He could run. There was a real chance he could make it back to his own country.
But he didn't dare. Deserters got executed with a sledgehammer, and he had no desire to experience Wagner's hammer punishment. And if he ran, what about his distant relatives in Moscow? They would definitely face reprisals. Sure, they weren't really his relatives, but he had taken over "Chen Ge"'s identity. If innocent people died because of him, his conscience would never let him rest.
After wrestling with it for a long time, he decided to grit his teeth and keep working as a mercenary.
Before transmigrating, he had studied interior design at a five-year integrated vocational college. The degree had been a complete waste. He graduated in 2021, right in the worst year of the pandemic, and simply enlisted.
It wasn't that he couldn't handle hardship. It was just too damn hard, and after two years he left the service.
With a soldier's foundation, plus "Chen Ge"'s freakish eyesight and absurd artillery sense, he quickly adapted to mercenary life.
A month later, the Russia-Ukraine war broke out on schedule. He hid in the barracks, using a tin can as an incense burner and cigarettes as incense sticks, praying every day to the gods and his ancestors to keep him from being transferred to Ukraine.
Maybe his ancestors had answered his prayers. Wagner really didn't send him back to Europe. Not in March, not in April, not in May. He gradually relaxed. Each day's work was guarding oil fields and fighting IS, and in his free time he worked out hard, pushing his body to its limits.
The body is the capital of revolution. In a high-risk line of work like being a mercenary, you needed a powerful physique.
But heaven didn't grant his wish. Seven days ago, the Falcon Hunting Team received transfer orders, packed up, and headed for Belarus.
This afternoon, they crossed into Russia from Belarus and arrived in Klintsy. He knew where they were going: Donetsk Oblast. Bakhmut!
Damn this war. Suka blyat!
"Hammer, don't worry. I believe you'll make it home alive," Ivan said quietly when he saw how grim Chen Ge looked.
Chen Ge smiled and nodded. "Of course I'll make it home. You will too. All five of us will live."
Ivan was six foot two and 265 pounds, built like a bear. He ate enormous amounts and was far stronger than an ordinary man, though he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Trench had assigned Ivan to carry shells for Chen Ge.
The guy hauled a PKM with two ammo boxes on his belt and could still easily shoulder a large custom frame loaded with 30 rounds of 60mm mortar shells. He was a walking ammo truck.
Their team's callsign was Falcon. It was attached to the Syrian Army 5th Assault Corps, had 75 men, was formed in 2017, and was one of the special forces units within the Wagner Group.
After being transferred to the Russia-Ukraine front, it came under the Wagner First Assault Detachment, answering to the ace detachment commanded by Ratibor.
The captain's callsign was Trench, and the deputy captain's was Hail. The four assault group leaders were Rock of First Group, Fortress of Second Group, Iceman of Third Group, and Drill of Fourth Group. The demolition group leader was Thunder, the recon scout was Nighthawk, the sniper was Quiver, and the communications specialist was Carrier Pigeon. He was the fire group leader.
Ivan's code name was Big Bear. He was the main ammo bearer. Andrei's code name was Night Owl; he was the observer and assistant ammo bearer. Korolenko's code name was Lightbulb, and Pushkarev's was Manhole Cover. They were assistant ammo bearers too, and Manhole Cover doubled as a bodyguard, tasked specifically with keeping Chen Ge safe.
He had fought shoulder to shoulder with the four of them in Syria for more than half a year, and they had formed a deep friendship. The four of them genuinely looked up to him.
The other teammates were all friendly to him too. After all, who wouldn't want a teammate on the battlefield who could use a mortar like a sniper rifle?
In the fighting against IS, whenever they came under suppressing fire, one shout over the radio was all it took. In under ten seconds, shells came crashing down. With this human mortar picking off enemy firing positions with precision, their team had a high mission completion rate and few casualties, and their bonuses were double what other teams got.
So who wouldn't like him?
"Sledge, once we're in Bakhmut, we'll need to change tactics. From any one position, we fire five rounds at most, then we have to run. What do you think?"
Night Owl rolled over and sat up, his gaze intense as he looked at Chen Ge.
Big Bear, Lightbulb, and Manhole Cover looked at him too. The five of them were grasshoppers tied to the same string, living or dying together. If Chen Ge was targeted, none of them would survive. If a large-caliber shell or a missile came down on them, they'd all die.
"Five? Three at most. Every shell past three is an insult to life. Don't overthink it. God will watch over you."
Manhole Cover asked doubtfully, "What about you? Who watches over you?"
"My ancestors!"
Chen Ge smiled and walked over to the empty lower bunk in the corner by the right wall. He unfastened his tactical vest and belt and tossed them onto the filthy mattress, then turned and headed out to the toilet.
The communal bathroom at the end of the corridor was filthy. The concrete floor was slippery, and there were five squat toilets. Chen Ge picked one that was relatively clean, undid his belt, squatted down, and pulled a half pack of Hongta Mountain Classic 1956 export cigarettes from the chest pocket of his camo jacket. He took one out, put it between his lips, and lit it.
Phew. The smoke drove away the stench. Chen Ge pulled out his phone and opened Yappy, the Russian version of Douyin.
The MTS SIM card had terrible signal, only 3G. It was probably because the unit was stationed on the outskirts. Videos wouldn't even load.
"Damn Big Goose. The moment my contract expires in half a year, I'm going home. I will never set foot in Big Goose again. Fuck!"
Cursing under his breath, Chen Ge closed Yappy and opened VK, the Big Goose version of WeChat.
The original "Chen Ge" hadn't had many friends, only keeping in touch with a few relatives. He had fewer than 50 WeChat friends and 104 VK friends, most of them Wagner teammates and a few Russian girls.
"Chen Ge" was quite good-looking. He stood six foot one, with the build of a tiger's back, a wasp's waist, and mantis legs, sharp, well-defined features, and a strikingly handsome, heroic look that practically radiated aggression, along with a ton of sex appeal. He worked at his relatives' restaurant, where female customers often hit on him.
At first the kid had been shy, but once he got a taste for it, he let himself go and played around wildly. He had had something going on with more than a dozen Russian girls.
Chen Ge had taken over "Chen Ge"'s identity. He didn't delete these women, but he didn't chat with them either.
Oleg: Kostya, did you make it into the country?
Kostya was short for Konstantin, or Kang Siding in Chinese. "Chen Ge" had picked the Russian name himself.
Chen Ge replied: Yep, here. Headed to Donetsk tomorrow.
Oleg was silent for several seconds before replying: Bakhmut? Kid, be careful. If you die, I'll never forgive myself for the rest of my life.
Chen Ge was a little moved. From the moment he had transmigrated until now, Oleg had checked in on him every few days, his tone full of guilt.
Oleg was stubbornly convinced that if he hadn't run his mouth and bragged about him to Mikhail, "Chen Ge" never would have gone off to work as a mercenary, living on the edge of a blade and risking death in a foreign land at any moment.
Even though "Chen Ge" had gone of his own free will, Oleg still blamed himself.
Chen Ge's mouth curved into a mischievous smirk, and he replied: Bro, if I die in Bakhmut, please give my death benefit to Sofia, and tell her... nah, never mind. I'll tell Sofia my last words myself.
Oleg: Ty gad! Sofia is only 15!!
Then came a string of voice messages, ten, dozens of seconds long.
Chen Ge couldn't help laughing out loud. He didn't need to play them to know Oleg was cursing a blue streak.
He wasn't a beast. He had no interest in Oleg's young daughter Sofia. He was only messing with the old guy on purpose.
Just as he was about to keep teasing Oleg, he suddenly felt an itch on his neck. The next second, a sharp, stinging pain shot through it. His left hand reflexively dropped the half-smoked cigarette, and he reached up and slapped the back of his neck.
His palm hit something furry. His whole body went rigid, and he instinctively closed his fingers around it and brought it in front of his eyes. It was a pure black spider, and a huge one.
It really was big. Its body was about four centimeters long, and its leg span was at least ten centimeters, wider than his palm.
Its cephalothorax, abdomen, and legs were all a matte pure black, with no markings or other colors. Its entire body was covered in dense black bristles, which made it look even bigger, and it prickled against his fingers.
Eight eyes were arranged in three rows. The two large eyes in the middle row faced forward, glossy black like black gems, staring right back at him.
A wolf spider???
Chen Ge's eyes widened. He knew this thing. He'd even been bitten by one before transmigrating. He'd just never seen one this big, or a black wolf spider.
Weren't wolf spiders all gray-brown, tan, or dark brown, with obvious markings?
A mutant?
Hiss... it hurts!
A burning pain spread from the back of his neck. Grimacing, he hurled the struggling spider against the opposite wall.
Smack. The wolf spider hit the wall and bounced back in front of Chen Ge. It wasn't dead yet, its eight legs still flailing.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Ge rubbed the back of his neck, wiped himself clean, stood up, and fastened his belt. Then he raised his big size-12 foot and crushed the wolf spider, grinding it to a pulp.
What he didn't notice was that the fluid that burst from the spider's abdomen was a brilliant sapphire blue that quickly turned gray-white.
"Weird. Aren't wolf spiders burrow dwellers? How did one end up in the bathroom? Good thing it wasn't a black widow!"
Chen Ge grumbled to himself and didn't think much of it. Wolf spiders were only mildly venomous. The wound would be red, swollen, and sore for a few days, and then it would be fine.
If it had been a black widow, he'd have had to rush to the hospital. Any later, and he'd be laid out in a box.
"Sledge, what are you stomping on?"
Deputy Captain Hail walked into the bathroom and happened to catch the scene. He asked, puzzled.
Chen Ge wasn't about to admit he'd been bitten by a spider while taking a shit. That would be way too embarrassing.
"My feet fell asleep from squatting. Just stomping to wake them up. Have you eaten, Captain?"
Hail's mouth twitched hard a few times. He ignored Chen Ge, walked over to the next squat toilet, and took a leak.
"Departure's been moved up. We roll at two in the morning. Go get some sleep. I'm sure you won't sleep much on the way."
Moving up the trip to Bakhmut?
Chen Ge frowned. "Are we taking a military train or a plane?"
Hail rolled his eyes, gave his hose a shake, tucked it away, and zipped up. "No plane for us," he said irritably. "We're taking a military train. We should reach Donetsk by ten tomorrow night, rest one night, and arrive in Bakhmut before noon the day after tomorrow."
With that, Hail reached out to pat Chen Ge on the shoulder. Chen Ge dodged, then pulled out his cigarette pack and offered Hail one.
Hail shot him a glare, took the cigarette, and put it between his lips. He pulled a windproof lighter from his pocket and lit it.
He took a deep drag and looked at this good-natured young man, whose character and conduct were beyond reproach. Lowering his voice, he said, "Bakhmut isn't Syria, and the Ukrainian army isn't IS. Try not to make yourself too conspicuous, understand?"
Chen Ge nodded firmly. "I understand. Thanks, Captain."
Lightning-fast, Hail raised his left hand and patted Chen Ge on the shoulder, then turned and strode out, laughing heartily.
The bit of emotion Chen Ge had just felt vanished in an instant. He wanted to kick Hail in the ass.
Touching the hot, hardened bite on the back of his neck, he went back to dorm 204, relayed the order to leave early to Lightbulb and the others, chatted with them for a bit, then pulled out his sleeping bag, took off his camo uniform, and crawled in.
Stick your head out and it's one cut of the knife, pull it back and it's still one cut. Since there was no escaping it, he might as well accept what fate had in store.
Chapter 2