Attrition Tactics

"One, two, three..."

Lin Mo counted on his fingers, then gave up entirely and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"The Super Youth Squad really spared no expense this time. They must have thrown at least thirty-plus people in here as cannon fodder."

Oriental Leaf crouched nearby, chewing on a pine needle, and asked, "What exactly are they trying to do?"

"Grind."

Lin Mo said just one word.

Oriental Leaf paused mid-chew, frowned for a few seconds, then spat the thing out.

Got it.

No matter how intense Sam's rays were, how thick William's shield was, no matter how flashy these people's abilities were, they all had to follow one basic rule.

Abilities consume mental energy.

Mental energy has a ceiling.

What the Super Youth Squad was doing, plain and simple, was draining the other side's mana bar.

Each wave of attacks forced William to expand his shield, forced Sam to fire, forced Ivy to maintain her vision enhancement.

Wave after wave, mental energy drained like phone battery, a little less each time, and there was no power bank.

Once that battery hit zero, those few would be no different from roadkill on the side of the highway.

And the Super Youth Squad's team of artificially created superhumans, backed by ordinary fighters with conventional weapons.

The ordinary fighters pushed the front line, the artificial superhumans provided support fire, sending wave after wave upward.

They didn't need to win. They just needed to make the other side act.

Acting meant spending energy. Spending energy meant opportunity.

"Pretty ruthless," Oriental Leaf commented. There wasn't much emotion in his voice—he was just noting that this was a dirty tactic.

Lin Mo nodded. "It is ruthless. But to take them down, grinding alone won't cut it. These guys don't have low mental stats, and how do you know they don't have countermeasures ready?"

He hadn't even finished speaking.

More commotion on the highway.

The ground began to tremble.

Not from the aftershock of explosions. It was something pushing up from beneath the earth.

The vibration was rhythmic, like a heartbeat, picking up speed with each pulse.

"See? The appetizers aren't even done yet."

Spikes.

Sharp stone spears erupted from the ground at odd angles, fast and precise.

The ordinary fighters still trying to organize a second wave had no time to react. They were skewered clean through.

A few who sprinted fast enough barely got two steps out before a second batch of spikes burst from beneath their feet, launching them into the air.

It was Eric, the one who did the driving.

They knew full well that they had to clear out the trash first before the real threats behind them would be forced to show themselves.

Better to take the initiative and shorten the battle than to sit back and wait for their mental energy to run dry.

The spikes cleared out a massive area in an instant.

The surviving ordinary fighters began to fall back, their formation completely shattered.

The pressure on William's shield dropped dramatically.

He dropped the shield, his shoulders visibly relaxing, then reached into a pocket on his tactical vest and pulled out a thumb-thick blue vial. He bit off the rubber cap, tilted his head back, and downed the whole thing.

Lin Mo watched from a distance and briefly explained to Oriental Leaf, "See that? It's a mental compound — drinkable, it restores mental energy. Old Mei's tech really does have some tricks up its sleeve."

Oriental Leaf's eyes went wide.

Something that restores mental energy—in the Yanhuang awakening system, that was strategic-level resource. Regular people never even got to see it.

The Hua Xia tech level was scrambling to catch up, but when it came to mental-related pharmaceuticals, they were still a step behind.

"If this stuff could be mass-produced..." Oriental Leaf didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.

Lin Mo glanced at him and twisted the knife: "Though, their mental compound has some serious side effects with repeated use. Ability loss of control is the mild one. Organ damage and nervous system damage are the big ones."

He paused, then added with a completely straight face: "And that organ damage, apparently has a certain chance of causing... shrinkage of the little brother down there."

Oriental Leaf: "..."

"No thanks. No thanks."

Oriental Leaf waved his hands frantically, all trace of envy vanishing in an instant. "We're fine as we are. All natural, no additives. I think we're great."

Lin Mo couldn't help but chuckle.

After the spikes appeared, there was a brief lull on the battlefield.

The gunfire stopped. The ability fluctuations vanished. Everything around went unnaturally quiet.

That kind of quiet wasn't the end. It was the calm before the storm.

Meanwhile.

Lin Mo's clone was positioned farther out with Song Junhe, in a spot with a wide view, covering the entire battlefield from above.

"I've got a question."

Lin Mo's clone spoke, with just the right amount of confusion in his tone. "Why not rush them all at once? With that many people charging in, they only have a handful of fighters. Even if they've got shields and spikes, they can't survive a saturation attack, right? That would actually cut down our own casualties."

Song Junhe shook his head.

"Battle plans aren't up to us."

"Who made it then?"

"The S-ranks."

Song Junhe's expression was a little complicated. "S-ranks all value their own skins. The people on the other side have the ability to trade one-for-one. Take Sam's beam—getting hit by just one of those, even an S-rank would be roasted. Charge in recklessly, and what's the point of a one-for-one trade anyway? The S-ranks don't want that kind of trade."

Song Junhe's words rang true.

Lin Mo's clone put on a look of realization. "So they send the lower-level ability users in first to grind down the enemy's mental energy, and once the enemy is exhausted, the S-ranks step in to clean up?"

"Pretty much."

Song Junhe shrugged. "This isn't a game. No respawn. One-for-one might look good on paper, but it costs you your own life. Who'd volunteer for that?"

He tilted his head toward the battlefield.

"The ones charging in at the front—they're all designated pawns. Some are mercenaries in it for the money. Some are soldiers chasing achievements. Some are lab subjects being controlled by drugs. Either way, they're not core members of the Super Youth Squad. That's their doctrine."

As he listened, Lin Mo could clearly feel that Song Junhe was speaking from the perspective of the Shouxin Hui.

Lin Mo's clone nodded and didn't push further.

The words were cold, but the logic was watertight.

S-ranks aren't cannon fodder. And cannon fodder never becomes S-rank.

That's how this world worked: the stronger you are, the more afraid you are of dying, because the more you have to lose.

The lull didn't last long.

About three minutes later, new ability fluctuations began stirring at the edge of the battlefield.

Not the scattered, probing attacks from before.

This was a coordinated, organized release of power.

Flame, frost, arc lightning, gravity fields, sonic waves... a kaleidoscope of abilities blasted in from every direction at once, covering such a wide range that William's shield couldn't find a single angle of protection.

This was the Super Youth Squad's real muscle.

Not those pawns. Numbers.

Enough superhumans.

Within Lin Mo's divine sense range, at least several hundred ability users had gathered in the area.

Not all elites, but the sheer quantity was overwhelming.

Three ability users can't take you out? What about thirty? Thirty not enough? Three hundred?

The Super Youth Squad had gone for the kill.

This wave wasn't a probe. It was meant to end lives.