Fatty shook his head foolishly and said, "I’d rather stay with the Holy Knight." This remark caused George and Christina to panic internally. Why is this Fatty so stubborn? What’s wrong with joining the core laboratory?
Reinhardt asked in surprise, "Why?"
Fatty pouted and said, "From what you said earlier, it doesn’t sound very free. I see those guys all scared out of their wits. I don’t want to be uncomfortable; I feel happy now...."
George almost fell ill from anxiety. Fatty’s logic is really making people doubt whether he is human or not. Leading a team in the core lab of the Mythical Army is such an honor. You can say that no matter what trouble Fatty gets into, no one would dare touch a hair on him without the Mythical Army’s permission, given his position. As long as the work achieves results, status, money, and fame—whatever you want, you can have. Is there any place that can give more than the Mythical Army?
Seeing Fatty’s disdain for high position and great wealth, Bonnie, who had been silent, became angry, "Why so much nonsense? Are you going or not?"
Fatty was startled, glanced at Bonnie, his face instantly turned red, and he muttered, "If you let me go, then I’ll go." That wretched look of grievance and innocence made it seem as if he was agreeing only for his beloved Bonnie’s sake. Reinhardt couldn’t help but laugh while Bonnie snorted coldly with anger and turned to leave. If she stayed any longer, she feared she might not control her impulse to destroy this hateful Fatty completely!
******************************************
It’s imaginable what kind of scene Fatty would face when reporting to the core research room. After a perfunctory welcome, the researchers dispersed hurriedly to their own tasks. Even the team assigned to Fatty didn’t give him a warm reception after Reinhardt and others left. Professionally trained, they had an innate arrogance, looking down upon these backdoor mechanics unless this mechanic’s skills far surpassed theirs. Fatty, who had only pointed out one hidden danger, hadn’t shown such level of proficiency yet.
Fatty seemed unaware of the researchers’ attitudes and went directly to his office, using his special password to pull out the lab’s confidential blueprints and indulging in them. These things were treasures indeed. For Federation spies, obtaining such data was an almost impossible mission, but now, these things were laid bare before him as much as he wanted to view.
In the following days, Fatty locked himself in his office to analyze and scrutinize the blueprints and data. He occasionally called someone in to hand a small note, pointing out one or more deficiencies in the Mecha design. During this period, he also gradually got a complete understanding of the progress in Mecha design work. The notes he sent out also contained current research problems and solutions. Once the notes were proved by the researchers, they gradually became the most critical instructions.
In psychology, establishing authority involves not just expertise but also a sense of mystery. Gradually, Fatty’s closed-door office became the most mysterious place in the core lab. His research team’s progress was nearly twice the speed of others! Whenever there were questions, almost before they were asked, the notes from his office would provide ideas and methods. Following the instructions always led to surprising successes. Fatty established his authority in his unique way, and no one doubted his skills anymore. In this field, his experience was truly abundant, and Mecha design began to follow the direction he guided.
Looking at the increasingly respectful eyes of the researchers towards him, Fatty sometimes thought, if the Gazalin Empire later discovers that this Mecha, incorporating countless advanced technologies, is actually a hodgepodge, and spent all their scarce Re Resources to realize that with their strength it can only arm one division, it would become apparent on the battlefield their soldiers know less about the Mecha than Federation soldiers. Even dying, they wouldn’t understand why. What would happen to these researchers?
"Who cares, anyway, I’d have run away by then! Such a good opportunity, not to swindle is truly against heaven’s will. Conscience will be restless for a lifetime," Fatty lamented. This wretched man’s conscience logic was indeed unique.
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Stephen looked at the electronic map of Lucerne, his finger constantly touching the map, switching deployment points. Lucerne had turned into a chaotic mess. The Empire and Federation troops were interspersed with each other, engaging in full-scale slaughter. The daily battle loss reports, if printed on paper, would be taller than a mountain, full of small unit skirmishes. These battles constituted this large campaign!
Especially the eastern Amayo Mountain, both sides vied back and forth within thousands of square kilometers of the mountain range. Almost every high ground had changed hands more than ten times! Land-based aircraft launched long-range guided bombs outside air defense range, turning these heights into a plowed field, no fortifications remained. Mechanized infantry, once their artillery was knocked out and single-person missiles exhausted, were left to be repeatedly attacked by enemy Mecha. Now, no one dared to send infantry to occupy these positions, only armored units fought on these grounds.
Under Stephen’s fingers, the map kept changing. This fast map-switching analysis skill was taught by Liebgoet. In similar situational analysis, Liebgoet could use fifty percent less time than others. To Stephen, Liebgoet’s brain was as precise as a computer. Just glancing at the terrain data could imprint it in his mind. The rapid switching under his fingers made these rigid electronic maps come alive, forming a comprehensive strategic judgment in his mind. As for himself, he had only learned the surface.
"Teacher, isn’t it too risky to abandon Amayo Mountain at this moment?" Stephen turned and asked the thin Liebgoet sitting on the sofa. Follow current novels on ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet
Liebgoet slowly picked up the Irish coffee in front of him, gently caressing the delicate lily pattern on the cup edge, and said lightly, "If we don’t let this route go now, how much more support does the Empire have to hold here?" He sipped the coffee, savoring the aroma and continued, "Given the strength of Gazalin, if we get tied down by the Federation here, ultimately, we will suffer. War consumes the economy, and we can’t afford it."
Stephen glanced at the electronic map, "But the rear deployment hasn’t been completed, at this moment..."
Liebgoet looked at his hesitant disciple, sighed and said, "Do you have more time?"
Stephen remained silent. In the Empire’s current situation, the time left for him and his teacher to continue directing this war was indeed running out. Finally, grasping the Military Department to some extent, they were already facing Emperor James’s purge. This purge was not to pave the way for Stephen, but preparations for James’s final showdown.
Militarily, without a timely victory to delay James’s steps, the Gazalin Empire would be led by this emperor, who is well-versed in imperial tactics, down an irreversible path. International conflicts would be manipulated by James, culminating in the war between Gazalin and Leray. Lucerne was James’s bottom line. If the situation became uncontrollable, he would unhesitatingly deploy his plan, strapping a political bomb on Gazalin that could lead to mutual destruction with the opponent! War is the continuation of politics. As long as there are benefits, James wouldn’t care about anything else. And Stephen himself would completely lose the chance to vie for the throne!
"The secret envoy sent to the Binart Empire has already departed, right? Perhaps, whether it’s me or George, in this throne struggle, we are all wasting our efforts. Father, how could you be willing to become the last emperor of the Gazalin Empire?
Stephen signed the combat order and strode out of the war room.
"At least, I am not willing!"
Continue pretending to be dumb, desperately dumping goods!
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