Chapter 89: Gratitude

Gunfire, screams, explosions, furious shouts…

Duan Weilan realized this wasn’t a hallucination.

It wasn’t just him—others in the room were also waking from their semi-conscious slumber.

They all crawled to the wall, peering outside through the cracks in the wooden boards.

With the situation unclear, no one dared to call for help.

The wealthy businessman next to Duan Weilan patted him. Duan Weilan tapped his palm in response, signaling that he was indeed from his own “faction.”

The businessman grew emotional.

He broke into a fit of coughing that wouldn’t stop.

Their vague exchange in the darkness didn’t alert the others.

Duan Weilan knew then—perhaps his fate wasn’t to die here.

With the firepower they now had, this was just a small bandit camp. Once the shooting started, there was little suspense in how this would end.

At last, the door that had held them captive for four days was opened.

Outside stood someone in a familiar uniform.

The man, gun in hand and covering his mouth and nose, called out muffledly, “Comrade Duan…”

Using the last of his strength, Duan Weilan pushed himself up against the wall.

The man spotted him immediately and stepped over the others to support him.

Only once he was finally out of that dark room, lit by the flames outside, did Duan Weilan see clearly that the one supporting him was a young soldier.

If Qin Qing were here, she would have told Duan Weilan that this soldier’s name was Fish.

Fish supported Duan Weilan and led him toward his comrades.

Duan Weilan’s voice was barely a whisper: “The fat guy beside me—he’s the mission target.”

“Don’t worry, that area is already under our control.”

As they turned a corner around a wall, two people suddenly leapt out, daggers raised high.

Had Fish been alone, he could have dodged the ambush easily.

But with someone in his arms, dodging would mean Duan Weilan would be hit instead.

In that moment, Fish chose injury over evasion, throwing himself forward against instinct.

As the daggers were about to pierce his chest, a golden light flickered from his body. Then, against his will, his body twisted in a bizarre way, narrowly dodging the strike.

No time to think.

Fish landed, rolled, dropped to one knee, and launched his counterattack.

In less than a minute—

One of the attackers had his neck broken. The other had both shoulder joints dislocated and lay groaning on the ground, unable to move.

Only then did Fish feel something was off. He tried to replicate that twisted evasive motion from earlier, but he couldn’t do it again.

Was it just a surge of adrenaline in a life-or-death moment?

This place was still dangerous. Who knew how many more stray bandits were lurking?

Fish helped Duan Weilan up again.

Duan Weilan said, “Just now… you were glowing.”

People aren’t fireflies. They’re not supposed to glow.

Fish assumed the light was a hallucination.

But he wasn’t the only one who saw it.

Ignoring Duan Weilan’s comment, Fish said, “Just ahead. We’ve brought a medic. Let’s regroup first.”

They hadn’t just brought a medic—they had stretchers and some portable equipment too.

Once Fish rejoined the main group, someone immediately took over supporting Duan Weilan.

Before sunrise, the battle was over.

Under a tree, Fish spotted a few people huddled together.

They were all the ones Qin Qing had pulled aside before departure.

Fish joined them. The group stood silently, as though each had something to say, but no one spoke first.

After a while, Fish broke the silence. He described his experience—flatly, with no embellishment, recounting exactly what he saw and felt.

With him taking the lead, the others began sharing their own strange encounters from the night.

“I was shot at from the dark… but then this golden light came from my body. The bullet just grazed my arm.”

“I was being hunted by a sniper. Just when I thought I couldn’t dodge in time, golden light flared up. Nothing happened to me—but I killed the sniper.”

“I got ambushed by someone with an axe—he was fast. I thought half my head was gone for sure. But again, that golden light… He missed, and his axe chopped off half his own foot.”

…

All five of them had seen the golden light.

After everyone had spoken, silence fell again.

Then someone asked, “What do you think it was? Some kind of legendary golden shield?”

“You might as well say we’ve got barriers on us. Remember? That light… Qin put it in us.”

“Why just us?”

Fish, who hadn’t spoken since his first comment, said, “Maybe… we were supposed to die this time?”

Even though they had all mentally prepared for the worst since joining special ops, brushing shoulders with death still left them shaken.

Their last letters had long been submitted for safekeeping. Every day of grueling training had been to ensure those letters would never be needed.

So close—just a hair’s breadth.

“Our military has developed something that miraculous?”

“Who cares. Every extra day alive is a win.”

“Qin is amazing.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

–

With the battle over, all captives were released.

Originally, they had planned to hand the wealthy businessmen over to the allied warlords.

But to a man, none of them wanted to go with the warlord’s troops.

Once they learned who had rescued them, they all insisted on staying with our forces.

Of course, they couldn’t all be taken back to camp. A unit was assigned to escort them to hospitals in nearby towns.

Their families who hadn’t been captured were also contacted.

As for Duan Weilan and the target businessman, after preliminary treatment, they were taken directly back to camp.

The main force headed straight to the Black Python Gang’s gold mine.

In a locked warehouse there, countless straw mats were laid out—each holding an emaciated miner.

All men, all skin and bones, wearing nothing but blackened sleeveless vests.

After a check, most were locals. But over thirty of them were fellow citizens.

“Comrade, I—I’m from the Flower Nation,” one of them said once our troops’ identity was confirmed. The others rushed to declare the same, afraid no one would believe them. Someone even sang the national anthem on the spot.

Some broke down crying: “I knew it. The country would come save us.”

Most had been lured here with promises of high-paying jobs.

Only after arriving did they learn it was an illegal mine. Forget high pay—they never even saw a penny. What they ate was worse than pig slop.

They were forced into hard labor. Their conditions were no better than slaves in ancient times.

Those who tried to escape were caught and had their limbs chopped off in front of the others—left to bleed to death as a warning.

They had barely survived—and never imagined they’d live to go home.

They were severely malnourished. Almost all had skin conditions, and many had physical disabilities.

The plan was to send them to local hospitals.

But they refused to stay behind, clinging to our soldiers, as though only they offered safety.

No matter how injured or sick they were, they insisted on going back home for treatment.

There was no choice but to bring them near the base camp.

–

Qin Qing lay flat on her camp bed that night, eyes closed, but didn’t sleep a wink.

She knew someone out there was risking their life. Even though she’d checked the System Panel and knew they would be fine—at least not gravely hurt—she couldn’t help worrying, waiting for news.

She also knew no one else in camp was sleeping either—especially not in the meeting tent, where the lights stayed on all night.

She feared that any unexpected change could alter the Panel’s predictions.

At dawn, good news finally came.

Mission accomplished. All personnel had returned safely. The worst injury was just superficial.

Upon hearing this, Qin Qing went outside the camp gate to wait.

Hours passed between the message and the troops’ arrival, but her legs never gave out.

More people had returned with the squad than had left.

Fish had shed his gear. His hair was soaked in sweat, dripping.

When he saw her, he gave her a tired grin, flashing a big, white smile.

“Thank you, Specialist Qin,” he said solemnly.

Qin Qing knew what he meant.

“As long as you came back safely.”

The miners were lying sprawled in exhaustion in an open area of the camp, while the soldiers who had stayed behind were distributing food and water to them.

Seeing Qin Qing looking at the returning miners, Yuzai explained,

“Apparently, someone once managed to escape the mine and went to the city to borrow a phone to contact someone for help, but got reported and was sent back to the mine and beaten to death. They don’t trust anyone else around here anymore. Only by following us do they feel safe. We couldn’t move quickly with them along, but the Commander has already arranged for trucks—they’ll be sent back across the border today.”

He sighed again. “You see how damp they all are? It’s not from sweat. They were afraid they’d stink walking with us, so they jumped into the river fully clothed to bathe.”

Qin Qing knew all of this. Their physical conditions were one issue, but most were also suffering severe psychological trauma. Who knew how long it would take to recover?

The System Panel had already notified her of the experience points and merit rewards she earned indirectly through rescuing them.

But looking at this group, she would have rather not gotten any rewards at all.

“Skin and bones” wasn’t a figure of speech for them—it was literal.

She had never seen people like this in real life, only in old photos from pre-liberation Tibet.

Just after noon, several trucks arrived to take them away.

Not military vehicles as Qin Qing had expected, but stone-hauling trucks temporarily requisitioned from a nearby construction team after the situation was reported.

Of course, that construction team was also run by fellow countrymen.

After this group left, the camp grew much quieter.

The exhausted soldiers were resting.

Qin Qing finally relaxed and caught up on some sleep.

She slept until dusk.

She heard Yang Anguo outside saying they’d have a little celebration to honor the victory.

Qin Qing’s mind was still groggy.

When she went out, she saw the so-called celebration was just not having to eat rations—they were cooking hot food. A stove had been set up in the camp and someone was already cooking.

No idea where they found such a huge pot.

There were only two dishes in total.

The meat dish was braised pork with chickpeas.

The vegetable dish was stir-fried cabbage.

There was also a special side dish: a cold salad of fish mint dug up by the soldiers from nearby soil, roots and leaves intact.

There were no tables. Everyone used mess kits, lined up for food. Each person got one scoop of each dish—no more.

Even the Commander was no exception.

Qin Qing also joined the line with her mess kit. The person serving gave her an especially big scoop of braised pork, more than anyone else.

“Take your time, Specialist Qin. It’s all lean meat.”

Qin Qing: “…”

Should she tell them that she actually prefers fattier cuts?

She sat on the ground like the soldiers and shared her chili sauce with them.

But her tiny bit of chili sauce was barely a drop in the bucket, and the soldiers were too shy to take much.

The fish mint, for those not used to it, was an acquired taste.

But in a group meal, food tastes better when you fight for it.

So even those who didn’t like it still rushed to grab some and forced it down with pained expressions—just to stop others from getting more.

No one dared fight for Qin Qing’s portion.

But as she sat among them, watching the soldiers hustle over food, she felt this meal of braised pork was the best she’d ever had.

Say what you will—out here in a foreign land, in the wild, the cook still remembered to caramelize the sugar properly for the meat.

Such devotion to food was truly admirable.

During that meal, many came to thank her.

Some shy, some gruff, some enthusiastic…

Of course, not every soldier came to thank her directly.

But the next morning, when she got up, she found lots of flowers outside her tent.

Nothing fancy—just wildflowers picked nearby—but all of them were beautiful, bundled into neat little bouquets.

Still, seeing that many bouquets all at once outside her tent looked… odd.

Especially with them stacked and layered upright along the tent flap.

Qin Qing wanted to ask—was she being memorialized?

Their way of saying thank you was kind of… unconventional.