Chapter Eighteen: The Pain of Memories

  In the business class, a man in military uniform sat upright on his seat. A strong aura of killing intent unique to veterans enveloped the entire cabin, filling the small space with tension. The plane had only taken off for ten minutes when three passengers requested to switch to economy class.

  A flight attendant looked at the remnants of the wolves that filled the air with murderous intent, her brow furrowed in concern. She gritted her teeth and picked up a cup of coffee, walking towards him.

  "Sir, please relax, okay? You don't have to... Ah~~~!"

  The young flight attendant hadn't finished speaking when, with a loud crash, the wolf-like man flipped over the tray in her hand. Before anyone knew it, a desert-colored Beretta M92FS was pressed against the flight attendant's forehead.

  The cabin was suddenly filled with terrified screams, and a guy who was closer to the door knelt down and tried to crawl out while the wolf wasn't paying attention. The wolf glanced at him faintly, and he immediately retreated back in.

  After confirming that there were no hand grenades or other life-threatening objects under the flight attendant's tray, Canine Wolf spun his gun around and holstered it again. The flight attendant hastily retreated to the rest area with a pale face and pressed the alarm button. Canine Wolf rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, feeling inexplicably tired even before returning home; it seemed he was no longer adapted to living in normal society. What was he chasing after all? Chasing death? It seemed that the battlefield was indeed his home...

  Several hours later, at Nanjing Airport. The remaining wolves who had not yet disembarked from the plane were surrounded by an reinforced company of the Nanjing Garrison Command.

  Zan Lang hesitated for a moment, then thought that it might be the overreaction on the plane that was misunderstood. Cooperating, he raised his hands and slowly walked down the stairs amidst the tense expressions of the crowd.

  A young warrior flew over and pressed down the residual wolf, with 40 yards of military boots heavily trampling his face. The residual wolf endured the urge to fight back and let the other party do as he pleased. Two other warriors cooperated to handcuff the residual wolf with special alloy handcuffs. At this time, a lieutenant soldier walked over and began to search him.

  Two Beretta M92FS pistols, three offensive grenades, one smoke bomb, one flash bomb, one military dagger, one garrote wire, one OTs-14 "Groza" pistol, and finally, on the neck of the wolf, a black gold-plated Glory bullet that only some very special domestic entities might be equipped with!

  The lieutenant slowly loosened his grip and then ordered a soldier to quickly unlock the handcuffs for him. Looking at the soldier's badge in his hand, which domestic soldiers could not wear, as well as a sky blue gun license. The lieutenant respectfully returned the documents to Can Lang, who was wiping the military boot prints from his face.

  "Captain, I think there must be some misunderstanding between us. With your weapon configuration, I think it's hard for just our reinforced company to subdue you without any civilian casualties. Please show me your valid ID, you should be a veteran who has been through battles, and shouldn't make things difficult for us, right?" The lieutenant said with a standard military salute and a tone that was both respectful and slightly insolent.

  The remaining wolf praised the other party, who was indeed not a fool. In the tense gaze of a group of people, he took out a black hardcover book and handed it to the lieutenant. It's impossible not to be nervous, without mentioning those already confiscated weapons, just that rare Black Sun Glory bullet, which is only as big as a pigeon egg, has the power of a rocket shell. If they were really forced into a corner, no one could escape.

  The lieutenant opened the black ID card, took a glance and his face changed drastically. He quickly returned the ID card and gave another salute, but this time with more respect, unrelated to age, just a new recruit's respect for an old soldier.

  A warrior holding a rifle with a wounded wolf on it, three people got on a military off-road vehicle and sped to the Nanjing Yuhuatai Revolutionary Martyrs' Cemetery.

  It was still a drizzly day, and Zan Lang had been standing alone in front of a tombstone for two hours. The lieutenant who came with him had long since taken the hint and left the off-road vehicle to Zan Lang, driving back to the military camp.

  In the late afternoon, Can Leng drove to a villa in the northern suburbs of Nanjing. The dilapidated courtyard was overgrown with weeds, and from time to time, two or three wild cats darted in and out of the yard, memories of this place slowly emerging bit by bit.

  The wolf gradually felt a sourness in the corner of his eyes, raised his hand to wipe away the tears, then pulled out his military knife and pried up a stone slab in front of the courtyard gate, revealing a small glass bottle.

  Gently breaking the bottle, a key appeared in Lang's hand. After spending half an hour prying open the rusty door lock, he finally walked back into his own home again. Casually taking off his military uniform, in the October weather, Lang wore a black T-shirt and began clearing away the weeds in the courtyard. One by one, Lang patiently piled up all the weeds, ignoring the fresh blood dripping from his palms, and smiled bitterly as he opened the door to the house.

  Everything in the room remained as it was eight years ago, with thick dust burying all childhood memories and pain. The door to his parents' old room creaked open with a familiar ease, revealing a large wedding photo still hanging above the bed. In the frame, a resolute soldier was embracing a female comrade-in-arms, both dressed in military attire, smiling happily together. Canaan slowly knelt down, and the tears he had hidden for eight years fell onto the dusty floor with a soft pattering sound. Everything seemed as if it had happened just yesterday; Canaan gritted his teeth and knocked three times against the frame, then pulled out his soldier's badge, which bore half of a Medal of Honor, its broken edge worn smooth. How many nights had Canaan fallen asleep clutching this half-medal in exhaustion? How many times after battles had he secretly clutched it, crying silently? No one knew; all anyone saw was an overly mature child who seemed to care about nothing, only knowing how to kill - a war machine...

  The rare sight of a child's distress slowly crawled onto the big bed and fell into a deep sleep. That night, his dreams were free from slaughter, war, and any vengeful spirits who died under his gun.

  The next day, the wolf-like boy with a grey head and dirty face got out of bed for the first time after being seven and a half years old. Two clear tear marks hung on his strong face, but his icy expression had completely erased last night's pain.

  He pulled out a satellite phone and called a cleaning company to do the cleanup, specifically instructing them not to discard any items. The wolf-like figure got into the off-road vehicle and drove away like a military convoy.

  It was already known that the old man who had been waiting for the return of the leftover wolf had been standing at the gate early on. Eight years had made the old man even more aged, but he still stood in standard military posture, waiting for the tiger-headed and tiger-brained child to return from eight years ago.

  A loud roar of a high-powered engine caused pedestrians to dodge, and at the entrance of the military compound, an off-road vehicle with brake marks stopped not far away. The wounded wolf, covered in dust, jumped out of the car and walked towards the old man in big strides. "Bang!", facing this old man who gave himself an opportunity, the wounded wolf respectfully performed a standard People's Liberation Army salute. The old man's turbid tears fell on his wrinkled face, and he slowly raised his hand to return the salute to the child in front of him. After finishing the salute, the wounded wolf slowly took a step back, knelt down heavily on both knees, and bowed his head towards the old man. On the hard cement ground, a faint blood stain seemed to be telling people about the gratitude in this child's heart. The scene of an old and young person caused countless pedestrians to cast sidelong glances, some were puzzled, but more were moved.

  Still like eight years ago, the old man hugged the child who was already as tall as his shoulder and walked slowly towards his villa. The guard who had put Ning Wei into the car that year looked at the bulging weapon around his waist and opened his mouth without saying anything...

  "Kid, you've finally grown up. For eight years, I've been watching your every move, but your strength is still not enough! Grandpa knows you're eager for revenge, but you must be patient for me! In three years, Grandpa will tell you the truth about things. Alright, go wash up now and take a rest today. Tomorrow, go out and have some fun by yourself. Don't get too tense, it's safe in the country. Go!" The old man seemed to notice that Can Lang was not in high spirits, so he made an excuse for him to take a break.

  Carrying his own weapons, the lone wolf wrapped in a bath towel returned to that small bedroom where he had lived for two years. Everything was just like it was in his memories, and the tidy room obviously had someone cleaning it regularly. He habitually checked the room once, and with a bitter smile, he loaded the pistol, cocked it, and put it under the pillow.

  Lying on the bed, my depressed mood slightly relaxed, the soft mattress, quiet environment, no danger, no hand grenades that might appear at any time, everything is a mercenary's most coveted luxury. Everything seems too good to be true...

  That night, the old man and Can Lang sat face to face in the dining hall. The guard opened a small black earthenware jar of Moutai from the Guangxu period, which was rarely seen, and quietly retreated after mixing new wine for the two of them.

  Shaking the small bowl in his hand, the old man looked at the half-grown wolf cub with a mixture of comfort and nostalgia. "Kid, come on! Let's have one together! Forget those stinky rules from your circle! Drink!" After finishing speaking, the old man downed nearly three liang of Maotai in one gulp.

  Can Lang looked at the bowl with the fragrant Maotai scattered in it, picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. The first time Can Lang drank wine, he was choked, the unique aftertaste of Chen Nian Maotai made him dizzy, he shook his head, and Can Lang poured himself another bowl in a fit of pique. The old man seemed to have no intention of stopping, and the old and young grandfather and grandson were drinking bowl by bowl like this.

  The next day, the dizzy wolf got up and casually washed his face, reported to the old man, and walked out of the military compound.

  ...

  Memories brought him to this point, a helicopter's roar interrupted the man's intermittent narrative. A tall and thin man rushed into the emergency room with the help of doctors and carried him into the helicopter. In the cabin, a group of soldiers with red eyes and a woman continued listening to his memories...