dishes of Dongda.

"So the suspicion formation is still..."

The three of them looked at each other, a little surprised.

Even if vegetables are made into flowers, it is impossible to make meat and vegetables with such a delicious flavor.

Mr. Song did not think that this was a smell deliberately released by the opposite level. He understood that if the soldiers in the level smelled this smell and could not eat it, their mental pressure would immediately increase several times.

"You can't go any further. Once you pass here, you will encounter their patrol team."

The three of them wanted to get closer, but the captain of the Centaur team stood up and stopped them.

"Look, that's the sentry tower they built. If you go there, you may encounter an ambush."

"Watch tower?"

Mr. Song looked doubtfully in the direction of the centaur captain's finger.

Sure enough, a concrete building about four meters high stood not far away, which had not been seen before.

"Humans are trying to advance their positions. Every night, they will push these marking towers hundreds of meters to build. We have tried to stop them, but the cost is too high!"

"But there seems to be no one there?"

"There is no one now, and they are also afraid that we will attack at night, so there will be people stationed during the day, and they will retreat at night."

"Since there is no one, let's go over and take a look."

Mr. Song's tone was firm. The centaur captain wanted to refuse, but after thinking of Cursed Tiger's instructions, he had no choice but to nod in agreement.

The distance before and after is only three hundred meters.

The two groups of people approached furtively, but fortunately they did not encounter the border guard team patrolling at night.

When we arrived at the bottom of the guard tower, the entrance door was ajar.

Mr. Song winked, and Zaien stepped forward, pushed open the door and looked inside.

It was empty, with only a table and a chair.

However, on top of the table, there was a red festive paper box with the Tianyuan mark printed on it.

"What's this?"

Zain subconsciously wanted to go up and take a look, but was pulled out of the tower by Mr. Song.

"Be careful and let them be."

The centaur captain understood and ordered a soldier to step forward and open the carton.

There were no weapons inside, just twelve packaging boxes of the same size with a piece of letter paper on them.

"Bring the letter here, let me take a look."

Mr. Song was very cautious and took a few steps back before taking the letter.

...