Chapter Seventy-Two: Striking Once More

Guo Qianshuang turned her face away. Even though they were now in a desert forest, the air was still oppressively hot. The once rosy cheeks of her beautiful face were now as cold as frost, as if a shard of ice could fall from her countenance at any moment.

She understood what Chen Cao meant, yet her expression remained icy as she climbed into the driver’s seat of the jeep. Looking over at Chen Cao, Bear, and the others, she saw they were still standing where they had been.

“This is an order. Your mission is complete. Sacrifices are inevitable during an operation. Now, I order you to return to the academy with me, or I will report your situation to the school committee!” she declared.

From the dense forest behind them, another pickup truck pulled out. A group of veterans had already climbed into it. For them, men who had fought on battlefields for years and languished in the dungeons of the Holy War Organization for as long, life and death had long lost their terror. Though they couldn’t understand the language exchanged between Guo Qianshuang and Chen Cao, their expressions made it clear that this striking woman in her twenties was ordering them to withdraw.

For these former Kola veterans, they had already helped Chen Cao rescue most of their comrades. Their task was accomplished. What they couldn’t understand was why this elite, whose combat instincts and abilities were so strong, was acting so emotionally. On the battlefield, sentimentality meant death.

Thus, when they looked at Chen Cao and his comrades, their eyes betrayed a trace of regret.

To go back and face an enemy hundreds of times their number, to fight for a corpse, was no different from seeking death.

Chen Cao moved, glanced at his exhausted yet resolute comrades, and silently climbed into the jeep.

Bao Li followed, then Bear and Xiao Li. None spoke, but tears glistened at the corners of their eyes.

Guo Qianshuang let out a small sigh of relief and started the engine. The pickup truck rolled forward beside them.

She glanced at the driver of the pickup, Istrov, and said, “Mr. J, I think our transaction is complete. I trust in your professional integrity. Let’s leave it at that.”

Istrov blinked his blue eyes and smiled faintly. “Of course. Neither of our countries wishes to be entangled in this war.”

He then looked at Ian, silent in the passenger seat, and pressed down on the accelerator.

Ian’s thoughts were still on Alfred. Without seeing the body, could it really be said that Alfred was dead and the mission accomplished? Staring at the rapidly passing scenery and the pickup’s speed, Ian gripped his gun tightly.

“No, my task is not yet done!” he declared, flinging open the door and leaping from the passenger seat.

Istrov showed not the slightest surprise. His hands on the wheel did not tremble; when the door flew open and hot wind rushed in, a hint of a smile played on his lips. As a seasoned intelligence officer, how could he not know the orders Ian carried from the Mainz Ministry of Defense? But if Ian returned to headquarters seeking credit without completing his mission, it would simply mean the Ministry of Defense had misjudged their man.

He knew that without fulfilling his duty, Ian would never know peace, nor could he answer to his fallen comrades. To kill or be killed—this is the fate of a soldier.

Guo Qianshuang drove the jeep slowly, the wheel subtly shifting in her hands. Inside, no one spoke; even the sound of breathing was barely audible.

The jeep crawled forward. Suddenly, Chen Cao spoke. “Instructor, our mission is not finished. I want to go back and verify.”

Guo Qianshuang, hearing this, glanced at the three in the rearview mirror. Though none said a word, their eyes were brimming with hope.

With a screech, she slammed the brakes, jerked the wheel, and pressed the gas.

“I don’t believe the mission is done either. It’s right to go back and verify. But you have only thirty minutes—can you do it?” She looked at Chen Cao calmly. “Because we have only one hour to return. You must witness whatever you need in thirty minutes, then we must get back within the next thirty, or I’ll miss my plane. If we’re seen as traitors by the school, you know the consequences. If the Justice Alliance Army or some terrorist finds out Great Chen’s troops are on this battlefield, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

As she spoke, her practiced hands brought the jeep to the desert’s edge, where she brought the vehicle to a stop.

“I can’t give you a definite answer, but I must do what I must,” Chen Cao replied, opening the door, grabbing his gear, and jumping out. Bear and the others followed without hesitation, their eyes instantly alight with a new spirit.

Guo Qianshuang stuck her head out the window and called, “There are weapons in the trunk. Pick what you need!”

Before she finished, Bear had already popped open the back, pulled out a large canvas bag, whistled to Xiao Li and Bao Li, and vanished with Chen Cao into the ocean of sand.

“These kids are clearly not ordinary,” Guo Qianshuang murmured with a smile, folding her arms and leaning against her seat. As an instructor, she didn’t want her students to become mere instruments of death.

“Did Chen Diwen say anything when he covered your retreat?” Chen Cao asked as he ran, donning his gear piece by piece.

“He said that if he died, we should follow you from now on,” Xiao Li replied, clutching his assault rifle and keeping close.

“How did he know I’d come for you?” Chen Cao glanced back at Xiao Li.

Bear rumbled, “Because the boss always said you two were born enemies. Sometimes an enemy knows you better than a friend.”

Chen Cao fell silent. The wind and sand had died down, the sunlight blazing like a passionate beauty.

“Yes, we are born enemies, yet I barely know him. Chen Diwen, this time I’ve lost to you.”

As they spoke, a figure hurried toward them from behind.

It was Ian, who had leapt from the pickup, stumbling through the sand, panting heavily.

“Ian!” Chen Cao called, but did not stop—he had only thirty minutes, for his own sake and for his comrades', who might one day become great commanders of the Great Chen Republic.

“You have your mission; I have mine,” Ian grinned, flashing white teeth. “I said I wouldn’t let my comrades die in vain. I have to kill or at least find Alfred’s body and bring it back.”

“Keep up,” Chen Cao said coolly. “Time is short. I don’t want to be captured by your Mainz Army, and the Great Chen Republic doesn’t take prisoners. When we’re done, you’ll be on your own.”

“Talking to you is always so straightforward,” Ian replied with a smile.

Chen Cao quickened his pace. Chen Diwen had entrusted him with the entire team and their safety. Part of him resented this—did Chen Diwen really know him that well? Why should he play nursemaid? If only he were still alive, he’d ask him face to face.

At that moment, several dark figures appeared in the distance—black-robed warriors. Their robes were no longer neat but tattered, stumbling through the desert, supporting each other.

Chen Cao’s sharp eyes took in their disheveled state at a glance.

“Capture them alive!” he commanded, raising his rifle and sighting on one warrior’s leg. “Bear, you’re the fastest runner. Don’t let them die, understand?”

“Watch me!” Bear replied, taking a deep breath and charging forward. Chen Cao hadn’t yet fired.

He felt a rush of warmth—this was trust in his marksmanship.

Bang! The bullet struck the thigh artery of a black-robed warrior a hundred meters away. The man shrieked. The others, seeing this, dropped to their knees or lay trembling in the sand as Chen Cao fired a second shot.

Even though the others appeared to have surrendered, on the battlefield no one but oneself could be trusted, and Bear was risking his life out there.

He would not gamble with his comrade’s safety.

Decisively, Chen Cao fired again and again—second, third shots—bullets striking shoulders, abdomens, legs.

Bear barreled into them, kicking each one. Xiao Li and Bao Li caught up, rifles ready.

“All clear, no unusual activity!” Ian reported. After several clashes with these black-robed warriors, his nerves were steel. As Chen Cao fired, he had already raised his sniper rifle, scanning the area with the digital scope.

Bear and the others had secured the prisoners. Only then did Chen Cao approach, rifle at the ready.

“These masked warriors seem odd,” he noted. As he drew near, he heard them mumbling in their native tongue, voices quivering with sobs. Though wounded, they prostrated themselves, kowtowing to Bear and the others.

Chen Cao drew his knife and, under the terrified gaze of one, slashed off his mask.

The face was unremarkable—a bearded man, a typical Oderu native.

“Who knows the language?” Chen Cao had never trained in this; too many dialects, too chaotic among the tribes of Oderu.

“I do. They’re begging for mercy,” Ian said, jogging up with his sniper rifle. He didn’t want these rare prisoners to be wasted—he needed their intel.