Chapter Nineteen: Evaluating Spears

  On the main street of Nanjing, a lone wolf in camouflage attire walked with stiff steps. Passersby couldn't help but point and stare at him, and to these city dwellers who were used to comfort, the lone wolf had become an oddity.

  The soldier's gait, with its standard 75-centimeter stride, made him look like a fool. Occasionally, fashionable girls passing by would disdainfully spit out a sentence: "Little kid, stupid big soldier."

  Finally, facing tens of times more enemies, the desperate remnants of the wolf pack reluctantly retreated into a shopping mall. The remnant wolves looked even more awkward after changing into casual clothes, with their tight jeans giving them a feeling of being constrained, as if every movement was restricted.

  No longer having the heart to stroll around this city that was once so familiar, I hastily got into a taxi and returned to the military compound.

  In the big yard, the old master was playing chess with several elderly people. Seeing the gloomy face of Can Lang, he seemed to have guessed something. He beckoned to Can Lang and said to the elderly people with a smile, "This kid is Ning Wei, now a lieutenant colonel, you old things take a look."

  The disabled wolf politely bowed to several elderly people and said, "Hello, seniors! I am Disabled Wolf!"

  "You're the Lone Wolf!" An old man wearing reading glasses shuddered after hearing the introduction of Lone Wolf, and other elderly people were also stunned for a moment, making the atmosphere very strange.

  "Go back first, kid, I have something to tell you later."

  The old man had just driven away the remaining wolves, and the old man with glasses suddenly dropped the small teacup in his hand, "You're so muddled! The eldest brother's own grandson, how did you raise him to be... Alas!" The bespectacled old man didn't continue speaking, threw down the chess piece in his hand, and lost all desire to continue.

  "Just because he's the eldest brother's grandson, this vendetta is only worthy of being avenged by this young man! This time, I brought him back after hearing from his instructor that there was a problem with his temperament. Alas, he's still too young...". The old master sighed and threw down the chess piece in his hand, turning to return to the villa.

  The remaining elderly people looked at each other for a moment and then nodded to each other in dismay.

  Returning to the villa, the old man saw that Can Lang had changed back into a pure black combat suit and was sitting on the carpet in the living room, fiddling with his pistol.

  "Child, don't you think this environment is no longer suitable for you?" The old man asked while stroking the wolf's shoulder as he sat on the sofa.

  "Grandfather, when can my war end... This feeling is so exhausting." Zan Lang said, his voice already changing tone.

  "Alas! You're suffering, your killing aura is too heavy. In today's words, this is what they call post-war syndrome. But thinking back to when I returned from the battlefield in Southern Xinjiang, my condition was even more severe than yours. Alright, this afternoon take a helicopter to Tibet and clear your mind. Once you're there, it'll be like being at home. If you want to go hunting, go ahead and hunt; if you want to rest, try living a normal life for a while. Just remember to come back for the New Year's celebration, alas..." The old man finished speaking and stood up to leave the living room.

  The wolf was stunned for a moment, then quickly rubbed its face and assembled the pile of parts on the carpet.

  That afternoon, Can Leng boarded a J-9 and flew towards Tibet.

  "Is that you?! We meet again! Haha, it's really fate!" In the helicopter, a young soldier instinctively stood up to salute after seeing the Lone Wolf, but didn't expect to bump his head on the cabin.

  "You're here too?" The Lone Wolf stared at the warrior in front of him, somewhat astonished. Wasn't this the lieutenant from the airport?

  "My name is Liu Zhong, this time I'm going to Tibet to assist the brothers there in capturing a group of religious terrorists. How about it? Old soldier, if you have time, help us out?" The lieutenant seemed to be the leader of this operation and didn't mind the gaze of his comrades by his side.

  After some thought, Zan Lang realized he didn't have anything else to do, so he gladly accepted Liu Zhong's invitation. With Liu Zhong's introduction, everyone finally found out that the little brother in front of them was the veteran their captain had been raving about.

  The army is a place where strength speaks, and several warriors saw the discontent in their eyes. The lone wolf casually pulled out Liu Zhong's 95-style assault rifle and disassembled it into parts with a few quick movements, then restored it to its original state within 30 seconds. The small cabin erupted in cheers, and everyone easily accepted the lone wolf's joining.

  In an arsenal of the Tibet Military District, a group of people curiously surrounded Can Lang to watch him choose his weapons. To be honest, Can Lang had never used domestically-made weapons before. In the mercenary circle, Asian countries' weapons were often criticized. In recent years, China's mass-exported imitation M16 rifles were even dubbed "street stall goods". The reason was simple: the state-owned factories produced weapons with low prices and poor quality that left people speechless.

  Holding a 95-style assault rifle, Lang Wu spoke out his own views under the angry gaze of everyone.

  "Although I haven't used a domestically-made gun, I think using this rifle that only a giraffe would find comfortable to shoot with must be very straining on your neck? Although the whole gun uses a bullpup design, I'm afraid the high magazine of this gun will easily expose your position when you're trying to hide and shoot?"

  "You've never even used it, how do you know our Type 95 is no good? You're just blindly worshipping foreign things!" a young soldier angrily spoke out the thoughts of most people.

  Stroking the rough engineering plastic shell of his 95-style assault rifle, Can Lang gazed at the soldier with a look that said "you're an idiot" and said, "I'm afraid when you guys do live-fire exercises, you all have to wear gloves on your left hand, right?" Patting the black forearm of his 95 rifle, Can Lang continued, "Such poor manufacturing quality is really tough on our brothers. Do you know how our country's military factories operate? There's an unwritten rule among high-ranking officials in the military regions: first-class products are for export, second-class products are for domestic use, and third-class products are issued to troops! The weapons in your hands have at least 15 fewer manufacturing processes than export goods!" Can Lang's words made everyone lower their heads, clearly aware of the truth behind this rumor.

  The lone wolf switched to an 88-style sniper rifle and continued to speak to the surrounding warriors, "The only good thing is this sniper rifle. What I mean by good is that its appearance is good, very avant-garde. However, it's already the 21st century, and a sniper rifle still uses machine gun bullets without having its own specialized bullets. This can't help but be said to be a sad thing for a sniper rifle."

  He put down the sniper rifle in his hand, and the residual wolf looked at his soldiers with a circle of eyes that were used to being convinced, "Do you know why mercenaries never choose Chinese weapons? The manufacturing process is only one aspect. 5.8mm bullets can only be found in China. Caliber! Pursuing their own characteristics has made Chinese weapons abandon the biggest advantage of a weapon - versatility! A gun that cannot find suitable ammunition on the battlefield is the first to be discarded. I remind you with my own experience, once cross-border operations are executed, be sure to choose guns that can easily find adapted ammunition in the combat zone. Even the best weapon, without bullets, is scrap iron. Moreover, our weapons are not the best..."

  Zanlang finished speaking and picked up an old 85-style sniper rifle, walking out of the arsenal. Liu Zhong and others who stayed behind patted their rifles, digesting Zanlang's words. As a warrior, being told that one's weapon is not good was like being scolded for one's own child.

  But nobody said anything, and everyone knew that the lame wolf was telling the truth. However, these are not things that can be changed by a few small soldiers. A so-called weapons expert who has never been on the battlefield can casually design a so-called world-famous gun with a swipe of his paw, and then let soldiers take it onto the battlefield. This is simply irresponsible to the lives of soldiers!

  The unreasonable provision that privately modifying firearms in the army must be brought to a military court will only kill countless firearms geniuses, just like nine years of compulsory education can destroy children's talent. The world-renowned Kalashnikov was once an ordinary soldier fighting on the front lines, wasn't he? Why can't China, which is best at copying, produce a few such geniuses? I once saw in a relatively professional firearms magazine in China that a Chinese overseas student designed a new type of pneumatic machine gun in Russia and applied for a patent. When Russian journalists asked him why he didn't apply for the patent in his own country, the student shook his head and refused to answer with a bitter smile. I think he didn't answer because it was embarrassing. A new rifle that can be patented abroad may have a high probability of being detained for private gun-making at home?

  Can Láng carried the 85-style sniper rifle to the maintenance room, and the soldiers knew that following this little brother could learn a lot of battlefield knowledge. So several clever soldiers led everyone to surround him again.

  Ignoring the curious gazes of the crowd, Lang Wu skillfully disassembled the long barrel of his 85-style sniper rifle. He tore open a medical kit he had been carrying with him and pulled out a small cotton ball, which he then tied to a length of detonator cord from his pocket. Next, he threaded one end of the cord through the gun barrel. The military officer looked at him disdainfully, not thinking much of this underage kid, but as Lang Wu began to pull the cord back and forth, creating knots on the outside of the barrel, an astonishing scene unfolded.

  Because the barrel was at a 45-degree angle, the Wolf grabbed it in his hand and pulled the cord back and forth, bringing out many black gunpowder residues! A rifle that the military thought was well-maintained had so much residue left over that everyone's face looked bad. Everyone quickly followed suit and cleaned out their own barrels, removing a lot of residue. After Wolf removed the now-black cotton ball and replaced it with a clean one, he applied a small amount of gun oil and continued to pull the cord until he stopped after repeating three times. At this point, there were only 30 minutes left before action began.

  The old wolf pulled out a box of 53-style machine gun bullets, grabbed a handful and put them on the table to start selecting one by one. He stood each bullet upside down on his fingertips as if playing a trick to find its center of gravity. An old sniper looked at him thoughtfully, seemingly seeing something...

  30 minutes later, Canis Lupus Dirus was satisfied with the 200 bullets he had picked out under the gaze of the military officer who sent him off like a plague god, and boarded the helicopter again.