Starting from the Planetary Governor

Jason Morgan was now somewhat panicked.

At the committee meeting, inspiring morale and making those wavering members stay put didn't seem wrong to him.

But Crook Manor, as the nominal headquarters of the Mutual Aid Society, was now also the gathering place of numerous committee members. If it were really breached, there would be serious trouble.

Without a doubt, the Mutual Aid Society would fall into organizational chaos. Even if the Central Group Army were to come down south later and resolve the issue, it would take time for the Mutual Aid Society to rebuild and function effectively in its logistical role.

That would disrupt the entire plan.

However, the carnage he had just witnessed through the telescope, and the countless soldiers now retreating from the collapsed third defense line to the fourth, left Morgan speechless.

Could he say that the militia warriors hadn't fought fiercely?

Obviously not.

They understood that their homes and families in the refugee camps were right behind them. Everyone had barely survived the journey to safety here; they were conscripted as militia to defend hope.

If they fought, their families would survive; if they defended well, their families might have a chance to get to the Twin Cities and receive proper Union Citizen benefits; if they fought, those who wanted to stay in the Green Valley Region could have their own land...

Their will to fight was unquestionable.

However, the enemy's vast numbers and fierce firepower were objective facts, not something willpower alone could reverse.

Morgan had personally seen the various new types of advanced mutant beasts that military observers had introduced to him. To be honest, his legs were still weak.

Had it not been for his experience in the Green Valley Region where he had already seen many Aberrant Beasts, plus the education he had received at Loyal Heir Academy, if he were still the lowly clerk he once was in Revival City, the sight of those monsters would likely have knocked him out cold at first glance.

Yet the militia warriors had withstood significant casualties, managing to hold off from yesterday afternoon until now.

Just now, three hundred men had died before his very eyes.

The military observer sighed, "Actually, that's relatively good. This morning, when the sun had just risen and the enemy launched their first major attack—after they deployed many specially mutated high-level biochemical beasts for the first time—we were caught off guard, and lost over a thousand men at the first defense line. Following that, another five hundred at the second defense line."

Jason Morgan remained silent.

Here at Crook Manor, there were a total of five thousand soldiers, and by now, one thousand eight hundred had been lost.

The observer continued with a bitter smile, "In just one morning, we lost three defense lines; there's only one left and then it's the walls of Crook Manor. If this place falls, there will be a clear path to the two refugee camps behind, with no defensible position left..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

It was time to consider evacuation, moving people out.

Even if they couldn't evacuate everyone, and could only move a small portion, leaving the rest to fend for themselves was better than standing firm here, only to be defeated later, with hundreds of thousands potentially lost.

Jason Morgan understood the implication in the military observer's words.

However, that was a consideration purely from a military perspective.

Jason had to think about the political issues.

He had just quelled some signs of unrest within the Mutual Aid Society due to the actions of the Alliance Headquarters. But now, the imminent destruction of the Mutual Aid Society's headquarters and the Beiqing Valley Region's largest plantation—along with the tens of thousands in the refugee camps—a full-scale evacuation amidst panic, not knowing how many would die in the chaos...

What would be the political cost?

The ensuing collateral effects would have a very negative impact on the Governor's plans to reclaim the entire Green Valley Region.

He rubbed his forehead and asked, "When will the remaining five thousand people summoned from the refugee camp arrive?"

The observer sighed, understanding that Jason Morgan still wanted to defend.

He wanted it too.

Perhaps it was better this way—to be decisive rather than vacillating.

He provided an answer, "They'll be here before noon."

Jason Morgan exhaled with relief, "At least we have our first piece of good news... Now, we need a second piece. As far as I know, the vanguard of the Central Group Army heading south is Major Perbov's troops. Can we get in touch with them? I need to know if they can change their route and head to Crook Manor first. If they can, how long do we need to hold out before they arrive?"

"We've already made contact. The Central Group Army is already aware of our dire situation and has ordered us to hold out as long as possible. Also, the orders for support have been sent to the Wind-Extinguishing Brigade. But..."

Upon hearing the first part, Jason Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.

That was certainly good news.

Support meant that holding out had meaning.

But the word 'but' that followed made his heart race.

True to form, what came after that word was never promising:

"The Central Group Army just started heading south yesterday. Even if the Wind-Extinguishing Brigade is the avant-garde, there's a distance of over four hundred kilometers from the southern border of the Central Province here, and at the fastest, it will take them three days to arrive. Actually, the order we received from the Central Group Army is to hold out until dark tomorrow."

"Until dark tomorrow..." Jason Morgan pondered, "With the five thousand militia arriving by noon, can we make it?"