Victory or not, Fatty is never willing to suffer a loss. Survival is always his number one rule. If he stays alive, his team won't collapse! Fighting under such a division commander feels reassuring!

Fatty handed over the movement of [Logic] to the automatic cruise program controlled by the little kid, while he stared blankly at the electronic map. These two armored divisions of Desic cannot be left unchecked. The key now is to determine what kind of strategy to use, whether to delay or to engage!

"Pipi, when do you think we can take the East District?" Fatty asked absent-mindedly.

"Three days." The little kid was fully focused on controlling [Logic]with commands. Because it didn't have a natural sense of biological balance, [Logic] moved awkwardly, like an astronaut, shuffling one step at a time. The little kid was now working with gritted teeth to speed up this light, chicken-like action by several times.

"Three days?" Fatty immediately felt deflated. With the combat power of the Nineteen Division, plus the 25th Division, he was confident in a mutually destructive fight against the five Desic Armored Divisions. But given the troops' exhaustion, there was no way to come up with a plan to hold out for three days.

"The current critical point isn't in Prisk, but in Jiacuo." Fatty thought, his emotions flaring, and he slapped the control panel with bravado. "Damn it, if I knew where Stephen was, I'd take him out directly and be done with it!"

The little kid was startled by Fatty, looking at him with a strange expression: "Just by yourself?"

"It's just killing a person!" Fatty glanced at the electronic map and boasted casually: "Sword in green robes, killing one every ten steps, traveling a thousand miles without a trace. It describes me perfectly! If you had a bit of literary knowledge, you could imagine my elegant style back in the day!"

"Pah!" the little kid scoffed: "Look at your size. Can you even be elegant? I may lack literary knowledge, but I do have a SkyNet satellite image. Want to see it…" As he said this, the little kid paused, as if remembering something, and shut his mouth.

"SkyNet satellite image?" Fatty looked suspiciously at the little kid, who was avoiding eye contact. A sudden realization hit him, and he stopped talking, murmuring as he studied the map, racking his brain. He pretended not to hear anything about the image.

The two rascals each harbored their own schemes, appearing extremely busy. After a long time, they stole glances at each other, their eyes meeting briefly before quickly looking away.

Time passed by the second, and after countless simulations, Fatty finally sighed deeply and asked: "How did you find him?"

"Find who?" The little kid retracted the proxy robot into a ball, changed it to a rounded cartoon face on the [Logic] computer, and appeared confused.

"Stop pretending." Fatty instantly slapped, but before hitting the proxy robot, he remembered the little kid had transferred the program into the Logic computer and said hatefully, "Why are you more afraid of death than I am?"

Seeing no way to hide it, the little kid smiled awkwardly: "Actually, I'm not sure either."

He pulled up an image taken from a high-altitude satellite, showing a heavily guarded base. The little kid said: "I was tracking a few commands and accidentally discovered this place. Conveniently, the area around this base is covered with Gazalin main SkyNet information exchangers and anti-detection interference devices. I modified the program, used interference suppression, and managed to get a few minutes of detection."

Fatty examined the enlarged image that almost counted the ants on the ground, without saying a word. The little kid's words were dubious. That person on the lower right of the image, surrounded by people—isn't that Stephen?

"Fatty." The little kid cautiously watched Fatty's face: "You don't really intend to… you know, sword in green robes, do you?"

"All or nothing!" Fatty's face was pale as he calculated the distance on the electronic map, quickly formulating a route: "Kill this guy, and it's over!" He looked up at the little kid's shivering cartoon face and sighed: "Don't worry, I won't use [Logic]. To break through the enemy's air blockade at high speed, I'll need a fighter jet. [Logic] is too heavy."

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I'm in poor condition, even the simple plots I'm struggling to convert. However, I'll try to stick to daily updates. Please pardon the rough spots in my writing.

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