Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

His words were not even meaningful; they were simply stated clearly. Milan listened without saying anything. Then, Hrag's eyes flickered, and he continued, "Now their physical condition has surpassed the norm for military and police personnel, and there are signs that they are moving towards the level of professional soldiers."

"This level is usually achieved by more qualified young people after two years of systematic training and selection."

This is no low praise.

But Hrag changed the subject, saying, "But that's just the basics. The battlefield isn't a training ground. New recruits who haven't seen anything can't always trust data on paper—it's just that your, well, less common training methods do play a role in this regard to some extent."

The old general hesitated for a moment before swallowing the word "weird": Heaven help him, he had been in the army longer than Milan had lived to be that age, but he had never seen a team whose equipment was worth more than its people have the conditions to play like this.

"Wearing impenetrable armor to run headlong into a wall, engaging in face-to-face combat with weapons, even having crossbowmen shoot live arrows at their moving colleagues while shield bearers run and parry under the same conditions..."

"If it weren't for the fact that the equipment you provided was beyond imagination, this kind of training would be tantamount to suicide."

Faced with Milan's extravagant suggestions, the old general unusually showed a speechless expression.

But Milan shrugged and continued, "All of this is based on the armor you provided for them. It was because of its excellent quality that this method became possible. It must be said that this method has indeed rapidly built up their courage, as well as their trust in each other and their equipment."

"The fact that they are said to have the level of a regular army is largely due to the superior performance of their equipment."

Helag concluded, "But considering that this is just last-minute preparation... there's not much more to ask for: there shouldn't be any major problems facing the gangsters in the city, and even if we encounter ordinary military and police personnel, we can at least maintain our coordination and mindset, and with our equipment advantage, we can usually win the battle."

"But what if we consider it on a deeper level?"

Milan, who was pondering, raised a question: "For example... let's not talk about opponents that are too far ahead, let's say the infected guerrillas."

"Or, Sarkaz mercenaries?"

Unexpectedly, upon hearing Milan's question, Hrag's face first showed surprise—he looked Milan up and down again, as if he had never imagined Milan would ask such a question.

This is a basic issue that ordinary people may not encounter, but those with even a little ability will certainly understand.

“...That’s right, Mr. Jung was a craftsman.”

Seemingly finding a reason to justify himself in front of Milan's seemingly genuine expression, Hrag's expression relaxed, and he said patiently, "I don't know your background, but Mr. Jung, you seem to have some misunderstandings about the power of this land."

"You should know that when I say regular soldiers, I mean ordinary, well-trained people who make up the main body of the army."

Herag pointed out, "They are certainly the cornerstone of the army, but on this land there are forces that, beyond mere physical strength, can determine the outcome of battles and even the course of the battlefield."

"...Originium Arts?"

Milan pondered: In the Arknights setting, Originium Arts is a relatively broad concept, referring to the methods of guiding the energy in Originium and converting it into a specific form for a specific purpose.

This includes, but is not limited to, the stereotypical image of rubbing fireballs.

"Yes, Originium Arts, and methods that use energy rather than just strength."

Herag nodded, and as if to make it easier for Milan to understand, he slowly drew his long sword and slashed downwards—in front of Milan, he suddenly slashed through the air: the movement was skillful and smooth, the force was concentrated and the direction was correct, and it made a whistling sound as it broke through the air, demonstrating the excellent power and refined skill of this strike.

He paused, and after confirming that Milan was watching, he raised his long sword once more; but this time he still adopted the same stance, and after a breath, Milan keenly sensed that the feeling Hrag gave him had changed—it was as if his usual state was only energy-saving, and now he was revealing part of his hidden reserve power.

"call!"

Herag exhaled and swung his longsword down once more; the Greatsword was almost as tall as him, and behind its reinforced design, unlike traditional katanas, its superior durability also meant a heavier weight; but in Herag's hands, this longsword seemed to be instantly given life—it swirled the air and then tore it apart, the dull, heavy airflow suddenly emitting a shrill sound, while the blade seemed to suddenly become light, making a backflip in the air, forming two bite-like slashes!

Milan was about to say something, but Hrag hadn't stopped moving—he paused slightly, as if he had thought about something, and then made a decision.

The old general, with his white hair and beard, raised his long sword for the third time.

This time, in the enclosed space of their base in Milan, a sudden rustling sound arose.

Chapter 70 - A Small Test

In the world of Arknights, what is the strength of the Terrans within their own power system?

To be honest, Milan doesn't really know the answer to this question, since the game is essentially a tower defense game: pure gameplay strength is only for reference, plot conflicts are expressed through intense clashes of character art, and the impression of effective destruction mostly comes from text descriptions and CGs...

It's inherently a mode that's "not very convenient to confirm expressiveness".

However, when it comes to concrete impressions—combined with the gradually implemented manga and anime, many of the original works' descriptions, which were only written, have been transformed into images, and some of the expressiveness has been able to generate verifiable references: for example, a manga character standing and carrying a hundred-kilogram metal support that is falling, or a game character Hoshiguma holding up a collapsing floor slab with a shield, and other such absurd plots.

Milan, who has just arrived here, can't help but wonder: if these famous scenes are all real, then what factors cause these Terran characters to be able to exert much more power than he knows, or even Terrans of the same bloodline?

He had been in the Yeti squad, fought against Ursus soldiers, and even took down a gang in Chernobog—how come he had never seen such an awesome character before?

"With sufficient food, medical care, and equipment, coupled with rigorous and systematic training, mass-producing high-quality soldiers is not difficult."

"It's not difficult for Ursus, at least not."

Sheathing his sword, Herag calmly said, "But true elites are another matter—above a certain critical point, strength can no longer be accumulated through training. There will be people who can sense and mobilize a kind of potential that springs from within life, allowing the body to unleash extraordinary power."

“Brute force, speed, endurance, reaction speed... or more specifically, carrying heavier armor, wielding weapons more powerfully, and performing more unconventional maneuvers are all based on this.”

He paused, then added, "Only by achieving this can one transcend mediocrity and enter the realm of the elite; in the nations of Terra, only then can one serve as a backbone force and qualify for further resource allocation and development."

—Oh, I know this one well, it's from Super Terra.

There are some pieces of information that Hrag, a local, may not know, but how could Milan, a transmigrator, not know them: Most of the Terrans' ancestors were not native species, but life forms that came from outer space through a stargate a long time ago. Because of a conflict with the local Tikkaz in ancient times, the Tikkaz dug up Originium from some ruins that the Doctor didn't know about, causing a huge change to the ecosystem.

Initially, these creatures did not have individual appearances. It was only after years of living in Terra and being influenced by Originium that they were weakened by erosion and evolved into their current form through Originium beautification mods. From this perspective, the modern Terrans who have coexisted with Originium for a long time may have become different from their ancestors in terms of species, let alone reproduce their ancestors' great power.

Even the extraordinary talents of the gods, due to their prolonged symbiosis with Originium, have now manifested in Originium Arts.

In terms of basic physical abilities alone, even Draco and dragons, who are truly born noble and of noble birth, do not have an insurmountable gap compared to other races; the real difference lies in the "mobilization and utilization of energy"—even in high-level, hand-to-hand combat, where the seemingly pure clash of flesh and blood that splits mountains and shatters rocks, the underlying effects may well be something like [attack and defense enhancement] and [swift strike].

Understand the spirit.

“Of course, trained soldiers and warriors are indeed more likely to reach this level than ordinary people whose potential lies dormant in life.”

Herrag's continued explanation pulled Milan back to reality from his reverie: "Moreover, Originium Arts has an advantage in this regard. Some have suggested that casters and infected individuals are more likely to sense it, believing that the activation of this potential is closely related to Originium Arts... Ah, those specific academic issues are not something a mere warrior like me should delve into."

He mentioned Originium Arts and Casters, but he didn't go into more detail about them, perhaps because he felt it wasn't necessary.

Before Herag, who had already sheathed his sword, the remnants of his last strike were still shocking—a slash wrapped in sharp air currents, as if a storm had been condensed on the blade, extending several meters away, and still carving a deep mark on the meter-thick stone wall of Milan, fully demonstrating the power of his strike imbued with Originium Arts.

In Terra, Originium Arts is a broad concept: there are types of casters who can conjure fireballs in a stereotypical way, but that doesn't mean all casters can only conjure fireballs—it's undeniable that compared to the simple and unadorned swords, Originium Arts is the technology that is more likely to enter the realm of "beyond imagination".

For example, Chen Huijie can easily slice through buildings without fully drawing his sword, Talulah can set the streets on fire at will, and Frostnova can easily freeze the side of an entire building while singing a lullaby—and these can only be considered the younger generation. As for those legendary figures who truly have strategic significance in various countries... they can probably be placed on the same table as natural disasters in the general sense.

The real Terra is never balanced. The gap between fighters in this world is greater than that between humans and dogs, so great that it's almost absurd, absurd that it's as if everyone is not the same kind of creature—this is no joke.

"I see."

Milan nodded: At first, he didn't quite understand this part, and his mind was full of thoughts like "What kind of setting is this?" But as Herag explained, he changed his perspective and understood it.

—Localize the implicit standards for measuring elite troops, and consider higher-level qualitative changes, such as elite troops transforming into legendary units or heroes...

The pinnacle of the original level, the limit of the first stage of elite development, the great perfection of the second stage of elite development... So your setting is so profound, Haki Corner?

That makes it much easier to understand.

"I probably understand."

Having understood the actual situation in Terra, Milan nodded and said, "That's good. I never expected them to fight any tough battles."

"It would be good enough if we could win some battles during this period and show off in front of the gang members."

"Are you planning to take action?"

Hragh knew perfectly well that his Milan strategy was clear: this team hadn't been there to put on a show from the start of training; it was only a matter of time before they were put to good use, the only difference being...

"Excuse my bluntness, Mr. Jung, but you should have thought about the consequences before taking action. At a time when you yourself believe there are undercurrents, is it really appropriate to take action against someone?"

In response to Hrag's question, Milan shook his head and said, "There's a lot going on behind the scenes in Chernobog now. If no one confronts the official forces earlier, there will be no room for maneuver later."

"So we need to be prepared to fish in troubled waters; now is just the right time."

"...If you're going to use them, who is your target?"

Hrag remained noncommittal, simply continuing to ask; Milan, after a moment's thought, suddenly burst into laughter:

“If necessary, at least control the research institute, Azazel, and the lower and middle layers of this block.”

"So my goal is to let the people in this area know who has the final say."

The Rust Gang's strongholds are often hidden in the shadows of crisscrossing power pipes, the air thick with the smells of rust, engine oil, and dust. Several gang members are gathered around a dim emergency light, whispering about rumors they've heard underground.

"**, I heard that Black Fang's place disappeared the day before yesterday."

A burly Ursus man chugs down cheap liquor and spat, "I heard they couldn't even get anyone to come up with a rescue call."

"No way, didn't they say they were connected to someone? Someone with connections? How could someone just kick a dog to death off the street?"

"It's hard to say. Maybe Yueyi has done too many bad things... Speaking of which, the abandoned maintenance passage that the Rust Orphans occupy is eerily quiet."

They exchanged different cheap liquors, rambling on as if pointing to the sky and drawing lines in the air: "Several smuggling routes have been cut off, but I haven't heard of any investigations from above."

"Business has dropped significantly, and those old men upstairs have been acting up again for some unknown reason..."

"Ha, what kind of news do you call that?"

Someone laughed dismissively: "I went to the black market yesterday, and food prices have gone up dramatically. And it's not just here; supplies are going up in several districts."

"There's no way to hoard food for winter like this, is there?"

"...Don't talk about such realistic topics, I'm really a little scared of you."

"What could be worse than poverty?" the person who spoke said helplessly, but another older man lowered his voice and said, "Honestly, I think the probability of something bad happening is much higher than just surviving the winter."

"Didn't you notice?"

The Liberian worker said, "There are quite a few unfamiliar faces in the city lately, with fierce eyes... they don't look like poor refugees."

Like ordinary workers, they chatted and complained, discussing everything from rumors and urban legends to rising prices and the recent strange weather.

"Speaking of which, have you heard?"

Someone suddenly said, "It seems something happened at the steel pipes. It can't be covered up anymore. I heard they ran into a tough nut and a lot of people died."

"Ha, with their abilities, they can't even figure out how to double-cross each other."

Sneers, jokes, and disdainful sounds filled the small space, creating a nasty yet cheerful atmosphere. Just then, one person's cigarette butt fell and landed in another person's collar, burning him so badly that he jumped up with a yelp.

"your**……"

Just as he was about to curse, he saw his companion staring blankly in one direction, unable to come to his senses. Puzzled, he turned around as well—and saw a pale white light appear in the dim light, and a heavy sound, mixed with the mechanical sounds that were eternally present in the underground area, suddenly became clear.

Boom, boom, boom.

"That...what is that?"

Some people are still wondering, but others have already realized what's going on.

Boom, boom, boom.

"Footsteps! Those are people!"

A heavy, rhythmic sound rang out, and someone instinctively shone a flashlight in its direction—what a group of people they were!

They were covered in pure white armor, the surface of which reflected a different luster than metal in the light; the armor was simple and unadorned, but nothing was more distinctive than the weapons in their hands.

The men at the front, shields in hand, remained silent upon realizing their comrades had been discovered. They shifted to the side, shoulders down, and assumed a charging stance, just as they had trained countless times.

—Yi Qiyi San Er o Jiu Er—Charge!

The heavy footsteps suddenly became rapid, and the vibrations that accompanied the sound were so intense that they felt the entire passageway was shaking.

"Damn it! Who is he?!"

"Playing tricks!"

The gang members were momentarily stunned, but quickly turned into fury: unlike the old steel pipe gang, they were the big gang in this area, with resources and status far beyond what the old steel pipe gang could achieve; behind the rules they set, their existence was naturally supported by more than just words and connections.

It has been a long time since anyone has made such a provocation.

They grabbed their weapons and charged forward, shouting and cursing.

The phrase "playing tricks" is perhaps the most accurate way to describe their mood at this moment.

But their feelings are not important.

These soldiers under Milan's command were more or less influenced by Milan himself; they didn't utter a word, only acted in silence; shield bearers led the way, followed closely by melee fighters, and some gang members even set up crossbows and nocked arrows...

Then, in an instant, he was pierced through the body by two crossbow bolts.

At this moment, the melee fighters finally engaged the enemy—the shield bearers used themselves as the vanguard, charging forward against their large shields, pushing the passage open again and again with the support of their heavy armor; the melee fighters followed closely behind, seizing every opportunity to swing their weapons, and the stench of blood immediately filled the air.

"Don't fight them in the passage! Let them out and surround them!"

Some people saw the small passage being completely filled with large shields and shouted orders, but Milan in the rear remained silent with his arms crossed. The soldiers in the front seemed not to hear them and continued to advance arbitrarily.

They advanced, and the gangsters retreated, creating a comical peace for a time.

But soon after exiting the passage, they were surrounded by a circle of archers who were already prepared; the shield bearers rushed forward, pushing against their shields, and the arrows immediately struck the shields, making a clattering sound.

"Idiots! They have shields! Wait for the others to appear before you shoot... You guys, go up and engage the shield bearers!"

The command voice rang out again, but the shield bearers ignored it and, following the urban warfare principles taught by Hrag, first left the passage and set up their shields to protect their backs.