The laughter gradually subsided, and the team continued to advance through the dim underground passage. As they drew closer to the target marked on the map, the surrounding environment became increasingly industrialized.
Huge, rusty pipes coiled like giant pythons around the rock walls, and the pungent smell of chemical reagents in the air grew stronger.
Robert checked the simple map he had obtained from the Commissar, confirming that they had reached the outer area of the Chemical Refinery. Any loud movement further ahead could be heard by the factory's sentries. He immediately raised his right hand, making a fist to signal, and the entire marching column silently came to a halt.
One player was about to loudly ask, "Company Commander, what do we—"
He had barely started when he met Robert's sharp gaze. Robert didn't speak, but merely placed his index finger to his lips, making a "hush" gesture. The player immediately understood and swallowed the rest of his sentence.
This silent command quickly spread like ripples on water. The other players soon understood Robert's meaning, and the remaining chatter instantly vanished. The entire company of nearly a hundred men transformed into a group of silent hunters lurking in the shadows.
Commissar Walter's impression that this was a company composed of "Lower Hive workers who had just picked up guns" was actually incorrect. Earth players, having received ample education, possessed a much higher average cultural literacy and breadth of knowledge than Lower Hive workers who had never seen the sky in their entire lives. In this regard, perhaps only Upper Hive nobles who received elite education from a young age could compare.
Compared to Lower Hive workers who knew nothing and fought purely by instinct and brute force, players possessed stronger logical and executive abilities.
They could understand the importance of "battlefield reconnaissance" and "maintaining silence," and clearly knew that adhering to discipline could ensure their lives were safer—for players, this meant effectively reducing equipment wear and tear.
Most importantly, they were not like those civilians who were temporarily conscripted, constantly thinking about how to escape or scrounge for food. They did not fear war; in fact, it could be said they craved it.
Mua'dib silently moved to the front of the team, lowering his voice to ask Robert, "Company Commander, what should we do next? Should we just wait for the main battlefield over there to ignite?"
Robert carefully re-examined the map and shook his head; he clearly remembered the lesson from the last trench warfare.
"No, we know nothing about the internal terrain of the Chemical Refinery. A reckless attack is no different from offering up exp. We must send scouts first."
He said to Mua'dib, "Go ask around the squads if anyone is willing to be a scout. You don't need to go too deep; just figure out the enemy's general troop distribution and firepower positions. Also, ask if anyone can draw. I'm afraid you won't be able to describe it clearly enough when you return just by talking. It would be good if you could draw some simple sketches on the ground."
Mua'dib's execution was very efficient, and the players were enthusiastic about this exciting reconnaissance mission. He didn't have to say much and quickly found ten eager players from various squads.
He divided these ten people into five groups, two people per group.
"Brothers, listen up," Mua'dib lowered his voice, quickly giving instructions, "Two people per group, free movement.
The goal is to scout the factory's outer defenses, especially firepower points and troop numbers. In half an hour, no matter how much you've found, gather back here. Safety first, don't die needlessly. If you die here, no one can save you if you respawn on the spot."
He specifically patted the shoulder of the player who claimed he could draw: "Buddy, stick close to your partner in that group, observe and remember a lot. We're counting on you when you get back."
"Don't worry man, I've studied drawing for three years; drawing a map sketch is child's play," the player confidently gave an OK gesture.
At Mua'dib's command, the five two-person teams immediately dispersed like phantoms. They crouched low, using the shadows of pipes and rocks, silently infiltrating the Chemical Refinery from different directions.
This dispersed movement made them smaller targets and less likely to be wiped out by the enemy.
One of the groups moved exceptionally smoothly. They encountered almost no obstacles, crawling forward all the way, and soon arrived less than fifty meters from the Chemical Refinery's huge, rusty iron gate.
They hid behind a pile of abandoned metal containers, from where they could even clearly hear the humming machinery from inside the factory, interspersed with fervent, unintelligible prayers.
One player peered through a gap in the container, looking left and right towards the gate, and whispered to his companion, "I only see one visible sentry, leaning against the door. From the way he's nodding… he seems to be dozing off. Where did they put the hidden sentries?"
Another player, whose ID was "Name? Haven't decided yet," shook his head and also quietly replied, "I couldn't find anywhere a hidden sentry could be either. The only high ground around are those ventilation pipe openings, but they're bare and can't hide anyone. Sigh, it would be great if we could enable gamemode specter."
"You're fantasizing again," his partner grumbled impatiently.
"What's wrong with a man fantasizing?" Name retorted righteously, then changed the subject, "Alright, let's check another spot. But I think these crazy cultists probably didn't even place any hidden sentries."
His partner was stunned for a moment, then also reacted, "You know what, that's actually possible. They might think no one dares to provoke them, or all their attention is drawn to the front-line battle."
Name replied, "But it's best to be thorough and look carefully again."
This group did not give up. They spent another ten minutes, like two patient geckos, clinging to shadows and pipes, circling the entire perimeter of the Chemical Refinery several times.
They saw more entrances—some were huge cargo gates, others were maintenance passages only wide enough for one person—but without exception, the defenses at all entrances were virtually nonexistent. Besides a few drowsy visible sentries, they didn't even find a single patrol or anyone coming to relieve the guard.
This was truly bizarre.
"This isn't right," Name's partner whispered, he lied on an elevated pipe, overlooking a half-open side door below. "There isn't even anyone to relieve the guard. Are those sentries supposed to stand watch all day?"
"Unless they're chaos daemons who don't need rest," Name made a grim joke, but couldn't even laugh himself. He glanced at his non-existent wristwatch, estimating the time. "Assembly time is almost here; there's no point in looking further. Let's go back and see what the other groups found."
"I doubt it," his partner shook his head. "These cultists are either extremely arrogant, or there's some trap inside that we can't even imagine."
The two carefully returned the way they came. As they approached their agreed-upon rendezvous point, they were surprised to find voices there, and not just one or two.
They quickened their pace, crouching through the last rock crevice, and the sight before them made them freeze—Mua'dib and the eight players from the other four groups had already arrived at the meeting point, gathered together, discussing something in low voices. It seemed they were just waiting for them.
"You guys finally made it back," Mua'dib saw them and waved. "What's the situation?"
Name's partner hadn't even had a chance to speak when a player from another group interjected, "Don't ask man, I bet what they saw is exactly the same as us—this place is like an undefended public restroom, come and go as you please."
Name and his partner exchanged glances and nodded in unison.
"We circled the factory several times," Name added, "Except for a few dozing visible sentries, there was nothing. No patrols, no changing of the guard, nothing."
"I just don't understand," the player who could draw said, sketching a simple layout of the factory on the ground with a stone, "We have respawns, a high fault tolerance. The worst that happens if we die is losing some equipment durability, and we still know to approach cautiously."
He looked up, scanning the group, "What about them? These cultists only have one life; if they die, they're truly gone. How can they be so lax?"
"Exactly!" another player immediately echoed, "This defense is like a tutorial level in a beginner's game, as if they're afraid we won't get in. What are they thinking?"
Ultimately, it was the players' preconceived notions from various war-themed games and the high fidelity of this game that influenced them. The strict defenses of enemies in other games, where the death of one person immediately put all enemies on the map on alert, and the intelligent performance of Astra Militarum NPCs in this game, led them to treat the enemy as high IQ combatants. If a general played an empty fort strategy, it would be problematic if the players didn't become suspicious.
But in reality, their enemies were just the "Lower Hive workers who had just picked up weapons" as Commissar Walter described. If it weren't for the overseers in the Chemical Refinery with their whips, the Lower Hive workers might even urinate into molten metal... expecting them to take defensive measures seriously was truly wishful thinking.