Chapter Twenty-One: The Cruel War

Chapter Twenty-One: The Cruel War

Before Yunyang even reached the tent, he heard Old Li’s signature tirade echoing through the camp.

“You little rascal, I told you to upgrade my tank, and you quit on me yesterday! If there hadn’t been so many officers in the command room, I’d have kicked you myself right then and there!”

Yunyang had thought he’d escaped Old Li’s wrath for the day; never did he expect to run straight into trouble. There was no avoiding it now—he’d have to grit his teeth and endure the scolding. After all, he really wasn’t cut out for this task.

He walked up to Old Li with an innocent face, forcing a smile as he listened to the barrage of curses, then began to plead his case.

“Uncle Li, I honestly can’t do it. There are just too many parts in the tank. I don’t have enough energy. I worked for three hours yesterday and used up everything I had, only managed to reinforce half of it. There’s nothing I can do.”

Old Li scoffed at his excuse. Qingxue had already told him yesterday that Yunyang had given up, saying he wouldn’t do it anymore. Now he was trying to play the victim—too late for that.

“I don’t care. You agreed, and you ate the dish I gave you yesterday. You’ll do it whether you want to or not. If you don’t, cough up that food right now!”

“That’s a bit difficult... let me try.” The energy required for a super soldier was immense; any food consumed was instantly digested into energy, leaving nothing behind. Still, Yunyang made a show of sticking his finger down his throat, gagging twice, but nothing came up.

Seeing Yunyang’s antics, Old Li kicked him squarely on the rear. “Get out of here! Don’t bother coming back until you’re done. I’ve already had your bed removed. If you don’t finish the job, be ready to sleep on the floor—or better yet, just sleep on the ground!”

After Old Li left without a backward glance, Yunyang gazed helplessly at the sky, his mind racing. Suddenly, he turned to glare at Angel Qingxue.

“So, you really are the supervisor! Just wait, I’ll deal with you today!” He bared his teeth and lunged at her.

Angel Qingxue, seeing the look in his eyes and hearing his words, immediately understood. Before Yunyang could reach her, she spun around and took off running.

In no time, the two of them—one chasing, one fleeing—arrived at the logistics camp. Yunyang realized with a sinking heart that he’d been set up.

Once more standing before the tank from yesterday, Yunyang’s face twisted in misery. His energy had only just recovered, and now he’d have to expend it all again without even a moment of respite. But there was no choice; he reached out to use his ability when the ever-resourceful Qingxue spoke up.

“Yunyang, maybe we should try a different approach. No matter how strong the existing materials are, these tanks can’t withstand the enemy’s energy cannons. Why not reinforce the firepower instead?”

Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it? There was no need to reinforce everything—just focus on the turret. Some extra armor wouldn’t hurt either; every shot absorbed was one more life saved.

Delighted, Yunyang gave Qingxue a thumbs-up. Her idea was brilliant.

So it went—one tank a day. After a month, the army reached the border between Qilu and Yanzhao, where they rested for the night. Old Li then ordered a forced march to accelerate their advance toward North Star.

The next day, less than thirty kilometers into their march, the Giant Wolf civilization discovered them. With a force of over forty thousand, it would have been impossible to go unnoticed.

The troops, caught in column, were hit with a fierce artillery barrage. Because the formation was stretched out, the number of casualties was limited, but still, three hundred elite warriors fell. In less than a minute, the chaos subsided, and the benefits of their rigorous training became apparent. Thanks to their discipline and Yunyang’s enhanced weapons, one enemy gunboat after another was shot down.

But the enemy’s air superiority was undeniable. For every gunboat destroyed, seven or eight soldiers were lost.

Still, morale remained high. In the past, their weapons couldn’t even scratch those airborne “turtles.” Now, being able to bring them down filled everyone with excitement—no one noticed how quickly their comrades were falling.

Now, some Giant Wolf ships hovered close to the ground, disgorging about five thousand wolf soldiers, some clad in exoskeleton armor resembling fearless warriors.

At the sight of the enemy’s impressive gear, the Chinese soldiers grew envious and concentrated their fire on these “fearless warriors.” Only a few fell; the rest led the charge, rallying the Giant Wolves.

The ground battle intensified. The Chinese fighters, driven by their sense of duty, showed no fear, while the Giant Wolves, emboldened by their superior equipment, pressed the attack. The tanks, busy firing at the ships overhead, could not support the ground troops. Small enemy ships went down with a single shot—if hit.

The artillery units suffered the most; field guns had to stop to fire, making the crews easy targets. Even so, under heavy losses, they managed to provide sporadic support for the front lines.

In the end, at Old Li’s tearful order, the artillery units abandoned their guns and retreated—only three in ten survived.

With the artillery gone, the front-line troops fought even more desperately. Ordinary Giant Wolves could be brought down with a single shot, but the “fearless warriors” were another matter. Their armor was so thick that rifles, which could down gunboats, now did little more than make noise unless dozens concentrated their fire. But whenever they tried, other Giant Wolves took advantage of the distraction.

To kill one “fearless warrior” cost a dozen or more young lives—a terrible price.

There were a thousand of these enemies in total. The Chinese forces could not afford to lose twenty thousand men just to eliminate them. Not unless it was a matter of life and death.

Meanwhile, Yunyang was in the command room of an enemy ship, slumped in his chair, troubled. The ship’s autopilot meant it wouldn’t stop even if the crew was killed.

After some observation, he spotted a large red button in the corner of the console, marked with a skull reminiscent of a human one. No need to guess—it was the self-destruct button. Smashing the glass, he pressed it, and the ship’s alarms blared, warning everyone to evacuate.

Moments later, the largest ship in the enemy fleet exploded before the soldiers’ eyes. The Giant Wolves panicked, lifting their ships higher and giving the Chinese troops more time to take cover. Accuracy dropped sharply.

While the wolves in the sky were in chaos, those on the ground were driven to frenzy. They’d been ordered to break through the enemy lines at all costs—victory meant promotion and glory; defeat meant certain death.

Unwilling to hide any longer, the “fearless warriors” charged, determined to draw the enemy’s fire and allow their comrades to break through. More than eight hundred formed a line and strode rapidly toward the Chinese positions.

The lines were only about a hundred meters apart, but it took the “fearless warriors” nearly a minute—and the loss of over three hundred of their own—to cross the deadly ground.

As they broke into the trenches, the rest of the Giant Wolves followed, howling. How they ate without mouths was anyone’s guess—could it be...?

Face to face with the enemy, the defenders concentrated their fire, bringing down another hundred or so. Fewer than four hundred “fearless warriors” remained, and they began a massacre along the kilometer-long front.

But then, a figure wielding a sacred sword moved among the giants. Wherever she passed, the seemingly invincible “fearless warriors” fell as if made of paper, their heads rolling to the ground.

Why always the head? Should you ask Qingxue, she would say it was simply too convenient: the Giant Wolves were hunched, their heads jutted forward—it was an easy target.

In less than two minutes, the once-mighty “fearless warriors” lay dead, their unstoppable charge broken.

On the front lines, Angel Qingxue displayed her divine power. Meanwhile, Yunyang was slicing through enemy ships, triggering self-destructs left and right. The Giant Wolf command was truly shaken now. Seeing the ground forces nearly wiped out, they ordered a retreat.

The man seemed even more formidable than the Legion of Heroes, and the woman wielded a weapon like that of the angels. Survival came first—they withdrew in haste.

After six hours of brutal fighting, the cost was grievous: over six thousand soldiers killed, three thousand wounded and rendered combat ineffective. The enemy’s weapons were too powerful; more died than survived. Ordinary soldiers were no match for aliens, even with Yunyang and Angel Qingxue’s help.

That night, Yunyang wept bitterly. Many familiar faces were among the fallen. For the first time, life seemed unbearably fragile, vanishing at the slightest breeze. He had worked so hard to upgrade their weapons—why was the gap still so vast?

The next morning, Yunyang awoke to find a new task: reinforce twenty thousand weapons for the soldiers. He accepted gladly. Only he knew what had happened the night before, and he was determined to face his comrades with renewed spirit, to give them the confidence to win.

Old Li, watching Yunyang busily upgrading the weapons, wondered if the battle had finally awakened him. He’d worried the young man would be traumatized by his first real fight, but what he didn’t know was that Yunyang had already died once—he was not so easily broken.

At the workstation marked “Weapon Reinforcement,” Qingxue spotted Yunyang staring blankly at a dagger in his hand. She set down his water and asked,

“Yunyang, what’s wrong? You’re daydreaming.”

“I just can’t figure out what this kid is thinking. He actually wants me to turn this dagger gold!” Yunyang snapped out of his reverie at her words, pointing at the young soldier before him and roaring in exasperation.