In truth, Han Qingyu did not know what had happened to him, or what was happening even now. Aside from the unyielding urge to charge toward the battlefield, his consciousness as a whole remained somewhat muddled and indistinct.
In particular, that step into the lava twenty minutes ago had been almost completely unconscious.
He had felt neither danger nor fear, nor had he been buoyed by confidence in his own strength; he had simply waded right in as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And then, he had begun to run.
The expanse of lava fields was by no means small. Throughout the entire process, almost no part of his body felt abnormal—except his heart. His heart, already blazing like a hidden surge of magma, became like a volcanic crater inching ever closer to its critical threshold. The molten rock within seemed to rise in surges, violent and monstrous energy churning wildly.
As he took the final step out of the lava fields,
*Boom!*
A sudden crash echoed in his consciousness.
"You're awake?" Han Qingyu was somewhat surprised that he could ask so calmly.
"Huh? What? Haven't I been awake the whole time? Aren't I you? Did you burn your brains out?"
"...Oh, seems so."
Han Qingyu had thought a conversation had taken place, but in reality, it hadn't. There was no other person, nor was there a second consciousness. This so-called dialogue was merely him suddenly remembering something and then telling it to himself.
"Alright then. Those bastards actually thought I was truly crippled and even tried to ship me away."
Han Qingyu felt a brief flash of irritation at the thought, but the corners of his mouth twitched between tears and laughter, because another phrase soon came to mind. Back then, as they had drifted between medical stations all across Huaxia, Wen Jifei had always liked to cry out in front of doctors, nurses, and the wounded, wearing an aggrieved face:
"Han Qingyu, that year, in the truck on the way to the degree of fusion test, you said you'd protect me forever!"
"...Get lost!" Because it was utterly sickening—yet his heart accepted it, even feeling a sour ache in his nose—Han Qingyu couldn't help cursing aloud.
"Commander Zhang Chiyuan is gone. Captain Shao Xuan is gone..." So many familiar faces from the past had already departed. Those people and those past events flashed through his mind like a slideshow of black-and-white slides, fleeting and sharp.
Then came other faces: Plague Chicken, Rusty Sister, Wu Xu, Tangtang, Milla, Little Prince... Their figures and countenances shifted between light and shadow. *Exhale.* Han Qingyu steadied his mind.
"You lot... don't you dare leave."
He began to accelerate...
Nearly everyone in this world knew that Major Qing ran fast. That had been universally acknowledged back at Xilang Peak all those years ago, when he carried an aircraft on his shoulders while walking a pack of dajians like dogs. But no one had ever known just how fast he could truly run.
Until now, apart from Yang Qingbai and the few with him, no one on the battlefield had realized that a figure they once knew so well, carrying his four signature weapons, was sprinting alone across the ice field, rushing toward the battlefield.
***
East of the Transantarctic Mountains, on an ice peak designated Ice Peak 116 on the Azure operational map for ease of command.
The strength in his hand unconsciously slipped away, and the already damaged communicator fell onto the ice with a click. *Feels like I'm dying. They probably all think I'm dead already, don't they?* Gravely wounded and dying, Gu Zhazha forced his eyes open, turned slightly, and looked at the four subordinates who had stayed behind with him to fight the rearguard action.
He called them subordinates because they had followed him for a very long time. They had been with him ever since he was running with gangs in the City of Sin, later joined the Azure Dragon Gang together, and eventually came to Stream Vanguard.
"Tell me... is this... isn't this a bit embarrassing for us?" His eyes were red, glistening faintly with tears. Regiment Commander Gu Zhazha of Stream Vanguard, filled with sadness and grievance, asked in a voice as faint as thread.
They had volunteered to stay behind and cover the rear due to their injuries. In truth, this so-called rearguard action couldn't accomplish much—it was nothing more than dying, an attempt to draw the attention of the dajian swarm behind them for just a brief moment before they died.
To stall for a little longer, they had decided to stay atop the ice peak, forcing the dajians to waste some time climbing the mountain.
Yet the dajian swarm had rumbled straight past. The commotion of their charge had been so loud that they hadn't even noticed Gu Zhazha and his men shouting at them from the summit.
None of the four subordinates spoke, tacitly agreeing that this was indeed rather embarrassing.
This was a huge surprise, because in past battles, no matter how Azure or Stream Vanguard tried to ambush or flank them, they would ultimately be discovered by the dajians.
"Damn my rotten luck. If I have to die anyway, why couldn't they let this old bastard be a hero just once before kicking the bucket?" It sounded like banter, but as Commander Gu Zhazha spoke, the rough man in his mid-forties actually cried from feeling wronged, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
Boss Gu Zhazha had never enjoyed a good reputation. Back in the City of Sin, he had been known as a fence-sitter who bent with whatever way the wind blew, laden with labels: cunning, slimy, cowardly, and clinging to life.
Even during his days in Stream Vanguard afterward, he had largely remained the same.
Yet this time, Gu Zhazha truly hadn't hidden. Throughout the fighting along the way, he hadn't slacked off, played tricks, hoarded his life, or compromised in the slightest. As a result, he had taken a devastating blow... And even after being gravely wounded, he had genuinely wanted to do one last thing for his brothers.
"Ain't that the truth. Rotten luck," one of his men said.
"How about we pretend we died after drawing our blades and fighting? We won't tell them. The communicator's broken anyway. When we meet again in heaven or hell, as long as our stories match, we'll be fine."
Slimy all his life, he was still playing crafty to the very end. Gu Zhazha felt pleased enough to laugh at his own idea, but only managed two coughs, spitting up a mouthful of blood... before settling back down.
"Speaking of which, after coming to Stream Vanguard... do you guys regret it?"
His men shook their heads together.
"Me neither. That was... truly living a badass, proud life," Gu Zhazha murmured slowly. His eyelids grew heavier, sinking closed, feeling as though he could never lift them again.
"Boss! Boss, look..." Suddenly, the subordinate keeping watch outside shouted in astonishment, pointing into the distance. "What the hell is that?"
"Hmm?" Summoning the last ounce of his strength, Gu Zhazha turned over and lay flat on the ice to look down.
Across the ice field, an afterimage flashed like lightning.
The scattered dajians nearby were completely ignored.
"...Holy shit!" Gu Zhazha murmured at first. Then, as if experiencing a dying burst of vitality, he suddenly found his strength. "Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!"
Having spent so long in a Huaxia-dominated legion, Commander Gu Zhazha pronounced those two characters of Huaxia profanity with absolute perfection, both in accent and intonation.
Gu Zhazha naturally recognized him.
"But what is he doing here?!"
Major Qing had not appeared on the battlefield—this was a fact the entire world had already accepted. If, under such circumstances, some among the general public still harbored hopes born of fantasy, then the members of Stream Vanguard themselves were the ones who held the least hope.
That kid had been like a simpleton for a long time now, and hadn't recovered in the end.
Yet here he was.
"The King!" his subordinates shouted in wild excitement.
"Qingzi!" Gu Zhazha yelled as well.
*His speed... it's so fast!* When Gu Zhazha suddenly realized this, his mind buzzed, freezing in place.
At the same time, Han Qingyu turned his head and looked toward them.
*Crap, there's no way to explain this.* The instant he came to his senses, Gu Zhazha immediately realized another problem: why was he here?
Thinking this, he desperately braced his upper body, pointed at the gruesome, bloody hole in his chest, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I'm badly wounded! Dying! Wanted to cover the rear..."
Gu Zhazha had to make Han Qingyu know this. Otherwise, he would carry the regret and grievance to his grave, unable to die in peace.
With a nod—regardless of whether they could see the gesture—Han Qingyu flipped his wrist mid-stride, and a blue crystal source energy block appeared in his palm.
Drained dry.
Infused back in.
Completed in an instant.
"Seems to work." The subtle loss of life source energy was felt.
Han Qingyu waved his hand. *Whoosh!* The reinfused life source energy block cut through the wind, flying straight toward the summit of Ice Peak 116.
"Live," he said.
He spoke it, not shouted it, like a calm and resolute command.
Even as he spoke, he had already crested the Transantarctic Mountains, yet under the precise manipulation of his released source energy, his voice traveled clearly into the ears of Gu Zhazha and his men.
At this moment, they could finally be certain.
That guy was back.
Chapter 806