Starting from the Planetary Governor
Chapter 4: Is This the Servant Machine?

“Regrettably.”

Gu Hang, holding a telescope, uttered these two words.

He regretted that the enemy reacted quickly, having already mobilized before the bombardment began, otherwise, the results of the bombardment could have been greater.

He regretted that his own side still lacked firepower.

If the 60mm mortars had been replaced with large-caliber howitzers, the infantry would only need to clean up the battlefield, as the main problems could be directly solved by the artillery.

But under such circumstances, there was nothing that could be done.

All in all, after two rounds of bombardment, the enemy had lost a third of their combat power.

Although it seemed like there might be an opportunity to strike a few more rounds, he estimated the effects wouldn’t be as good.

The remaining enemies still had to be tackled by the infantry.

However, Patel, standing nearby, watched with great satisfaction.

From the information of the captives, he knew that apart from those of his kin who had died, most had already been moved to the stronghold of the captors and were being guarded.

Thus, the bombardment of the temporary camp had no worries of causing accidental injuries.

So, watching the bandits who threatened his hometown getting bombed, with several rounds of artillery turning the place into a mess and causing uncountable deaths and injuries, he was truly overjoyed.

“May the Governor kill all these bandits! I, Patel, am willing to serve you for life!”

Thinking this, he saw the Governor put away the telescope and signal the soldiers standing by to move forward.

He hurried to follow.

……

Accurately locating the target, open fire, kill.

Feeling the slight warmth from the HS3 type ‘Eagle’ electromagnetic rifle in his hands on his cheek, Yan Fangxu felt much more at ease.

The situation on the battlefield is always unpredictable. He had thought that by taking the enemy by surprise and conducting multiple rounds of mortar bombardment, he could deal a devastating blow to these native bandits.

The remaining people would mostly be confused by the bombing, and he, leading the infantry, would only need to clean up the battlefield and deal with some surviving enemies.

But unexpectedly, the enemy was very sharp.

Even if they were just wasteland plunderers, they should not be underestimated.

The enemy had dispersed several squads in advance, forcing him to launch an attack immediately, otherwise, they would be discovered by the enemy.

The bombardment was initiated a few minutes earlier, and the infantry he led also needed to eliminate those enemy squads within several hundred meters of the enemy camp.

Eliminating these bandit squads was not difficult.

But the ensuing battle left him somewhat frustrated.

The damage caused by the mortars was less than expected, forcing him to lead the infantry to tackle the tough enemy head-on.

Winning wasn’t an issue, but what about the losses?

If they were to fight a bunch of wasteland bandits and still suffer significant casualties despite having the advantage, it would be quite embarrassing.

Moreover, large losses could also affect the Governor’s plans.

He had full confidence in the thirty marines he had personally brought down from the starship, but the servant soldiers were a different story.

They were primarily cannon fodder, with substandard equipment.

More critically, the combat instincts implanted in the brains of the servant soldiers were also geared towards cannon fodder tactics, emphasizing fearlessness and recklessness.

Being cannon fodder was an advantage in some situations, but not for regular troops.

He was genuinely worried that these servant soldiers might be too reckless and end up dying in large numbers.

However, once the battle began, he felt much more at ease.

While eliminating the outer squads of marauders, these servant soldiers didn’t show much distinction, as he and the marines primarily handled the main targets.

The marines, specialized in special operations, were equipped with various attachments like assisted aiming, rapid target acquisition, and precision shooting units.

Their training and equipment levels gave them a crushing advantage over the marauders, making a flawless victory quite normal.

The servant soldiers, who hadn’t had a chance to prove themselves, demonstrated excellent qualities during the assault on the camp.

They did not charge recklessly like typical cannon fodder; each squad maintained a skirmish line, advancing in groups of three.

There were assault troops, fire support, and squad machine guns providing suppression and advancing support from behind.

Although the mortar positions a kilometer away couldn’t inflict significant damage, they continued to lob shells to suppress enemy fire as the soldiers advanced.

From his perspective as an elite soldier, the tactical actions of these servant soldiers, though somewhat rigid, were sufficiently standard and effective.

The marauders attempting to break out were pinned down within the camp.

They could only occasionally fire a few shots from within, but their aim was poor, and they didn’t dare expose their heads, let alone take aimed shots.

Soon, multiple assault teams had already entered the camp.

The servant soldiers maintained their professionalism, advancing alternately, providing cross-cover, cutting at multiple angles, and covering visual blind spots… employing all the necessary tactical maneuvers.

The bandits, who thought they could finally launch a substantial counterattack at close range, were met with the relentless slaughter of the servant soldiers.

Of course, the servant soldiers were not invincible. Close-quarters combat inevitably resulted in casualties, but the outcome was far better than Yan Fangxu had anticipated.

“The Governor’s training is truly effective, huh?”

It wasn’t just a façade; their actual combat effectiveness had genuinely improved.

Three hundred cannon fodder transformed into three hundred regular soldiers in such a short time—it was truly unbelievable to him.

But this was a good thing.

With the servant battalion at this level, he no longer had to worry about significant losses in siege battles.

The bandits simply couldn’t withstand the assault of the servant soldiers.

This battle was as good as won.

……

While Yan Fangxu found it unbelievable, Kaga was utterly desperate.

His reaction was quick, but it still couldn’t change their fate.

His comrades, trapped in the camp, had less than half their original number left.

The howling mortars had ceased their bombardment, likely to avoid friendly fire. He had thought this would give them a breather, perhaps even a chance to counterattack, but it didn’t.

The attacking soldiers with mechanical eyes were what truly drove him to despair.

He had heard of these ‘servant soldiers,’ used by some powerful factions, but they were usually just like slave labor.

They didn’t think for themselves and only followed orders to perform low-end repetitive physical labor, unsuitable for training as soldiers.

If one insisted on doing so, they would only end up with a bunch of cannon fodder.

The only real advantages were that they wouldn’t leak secrets, were absolutely loyal, and completely obedient.

And these were supposed to be servant soldiers?

Such outrageous servant soldiers?

Their cold eyes showed no trace of idiocy, only ruthlessness.

They were well-trained, acted swiftly, and methodically slaughtered his subordinates.

Counterattack?

Many of his fierce bandits did try to fight back, but their scattered counterattacks were futile.

Occasionally, a servant soldier got injured, but it didn’t affect their morale at all.

Even hiding in makeshift houses built from construction debris and rubble was useless.

The servant soldiers would throw two to three grenades in succession and then enter without hesitation, fearless of injury, often killing the desperate bandits without sustaining any injuries themselves.

Now he knew it was all over.

His temporary camp was blown to pieces, littered with debris and craters; his comrades were dead or dying everywhere—blown up, shredded by shrapnel, shot to pieces by those well-equipped soldiers with electromagnetic rifles from afar, or executed at close range by the servant soldiers…

The ‘Captors’ were no more.

But Kaga still had one last card to play.

His tribe was beyond saving, but perhaps he still had a chance to survive.

He pulled out a small green dirty glass bottle from his pocket, his face full of hesitation. He had seen what happened to people who drank this stuff—it might not be much better than death.

But if he didn’t drink it, he would die now.

Finally, gritting his teeth, he pulled out the cork and gulped down the potion.