I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 26 Serious
The laughter gradually subsided, and the group continued their journey through the dark underground passages. As they drew closer to their target marked on the map, the surrounding environment became increasingly industrialized. Huge, rusty pipes coiled around the rock walls like giant pythons, and the pungent smell of chemical reagents in the air grew stronger.

Nguyen Van Bo, referring to the simple map he had obtained from the political commissar, confirmed that they had reached the outer perimeter of the chemical refinery. Any further forward, and any loud noise could be heard by the sentries in the plant area. He immediately raised his right hand, clenched his fist, and the entire marching column came to a silent halt.

One player was about to shout, "Company commander, what's going on now—"

He had barely begun to speak when he met Ruan Wenbo's sharp gaze. Ruan Wenbo didn't speak, but simply put his index finger to his lips, making a "shush" gesture. The player immediately understood and swallowed the rest of his words.

The silent command spread rapidly like ripples on water. The other players quickly understood Ruan Wenbo's meaning, and the remaining chatter vanished in an instant. The entire company of nearly a hundred men instantly transformed into a group of silent hunters lurking in the shadows.

Commissar Walter's perception that this was a company composed of "newly-armed nest laborers" was incorrect. Well-educated Earth players, on average, possessed a far higher level of cultural literacy and knowledge than nest laborers who had never seen the sky in their entire lives. In this respect, perhaps only the upper-nest nobles, who received elite educations from childhood, could compare.

Compared to the clueless, instinctive, and brute-force-driven workers who descend into the nest, players possess greater logical and executive abilities. They understand the importance of "battlefield reconnaissance" and "keeping quiet," and clearly know that discipline ensures greater safety—which for players means effectively reducing equipment wear and tear.

Most importantly, unlike the civilians who were temporarily conscripted and preoccupied with escaping or finding food, they were not afraid of war; in fact, one could say they craved it.

Assassin moved silently to the front of the column and asked Nguyen Van Bo in a low voice, "Company Commander, what should we do next? Are we just going to wait for the main battlefield to break out over there?"

Ruan Wenbo carefully examined the map again, then shook his head. He clearly remembered the lessons learned from the last positional warfare.

"No, we know nothing about the internal terrain of the chemical refinery. A rash attack would be tantamount to handing over credit. We must send scouts first."

He told Assassin, “Go to each squad and ask if anyone is willing to be a scout. You don’t need to go too deep, just find out the general distribution of enemy forces and the location of their firing positions. Also, ask if anyone can draw. I’m afraid you won’t be able to describe it clearly just by talking when you get back. It would be good if you could draw some simple sketches on the ground.”

Assassins were highly efficient, and the players were enthusiastic about the exciting reconnaissance missions. He didn't have to say much; he quickly found ten players from each class who volunteered.

He divided the ten people into five groups of two.

"Brothers, listen up," Assassin said in a low voice, quickly issuing orders. "Work in pairs, move freely, and the objective is to find out the defensive deployment around the factory, especially the firing points and the number of troops. In half an hour, no matter how much you've found, assemble here. Safety first, don't die recklessly. If you die here, no one can save you once you respawn."

He patted the player who claimed to be able to draw on the shoulder: "Dude, stick close to your partner in your group, observe and memorize a lot, we're counting on you when we get back."

"Don't worry, Brother Sa, I've studied drawing for three years, so drawing a map draft is no problem for me." The player confidently gave an OK sign.

At Assassin's command, the five pairs of soldiers scattered like ghosts. Crouching low, they silently infiltrated different directions of the chemical refinery, using the shadows of pipes and rocks as cover. This dispersed operation made them smaller targets and less likely to be wiped out by the enemy. The brother who could draw could also follow his partner, freely choosing the best observation angle.

One group's operation went remarkably smoothly. They encountered almost no obstacles, crawling forward until they were less than fifty meters from the massive, rusty iron gate of the chemical refinery. They hid behind a pile of abandoned metal containers, where they could clearly hear the buzzing of machinery inside the factory, interspersed with incomprehensible, fervent prayers.

One of the players peered through the gaps in the containers towards the gate, then whispered to his companion, "I only see one visible sentry, leaning against the door, nodding... he looks like he's dozing off. Where did they put the hidden sentry?"

Another player with the ID "[Name? Not decided yet]" shook his head and replied in a low voice, "I couldn't find any possible outposts either. The only high points around here are those ventilation duct openings, but they're all bare and can't hide anyone. Sigh, if only we could have a gamemode specter."

"You're daydreaming again," his partner retorted irritably.

“What’s wrong with a man having a fantasy?” he retorted confidently, then changed the subject, “Alright, let’s look at something else. But I think these cultists who’re not really in their right minds haven’t put up any lookouts at all.” His partner was taken aback for a moment, then realized, “You know what, that’s actually possible. They probably think no one dares to mess with them, or all their attention is drawn to the main battlefield.”

The person with the name replied, "However, it's best to be more rigorous and take another look."

The team didn't give up. They spent another ten minutes, like two patient geckos, circling the entire perimeter of the chemical refinery several times, clinging to the shadows and pipes.

They saw more entrances, some were huge cargo gates, others were maintenance passages only wide enough for one person to pass through, but without exception, all the entrances were poorly defended. Apart from a few drowsy sentries, they didn't spot a single patrol or anyone coming to relieve them.

This is really incredible.

“This isn’t right,” the man with the name on his head said in a low voice, lying on a duct above a half-open side door. “There’s not even a shift change. Are those sentries supposed to stand guard all day?”

“Unless they’re pure-blooded cunning thieves or chaos demons who don’t need rest,” he quipped, but couldn’t laugh at himself. He glanced at a non-existent watch on his wrist, estimating the time. “The rendezvous time is almost here; there’s no point in looking any further. Let’s go back and see what the other groups have found.”

“I doubt it,” his partner shook his head. “These cultists are either extremely arrogant or there’s some kind of trap inside that we can’t even imagine.”

The two cautiously retraced their steps. As they approached the agreed-upon meeting point, they were surprised to find that there were already voices there, and not just one or two.

They quickened their pace, crouching low as they squeezed through the last crevice in the rocks. The sight before them stunned them—Assassin and the other eight players from the other four groups had already arrived at the meeting point and were huddled together, whispering about something, seemingly waiting for them.

"You're finally back," Assassin said, waving as he saw them. "How did things go?"

Before the player with the name could even speak, another group of players chimed in, "Don't ask, Sa-ge, I bet they saw exactly the same thing as us—this place is like an undefended public toilet, you can come and go as you please."

The man and his partner exchanged a glance and nodded in unison.

“We circled the factory several times,” the name added. “There was nothing there except a few dozing sentries. No patrols, no rotations, nothing.”

“I just don’t understand,” the player who could draw said, puzzled, as he sketched the factory’s simple layout on the ground with stones. “We have respawns, so we have a high margin for error. If we die, we just lose some equipment durability. We still know to be careful when we come over.”

He looked up and glanced around at the crowd: "What about them? These cultists only have one life; once they're dead, they're really gone. How can you be so lax?"

“Exactly!” another player immediately chimed in. “This defense is like a tutorial level in a beginner's village, as if they’re afraid we won’t be able to get in. What are they thinking?”

Ultimately, it's the combination of past war-themed games and the high realism of this game that created this preconceived notion among players. The tight enemy defenses in other games, the instant alert of all enemies on the map upon the death of a single enemy, and the highly intelligent behavior of the Astral Army NPCs in this game, all led players to perceive the enemy as a cunning strategist like Zhuge Liang, employing an empty city ploy. It would be strange if players didn't become suspicious.

But in reality, their enemy was the "ducklings who had just taken up arms," ​​as Commissar Walter had described. If it weren't for the foremen in the chemical refinery having whips, the ducklings would have even urinated into the molten metal... Expecting them to take proper precautions was simply wishful thinking.

(End of this chapter)