The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

Joseph suppressed the tremor in his heart and said expressionlessly, "You are a player."

It's not a question.

"Looks like you recognized me." The man's lips curled slightly upward as he lowered his hand. "My name is Robert. A player from the German faction."

Joseph slowly removed his hand from the rifle. "How did you manage to come in without alerting anyone?"

"There's an item in the store," Robert said casually, as if he were talking about buying a new outfit. "It's not cheap, but it's worth it."

"What do you want from me?"

"Cooperation," Robert said decisively. "You're on the British side, I'm on the German side. Our missions are different, but that doesn't mean we can't cooperate. The war is so large, the front line is so long, and there's more than one way to get points—"

Joseph didn't speak; he was listening.

But at the same time, his mind was racing.

Robert was in the German camp and was now mixed in with the British trenches. He said he had been "observing him for several days"—meaning he had been lying in wait in the area for a long time.

That explains it. The German defensive formations have been shifting strangely these past two weeks, as if someone knew the British reconnaissance routes in advance. He'd noticed it before, but hadn't found the source. Now he had.

Robert is the source.

What about that even earlier thing?

The German officer was killed from behind by a bullet from an unknown source… He didn't understand what happened at the time. But now, he had some clues. If Robert had been in this area back then…

No, that's not right. It wouldn't do Robert any good. Killing people from his own camp is pointless.

But perhaps... there's some hidden story behind this that he doesn't know about?

Robert continued, "...My rating needs some mistakes from the British to support it, but those mistakes can be minor and won't affect the overall situation. Your rating depends on the British winning; I won't stop you from winning, and you shouldn't stop me either—"

"What exactly was the mistake?"

Robert paused, a slight smile curving his lips. "For example... Newcherpelle's attack this time."

Joseph stared at him. "Explain yourself."

"Your squad, advance slowly. At a key juncture, let the German flank fire suppress you for a while—not too long, ten to fifteen minutes—to make the German stats look better. The British will still win overall; it won't have a decisive impact on the entire campaign, but it will be very useful for my rating."

"What about my class?"

"The main casualties will be concentrated in those fifteen minutes," Robert said, as if discussing an engineering quote. "If the German firepower is accurate enough... the casualties could be quite high."

How tall?

"It's possible... most of them won't be able to come back." Robert said this without changing his expression. "But that's not a big problem. You can apply for replacements, within a week—"

"Wait a minute," Joseph interrupted him. "Most of the people you're talking about. Tom, O'Connor, McDonald, and the others are all inside."

This is not a question.

Robert paused. "Linden, we are the players, they are—"

"I didn't ask you that," Joseph interrupted him. "I'm asking about your plan, in which they all have to die. Isn't that right?"

Robert looked at him for a moment, "...Yes."

Joseph remained silent for a few seconds.

He sat there, his back against the mud wall, looking at the man in front of him dressed in a British military uniform.

Joseph remembered Tom squatting at the trench entrance cleaning his gun before they went into the trench. He remembered O'Connor, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, always grinning and being sarcastic. He remembered McDonald, quiet and hardworking, carving wood with a knife in his spare time.

They're all useless memories.

He told Robert, "I need to think about it."

Robert's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Oh?"

“This plan would be too much of a loss for me,” Joseph said, his tone shifting to a negotiating one. “You call it a minor mistake, but so many casualties will definitely affect my performance rating. You have to give me sufficient compensation before I have any reason to take this risk.” He paused, his tone hesitant. “You said you could provide intelligence—what intelligence?”

Robert's expression relaxed slightly; this was clearly the direction he had hoped to see. "German troop deployment information, the offensive plan for the next two weeks—"

"Do you have the German military plan for the next two weeks?"

"I have the channels."

"Where did they come from?"

Robert laughed. "Sergeant Lyndon, asking this sounds like you're interrogating me."

"I just want to know if the information is reliable." Joseph maintained a hesitant, weighing expression, his tone softening slightly. "If the channels you mentioned are just hearsay, then this deal isn't worthwhile."

Robert paused for two seconds. "Reliable. I have direct contacts with the Germans." There was a hint of smugness in his voice as he said this. "Why do you think your reconnaissance results these past few weeks have always been deciphered in advance? Part of the reason is me."

Joseph remained expressionless, but something in his chest suddenly gripped him tightly.

He knew it.

He knew that the recent "coincidental" adjustments to German defenses were no coincidence. Last week, the first platoon's reconnaissance team reached the edge of the German barbed wire fence. The route should have been safe, but for some reason, the German searchlights suddenly changed their scanning angle, illuminating the entire path—and the two men didn't return. At the time, he thought it was just luck, but now he thought, luck my foot! Someone had sold out the route.

Those two people, one was called Blaine, and the other was... what was his name again? He couldn't remember for a moment, but their faces were clear.

Joseph suppressed the thought and continued to weigh his options. "So you do have something good," he said slowly. "But the problem remains the same—my platoon is going to lose most of its men this time, and I don't think two weeks' worth of intelligence is enough in exchange."

"So what do you want?"

"I need to think about it." Joseph looked up at Robert and said calmly, "You said you've been observing me for several days, so you should know that I think through every possible path before making a decision."

Robert maintained his smile. "So you're not planning to refuse, but just need time to think about it?"

"I'm weighing the options. The prop you used when you came in—can it guarantee that our conversation tonight won't be noticed by anyone?"

"Yes." Robert paused, seemingly surprised by his question. "It's still within the effective period."

Joseph nodded. After dealing with Robert, he would go to the mall to look for that prop.

"Alright," he began, "you said you've been observing me for several days. Besides you, have any other players noticed me?"

Robert's expression tightened slightly. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because I want to know my current situation," Joseph said bluntly. "If I'm already an obvious target, then the benefits of working with you will have to be recalculated—in case you're not the only one coming to talk to me, I need to know how many cards I have up my sleeve."

Robert paused for a few seconds, then said, "Your recent performance has been quite good, and you're definitely attracting some attention on the player leaderboard." He paused again, "I'm not sure if other players are paying attention to you, but... it's not out of the question."