Chapter 68 - Cursing in the Streets

Flowers, plants, hanging calligraphy, and paintings decorated the office of Lu Wuzheng, commander of the Ninth Army of the Azure Coalition’s Oriental Republic Army Group. It was perhaps the most refined space in the entire Only Witness Legion.

Qi Shantong, the head training officer overseeing all recruits during the armoring phase, paced back and forth in front of Lu Wuzheng’s desk, gesticulating wildly, his expression one of visible displeasure.

“Come on, Old Lu. Why did you bring them back?! Just leave them there, at District 1123! They can just continue their field exercise once the lockdown and cleanup are done! This is a rare opportunity. Don’t let them walk out of the fear and pain so easily. We could even have them do the site cleanup themselves.” Qi Shantong paused, then slammed his left fist into his right palm. “Yes, exactly. Let them do it. That’s how you forge good soldiers.”

He turned and fixed Lu Wuzheng with a zealous, expectant stare. Though both men held the rank of major general, the final say naturally belonged to the army commander, Lu Wuzheng.

Lu Wuzheng looked up and silently met his gaze.

“This really would produce excellent soldiers.” Qi Shantong emphasized. “I’m grieving too, but the Coalition needs to look forward. It needs to—"

“The Coalition does need good soldiers,” Lu Wuzheng cut in. “But more than that, it needs people who still have warmth in them.”

With that, he raised a hand to point stiffly at his office door in an obvious dismissal.

Qi Shantong still didn’t leave. In fact, it seemed like he was gearing up to say more.

“They’re already on their way back,” Lu Wuzheng added. “I still have the final say in the Ninth Army.”

Qi Shantong stared at him for a moment, then turned to leave, slamming the door behind him.

The impact rattled the walls. Lu Wuzheng stared at the door for a while, then slowly shook his head with a bitter smile.

That was just how things were. Although they all served the Coalition and shared the same overarching goal, there were inevitable differences in philosophy and the details of execution.

For example, scientists in the Azure Coalition’s international research system publicly or privately raised the same proposal every few years, suggesting they explore the possibility of cultivating Coalition soldiers without individual consciousness. These soldiers would be purpose-built for desperate combat, and the process would involve starting when they were still children.

They had never put the proposal into practice, of course, not even as a preliminary trial. Each time, it was harshly rejected and suppressed.

Yet it also never lacked supporters.

Qi Shantong, for instance, had always openly supported the idea, arguing that the battles the Coalition faced in the future were far beyond what their soldiers could handle.

There were also many positions in the Coalition on how to respond if the worst came to pass and their defense fell.

One faction proposed letting the enemy land, then using nuclear weapons to scour everything clean, hoping to destroy enough to force them to give up. This group was known internally as the Shattered Jade faction.[1]

Whether they were scientific extremists or the Shattered Jade faction, their proposals had never been adopted. Their people, however, were still accepted as comrades and colleagues. So long as the mainstream held, the Coalition would always need different ideas and people with different temperaments and convictions.

The mad and the monstrous could both serve a purpose.

At least we’re all defending Azure, aren’t we? And the mainstream has never changed. They’re all better than those sons of bitches in the Wipers.

The thought of the Wipers had Lu Wuzheng standing and hurling a cup at the wall. The shattering seemed like the only way he could vent the fury and bitterness inside him.

The army commander had scores to settle. After sitting back down, he picked up the phone and called the same man who had just stormed out.

“I’m handing Old Wu over to you for interrogation,” he said flatly, expression grim.

“Alright.” That single word from Qi Shantong held a faint thrill of excitement.

The “Old Wu” in question was a longtime colleague, a veteran of the Ninth Army. He was the deputy director of the Information Control Center. Unbeknownst to them, he was also a Snow Lotus operative, a Wiper embedded in the Coalition for fifteen or sixteen years, diligently waiting for his time to strike.

He had been on duty during the battle in District 1123. That had been the most brutal engagement in recent years, and when the distress call came in, he had judged it to be the best opportunity his years of deep cover had ever given him. The potential outcome of the incident was worth blowing his cover for.

So, he murdered the four colleagues on shift with him, blocked all communication signals in District 1123, and broadcast the following message to the other districts: “Crisis resolved. District 1123 is now secure. Cease all rescue operations. Crisis resolved. Cease all rescue operations.”

After hanging up, Lu Wuzheng muttered to himself, “Madman Qi, you’ve always preached cruelty, haven’t you? Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, he leaned back in his chair, lifted his legs onto his desk, and closed his eyes. His expression gradually twisted with pain, as though crushed under the weight of guilt and stress.

***

The vehicle rattled along all night. No one spoke the entire ride.

For the first time, gaining source energy brought Han Qingyu no joy, even though he could clearly sense that his physical capabilities had risen another level.

He Tangtang silently spent the entire ride replaying everything and concluded that he had been pretty useless.

As for Liu Shiheng, his blade had been returned to him earlier, and it brought with it a complex mix of emotions.

It was strange. Liu Shiheng had never imagined he would one day fight for his life, hacking at Sharpies, yet his blade had already done exactly that—and not just one Sharpie either.

Moreover, Zhang Dao’an himself had wielded it.

The blade seemed impossibly heavy. Liu Shiheng felt unworthy of holding it. Whenever he gripped it, a restless unease itched at him.

“Get ready to disembark,” Mira called out, sounding drained.

The vehicle stopped. The sky was already growing dark as night fell.

They were back at the Ninth Army’s combat training base.

Some would never return.

The staff from Regiment 425’s headquarters had arrived before them. Regiment Commander Li Wangqiang stood at the entrance to the training base with several of his staff officers. Lao Jian was there too. When they saw the recruits approaching, they raised their hands in greeting and lowered them again, saying nothing.

As Han Qingyu walked past, Li Wangqiang reached out and patted him on the ‌shoulder without a word. Lao Jian reached out and ruffled his hair.

Li Wangqiang repeated the same motions of patting He Tangtang’s shoulder as he passed by too. The same pattern repeated with Liu Shiheng.

In this manner, he counted every recruit of the 425th as they passed, patting their shoulders one by one until the very last one had passed.

“Is there another vehicle?” Li Wangqiang asked, rising on his toes and craning his neck. “Are there more coming? There should be more. Let’s wait a little longer for them.”

An officer in charge of transporting the field exercise recruits walked up to him, saluted, and said, “I’m sorry, Regiment Commander Li, but this... this is everyone.”

Li Wangqiang stood there with his head bowed for a few seconds. Then he let out a raw, guttural wail, dropping into a squat and clutching his hair.

“Gone,” he said, voice cracking. “Just like that, I’m down seven instructors and sixty-nine recruits. They-they only just got their armor! Aaaaargh!”

Even for a regiment fighting on the front lines, and even accounting for the increased frequency of Sharpie landings this year, the 425th had never suffered a single loss this devastating. The regiment commander crouched there, muttering to himself in anguish.

After a while, he shot to his feet, pointed at the Ninth Army’s headquarters building, and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Lu Wuzheng! Qi Shantong! Fuck you and all your ancestors! Give me back my people!”

His staff officers rushed forward with tears in their eyes, grabbing him in an attempt to cover his mouth. Li Wangqiang simply shook them off and kept cursing.

Inside the headquarters building, a guard asked cautiously, “Commander Lu?”

“Let him curse. He’s right to,” Lu Wuzheng said. “Has my accountability report been submitted?”

The guard nodded. “It has.”

***

Han Qingyu and the others were walking by when they spotted Wen Jifei standing at the side of the road leading to the mess hall.

They headed over.

“I heard Old Zhang didn’t come back?” Wen Jifei asked.

Han Qingyu took a moment to find his words. “Yeah.”

“You know, the day before you all left, he came and hid out at my place, shelling peanuts and chatting. When he left, I told him to just take the whole bag with him to share with you. He said that would look ridiculous and that he couldn’t let you all see him like that. Had to keep his authority.” Wen Jifei paused, then abruptly changed the subject. “You guys should go eat first.”

After another moment, he added, “That’s just how it goes in this lousy place, serving as lousy soldiers. You never know which everyday meeting or casual goodbye will be the last. Alright, anyway, see you tomorrow. You’ll feel better with time.”

With that, he waved and turned to walk alone toward the equipment yard.

As he walked, he lowered his head and subtly wiped the corners of his eyes. His tears were for the man who had once forced him to admit he was useless, who had tried to trick him with dried tofu and pickled mustard greens, and who had said that Wen Jifei reminded him a little of his younger self. Head Instructor Zhang. Zhang Dao’an. Old Zhang.

1. Shattered Jade is likely a reference to wuxia novels, where characters often shatter their jade slips to release a last-resort attack. ☜