The Final Assault

Based on their assessment of Han Qingyu's behavioral logic and fearing their craft would be hauled off again—leaving them unable to pursue or intercept him—the Great Spike command simply triggered the self-destruction of all remaining shuttle craft, over three hundred in total. And because they truly could no longer tolerate the relentless harassment of that unkillable bug, which was causing sustained instability in their tractor field, they had no choice but to shrink the radius of their source energy field. None of this was known or clear to humanity, nor to Han Qingyu. He merely assumed he had finally won their contest of wills, and he prepared to harvest the colossal haul of spoils before him. Yet just moments ago, the Azure commanders in the rear, unable to bear watching him suffer any longer and moved to tears, had sent out reinforcements... Yan Fuwen was nineteen years old this year, hailing from the Fourth Army's Kuanglan Squad. He was a young village kid, but endowed with exceptional aptitude. He had heard that Han Qingyu was also a village kid, which had always made him feel a certain kinship toward him. Still, between geniuses of the same age, it could hardly be called hero worship. On the one hand, he genuinely admired him; on the other, he harbored a stubborn pride, determined to work hard and never fall behind. As one of the forty reinforcements who had volunteered to answer the call, Yan Fuwen had come prepared to die. Down below, not even the commanders understood why Han Qingyu was being blasted through the air off flat ground time and again. Their rough guess was that a massive trap lay ahead. In truth, this perimeter source energy field might really have hindered or obstructed an offensive, but since it had already retreated, no one had any way to verify it for the time being. At this moment, Yan Fuwen, like everyone beside him, charged resolutely onto the snow slope where Han Qingyu had just been thrown back, resolved to face severe injury or death... For if someone like Han Qingyu—who could withstand a slash from a Red Shoulder—was repeatedly flung away spitting blood, there was a high probability they would not survive it. Then, they froze in bewildered astonishment. "Why... isn't anything happening?" "So... did he already manage to destroy the trap?!" "Look at how soaked in blood he is." The reinforcing Azure soldiers ground to a halt, collectively dazed for a moment. Having received no further orders, and spotting metal blocks in the snow, they reflexively picked them up. "Hey, there's one here too..." "Got one here as well." "..." Han Qingyu was in agony right now. What the hell? Were you bastards sent by higher-ups just to snatch metal blocks from me?! And so damn many of you at once! The metal blocks these soldiers collected would definitely have to be turned in, but whatever Han Qingyu picked up... would not be handed over. Therefore, he couldn't let them catch him gathering metal blocks. Covering his face with a hand, Han Qingyu hunched low to bypass the crowd. Under the cover of an icy boulder, he plunged headfirst into the deep snow and began frantically rummaging through it. He could technically have absorbed the energy directly through the ice and snow, but that wouldn't absorb very much, and since he wasn't currently in combat, doing so would be a criminal waste of resources. In the end, Han Qingyu, Wu Xu, and Rusty Sister together collected thirty-four blocks. Compared to before, it was a lot! An incredible amount! But thinking about the two hundred-plus, nearly three hundred blocks scooped up by the others tore his heart to pieces all over again. This was way too much. Stashing the metal blocks securely against his body, Han Qingyu lay in the hollow of the snow. Fuming with indignation, he listened to Rusty Sister whisper about how it felt when the high-purity source energy had completely enveloped her, and how her strength might have improved a bit... "That's good, then." Han Qingyu finally found a modicum of comfort, and was just about to sit up. Suddenly—*Thump!... Thump! Thump...* A tremendous thrumming, like the pulse of a mountain range, resonated from beneath his back and struck straight through his heart... Han Qingyu froze. That was the source energy surge of a metal block. If that really was a metal block, just how enormous would it have to be?! He turned his head to gauge the location. It was likely inside the mountain right beneath the Great Spike mothership. But it didn't seem very deep—maybe right under the vessel's hull... In that case, let's take it. "Qingzi, you..." Wu Xu saw Han Qingyu suddenly start digging into the ground. If it was digging, he had a drill rod. Having chiseled mountain rock and built houses back at Squad 1777's station, Wu Xu had grown quite used to using the Binggu spear as a crowbar; it had become second nature. "Help out, you two." Digging alone was too slow. Han Qingyu figured that once they were nearly through, he would have Wu Xu and Rusty Sister leave first. He had plenty of confidence in his ability to take a beating and run away. "Okay." Binggu plunged straight into the icy rock, blasting through dirt and stone. By this time, it was already past ten o'clock on the night of August 27. About four hundred meters below the ring position, a black-armored Great Spike was slain, collapsing to the ground as its self-destruction began. Lu Chengzhong quickly reached out, gripped Cao Min's shoulder, and hauled him back, checking his forward lunge. "That's enough. Bandage your wounds." Feeling Cao Min struggling against his grip, Lu Chengzhong tightened his hold and barked sternly, "I said that's enough!" Cao Min was finally reined in. He looked back at his captain, shook his head, and cleared his mind a little. "Head back and stop the bleeding. Looks to me like it's almost time to prepare for the assault on the mothership." Having said that, Lu Chengzhong turned and walked toward the ring position above. Sensing Cao Min's footsteps falling in behind him, he continued as he walked, "I know fighting this way makes you improve fast. Constantly throwing yourself into life-or-death battles will make anyone improve rapidly. But if you die now, it would be a tragic waste. Within three years, you'll reach the peak tier... Someday, when you've grown and matured, Long Knife will surely be proud of you." "Yeah." "I have to admit, you're a natural-born warrior." "Right? Heh heh." "What the hell are you laughing at? Don't get cocky. Try beating me in a duel first." On the snow slope under the faint moonlight, the veteran captain led his young soldier, walking one after the other toward the heights. By now, the sounds of battle across the lower slopes had grown sparse. With the contraction of the blue light from the massive vessel at the mountaintop, the moonlight turned cool and pale, and visibility dropped considerably. On a snow slope, over twenty Azure soldiers who had fought to the bitter end were pursuing an injured Great Spike. They were Squad 472 of the Sixth Army, and their captain was named Fang Zhong. They had once swapped targets with Squad 1777 during the Vocalize operation, but tonight, no matter how dire or perilous the circumstances had become, they had never hesitated or flinched. "Don't chase it... Stop, everyone... We can't catch it." Fang Zhong halted, leaning over with his blade braced against the ground as he panted heavily. "That's enough. Even if it makes it to the top, it's just cannon fodder. Don't chase it, brothers." Across the snow slope, the soldiers stopped one after another. Yet one figure still gripped his blade, head down, sprinting after the Great Spike. "Wu Lian... Wu Lian! Stop chasing!" the soldiers shouted in unison. "Wu Lian!" At last, they managed to halt the young soldier named Wu Lian. Wu Lian stopped on the high ground, paused, and turned around... His vision was somewhat blurred, his voice weak. Bewildered, he asked, "Not chasing anymore? Is the fighting done? Did we... already win?" No one answered him. Because only now, under the moonlight, could they clearly see the two long, deep gashes across Wu Lian's chest, and the blood that soaked him from head to toe. After asking his question, Wu Lian looked at them, offered a faint smile, then slowly pitched forward and collapsed into the snow. "Wu Lian!" Everyone from Squad 472 rushed forward. "Wu Lian, Wu Lian... wake up." Fang Zhong knelt on the ground, cradling him in his arms and calling out continuously. He wanted to pat the young man's face, yet feared his trembling hands might accidentally press too hard. "I... didn't even realize the fight was over, heh." Wu Lian opened his eyes, looking down at the wounds on his body as he spoke. Blood had soaked through his entire uniform. "Fuck, looks like I won't make it back," he said, looking up at them. Silence fell over them all. Some turned their heads aside in tears; some sobbed while desperately trying to hold it in; others tried to press down on Wu Lian's wounds, but the gashes were far too deep, far too long... "Don't press, Sister Weiwei... You can't stop it." "No, you won't, you won't..." The female squad leader shook her head frantically, refusing to let go as blood surged incessantly between her fingers. "I dreamed of taking you home as my bride." Private First Class Wu Lian finished speaking and closed his eyes. His breathing ceased. An ordinary soldier named Wu Lian would never return. He had liked a female squad leader named Weiwei in his unit, and had dreamed of taking her home as his bride—a secret no one had ever known. On this night, whether from Huaxia, Indedu, Bhutan, or Mexico... whether elite squads or ordinary soldiers, so many would never return. Perhaps someone was waiting for them back home. Perhaps the ones they wished to bring home didn't know yet. Or perhaps they did know, but hadn't had the chance to say yes. By now, the fighting below the ring position had essentially drawn to a close. Field medics were rushing back and forth. On the snowy, icy battlefield, dimmed by the fading blue light, countless figures sat down or slumped to the ground. Someone lit a cigarette. Others searched everywhere for their missing comrades. Some sat leaning against one another for support, speaking in hushed voices. Lao Jian was taking roll... Wen Jifei, He Tangtang, and Liu Shiheng found them and reported back for duty. Along the ring position, the commanders had already begun organizing the final assault on the mothership. All the elite squads were replacing their source energy blocks. In this final battle, the ordinary battle formations would no longer take part. "The situation on the mothership is unclear. We can only have super combat powers clear a path, and then..." "Report! Ninth Army, White Eraser, combat strength intact! Requesting permission to join the first assault echelon!" "The Gurkhas never shy from battle!" "..." Voices in all languages, filled with heated discussions and requests for combat, made the perimeter of the ring position chaotic and clamorous. Suddenly, those speaking paused, for a faint sound reached their ears... The commotion gradually subsided. From the lower battlefield that had just fallen quiet, singing drifted through the night. "I bear a blade, casting off old robes to take up arms, Striking the midstream current, saving the great harmony. Of countless men through the ages, how many were true heroes? Heads crushed in the yellow dust, deeds carved into the firmament, From death unto this day, our hot blood runs scarlet still." That was the military anthem of the Huaxia Front, but in fact, the Azure fronts of every nation shared an anthem set to the exact same tune. So they, too, began humming along in harmony. "I hold a red tassel that can bind the azure dragon..."