“Why…why have we stopped?” Wang Bao asked, panting and bracing himself against the trench wall.
“We must be close enough,” the veteran said, setting down his plank along with the Wang brothers. He took out his shovel and began digging into the mud. “The second front line is further south. If we’re caught, we’ll be treated as deserters.”
“Uncle…” Wang Hu handed the veteran a box of matches. “Why haven’t we seen a single living soul on the way here?”
“Our company had almost a hundred men in total. Two-thirds of them died in the first two days of the battle,” the veteran said, pocketing the matches. He squeezed into a small hole he’d dug for himself, then covered himself with mud and debris. “From the third day until now, there are barely more than a handful of us left alive.”
“Even those who managed to survive are mostly hiding in trenches like me. If we weren’t so far forward, I wouldn’t have wanted to move.”
The veteran concealed himself in the trench and gave the Wang brothers his final advice in a muffled, hoarse voice: “If you want to live longer, hide. This is a civil war, after all, and their treatment of prisoners won’t differ much.”
Wang Hu was silent for a moment, then said, “Let’s go a little further south. Walk hunched over, don’t show yourselves.”
Wang Lang and Wang Bao couldn’t help but glance towards the Yellow River Bridge. The trench they had just been in had been bombarded by artillery. Wang Bao even saw the empty ammunition box he had been sitting on being blown to pieces.
Just as the Wang brothers were about to continue south along the trench, Wang Bao suddenly pointed towards the bridge and exclaimed, “What is that?!”
…
“General Huang Quan, thank you for coming to our aid,” an officer said, serving Huang Quan tea and pouring water. He had no trace of a soldier’s backbone. He lit a cigarette for Huang Quan and continued, “The two divisions and artillery regiment you brought are invaluable. After this bombardment, our troops will have a clear path forward!”
“Alright, alright, stop flattering me,” Huang Quan said, crossing his legs and flicking ashes carelessly. “General Qian, exchanging twenty thousand men for a bridge. You’re quite capable.”
“Where… no, it’s mainly that there were too many enemy soldiers, at least over a hundred thousand…”
“General Qian, I’m not here to listen to your excuses,” Huang Quan said, shaking his head and stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette. “Regardless, the higher-ups believe your casualties were a bit too high. Even if you capture Jibei City later, you’ll likely be demoted.”
“This… Sir, Sir, you…”
Seeing that the old fellow was still playing dumb, Huang Quan grew annoyed. He stood up directly and plunged his ability-hunting knife into the table. “Qian, how much did you pay to get command of this battle?”
“On and off… nearly two to three hundred thousand…”
“And how much military pay have you pocketed now?”
“Sir, you wrong me… your subordinate…”
“How could your Qian family produce such a useless person?” Huang Quan slapped the officer, saying, “Do you think I don’t know who signed off on this? Do you think I don’t know how capable you are or why you’re here? Speak! How much did you pocket?!”
The officer got up from the ground, clutching his face, and stammered, “I pocketed nearly a million…”
“How much?!”
“Over nine hundred and eighty thousand…” The officer, expecting to be hit again, quickly covered his face, but only a cold laugh echoed in response.
“No wonder so many people died,” Huang Quan said with a sneer. “Give me six hundred thousand, and I’ll help you settle this matter.”
“Ah?… This…”
“Do you think you can gloss over losing over ten thousand Central Army soldiers by saying the enemy had superior numbers? I’m not bargaining with you; this is a simple transaction.” Huang Quan looked at the officer. “Without connections, you wouldn’t even get this hundred thousand, and you might even be eliminated by people from other families.”
The officer remained silent, clearly pained by the thought of the money.
“Ignorant greed…” Huang Quan shook his head and stood up. “Decide for yourself.”
Seeing Huang Quan walk away without looking back, the officer panicked. He immediately scrambled to block Huang Quan, kowtowing to him and saying, “Your subordinate is foolish, please forgive me, Sir. I implore you to help your subordinate this once…”
He took the bait.
Huang Quan’s lips curved into a slight smile, but he pretended not to see, intending to bypass the officer and leave the headquarters.
“Sir…”
Just as the officer desperately tried to stop him, Huang Quan suddenly stopped, bumping into him. He hurriedly looked up, only to see Huang Quan staring into the distance with a look of shock.
The officer followed his gaze and saw something he would never forget in his life.
…
Ten minutes earlier, Yellow River Bridge.
Mo Chuan enveloped himself in the Netherworld Azure Flame and drifted with the Yellow River’s current towards the bridge.
Don’t ask why; he just lacked long-range teleportation and sustained acceleration.
Observing the roaring cannons on the north bank and knowing the strength of the defenders on the south bank, Mo Chuan understood that this advance would push the artillery fire to the foot of Jibei City.
Mo Chuan wanted to do something.
First, to slow down the advance of the northern army, prolonging the battle and increasing the consumption on both sides, which would greatly benefit Xuanyuan Qi.
And this would also buy more time for the civilians in Jibei City to evacuate.
However, Mo Chuan was unwilling to commit large-scale slaughter, as this was a civil war, not a war of resistance against invasion.
Second, to infiltrate the enemy camp and see if there was anyone he was looking for.
With this thought, Mo Chuan threw out a grappling hook, pulling himself onto the bridge.
The bridge was a bloody mess.
Discarded firearms, scattered shell casings, torn strips of cloth, haphazardly piled up fortifications, and vast patches of blood.
The first thing Mo Chuan intended to do was blow up the bridge.
If it weren't for the swiftness of Suiren Fang's surprise attack, the Southeast Alliance would have had a chance to blow up the bridge.
With a raise of his hand, several bursts of [Barren] spiritual energy explosions swept across the entire bridge, sending the southern half of the bridge directly into the rapid river.
The cannons on the north bank even ceased firing for a few seconds in response.
A large number of spiritual energy explosions then swept through the remaining parts of the bridge until the entire structure plunged into the Yellow River.
Mo Chuan stood on the fractured concrete bridge and nodded with satisfaction. Then, with a wave of his hand, he began to deploy his domain.
The murky sky suddenly became much cleaner – a pure black.
This barrier, mixed with the chill of death, ghostly aura, and absolute stillness, seemed to tear open a rift in the center of the battlefield, appearing particularly abrupt.
But this was not what shocked Huang Quan.
What shocked him was that all the shells fired towards the south bank were actually intercepted by this domain!
Huang Quan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, kicked away the officer clinging to his ankle, and quickly rushed towards the bridge.