On the battlefield, the scout is the person combat troops trust the most. Even battle plans must be confirmed by the scout before they can be executed. In the ever-changing chaos of combat, scouts often become the ones soldiers rely on. How to analyze the situation on the battlefield and choose the correct direction to retreat—this is a required lesson for any scout. So, with no time to argue, the mech soldiers immediately placed their full trust in William Carter and accelerated northward.

When the fat man reached the edge of the jungle, he watched as the Federation mechs thundered away at 150 kilometers per hour...

"It's over!"

William Carter threw his gun to the ground with all his might and cried, "Damn it, you could at least take me with you!"

Chapter Three: The Collapsing Female Soldier

The fat man felt utterly wronged.

He cried so hard his tears mixed with the rain.

Life was just impossible like this.

When fighting broke out, he wasn't allowed to leave; when he was finally allowed to go, he couldn't; and at the last moment, after tipping them off and pointing out a way to survive, he was abandoned here. But crying aside, William Carter wasn't stupid. He picked up his gun, turned around, and ran deep into the jungle. His agile movements were like those of a fat rabbit.

As long as those Imperial mechs didn't enter the jungle, the fat man had an eighty percent chance of escaping. If those mechs chased after the Federation mechs instead, that would be even better.

The fat man could sprint across open ground at top speed. As long as he could dive into the not-so-turbulent waters of the Supengman River, relying on his body fat and his record as the best armed swimmer in the whole camp, he could easily make it back to the encampment. He could have a few big chunks of roast meat, a cup of hot chocolate or tea, and if he was lucky, maybe even find a little alcohol. William Carter quickly shook his head to banish these foolish thoughts. Thinking about such things when he was tired, hungry, and heartbroken only made him feel even more crushed.

He had to find a hiding place first. If those heavy mechs, after reaching the battlefield, didn't pursue north but instead stayed to round up the scattered single mechs, then this patch of forest would inevitably become their camp.

The fat man could almost imagine himself being caught, skinned like a lamb, hung from a tree, and whipped on his fat by others.

It was just too tragic.

He quickly got his bearings and ran like mad. To increase his chances of survival, he had to grab a few tools.

The original encampment of the Federation armored unit was not far from here in the woods. The fat man soon reached the camp. After rummaging through boxes and cabinets, he found a few single-soldier grenades, a large block of compressed solid energy, and a discarded energy machine gun.

Most importantly, he found an automatic mechanical arm used by a mechanical repairman. With it, the fat man could use any parts he could find to assemble all sorts of bizarre vehicles in the shortest possible time. Of the last twenty escapes, fifteen had been accomplished this way. This time, the supplies looked much more plentiful than before.

But the weight of all this was more than the fat man could carry alone. Using the mechanical arm, he quickly dug a hole and buried everything except the grenades in batches. Then, without hesitation, he set the place on fire and ran.

As the fire, following the sequence set by William Carter, triggered the ammunition to explode, this poor and lonely mechanical repairman had already reached a stinking mud pit in the middle of the woods.

It took him only a few minutes to bury himself completely, leaving only a hollow tube leading to the grass at the edge of the pit for air. To evade infrared and biological radar detection, just wearing the anti-detection combat suit wasn't enough. The fat man slowed his breathing and heartbeat to a dangerous level. This was one of the many bizarre techniques taught by his bear-like instructor at the scout training camp.

William Carter had an extraordinary talent for these strange skills. He always felt that if he could just stay buried like this until the war ended, he wouldn't mind digging himself in even deeper.

Outside the woods, the Imperial mech squad acted just as the fat man had predicted.

They did not continue the pursuit, but instead contacted the scattered single mechs and began regrouping their forces. According to their battle plan, this place would become their forward base for the attack on New Rome City. This meant that if the fat man waited for them to leave before crawling out of the mud pit, he might as well carve himself a tombstone right now.

Poor William Carter had no idea. As soon as he relaxed, exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and he soon fell asleep in the mud pit.

……

At this moment, the command center of the Leray Federation was in utter chaos.

Phones rang incessantly, the central computer processed tens of thousands of frontline reports, and the operations staff, faces ashen, entered real-time war data into the virtual sand table.

The planet Milok, suspended above the main hall, was already riddled with holes. The red color symbolizing the Imperial Army spread across the virtual planet at an astonishing speed. Of more than sixty immigrant cities, over forty had already been surrounded. Sixteen had been captured, and one city had turned completely gray-black—a sign of total destruction.

Meanwhile, with their air power wiped out, the Federation's ground defense forces had fallen into isolated pockets of resistance. Large swathes of virtual icons representing Federation troops were being cut off by the red Imperial Army and rapidly disappearing.