Chapter Sixty-Nine: Battle Alarm

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Tan Hai, Wu Ming, and a few others immediately began to tease from the side.

Du Huaishan had always attracted the attention of the female soldiers; it was nothing new. Jokes like this were a common occurrence.

But Xu Yuan seemed unmoved by Li Anqi’s antics, her expression remaining cold and aloof. “I’m always like this.”

“There you go! Even what you say is so sparse!” Li Anqi narrowed her eyes and leaned in, her ample chest pressed right against Xu Yuan’s shoulder, her lips almost brushing Xu Yuan’s—as if she wanted to see if Xu Yuan’s breath would falter.

“Caring for teammates is normal,” Xu Yuan replied, instinctively stepping back and nodding politely. “I’m going to practice my strikes.”

With that, she turned and left. Yet as she walked away from the group, a faint blush swept across her delicate, oval face for reasons she couldn’t comprehend.

“Hahaha, Li Anqi, you just had dumplings, your breath must have driven Xu Yuan away!” Wu Ming joked.

“Get lost! I do not have bad breath!” Li Anqi planted her fists on her hips and snorted. “Xu Yuan must have felt guilty, that’s all!”

“Li Anqi, if only your personality could blend a little with Xu Yuan’s. The two of you—one is all openness, the other completely reserved,” Du Huaishan shook his head with a smile.

“So which do you prefer—open or reserved?” Li Anqi suddenly leaned in, her interest piqued.

For a moment, quite a few people pricked up their ears. Despite Du Huaishan’s popularity with the female soldiers, he’d never once said what kind of woman he liked. Old Wu had even joked about his orientation.

Du Huaishan replied, “I like those who are good-looking.”

“That’s as good as saying nothing!” Li Anqi gritted her teeth in mock frustration.

Whoosh!

The giant bonfire at the center was lit, its orange glow illuminating every soldier’s face, making their eyes shine with vigor. The festive atmosphere was instantly kindled. Many seasoned soldiers threw their arms around each other, wine flasks in hand, drinking and singing:

“On the battlefield, blood flows free, our hearts cry out in grief.
Home and country beset by woes, yet heroes shed no tears.
Millions of compatriots, standing strong to guard the Great Wall!
No matter what fiends or demons come,
With three-foot blade, we’ll cleave a thousand souls.
Gazing toward Yingzhou, where wind and clouds surge,
We march a thousand miles for glory’s sake,
Crimson Yu’s rivers and mountains endure, golden sun at its zenith!”

It was the battle song of the Yingzhou Army.

Watching the lively scene, Du Huaishan took a swig of wine and bit into a dumpling—celery and pork. On this New Year’s Eve, the Academy of War had kindly allowed the cadets a taste of meat.

For some reason, he suddenly remembered the meal his old Eighth Squad had shared in the mess hall—the time Sun Tian had declared, “The food here’s better than what I get at home for New Year’s.”

Now, it was New Year’s Eve once more…

Du Huaishan raised his wine flask toward the bonfire, pouring out a thin stream of liquor in tribute. To his surprise, he heard droplets splashing nearby.

He glanced aside. It was Tan Hai, Old Wu, and Tingyu.

Old Wu poured his own offering, then took a hearty swallow and sighed, “Brother, who knows how you’re faring down below. Happy New Year—let’s drink together!”

Gulp, gulp.

As the whole Eighth Squad commemorated Sun Tian, a brown wine flask suddenly rolled to their feet.

Du Huaishan bent to pick it up, just as a group approached.

“Thank you.”

A chubby man accepted the flask and gave Du Huaishan a sidelong glance, a hint of recognition dawning. “You’re… that new recruit who fought me in the mess hall, aren’t you?”

At those words, both groups instantly sobered up, the drunken haze lifting.

What a coincidence.

Tan Hai and the others looked the group over and realized—they were the very same veterans they’d brawled with on enlistment day in the mess hall!

The one who’d dropped the flask was the very Chen, the chubby man whom Du Huaishan had thrown over his shoulder, forcing out his demon form.

Du Huaishan’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

Not far away, Xu Yuan and Li Anqi sensed the tension, but before they could rush over, Chen suddenly raised the flask with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. We were in the wrong that day, bullying the new guys. I’ll make it up to you with a drink!”

Fortunately, he spoke quickly; otherwise, seeing him lift the flask, Tan Hai and the others might have thrown theirs right back at him.

Du Huaishan hadn’t expected an apology, but since Chen’s attitude was sincere, he didn’t fuss. “We weren’t without fault either.”

The two clinked flasks and drank.

Guo Tingyu glanced around but didn’t see the buzz-cut man who’d mocked him before. He asked, “Where’s Shi Tou?”

Chen’s face clouded. “Last month, he died during a field exercise.”

“What?!”

Another veteran with thick lips forced a bitter smile. “Shi Tou had an accident—his rappelling line got stuck in a crevice. A demon gnawed his body apart.”

Hearing such a tragic fate, Guo Tingyu and the others felt a pang of sympathy.

“I heard you also had an accident on Qingshi Mountain recently.”

“Yes. We lost a squad member too. The very one who fought you—Sun Tian.”

Just a few months had passed, and so much had changed.

Chen grinned, eyes red, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Looking back, we were so childish. All those grudges… none compare to the blood-hate brought by demons!”

“Yeah, our petty squabbles are nothing compared to them.”

Perhaps the shared loss of a comrade bridged the gap between the two groups. Former “enemies,” new and old soldiers alike, now sat together, drinking and chatting as if they were old friends—no trace of the animosity that once led to brawls.

“Lai, Sui’an, aren’t you going to toast the new recruits?”

By the podium, Zhou Zhong’ai walked up the steps, glancing at the two men seated side by side with wine flasks in hand.

“No need—the kids can’t let loose if we’re around,” Lai Yanlong chuckled.

Chang Sui’an said nothing, just quietly watched the lively recruits and drank alone.

“Lai, don’t say that. The new recruits adore you!” Zhou Zhong’ai teased.

“Oh, I’m not nearly as charming as you are. Speaking of which, Zhong’ai, with all your fine qualities, how come you’re still single?” Lai Yanlong bantered.

“Oh, what qualities do I have? I’m just a woman past her prime; nobody wants me anymore.” Zhou Zhong’ai brushed it off, but her gaze lingered on Chang Sui’an.

Lai Yanlong understood and stroked his goatee, getting to his feet. “Ah, once you reach a certain age, you can’t sit long—it’s getting chilly. I’m off to warm up inside!”

“Take care, Lai.”

Zhou Zhong’ai smiled, her lips curled with amusement, and settled down beside Chang Sui’an. Only then did she notice the wine jar and a plate of dumplings beside him. They’d been there a long time—the dumplings no longer steaming.

She seemed to understand something and said nothing, merely sitting quietly by his side.

New Year’s Eve.

Some sang, some told stories.

Others simply remembered the past.

…

The festivities lasted until midnight was nearly upon them. Logistics brought out new flags and fireworks to celebrate the New Year.

The moment the flag appeared, the entire Academy of War—new recruits, veterans, commanders, even instructors and leaders—rose to their feet.

On the flag was a dragon, a tiger, and a golden shield entwined.

Du Huaishan had read in the Academy’s library that this was the national flag of the Crimson Yu Empire, called the Iron-Blood Dragon-Tiger Banner.

The great banner slowly rose atop the flag platform.

In that instant, the entire Academy of War stood at attention—heels together, backs straight, eyes fixed on the blood-red standard as it climbed to the top.

Bang! Boom!

The fireworks began.

“Wow, so beautiful!” Li Anqi exclaimed, gazing at the colorful blossoms in the sky.

“It’s just past midnight—a new year!” Old Wu pointed to the black-and-white clock on the academy’s main building.

“Happy New Year!”

“Woo~!”

…

As the cadets reveled in the New Year, cheering with abandon—

Suddenly, a loud droning grew overhead. Several helicopters approached from afar, their rotors thunderous enough to drown out the fireworks.

Du Huaishan looked up.

He saw four or five army-green biplanes flying low, skimming over the Academy of War. Through the fireworks, the crowd could just make out the Iron-Blood Dragon-Tiger insignia on their sides—it was their own Yingzhou Army aircraft.

A New Year’s air display?

Hardly likely. The entire Yingzhou Air Corps had only thirty planes, spread across three provinces. There was no way they’d bring so many here just for the holiday.

The veterans and officers looked just as baffled. Some instinctively reached for their belts.

Gradually, Du Huaishan noticed something was wrong. People hurried in and out of the leadership and instructor’s area—many left at once.

After a while, a high-ranking officer appeared on the podium—wool coat, military uniform, major general’s insignia on his shoulders, a chest full of copper and silver stars and medals. It was the Young Marshal: Zhang Yiming.

The copper-circled microphone hissed as he spoke.

“I am Zhang Yiming, commander of the 1st Mixed Brigade and director of the Central Office of the Academy of War. I apologize for disturbing your New Year’s celebration, but I must.

Just moments ago, a critical message arrived from the Shanlong Pass front—the first general assault of the Changyuan Counteroffensive has failed. The 34th and 73rd Brigades have suffered heavy casualties. The demon army has advanced to the Red Line, just five li outside the fortress.

The Grand Marshal has called an emergency council and is dispatching elite reinforcements by air to the Red Line. However, due to limited reserves, it has been decided: all officer cadets are to return to their units. Officers without assigned units, along with all 172nd class soldiers, are to immediately prepare to march to Shanlong Pass and support the allied forces in battle!”

An uproar swept the parade ground.

The Changyuan Counteroffensive failed? Who could have predicted that the coalition army—almost eighty thousand strong—would be defeated?

“Chen, are we… are we really going to the front?” the thick-lipped veteran asked, his eyes dull.

“The front…” The other veterans stared blankly, unable to believe it, thinking perhaps they were just drunk, dreaming.

But then—

The Academy’s battle alarm blared, shattering their illusions. Urged by instructors, the veterans hurried back to their quarters to pack up, boarding military trains that very night for Shanlong Pass.

“My god, the moment New Year’s ends, they’re being sent to war. The officers, sure, but the veterans… they’re the ones I pity,” Tan Hai said, watching Chen and the others depart.

“The front must be in dire straits,” Guo Tingyu sighed. “Otherwise, the Grand Marshal would never send ungraduated recruits to fill the ranks. Good thing we were only recently out on field training, or we’d be off too…”

Wu Ming and the others imagined the battlefield—hundreds of monstrous demons trampling everything in their path—and shuddered.

“Our days won’t be easy, either,” Du Huaishan observed as the veterans assembled. “As Tingyu said, if even the new recruits are being called up, our forces must be stretched thin. The defenses will weaken. If anything else happens, we—the 173rd class—will be the only ones left to send!”

“No way…” Yang Anfu scratched his head, face pale.

“Fatty, you don’t have to fight the demons head-on—what are you afraid of?” Wu Ming clapped him on the shoulder.

Yang bit his lip. “Huaishan said the defenses might weaken. My family lives right on the edge of the Weakwater Line, in Fangtun. It’s always been vulnerable to demon attacks. Six years ago, the infamous Beijiang City disaster happened because the line was stretched thin—the main city was wiped out.”

“Ah! Xu Yuan, your hand is bleeding!” Lin Sizhi cried out.

Du Huaishan turned to see Xu Yuan’s eyes blazing with fury, her fists clenched so tightly her nails had broken the skin.

“I was just speaking offhand. Don’t worry, Fatty,” Du Huaishan said, realizing Xu Yuan likely came from Beijiang City. Her family must have perished defending her, explaining her deep hatred of demons and relentless drive to become stronger.

With the officers and veterans gone, the training ground became eerily quiet, the bonfire crackling amid the silence.

The ground was littered with empty wine flasks and plates.

The 173rd class lost all interest in celebrating, drifting back to their quarters one by one.

Du Huaishan stayed behind with Yang Anfu to help Uncle Zhang from the kitchens clear the dishes, when footsteps sounded behind them.

He turned to see Instructors Luo Zongwen, Chang Sui’an, and Zhou Zhong’ai.

“Instructor Luo, Instructor Chang, Instructor Zhou—Happy New Year!” Du Huaishan greeted them politely.

Luo stroked his beard and smiled. “Nothing special, just wanted to see you before I go.”

“You’re going to Shanlong Pass as well?” Du Huaishan’s heart skipped.

Luo nodded. “I’ve taught you all I can. You’re diligent and disciplined—even training alone, I trust you’ll do well. Work hard. I hope you’ll surprise me next time we meet.”

“Du Huaishan will not disappoint you, Instructor!” he promised.

As Luo Zongwen’s figure faded into the night, Du Huaishan felt a sudden emptiness inside. Months of training had become habit; though he’d learned every move, no one would now massage his injuries, and no one would push him to his limits in battle again.