Mo divided the warriors in the camp into two groups.
One group, disguised in the uniforms of the Infected Patrol Squads, would openly approach other Infected Patrol Squads and attract their attention.
This group was designated Operation Reserve Group A1.
The other group would approach from the shadows, surrounding the Infected Patrol Squads and cutting off their escape routes while supporting the first group.
This was designated Operation Reserve Group A6.
The warriors found this extremely confusing.
There were only two groups, yet the numbering somehow went all the way up to six.
Mo simply said, “Don’t ask. It’s the HR department’s fault for liking to submit their own resumes into the public recruitment pool.”
The two groups were further divided into two teams each, with identical configurations.
Mo and Roman each took command of one team, and they set off in different directions.
Mo’s team soon discovered their target in a nearby village.
An Infected Patrol Squad was extorting the villagers.
Their lead Inquisitor was directing his subordinates as they ransacked the villagers’ homes.
“Boss, another Infected Patrol Squad has arrived outside.”
The Inquisitor stationed on the perimeter spotted the approaching vehicle in the distance.
“Tsk. Where did these ignorant fools come from? Can’t they see my vehicle?”
The lead Inquisitor kicked the Ursus farmer beside him aside.
“Call everyone back. Come with me and let’s see who dares cause trouble on my turf.”
Then he turned toward the farmer sprawled on the ground and roared viciously, “Old man, if you dare run before I get back, you’re finished. Got it?”
The Ursus farmer nodded repeatedly, his face filled with fear.
Only then did the lead Inquisitor smile with satisfaction and lead the other Inquisitors toward the approaching patrol squad.
“Ursus profanity, what the hell is this? Don’t you know the rules? This is my territory! Get the hell back to where you came from!”
The lead Inquisitor shouted the moment he reached the convoy, acting arrogantly and overbearingly.
“Don’t just stand there with your heads down. Come on, let me see which brats you are. You don’t even know such basic rules. Do you want me, your senior, to teach you properly? Speak up!”
He continued walking toward them.
Yet the other side remained silent.
They simply kept walking toward him.
As the distance between them narrowed, the sharpest-eyed Inquisitor in the group suddenly sensed that something was wrong.
He tried signaling the lead Inquisitor, attempting to warn him.
But the lead Inquisitor was already too worked up to notice.
Seeing that his warning was ineffective, the cautious Inquisitor silently pulled several others in front of himself, preparing to flee at the first opportunity.
The two sides finally met.
The lead Inquisitor raised a hand, intending to rip the mask from the face of the person in front of him and see exactly who was causing trouble.
But the instant he raised his hand, the Inquisitor opposite him struck.
A dagger that had been concealed and ready for this exact moment pierced the lead Inquisitor’s throat from a vicious angle.
The disguised Inquisitors immediately revealed their true intentions.
They drew the weapons hidden beneath their clothing and launched a coordinated attack on the other Inquisitors before they could react.
Except for the cautious Inquisitor who had hidden behind others and managed to escape, every other Inquisitor was cut down on the spot.
The newly arrived Infected removed their masks.
Their faces were weathered by hardship, and their eyes burned with the fury accumulated from years of oppression.
Meanwhile, the fleeing Inquisitor hid within the residential area, gasping for breath in the shadows between the buildings.
If he had not been prepared beforehand, he would have died there.
Before he could even catch his breath, the Infected who had finished dealing with the others began advancing toward the residential area.
Terrified, the Inquisitor immediately fled toward the outskirts of the village.
Unfortunately for him, he had not escaped very far when he was caught red-handed by the people…
Well, by Operation Reserve Group A6, who had been waiting nearby.
See?
This was exactly why Mo had established two groups—one overt and one covert.
There would always be someone who managed to escape the initial assault.
With Groups A1 and A6 working together, the Infected Patrol Squad was quickly wiped out.
After recovering their equipment, the Infected continued advancing toward other areas plagued by the infestation.
Similar operations occurred repeatedly wherever the two teams passed.
Under the relentless hunting of the two teams, the Infected Patrol Squads scattered across the snowfields suffered heavy losses.
More than half of them were destroyed.
Through this campaign of hunting the Infected Patrol Squads, the Infected camp rapidly completed its initial accumulation of combat power.
By recovering equipment from the patrol squads, the Infected upgraded their own gear.
At the same time, their actions attracted large numbers of other Infected who joined the camp.
Their military strength underwent a qualitative leap.
However, this kind of hunting could not continue indefinitely.
In fact, Mo only carried it out for one week.
A single Infected Patrol Squad disappearing might not attract much attention.
But when large numbers of patrol squads began disappearing, even an idiot would realize that something was wrong.
One week was roughly the amount of time Mo estimated the Infected Patrol Squads would need to react.
Fortunately, while hunting them, Mo and Roman had also devoted considerable effort to misleading their enemies.
Because of the false trails and various deceptions they had left behind, it would take the Ursus forces quite some time to correctly locate Mo’s camp.
After extensive training and repeated equipment upgrades, combined with their understanding of the timing and terrain, the Infected’s combat power had finally taken shape.
They were now capable of defeating the ragtag Infected Patrol Squads even in a frontal battle.
The real concern was when the Ursus Army would make its move against the camp.
“The camp is doing much better now.”
Mo and Roman stood at the highest point of the camp, looking down at the people moving back and forth below.
Roman spoke with a solemn expression.
“If we’re only dealing with the Infected Patrol Squads, the camp’s current strength is more than enough. But have you thought about how we’re going to deal with the Army?”
“They’ll come sooner or later.”
“Of course.”
Mo’s expression remained as calm as ever.
“Then what’s your plan?”
Roman frowned.
“Don’t tell me you intend to rely on our meager forces to smash an egg against a rock.”
“Of course not.”
Mo looked at him.
“And I…”
Mo paused.
“I will challenge the Ursus Army.”
His expression became exceptionally solemn.
“The battle against the Army is far beyond your capabilities. This is not your battlefield.”
“Joining the resistance would be tantamount to suicide, and that is not something I wish to see.”
“So you want us to sit by and watch you go to your death?”
Roman had never been this agitated before.
His eyes were filled with anger and something deeper—unwillingness.
“Our efforts were not for this. This isn’t right.”
“Of course your efforts weren’t for this.”
Mo’s voice remained calm.
“You are the sparks.”
“When the resistance of the Infected sweeps across the entire land, you will become the most brilliant firelight.”
“Secondly…”
Mo looked at Roman.
“Do you have some misunderstanding about my strength?”
“I am a Wendigo.”
“I never bow to fate.”
“I will seize fate by the throat and make it sing a hymn of victory for me.”
At this moment, Mo had never felt life so vividly.
Boiling blood surged through his veins.
The fire within his chest burned fiercely.
And the distant battlefield seemed to be calling out for his arrival.
That magnificent aura struck directly at the soul.
It surged toward Roman like a landslide or a tidal wave, instantly engulfing him and leaving him unable to recover for a long time.
After a while, Roman finally regained his senses.
He let out a long sigh.
“Since you’ve made your choice, I’m willing to believe in you.”
“You must come back alive.”
“Of course.”
…
In truth, the evacuation of the Infected was not solely because the coming battle was far beyond their capabilities.
There was another, even more important reason.
If Mo intended to preserve the camp through negotiations and conditional terms, he absolutely could not allow the Ursus Army to discover that the camp posed a genuine threat to Ursus’s rule.
The moment even the slightest hint of such a threat appeared, an army operating under extreme militarism would firmly crush any potential source of danger to their emperor.
Therefore, the camp had to transfer its main combat forces.
The surface village would serve as a cover for the underground fortifications, allowing the Ursus Army to believe that everything was the work of the Sarkaz fanatics standing in their way.
As for the Infected?
They would remain nothing more than weaklings without the strength to resist.