First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 206
Chapter 206: Shout
Lian Sheng emerged from behind the nightclub, pushing her way into the tense crowd.
She stepped forward to block between the black-clad men and Cornell, her face showing irritation as she said: "Forget it, don't fight. Since nothing's wrong, let's just leave it at that. We're not from Gelen, let's not cause more trouble here."
Cornell and Harry still looked resentful, but each took a step back.
The several beaten black-clad men were the truly angry ones. If they didn't have other missions, they would never have let them go so easily. But now they had no time to deal with them. These kids were clearly not their targets.
Lian Sheng said: "Let's go back. I don't want to play anymore. Better return to school."
The manager then grabbed Cornell with one hand and Harry with the other, pulling them behind him as he quickly retreated while apologizing with a smile: "It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding, please don't take it to heart. They're just kids. We'll leave right away."
After dragging them far away, the manager exhaled wearily. He looked at them, wanting to say something but ultimately swallowing it back in defeat, only saying: "Stay here and don't move. I'll go get the car."
Lian Sheng scanned the surroundings. In the distance, Fang Jianchen stood at the street corner, preparing to approach them.
Lian Sheng began confirming positions: "Junior, where are you guys now?"
Zhou Shirui replied: "We've already left the arcade. Heading toward your location now."
"Lian Sheng, aren't you nervous at all?" Lu Mingyuan whispered, "Even not being on-site, I feel... a bit uneasy."
He never thought they could safely get the person out. When he heard they'd agreed to the rescue, he was shocked.
Ten people with no weapons, preparation, backup, or experience, trying to escape from an unknown number of armed plainclothes officers controlling the city's surveillance system?
...Are you kidding?
"Nervous? What's there to be nervous about?" Lian Sheng said, "Nervousness comes from fear of failure, but right now I don't even have a plan, so I don't know how to be nervous."
Everyone: "..."
Everyone: "..."
Everyone: "..."
Lian Sheng gave an analogy: "It's like during an exam. If you randomly fill out the entire paper, you might still guess how many pity points the teacher will give. But if you hand in a blank sheet, what's there to worry about? Worry the teacher might give you points for neatness?"
"You... don't go all Zen on me at a time like this! At least show some nervousness! What if they increase security checks? How do we transport him out? These are urgent questions needing answers! Aren't they worth your nervousness?" Fang Jianchen shouted, "Smart people should have some self-awareness! Hundred Meter Flying Dagger has already entrusted us to you—eleven bloody lives now! All in your hands!"
Lian Sheng: "...But I can't fly out right now either."
Lian Sheng stopped teasing them and said seriously: "First check the location for any loopholes. You can't expect me to perform blind operations."
"Don't be too pessimistic. Clearly, the other side is more nervous than us now. Once we have the person, the initiative is ours. No action or plan is ever perfect—there will always be variables. The key to our success lies in seizing and utilizing these variables." Lian Sheng said, "Nervousness can accelerate your brain's thinking speed and sharpen your reactions. But panic will blind you. Sort out your thoughts properly."
Lian Sheng checked the time again: "We might encounter even more dangerous situations—you need to get used to it. Rather than giving up pessimistically, think about whether you've left any gaps. As long as we move forward, a path might appear. Standing still achieves nothing."
Lian Sheng was nervous too, but in a team, there must be a stabilizing presence. She was already accustomed to maintaining her usual demeanor.
At that moment, Ye Buqing and Cheng Ze turned the corner from another direction, and Zhou Shirui's group of three arrived as well. Their team successfully regrouped.
Soon after, the manager pulled up in his car and asked: "Where to now?"
Everyone got in. Lian Sheng said: "We have a few friends to pick up."
"A few?" The manager counted and asked, "How do you have so many people? Weren't you all at the club just now? Where did he go?"
Lian Sheng: "He just made some new friends, went out to buy something. We're heading back to school now."
The manager asked: "You're not buying anything anymore? What about Cornell's optical computer?"
Lian Sheng said: "Not buying anymore."
The manager protested: "Why?!"
Lian Sheng didn't argue with him. Instead, she asked over the communicator: "Lance, where are you now? Can you talk?"
No response came from the other end.
Lian Sheng called again: "Lance?"
Ji Ban said: "He already logged off earlier."
Lian Sheng took out her optical computer and saw that he really wasn't in the group anymore.
Ye Buqing said: "Is he still inside the club? I never saw him come out."
"He was there. Before the call ended, he was still in the club." Zhou Shirui said, "When we were talking on the roadside, he was there too."
"You have another person here? Should we wait for him?" The manager asked, "Young people really make friends fast. Who's Lance? If it's on the way, is he also a student at the Finance University?"
Lian Sheng opened a private chat with Lance.
Soon, Lance replied: "You go ahead first. Take Maxwell with you."
Lian Sheng asked: "Not bringing you along?"
Lance didn't respond again.
Lian Sheng tapped her fingers on her leg, frowning in silence.
Harry asked: "What now? Should we wait for him?"
"We can't stay here long. Let's go first. If he could get two people to this place, he should have a way to get out himself." Lian Sheng said, "Brother Tom, go straight for two intersections, then turn right."
The manager, seeing the black-clad men moving in the distance, had a vague sense of foreboding. He stepped on the gas, wanting to quickly escape the area.
Zhao Zhuoluo was picked up along the way.
Lian Sheng scooted over to make room. He carried a barely conscious person into the back seat, then slumped into the seat as if relaxing, exhaling deeply.
The mental pressure had been immense.
Sitting by the roadside, watching people pass by, fearing someone would stop and look at Maxwell's face.
He didn't even dare raise his head casually, carrying the man like a live bomb, forgetting what normal reactions should be. He could only judge the distance from their conversations to comfort himself slightly.
The manager kept glancing at the rearview mirror.
The person Zhao Zhuoluo brought into the car hadn't moved much since getting in. Wearing Ye Buqing's jacket, he occasionally twitched a hand or tilted his head to show he was still alive.
But his breathing was weak. Though his face wasn't clearly visible, his intermittent groans suggested he was injured.
A law-abiding citizen all his life, the manager suddenly felt panicked.
Cornell's face already indicated he wasn't an ordinary person. What if they got dragged into something dangerous? What then?
Oh god, he couldn't handle this!
The manager asked quietly: "That new friend of yours... isn't connected to those people at the club, is he?"
Lian Sheng reached from behind and suddenly patted the manager's shoulder.
The manager shuddered violently, then heard the girl ask leisurely: "What do you think about war?"
"What I think about war..." The manager said tactfully, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Lian Sheng: "If an opportunity to change the world were placed before you..."
The manager blurted out without thinking: "I'd throw it away!"
Lian Sheng: "..."
Lian Sheng: "..."
Such strong survival instincts.
"Don't speak!" The manager shrugged, trying to shake off her hand. With a dangerous tone, he said: "What are you hiding from me?!"
Lian Sheng continued: "If an opportunity to change the world were about to fall on your head, would you choose to be crushed by it or open your arms to embrace it?"
The manager: "..."
The manager: "..."
He chose to pull over.
Lian Sheng slapped the back of the seat hard: "Go go go! Keep driving, friend. What do you think you're doing? Let me remind you—we can't afford to fall out now. The other side won't believe anything you say. Even if you stop here, the result will just be us all dying together. Ever heard the saying 'better to kill the wrong than let the guilty go'?"
"First tell me who he is!" The manager shouted in distress, "You can't do this to me! I've already gone above and beyond for you—haven't done anything wrong, even took you out on the town!"
Lian Sheng: "We're law-abiding citizens. Trust me."
Trust her my ass! The manager said: "I don't believe you!"
Lian Sheng leaned over and patted Maxwell's chest. The man groaned in pain, his consciousness returning slightly as he opened his eyes to look at the people in front.
Maxwell whispered: "Lance?"
The manager's breath hitched, terrified she'd leave the man in his car: "Don't be rash!"
"Your Lance isn't here. This is one of your leaders—Maxwell." Lian Sheng answered half the question, then reiterated: "We were just entrusted with this mission. At the club, someone asked us to get him out. Before this, we'd never even seen him. An opportunity like this while out and about is too rare. We wanted to refuse, but considering his political stance favoring peace with the Alliance, we reluctantly agreed to try. Otherwise, why would a bunch of exchange students rescue your people?"
Lian Sheng leaned forward and said: "Compared to us, your connection with him is much closer. We're just exchange students from the 14th District, right?"
The manager turned on the backseat light with trembling hands. Lian Sheng lifted Maxwell's chin to make him look up. The manager gasped sharply upon seeing him, disbelieving: "It really is you! Mr. Maxwell! How are you at the port? My god, I can't believe I'm seeing you in person!"
Lian Sheng nodded: "Exactly. Impressive, right?"
The manager, flustered, scolded: "P-put... put your hand down!"
Maxwell, though barely conscious, hadn't forgotten his mission. Weakly, he reached out and patted the front seat, saying: "Please protect Gelen's future and peace..."
The manager saw a bloody handprint left on his seatback.
"..." The manager shouted, "Yes, sir! I'll do my best, sir!"
Maxwell passed out contentedly.
"Where are we going now?" The manager said tearfully, "Why us?"
Lian Sheng said: "Probably because Cornell, surrounded by stars, looked like his idol."
Her tone was full of resentment—"this is all your fault, your responsibility."
The manager fully believed her now, complaining: "I had no idea. I'm just a manager—never experienced such thrilling political struggles. Are political struggles always this brutal? I just wanted to train a star!"
At least Maxwell's stance was accepted by more people. Seeing the manager like this, they could work together harmoniously toward the future.
The manager asked: "You're saying... is Gelen going to war again? And because Mr. Maxwell wanted to stop it, they tried to assassinate him for being an obstacle?"
Harry asked: "Is there ever a day Gelen isn't at war?"
The manager roared: "At least not at the port! As for other matters—oh god, I can't handle that much! How could I possibly manage so many things? No one would listen to me anyway!"
"Really?" Lian Sheng clasped her hands, subtly guiding: "I'm from the 14th District, so I don't know everything. But I've heard relations between Gelen and the Alliance are worsening, and the port has banned Alliance citizens. They've recently tightened security—do you think the port is no longer safe?!"
"I don't know!" The manager's deepest fear was lightly plucked. Drawing on his limited political awareness, he analyzed while driving: "Gelen and the Alliance are already at a stalemate. Those idiots! It's them! Why must they keep fighting? I truly don't understand their goals—how could they provoke a historically rooted, powerful nation like the Alliance? If war really breaks out, the port—geographically open and the economic hub of Gelen—would be a prime target! No! Absolutely not!"
Lian Sheng said: "That sounds quite reasonable. So this man was targeted for assassination because he advocated peace?"
No one wants their homeland to become a battlefield—not even the slightest possibility.
Gelen, this warmongering nation, has already placed too much pressure on its people.
Times have changed. This generation of Gelen's citizens lives well without needing to plunder, unable to understand their bandit-like actions.
The manager clearly stood firmly on their side.
The manager slowed the car, then stopped completely, saying: "So... what do we do now? The checkpoint is just ahead."
"The checkpoint has infrared devices—it'll detect how many people are in the car. If even one face isn't clearly captured, they'll do a manual check." The manager glanced back, "Mr. Maxwell's face... I think everyone in Gelen knows him."
Lian Sheng looked back—neon lights, bustling traffic. The port district was, as Hundred Meter Flying Dagger said, the most prosperous city Lian Sheng had ever seen.
Its nights were never quiet, its lights never extinguished. Like daylight, it flaunted its vitality without reservation.
What a wonderful place. Lian Sheng didn't want it reduced to scorched earth in the flames of war either.
Lian Sheng asked: "Is this the only way out?"
The manager said: "Of course."
Lian Sheng: "How big are the detection devices?"
"They're on the street..." The manager said, "You thinking of charging through the sidewalk? You could, but that'd be too suspicious—the police up front would chase us immediately. With bad luck, we might get shot on sight!"
"If only there were a commotion now." Lian Sheng gazed outside, "What's the longest the checks have taken?"
The manager said: "Trust me, they're far more patient than us. And Mr. Maxwell's condition can't afford delays!"
The central street of the main district had unavoidable checkpoints on both sides, with a sidewalk beside it. Vehicles were backed up ahead—how could they slip past the checkpoints?
Lian Sheng stroked her chin, deep in thought about the situation ahead.
They needed to create urban panic. With enemy forces still here, it'd be difficult but not impossible. However, clumsy techniques would expose them. Even if they got the person out, they'd be caught quickly.
How to avoid surveillance while clearing suspicion? At the moment, she couldn't think of a perfect solution.
The others didn't dare disturb her, staying silent.
Her optical computer vibrated.
Lance: "Have you gotten him out yet?"
Lian Sheng: "In the car. Enjoying the night view."
Lance: "I want to see him."
Lian Sheng sent a photo, including the bloody handprint.
Lance: "Thank you. May peace endure!"
Lian Sheng: "??"
Lian Sheng: "Lance! Where are you now? Still at the club?"
Lian Sheng: "Hey?"
No further responses came. She had a bad feeling but couldn't control it. Looking down at her fingers, she rubbed them uneasily.
The safest, most convenient choice—though unspoken—Lance must have already thought of it.
He wanted to send his hope to safety.
Ten minutes later, their car's screen forcibly turned on, tuning to a channel.
"Breaking news: Five minutes ago, a terrorist took a civilian hostage in a busy area, live-streaming..."
The manager turned up the volume.
The screen showed their earlier live footage.
In the background, someone trembled: "It's... it's recording, already recording. You can speak now..."
On screen stood Lance, unmistakably. He held a gun to the person recording.
It was a dim alley.
A young man in his early twenties wore a dark coat. His short hair lay smoothly against his face. With delicate features, he looked harmless—a gentle youth. But his eyes held determination.
Behind him was pitch-black darkness, devoid of light.
Fang Jianchen sat up straight, staring at the screen: "Lance?"
Harry asked curiously: "That's Lance?"
Lance licked his lips. His fingers trembled; his voice shook unconsciously.
"I'm a soldier of Gelen. A soldier of General Barite."
"I planted explosives at the port's main checkpoint. I'm sorry—I don't want to hurt you, but I can't take this life anymore."
Harry said: "He... wasn't he from Fengse City? Wasn't he Maxwell's man?"
Lance spoke slowly, his voice hoarse, nearly choking when mentioning his past: "I followed General Barite's troops and destroyed Fengse City. Maybe you don't know—living comfortably at the port, well-fed and clothed. You don't need to care what your soldiers have done. You live happily here, never understanding what war is..."
Lance's eyes grew misty as he continued: "They destroyed Fengse City... Night after night, artillery boomed. People huddled together in their homes, weeping as they awaited death. They lacked Gelen's military might—no way to resist. Blood and bones mixed, vanishing like dust under bombardment. Every step a soldier took might land on their remains. At night, you could almost hear the people's cries, but no one pitied them. Grief couldn't touch those lofty hearts. Life in Fengse City was cheap—to survive, they could only beg for Gelen's sudden mercy..."
"Those who lived lost their names, families, friends. They could only cry, with nothing else to do. They couldn't even hate. Gelen did this to them. They could've lived happily."
"They did nothing wrong. Their only mistake was living on land rich in minerals, unable to aim their guns at others. A century ago, Gelen's vagrants accepted Fengse City's aid. A century later, they repaid kindness with cruelty, teaching Fengse what betrayal meant. Gelen's army killed them. For mines, they slaughtered countless innocents." Lance clenched his fists, regaining some clarity: "We killed them. We pulled the triggers, fired the shots. No excuse can change that! I can't take it anymore, truly! Gelen keeps aiming its guns at more people... more people!"
Everyone watched silently.
Harry and Cornell's hearts pounded, battlefield screams echoing in their ears, scenes flashing before their eyes.
They understood. They understood that feeling all too well.
Whether resisting or not, it was a dead end.
Maxwell, hearing snippets, couldn't think clearly but called out: "Lance? Lance, where are you?"
Lance pressed a hand to his chest.
In a lightless place, one always clings to hope, longing for even a sliver of brightness.
But this world has few heroes who appear when needed. What they got instead were blades pressed to their throats, coldly taking their lives, mocking their existence.
They struggled so hard to live, only to die so easily—what was the point? What should they live for?
"They told me to fight for our nation, for honor. So I raised my weapon. I killed countless people on the battlefield. I buried my friends' bodies. I swallowed all weak tears, telling other soldiers to march bravely, to hope for peace one day."
Lance looked up, letting out a few mocking, tearful laughs: "Hahaha!"
"But Gelen is rotten to the core! This war will never end! Death, bloodshed—it repeats daily! Even if bones pile high, it'll never end!"
"I fought on the frontlines with my life, yet those I wanted to protect despise us! No one hears our pleas, our voices! But I want you to know!"
"Was I wrong? I wasn't wrong."
"I've had enough."
"I just want to eat a meal in peace, without fearing a shell might drop on my head. I just want to sleep soundly, without waking to corpses."
"I just want to live normally! Without feeling life is the world's charity!"
The person filming trembled too.
Lance's eyes were bloodshot, his expression twisted in pain. But that agony, conveyed through his gaze and ragged voice, struck their hearts.
Perhaps, in the end, he just wanted to vent.
Words he'd never get to say spilled out.
"I want peace—I don't care about honor! If stopping war costs me everything, I'll pay it! Anyone in my way, even if I become a mad dog, I'll tear them apart piece by piece! I want peace!"
"Why keep fighting? I want peace!"
Before he finished, he collapsed. His lips moved soundlessly—one could guess his unspoken words.
—"I want to go home..."
But the words caught in his throat.
But Fengse City was gone.
But he'd never get the chance.
"Ah—"
When he fell, Harry screamed, standing up in the back.
Lian Sheng lunged forward first, turning off the screen. She barked at the manager: "Drive onto the sidewalk! Now! Go around both sides! Immediately!"
The manager, dazed, only reacted after Lian Sheng slapped him. He swerved onto the sidewalk, speeding forward.
Outside, voices shouted: "Bomb—evacuate now!"
Other vehicles also veered onto sidewalks.
Chaos erupted at the checkpoint. Everyone ignored rules, just wanting to escape. Guards, unsure of the situation, couldn't stop them, watching helplessly as they left.
Lian Sheng leaned back, tilting her head, eyes closed, exhaling heavily.
Beside her, Maxwell suddenly convulsed, crying: "I'll take you away, believe me!"
The manager, staring at the blank screen, realized his vision was blurry. Turning on autopilot, he murmured: "I..."
Lian Sheng shouted: "Yes, you're at fault too—you all are! This is Gelen's politics! Your tolerance and self-deception empowered Barite! Aren't the soldiers on the frontlines Gelen's own? Didn't they earn merits and honors?"
The manager shut up at her outburst.
The others stayed silent.
After a moment...
Lian Sheng calmed down.
"I was taking my anger out on you just now." Lian Sheng covered her forehead, "Sorry, this isn't your fault—it's beyond your control. Don't overthink it."
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