North of Jibei, Yellow River Great Bridge.
On top of an abandoned lighthouse southwest of the bridge, a man and a woman were talking.
Mo Chuan carried two suitcases and handed them to Luo Ni, saying, "Take these things back to Luoyi. You don't need to keep renting the place here anymore."
Luo Ni nodded, then opened a portal and left.
Earlier, Mo Chuan had gone to find his aunt's family, but discovered that their original dormitory had become a supply depot. After much effort, he found an elder in the vicinity who told him that the people there had all moved away more than ten days ago, with most reportedly going to Jinling.
Then Mo Chuan went to find the Wang brothers, but they were also gone.
Finally, Mo Chuan had no choice but to return to his old house to pack his belongings. Although not much, they were incredibly important to Mo Chuan – some photo albums, identification documents, a small amount of savings, trinkets, and the jewelry worn by Mo Zihui and Qin Xiao when they got married.
Mo Chuan now looked at the black smoke rising from both sides of the Yellow River, listened to the distant roar of artillery, and remained silent for a long time.
...
The flow of Yellow River sand had been stained with many colors.
The red of blood, the green of bile, the yellow of excrement... perhaps disgusting, but this was the reality of the battlefield.
Facing life and death, who cared about dignity?
The battle had entered its third day. Unlike the preceding days of constant artillery fire and relentless charges, both sides had now entered a temporary state of exhaustion.
For the Suiren side's army, the current combat results could not be considered a victory. In the past three days, the Suiren army had dispatched over 40,000 troops from their central and northeast armies to attack the Yellow River Great Bridge, only to encounter defenders several times their own strength. Thus, a fierce tug-of-war began.
In the end, the Suiren side exchanged 50% casualties for control of the bridge. Yes, control, but they still couldn't cross the river.
The casualties on Emperor Yao's side were also immense. For every Suiren soldier killed, four to five Emperor Yao soldiers had to be sacrificed.
Such a casualty ratio would normally be unacceptable to Zhao Qingfeng, who was stationed in the underground command center.
But now, he just sat there, placing the casualty and supply reports on the table, numbly drinking coffee that had long since gone cold.
"Officer..."
"Let me be alone for a moment."
Seeing this, his adjutant saluted and turned to leave the bunker.
Zhao Qingfeng was not dejected by the hopelessness of their defense, but rather by something else. He had been present when Xin Lei gave his inauguration speech.
He had witnessed Xin Lei's resolve and fearlessness, but Zhao Qingfeng had also seen Xin Lei's helplessness and disappointment.
Was fighting this war now truly for his duty, or for something else?
Lost, unsure.
Zhao Qingfeng irritably lit a cigarette and fumbled with the spirit stone radio.
As expected, it was the propaganda broadcast specifically for soldiers by the Southeast Alliance, as if this could give soldiers iron-like will.
Ridiculous.
With the current troop strength, if the Southeast Alliance did not send reinforcements, Zhao Qingfeng would have no choice but to retreat into Jibei City. Urban warfare was something Zhao Qingfeng was most unwilling to engage in.
Because it would not only result in heavy casualties but also profoundly affect the citizens of this city.
Jibei City had only been rebuilt for half a year and could not withstand such devastation.
Thinking of this, Zhao Qingfeng became inexplicably agitated, then he started changing channels. However, no matter how he twisted the knob, the radio remained silent. So, Zhao Qingfeng simply turned off the radio and walked out of the command center.
The air carried the scent of earth, gunpowder, and iron… it was blood.
"Xiao Lu."
"General." The adjutant saluted.
"Prepare a vehicle, I'm going to the front lines to take a look."
"Yes…?! General?..."
"Is there a problem?" Zhao Qingfeng asked, without looking at his adjutant, "Execute the order, soldier."
"Yes!"
...
Eighteen hundred meters south of the Yellow River Great Bridge, Emperor Yao's frontline, Position One.
This was the closest point to the riverbank, so close that the enemy didn't need to set up anti-aircraft guns on the bank to wreak havoc here.
Thus, Wang Hu, along with Wang Lang and Wang Bao, usually hid in the trenches, not daring to even lift their heads.
"Ah Lang, got any more cigarettes?" Wang Hu fumbled around his body, then helplessly turned to ask Wang Lang.
"No more... this is the last half. Boss, you just live." Saying this, Wang Lang pulled out a half-smoked cigarette from his damp pocket – it had clearly fallen into a puddle halfway through, but he couldn't bear to throw it away, so he picked it back up.
Wang Hu took a long time to light the cigarette, coughing and cursing, "Damn, why is it so damp... cough... cough... *hetui*... it's choking me to death..."
The three Wang brothers, who were originally responsible for watching Mo Chuan's house, were conscripted, given a perfunctory physical examination, handed a gun, and thrown into the recruit training camp. Everyone understood this kind of operation, so the common designation for these raw recruits was "cannon fodder."
Cannon fodder received supplies last and bullets first; they occupied the front positions and were paid last.
To survive the battlefield and come back alive was like having lived eight lifetimes of good fortune.
Wang Hu and Wang Lang were somewhat better off, having awakened a C-class offensive ability, which was better than nothing. But Wang Bao was rather unlucky – he had awakened a toilet plunger.
Honestly, it would have been better if he hadn't awakened anything.
"Be grateful, at least you still have your life to smoke," the Wang brothers looked over and saw an old soldier curled up in a nearby trench. He stroked his stubble and held up a finger, saying, "Four. Four more died today."
"Died looking for water?" Wang Hu handed the half-smoked cigarette butt to Wang Lang, who gently pinched out the ember, then tucked it back into his pocket.
"Hmph, these guys are really down on their luck. When they were walking back, a shell landed nearby, and one of them was smashed into meat paste." As he spoke, the old soldier reached up and actually retrieved half an arm.
To the surprised gaze of the Wang brothers, the old soldier removed the cloth strip from his arm and tied it to his rifle.
"This will prevent the sun's reflection on the barrel from being detected by the enemy. If you want to survive, find some cloth strips to tie on, or smear some mud on it if you have nothing else."
Boom – Boom –
The sound of artillery was getting closer.
"Bad, the enemy might be launching an offensive," the old soldier casually grabbed a handful of mud and smeared it on his helmet, then slung his rifle and canteen over his shoulder. He grabbed a large wooden board from the side and said, "What are you standing around for? Come help!"
The four of them, holding wooden boards smeared with mud and blood, walked south along the trench.
Along the way, Wang Bao saw many dismembered limbs and unrecognizable flesh. At one trench corner, an unexploded shell lay upright on the ground.
The kicked-up sand and flying shrapnel struck the wooden board, seemingly reminding the four how close death was.
Finally, the four stopped at the southernmost end of the entire trench.
ps: Saudi Arabia's upset victory has completely stunned me.