Volume 1: The Sudden Battlefield Chapter 1

  Lightning, thunder, strong winds and heavy rain...

  Everything seemed no different from before, but when I crawled out of the muddy water, I found that things were not so.

  The lightning is not lightning, but a series of bright lights transmitted from afar; the thunder is not thunder, but a series of explosions; as for that storm... what's flying in the sky seems to be not rainwater but a hail of bullets!

  Look around, the mountain is still that rocky mountain, but the coffin has disappeared without a trace. I'm inexplicably wearing a military uniform, with two hand grenades hanging from my waist and a rifle in my hands...

  I climbed up the small mound in front of me, using my hands and feet, and took a look around. I was shocked to see that all around me were soldiers wearing military uniforms, carrying guns and charging towards a high ground in the distance. The uniforms looked just like the ones left behind by the old man. It was indeed the People's Liberation Army, although their modern uniforms are not exactly the same as before, but I have seen them on TV and movies.

  What's going on? Am I dreaming?!

  It was as if in response to me, a shell exploded with a loud "boom" not far from my side, I only felt a buzzing in my ears, and then a large piece of soil and rocks came pouring down on me like rain, almost burying me.

  After a while, when my hearing gradually recovered, I heard a pig-like scream, and when I wiped the dust off my face and looked up, a bloody soldier fell in front of me. His legs had been blown to who-knows-where, and fresh blood kept spraying out from where his thighs had been severed, dyeing the surrounding yellow earth red.

  I was shocked by this scene, and could only stare blankly at the soldier who was desperately hugging his non-existent legs, screaming and shouting in a hoarse voice... The sound grew weaker and weaker, until he finally fell to the ground with a limp head.

  This is not true! This is not true!

  I kept comforting myself, but everything in front of me made me have to believe that all this was true. The warrior's blood, the blown-off legs, and the desperate eyes without anger... A living person died like this in front of me, this is an iron fact!

  Although my brain had almost stopped working, the instinct of survival still told me to leave this place as soon as possible.

  But before I could take a few steps back with my trembling legs, I was stopped by the muzzle of a black gun.

  "What are you doing?" The owner of the pistol had a face with scars, and he roared at me fiercely: "Is there no more organizational discipline? Charge for me..."

  I knew what it meant to be a deserter in this era, so I turned around with a pounding heart and took a step forward. I wanted to slow down my pace, but unexpectedly, the scar-faced man poked me in the back with his gun muzzle.

  This time I was at a loss, and in my heart, I hated this scar-faced man to the bone: Among so many people on this battlefield, why did he single me out!

  Bullets are flying over my head, shells are exploding around me, and soldiers are dying in front of and behind me... I've heard the old man talk about his experiences on the battlefield countless times before, but it was just listening and didn't feel anything. Now that I'm in the midst of it all, I finally understand what the old man meant, what he felt.

  The closer I get to the enemy, the closer I feel to death. The intense fear in my heart almost suffocates me. Sometimes I think it's better for Scarface to just shoot me and get it over with. Either way, I'm dead, so a quick bullet would be a relief.

  But thinking of the old man, thinking that he survived on such a battlefield, I feel a bit resentful. Why can he do it and I can't? Am I not as good as the old man?

  He then continued to move forward with a difficult pace, and as he walked, he became more and more certain that he had arrived in the era when the old man was at war, because he had already seen the appearance of Vietnamese soldiers, as well as their characteristic conical helmets.

  "Get down!"

  With a loud roar, before I could even react, I was knocked to the ground by the scar-faced man behind me. Then came two cannonballs exploding with a "boom boom" nearby. My ears rang, but it was just a shock without any harm.

  At this time, I couldn't help but think of what the old man had told me: when a shell is coming over, you should lie down on the ground. The main killing power of a shell is its shrapnel, which scatters in all directions like an exploding mudball and flies upwards, so as long as you lie low, generally nothing will happen to you; if it hits your back directly, then there won't be much pain either...

  At that time, I was quite skeptical and thought to myself: if you're so experienced, how did you end up getting blown up like this?

  But of course, I didn't say that out loud, I don't want to get a slap on the head. Sometimes I wonder, is the old man blind? But this slap was extremely accurate, just like the martial arts skill of "distinguishing position by sound". As they say, a good person doesn't take advantage of someone in front of them, so I won't bother with him.

  Now that I think about what the old man said, it seems to make sense after all. It looks like when I have time, I really need to review the old man's experience again, and preserving my life is important.

  "Kill (Vietnamese pronunciation: sát)"

  With a strange cry, before the smoke of the cannonball had dissipated, several Viet Cong suddenly appeared from nowhere, charging towards us with bayonets.

  I had never seen such a scene before, and I was immediately stunned. I lay motionless on the ground, hoping they wouldn't see me. The scar-faced man raised his hand and shot two devils with two guns, but he was knocked down by another devil who rushed over and hit him with a rifle butt.

  I wanted to do something, but my limbs were numb and I had no strength at all. I just stared blankly as Knife Scar Face struggled powerlessly under the Vietnamese ghost's body... In my heart, I thought, it was clear that this Vietnamese ghost thought I was already dead, so he wasn't on guard at all. If I continued to pretend like this... No! This is enemy territory, and this charge has obviously failed. Continuing to pretend like this would only lead to a dead end!

  Thinking of this, I gritted my teeth, crawled up from the ground, raised my gun and aimed at that Vietnamese devil's head, then pulled the trigger...

  Bang! The gunshot sounded, and the Vietcong's head exploded in front of me like a watermelon. The impact of the bullet sent his head flying backward, and he fell heavily to the ground. In that moment when he fell, I saw the surprise and unwillingness in his eyes, as well as the twisted pain on his face. My stomach churned with a wave of nausea, and a strong urge to vomit kept hitting my throat.

  However, I knew this was not the time to vomit. Every second I wasted could cost me my life, so I helped Scarface up from the ground and we ran back.

  Although I'm afraid of death, I'm not a person who doesn't care about loyalty. That scar-faced man just saved my life, and now I can't just abandon him like this.

  At that time, I was worried that there would be a second Scarface who would take us as deserters and kill us... until I heard the retreat order coming from behind me and let out a sigh of relief.