The Perimeter Xilang Peak battlefield command was established in the west-central section of the border between Nepal and Huaxia, some distance away from Xilang Peak.
Because it was a temporary setup, the main encampment consisted of numerous military tents of various sizes. There had been no time to build an airstrip, leaving only a large safe clearing near the edge of the rear cliff for helicopters to take off and land.
That night, as elite squads arrived continuously from the direction of Xilang Peak to provide reinforcements and join the subsequent mop-up operations, the entire command post and its surrounding area remained bustling.
Helicopters took off and touched down, vehicles shuttled back and forth, and a clamor of voices filled the air.
Squad 1777 was located on the outer perimeter of the command post. Due to their overwhelming number of wounded, they occupied six military tents in total.
It was four in the morning, long before daybreak. Starlight and moonlight, just like the skies over the grasslands, shone down upon hundreds of dark green military tents across the open field, while dazzling searchlights swept back and forth.
Wu Xu, fully geared, had several loops of bandages wrapped from his left shoulder down to his right ribs, bloodstains seeping through the cloth.
Cradling the Binggu spear in his arms, Wu Xu sat silently and vigilantly outside one of the small tents.
Among their group, the one whose injuries recovered fastest was actually Shen Yixiu. The jade bone they had retrieved from the Great Spike mothership was currently effective only on Rusty Sister.
Second in line was likely Han Qingyu. On one hand, his physical constitution had grown incomprehensibly formidable, granting him immense stamina and regenerative ability; on the other hand, he could molt.
Wu Xu was different from both Shen Yixiu and Han Qingyu. Perhaps because of what he had endured in the past, he felt nothing toward ordinary pain and paid it no mind—and even so, he always managed to recover smoothly in the end.
The crunch of footsteps sounded not far away.
Wu Xu turned his head to watch Wen Jifei walk over and asked, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah." Wen Jifei supported his tightly wrapped right arm with his left hand. "Truth is, I only took one slash. Or half a slash, to be exact. It caught my right arm, but the rest of me is completely fine."
With that, he gestured toward the tent and asked, "Any movement?"
Wu Xu shook his head.
"That's good, then."
Wen Jifei sat down, lit a cigarette, and looked up at the night sky. After a moment, a stinging soreness rose in his nose, and tears slipped silently and uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes.
All because of a brief separation.
He Tangtang was gone.
Young Master Shiheng was gone too.
The squad had lost seven people in one blow—seven comrades who had lived and fought beside them day in and day out.
Nearly all of them were wounded.
People always said the battlefield was ruthless, yet all of this had happened far too suddenly. Moreover, the few of them knew all too well why these people had met with misfortune. Anger and stifled indignation mingled with their grief, magnifying the agony countless times over.
"I went and asked around just now. Milla is over on the Indedu side. She's alive, but her arm..."
"Her left arm. After it was impaled by a warblade, she kept firing her gun. The wound tore open completely. They still don't know if they can save it."
"I'm afraid she might never be able to use a gun again."
Wu Xu was a good listener to confide in. Wen Jifei spoke to him in a slow, quiet voice. Just as he said this, there seemed to be a faint rustle from inside the tent behind them.
Wen Jifei turned around.
"Qingzi?"
"Qingzi, are you awake?"
Not daring to speak too loudly, Wen Jifei listened intently for a moment. There was no response from inside the tent, nor any further sound. Assuming he had misheard, he sat back down.
Before long, a clear series of footsteps approached.
A delegation of seven officers appeared before them. Among them were personnel from the Alliance Headquarters, representatives from other field armies, and an interpreter.
Wen Jifei and Wu Xu stood up, blocking their path.
"Can we help you with something?" Wen Jifei asked.
The leading Alliance major general spoke a few sentences in English, which the interpreter translated:
"Yes. We would like to go in and visit Major Han Qingyu, as well as get some details from him regarding the specific situation on the plateau battlefield, since follow-up forces will be heading in shortly..."
"You can just ask me about all that," Wen Jifei said, pointing to himself.
The interpreter murmured a few words with the officer, then turned back with a polite smile:
"We would still prefer to communicate directly with Major Han Qingyu. After all, he is the strongest combatant to have ventured deep into that battlefield, and he possesses extensive combat experience."
Wen Jifei's expression darkened. He was one hundred percent certain that among the seven people before them, at least one had been sent by Alphonse's side to pry into the situation... His tone dropped accordingly, and he shook his head.
"He's injured."
"Yes, but we consulted the medical staff just now, and they said Major Qing left without receiving much treatment at the time." The major general spread his hands and explained, "So we assumed his injuries were not severe."
The interpreter relayed his words.
Scattered, hurried footsteps came from every direction.
Every member of Squad 1777 who could still move—including Shen Yixiu and Qin Guowen—rushed out of the tents, shouting as they closed in:
"What are you doing? What the hell do you want?!"
The major general glanced left and right, his eyes blank with bewilderment, seemingly baffled by the intense, hostile reaction from Squad 1777.
In truth, having lived through this deadly trap, the surviving soldiers of Squad 1777... though they did not yet know that the Alphonse family was behind the whole plot, could not help but harbor suspicions that something was terribly wrong.
Among other things, Qingzi and his inner circle had been in a visibly abnormal state of mind.
Furthermore, after Captain Lao led his unit back, instead of reporting the situation to this command post first, he had rushed off to Xilang Peak overnight despite his injuries, which seemed to suggest something grave had occurred.
On top of that, over these past two days and nights, the command post here had done nothing except repeatedly pull people in for questioning and investigations, offering no explanation whatsoever and taking no concrete action. This, too, left the soldiers deeply uncomfortable.
In short, the entirety of Squad 1777 was trapped in an oppressive, anxious mood. Under such circumstances, expecting them to converse normally was naturally out of the question.
"What do you mean by this?! Treating us like criminals, are you?!"
"What the fuck do you people want?!"
"...Qingzi is hurt!"
In their fury, the members of 1777 couldn't care less about who these men were or what ranks they held.
Before the tent entrance, jostling and heated shouting broke out in no time.
"We are only here to visit Major Qing and gather some information for the follow-up troops entering the battlefield!" The interpreter tried to explain, his voice rising into a shout. "Please mind your conduct! Understand what you are doing—"
*Zip... whoosh!*
The tent flap was pushed open from the inside.
The comrades of 1777 fell silent all at once, turning their heads.
Wrapped in bandages, Han Qingyu walked out and said, "It's alright, everyone. Go back inside... Really, it's fine. Get some rest, all of you."
With that, he smiled at them, then turned to face the officers opposite him.
"The tent is too small. Let's just sit down and talk right here."
Chapter 343