3: People who lack love are always eager to achieve quick results.

Wei He chose the more cost-effective Soviet Army Conscripts. After all, his exchange points were low, and he could only hope to create more soldiers with limited resources. The armored mining vehicle was also working hard.

As the basic infantry unit of the Soviet faction, Conscripts, with their unique image and role, became an important component of the Soviet Army's strength.

They wore brown greatcoats adorned with service branch medals. Although the coats appeared old, the medals still shone with the light of honor. The heavy gas masks and stylish fur hats they wore not only resisted potential threats on the battlefield but also demonstrated their resilience. With brand-new cloth footwraps on their feet and 20-quart oversized synthetic satchels on their backs, this combination of tradition and practicality allowed them to carry necessary supplies during long marches and combat.

The weapons in the hands of the Conscripts were a powerful guarantee for their combat. A modified ppsh-41 submachine gun, while not the most advanced firearm, allowed them to form dense suppressive fire in close-quarters combat due to its high rate of fire and stable performance. Although the single-shot damage was limited, they could exert considerable combat effectiveness against enemy infantry by virtue of their numerical advantage. In addition, they were equipped with revolvers as secondary weapons for emergencies.

Moreover, those passionate slogans like "For the Soviet Union!" and "For the Motherland!" were replaced with "For the Commander!"

In combat, Conscripts often appeared in groups, using their numerical advantage to make up for individual deficiencies. They could quickly assemble to form a powerful offensive force, charging across the battlefield and clearing the way for the Soviet Army's victory. In urban street fighting, they moved flexibly between buildings, engaging in fierce firefights with the enemy using the firepower of their ppsh-41 submachine guns. At the same time, they could also occupy civilian buildings or battle bunkers, using them as defensive strongholds to not only effectively protect themselves but also enhance firepower output and strike the enemy more forcefully.

Of course, Conscripts also had some obvious shortcomings. Their defensive capabilities were relatively weak, making them vulnerable to damage when facing powerful enemy fire. Furthermore, they lacked anti-aircraft capabilities and were helpless against enemy air attacks. Additionally, their movement speed was slow, and their lack of mobility on the battlefield limited their operational range and effectiveness.

Despite many shortcomings, Conscripts became an indispensable force for the Soviet Army due to their cheapness and ease of mass production.

In the night sky of Riquan City, only a bright moon hung in the air. Moonlight shone through the window into the room, where an old man curled up in the shadows by the iron bed like a crumpled piece of rag. His cheekbones protruded high, and his skin was sallow to the point of near-transparency, hanging loosely on his bones. The wrinkles at his neck were stacked like a dry, cracked riverbed. His sparse, gray-white hair clung to his scalp, with a few strands drooping in front of his clouded eyes, where the faint light remaining was like a candle about to go out.

Wei He was in the same cell as the old man at this time. Listening to the old man's breathing gradually weaken, he asked tentatively, "Are you alright?" The old man didn't respond at all, remaining motionless.

He had indeed stopped breathing. After checking the old man's breath, Wei He hurriedly searched around. Finally, in an inconspicuous corner, he found a small package. The contents inside could temporarily save Wei He from physical suffering.

"Even though it's only a few hundred gold, finally I don't have to be tortured," Wei He muttered softly with tears in his eyes. At the same time, he commanded the base in his mind to step up the production of Conscripts.

The surface of the Riquan River surged with dark blue-black waves. The turbid crests were as high as two men, carrying broken deadwood and jagged rocks, flowing downstream like thousands of galloping horses. The rapid river meant people could only reach the other side via the Sentry Bridge. Beyond the Sentry Bridge was Sentry Mountain, where a group of bandits was gathered, discussing something.

"It's time to go down the mountain for another round of 'zero-dollar shopping.' All of you be serious and don't make any mistakes," Tom said happily, sitting on a tiger-skin chair and holding a wine bowl. With his full beard and brawny, eight-foot-tall frame, he looked majestic and full of power.

A man beside him, who had a sharp chin and monkey-like cheeks and was as thin as a monkey, immediately chimed in, "Don't worry, Boss. Hanks has already sent word back that no government troops will be coming through for the next few days. Nothing will go wrong." The speaker was the bandits' second-in-command, Robert. At this moment, he was feasting on beef. The group of people was drinking and eating meat in the mountain stronghold, noisily planning to go down the mountain to snatch money, grain, and women. The faint candlelight shining from the window reflected an even darker atmosphere around them.

Through several days of continuous mining, the exchange points had been constantly increasing and then decreasing because Wei He had no intention of building a War Factory; he only wanted to quickly churn out troops to rescue himself. No one in this world should be able to withstand the strafing of a submachine gun.

Wei He curled up in the damp hay, the iron chains on his wrists making faint clinking sounds as his body trembled. The mold in the corner of the wall took on an eerie blue-gray hue in the dim light, as if silently recounting the decay and evil of this cell. He rubbed the memories of Aaron that had merged into his mind. Those images surged like a tide—in a dilapidated workshop, Aaron would head out with his tools every day before dawn, his hunched figure reflected on the road home under the moonlight, the expectation shining in his eyes as he clutched his meager wages, all to save enough money to marry a wife and form a real home.

When Roy appeared, Aaron thought it was a blessing from fate. Her sweet smile and gentle words made this lonely man fall completely. It wasn't until they were discussing marriage that Roy suddenly changed her face, insisting on adding her name to the small house Aaron had worked so hard to save for and buy. After being rejected, that face that once made his heart flutter twisted into a hideous look, and she threatened to ruin his reputation. Aaron only took it as words spoken in anger at the time, but he didn't expect that the next day, cold handcuffs would lock up his life.

Wei He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. The innocent Aaron, harboring simple dreams of happiness, had been crushed by malice; while he himself had become a scapegoat as soon as he traveled to this world, enduring daily lashings with a whip, his back already a bloody mess. The footsteps of a guard came from outside the prison. Wei He looked up, a fire of revenge igniting in his eyes. He would not only break free from these shackles but also find Roy and make this venomous woman pay for what she had done. Those stolen lives and trampled dignity would all be reclaimed one by one. At this moment, the conviction of revenge was like a prairie fire, supporting him through every long dark night, waiting for the day of dawn.

In the dim cell, Wei He was closing his eyes and feigning sleep while the other prisoners were already fast asleep. At this moment, Wei He couldn't sleep. Although he had been spared physical torture during the day, he had been deliberately made things difficult for by Kerr, who forced him to drag his injured body to participate in labor reform.

While commanding the Conscripts to advance in his mind, Wei He muttered softly, "I must get out quickly. Otherwise, I'll be dead before I'm even executed."

The Harsh Forest of a summer night steamed with humid heat, and groups of Conscripts moved like a flowing dark tide, advancing close to the low bushes. Their heavy brown greatcoats had long been shed, revealing sweat-stained gray-green undershirts. Their faces under the gas masks were swollen from mosquito bites, but no one reached out to brush them away—they were fully focused on the ppsh-41 submachine guns in their hands, which were coated with anti-slip glue. Moonlight filtered through the treetops, casting mottled shadows on the ground. The soldiers moved through the shadows, their feet wrapped in footwraps silently avoiding dry branches, and the canvas on their synthetic satchels vibrated slightly in the night breeze.

Under the moonlight, the Conscripts' eyes were startlingly bright, and the knuckles of their fingers gripping the triggers turned white from exertion. The night breeze, carrying the scent of grass, swept through the ranks. Someone's medals clinked softly, making a faint sound that startled a night owl on a distant branch; the flapping of its wings was exceptionally piercing in the silent night. The leading non-commissioned officer turned abruptly, his eyes scanning every soldier, an oppressed low growl escaping his throat: "Quiet! For the Commander!"

These five hundred-plus Conscripts were the result of the armored mining vehicle's day and night work over the past few days, and they were also Wei He's hope of escaping his misery. At this moment, they were passing through the Harsh Forest, bypassing Ancient Tree Mountain, and heading toward the Sentry Bridge, the only path to rescue Wei He.