Chapter Eighty-Two: The Crimson Marrow Mine

What did the presence of a large amount of red marrow signify?

A red marrow lode!

Du Huaishan’s heart pounded wildly in his chest.

He had gambled correctly!

From the very beginning—the description on the Martial Academy’s incident list, then hearing in Yanshun City that the lieutenant in charge of their reception had been assassinated—everything hinted at one thing:

Baiweng Mountain was far from ordinary!

The reconnaissance platoon leader must have learned something about the red marrow lode from a herbalist and was murdered for it.

The interests involved here were simply too enormous.

Materials. Gas. Energy.

Even a lode of red marrow only a hundred cubic meters in size could arm an entire division; the energy extracted from it could easily propel a wastrel to the tenth tier.

Li Mingcheng sat on the ground, looking utterly lost. A gust of wind brought with it the pungent smell of urine.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Li Mingcheng looked up to see Du Huaishan approaching with his military saber.

“Huaishan…”

Li Mingcheng couldn’t help lowering his head and sobbing, unsure if he wept for having survived, needing someone to confide in, or from the humiliation of losing control of his bladder.

“Get up and keep watch. We don’t know if it’ll come back…”

Du Huaishan did not mock him.

In that situation, even he had felt as though a thorn bristled at his back.

That demon-ape was simply too strong.

Its massive size, yet incredible agility and explosive power, was like something out of a fantasy novel—a primordial ape that could tear tigers and leopards apart with its bare hands, a beast straight out of an American blockbuster.

And this one’s flesh could regenerate endlessly!

A cough sounded from the nearby undergrowth. The brown-haired veteran used his saber to prop himself up and stand slowly. “Where’s the demon-ape?”

“It ran off. It’s probably related to the strange noises in the mountain,” Du Huaishan replied, careful not to be too blunt.

But the brown-haired veteran was no fool. He immediately sensed the complexity of the situation and said solemnly, “Contact Vice Platoon Leader Wang immediately!”

“Yes!” Du Huaishan obeyed, raising his whistle.

But before he could blow, a familiar voice called from behind—Li Anqi’s. “Du Huaishan? Why are you just standing there? Where’s the demon-ape?”

As it turned out, during the fight, Wang Zhenglin, the overall commander, had issued new orders: the left wing was to quickly support the right. Thus, Li Anqi arrived with the veterans.

“It escaped.”

“Escaped? How is that possible?”

Du Huaishan didn’t bother explaining further. If he had to repeat himself for every new arrival, he’d never get anything else done.

The brown-haired veteran walked to the base of another tree. There lay a fallen comrade—one of the three who had attacked with him earlier. Unlike the veteran, this man had no earthy armor to cushion the blow; he appeared to have broken his neck and was dead.

The brown-haired veteran said nothing, simply closed the man’s eyes.

“Huaishan!”

“Old Wu, you’re here too?”

Soon, the left-wing teams arrived from all directions, using their maneuvering cables.

Horses neighed in the forest. Already, the electric rifles had been set up, their water-cooling jackets filled.

With a flourish, Wang Zhenglin descended from above, sword in hand, his polished armor gleaming and his face masked in blue and violet. Seeing everyone gathered and motionless, he asked, “What happened?”

No one seemed to know what to say.

Cai Zhizhong, uncharacteristically, spoke up. “Reporting, Vice Platoon Leader Wang, Du Huaishan says the demon-ape ran off on its own.”

“On its own?” Wang Zhenglin’s tone rose in disbelief.

“Du Huaishan, what really happened?” demanded Pei Qingfeng, the giant already sheathed in sandy muscle.

Du Huaishan didn’t seem the type to make things up.

“It really ran. It was about to attack me and Li Mingcheng, but then there was another strange sound from the mountain. As soon as it heard it, it ran!”

A chorus of astonished whispers followed.

Some caught the oddity in his words; the shrewd among them already suspected it was related to red marrow.

Wang Zhenglin’s icy blue eyes widened. He glanced around at the veterans and recruits. “Everyone, stay alert and on standby. Old Dai, Du Huaishan, Li Mingcheng—come with me.”

As he left, he gave Pei Qingfeng a meaningful look—the two had long been partners and understood each other without words.

Thus, Wu Ming, Xing Zhenhao, and the other elite trainees watched as Du Huaishan was once again singled out for “special attention.”

“Tan Hai, do you think anything will happen to Huaishan?” Wu Ming whispered.

Li Anqi and Lin Sizi leaned in, curious.

“Old Wu, have you forgotten everything from theory class?” Tan Hai glanced around, covered his mouth, and mouthed two words.

Wu Ming’s heart leaped—he understood at once.

Those two words: red marrow.

“Be careful,” warned Xu Yuan coldly from the side.

Only then did Wu Ming notice that Pei Qingfeng’s eyes were constantly scanning the group.

With the recon platoon leader’s assassination in mind, no one could be sure who here was friend or foe.

Fifty meters away, machine gun squad.

Wang Zhenglin had the soldiers disperse, leaving only a female signaler and the three—Du Huaishan, Li Mingcheng, and the brown-haired veteran. “Are you sure about what you just said? Do you realize what this means?”

Du Huaishan had kept the demon-ape’s power at seventy percent at all times, ready to use Shadowstep in an instant if anything seemed off.

Li Mingcheng was still visibly shaken.

The brown-haired veteran exchanged a glance with Wang Zhenglin and shook his head. “I didn’t witness the whole thing myself—it was this kid who noticed everything.”

He was giving credit to Du Huaishan, which was only fair; at the time, the veteran had been thrown aside by the demon-ape and left dazed.

At last, Wang Zhenglin focused his attention fully on Du Huaishan.

Du Huaishan tensed.

“Vice Platoon Leader Wang, I believe the demon-ape was drawn by red marrow. There’s a red marrow lode beneath Baiweng Mountain!”

In an instant, both the female signaler and Li Mingcheng stared wide-eyed at him.

“Go on,” said Wang Zhenglin.

“The first time we entered the mountain and heard the strange noises, I thought it was a precursor to a ‘dragon turn,’ but the earliest of those sounds was more than half a month ago. The noises are peculiar—location unknown, booming like explosions, with a sense of movement, almost like intestinal rumbling. I’ve read the ‘Records of Baiweng Mountain Scenery.’”

“The book says Baiweng Mountain is a multi-layered volcano, with complex underground structures. But it’s been dormant for years. I suspect these muffled explosions are actually deep magma flows, squeezing through rock layers and colliding with red marrow.”

Wang Zhenglin was so absorbed in Du Huaishan’s analysis that he almost forgot he was talking to a trainee—one who had not only mastered so much knowledge but had even studied the relevant texts before their mission!

“So you’re saying…the ground is hollow?”

“Yes!” Du Huaishan’s confidence was unshakable. “Only if there are underground cavities can we explain why, after days of searching, we found only traces and not the demon-ape itself—until today! Before the demon-ape appeared, I noticed the strange noise was louder than before. The entrance to its lair must be nearby!”

Even prepared as they were, Wang Zhenglin and the others were startled by his conclusion.

Who could have guessed?

After five days on this mountain, the treasure—and the danger—had been right beneath their feet.

“Xiao Zou, contact battalion command…wait!” Wang Zhenglin interrupted himself, looking at Du Huaishan. “The death of the recon platoon leader is surely connected. The red marrow affair involves huge interests, and Baiweng Mountain is a sensitive area. If we’re not careful, this could become an international incident. It’s best to contact regimental headquarters directly!”

“Yes, sir!” The female signaler, Xiao Zou, quickly unloaded her wooden case, revealing a military-green portable shortwave telegraph machine, bristling with black buttons and a fan-shaped gauge.

She unfolded the antenna, hooked it over a tree trunk, and began cranking the generator.

After more than ten minutes of work, with the sun beginning to set, Xiao Zou finally took off her headset, face animated. “Vice Platoon Leader Wang, we’ve connected to the regimental command channel!”

“Good. Send as I dictate: ‘Report from 571st Regiment, Interdiction Company, Recon Platoon Two, Wang Zhenglin, regarding Baiweng Mountain incident…’”

Beep—beep beep! Beep…

Yanshun City.

In the communications office of the 57th Regiment headquarters, a male soldier wearing a headset suddenly called out, “Signal received from Baiweng Mountain—shortwave, mobile telegraph.”

“Baiweng Mountain?” Behind him, a female officer in a wool coat glanced up from her documents, her eyes narrowing. “Log it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The operator took out a scrap of paper and began writing down the long signal.

Finished, he pulled out a codebook and began translating, word by word.

Halfway through, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the words “red marrow.”

This was big!

He shot a furtive glance at the telegraph operator beside him, quickly slipped the paper into a document folder, and hurried to the female officer’s office.

“What is it?” she asked, glancing up.

“Section Chief, look.” He handed over the partly translated message.

She skimmed it, pupils contracting sharply. “Who else has seen this?”

“Just me. Though my seatmate Xiao Li is on the same line—he probably heard the beginning.”

“Finish translating it here,” she ordered, rising to summon her adjutant. “Notify the cryptography section chief and the special ops platoon leader. Hurry!”

…

Meanwhile, in the forests of Baiweng Mountain—

“Any reply?” Wang Zhenglin asked.

“Not yet—they’re probably still decoding…” Xiao Zou listened intently to her headset. “Sir, the sun’s about to set…”

Not only was the sun setting, but after half an hour, the veterans and recruits nearby were growing restless.

At last, as Wang Zhenglin leaned against a tree, deep in thought, tapping his foot anxiously—

“It’s here!” Xiao Zou exclaimed.

She donned her headset and began transcribing the incoming signal.

The message was brief—less than half a page.

After decoding, Wang Zhenglin glanced at it and said, “Regimental command orders us to return to Baitun, maintain full secrecy, and await contact from Special Ops.”

As expected, the matter would now be handled by Special Ops.

“Pack your things. Remember, not a word about what just happened—to anyone. Understood?” Wang Zhenglin fixed his gaze on Li Mingcheng as he spoke.

The latter shrank back instinctively, then straightened. “Understood!”

“Fall in.”

Wang Zhenglin led the four back to the main group. “Today’s investigation is over. We return to Baitun.”

“Finally, it’s over…”

“But that demon-ape got away—isn’t that strange?”

“Who cares? Shut up!”

“Vice Platoon Leader Wang, what about the bodies?”

At this, the mood among the veterans and recruits darkened.

In just ten minutes of fighting, seven members of Recon Platoon Two and the elite trainees lay dead.

“Leave a part of each body, cremate the rest on site, and take all weapons and armor.”

Though Wang Zhenglin had given these orders countless times, he spoke now with a tremor in his voice.

Such was the sorrow of fighting demon-apes: with no logistics unit to collect the fallen, not even the bodies could be brought back whole.

Leaving “a part of the body” meant taking a hand, a head, or a leg—something for the family to remember them by.

The veterans, obeying, went to their comrades’ bodies, stifling their grief as they used their sabers to sever limbs.

Du Huaishan glanced at his team from the Eighth Training Squad—two were missing. “Where are Chen Jun and Jiang Qian?”

“Chen Jun…he’s dead.” Li Anqi had only just noticed his absence during their wait.

“Jiang Qian’s behind a tree, throwing up…” Lin Sizi, clutching her armored skirt, looked worried. “She probably couldn’t handle all the blood.”

Just as they mentioned her, Jiang Qian stumbled from behind a birch, face pale.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Qian replied, wiping her mouth.

Old Wu and Xing Zhenhao stood in silent mourning over their fallen teammates.

Soon, two veterans brought over a club-shaped bundle wrapped in army cloth. “This is Chen Jun’s.”

Its shape made it clear—a severed arm.

At the sight, Jiang Qian turned away, retching again.

“Give it to me,” Du Huaishan said quickly, taking the arm and stowing it in his rucksack.

Li Mingcheng eyed the pack, feeling a surge of relief. If not for Du Huaishan waking him so many times today, he might have met the same fate as Chen Jun.

As they finished gathering up, the sky was growing dark. Wang Zhenglin shouted,

“Everyone, prepare to descend the mountain!”