After finishing this sentence, Gu Qiancheng did not even wait for the officer to recover from his extreme shock before tilting his head slightly.
He spoke in a volume that only Lu Fan, standing behind him, could hear clearly, his tone indifferent: “Well, Regiment Commander Lu? Did I not say that I would surely protect your safety?”
There was not much tension or seriousness in Gu Qiancheng’s voice; instead, it carried the lightheartedness of someone who had just finished a prank.
“Instead of doubting that we have ulterior motives, you should use your brain to think clearly about who exactly is so impatient to take your life.”
Lu Fan opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
The bizarre scene where the bullets vanished and the shocking appearance of the red-haired youth out of thin air were still impacting the limits of his perception.
However, he was Lu Fan after all, the commander of the 682nd Regiment.
He forced himself to suppress his turbulent emotions as quickly as possible, his gaze locked firmly onto the back of the red-haired youth and the six killers ahead who were acting as if facing a great enemy, their muzzles shifted in unison.
The red-haired youth—Gu Qiancheng—did not seem to take the six guns opposite him seriously at all.
He lazily turned his head back, swept a glance at Chen Hai and the soldiers behind him who were equally suspicious and hesitant, their fingers glued to the triggers, and let out a small yawn, his tone one of disgust: “I say, you lot standing here are a bit of an eyesore, you know?”
The words “eyesore” completely ignited the officer’s fury.
“Kill them!!!”
The officer roared hoarsely, his voice nearly breaking.
He had completely torn off the mask of the cold executor from earlier, leaving only a beast-like ferocity.
He pulled the trigger frantically, and the pistol bullets poured out.
The five soldiers behind him were also provoked into a murderous frenzy by their superior’s wild roar.
Although the scene before them exceeded their comprehension, long-term training and the instinct for obedience forced them to open fire simultaneously.
Rifles and pistols spat out tongues of fire, and bullets shot toward the only two targets in the tent—Gu Qiancheng and Lu Fan behind him—like a rainstorm.
Inside the narrow space, the gunfire was deafening, and gunpowder smoke permeated the air instantly.
However, facing this metal storm that could tear any flesh and blood into shreds, Gu Qiancheng did not even frown.
He even took a small step forward, as if to meet those bullets.
All the warheads aimed at him and Lu Fan, upon entering a distance of about one arm’s length in front of Gu Qiancheng, seemed to strike an absolutely transparent and impassable wall.
There was no sound of impact, no sparks.
The bullets simply… one after another, vanished into thin air.
Like mud oxen entering the sea, they left no trace behind.
Only the flames continuously spat from the muzzles and the ejected shell casings proved that the attack was indeed ongoing.
Within a short two or three seconds, Chen Hai emptied his pistol magazine, and the soldiers’ rifles also fired a large number of rounds.
Numerous holes made by stray or ricocheting bullets appeared on the canvas walls of the tent, and the cold wind whistled in, but the area where Gu Qiancheng and Lu Fan stood remained without a single bit of damage.
The shooting stopped.
It was not because of an order, but because extreme fear and confusion had drained all the strength and courage from the shooters.
Chen Hai’s arm holding the empty gun dropped listlessly.
His pupils shrank to the size of needle points, his face devoid of color.
He stared fixedly at Gu Qiancheng, his lips trembling as he squeezed out a few broken syllables from deep in his throat, carrying a tremor of disbelief: “H-how is this possible…. You…. You are…. An Oracle, an Oracle…?”
The last three words seemed to use up all his strength, revealing a horror that seeped into his very marrow.
Gu Qiancheng twitched those two flying red eyebrows of his, the smile on his face deepening, and he even nodded in approval: “Tsk, you guessed right.”
He raised a fair, slender hand—one that looked more suited for holding a pen than for combat—palm up, fingers curling slightly.
“However, there is no reward.”
The moment his words fell—
Centered on Gu Qiancheng, a ripple that was invisible and intangible, yet perceptibly felt, spread out gently and swiftly like water waves.
The ripple swept over Chen Hai and the five soldiers behind him.
There was no sound, no special lighting effects.
The six people, along with the weapons in their hands and the equipment on their bodies, were simply wiped away from the canvas of reality as if by the most skilled eraser.
Silently and without a trace, they vanished on the spot.
The tent suddenly felt much emptier, with only the lingering smell of gunpowder, the cold wind blowing through the holes in the canvas, and the scattered shell casings on the ground proving that everything that had just happened was not a hallucination.
Lu Fan’s mouth opened slightly, his breathing stalled for a moment.
He looked at Gu Qiancheng’s still lazily standing back, then looked at the place where Chen Hai and the others had vanished completely, without leaving even a trace of ash.
A chill crawled up his spine and rushed straight to the top of his head.
This was not combat; it could not even be called a disposal.
It was more like an erasure on the level of some rule.
It was not that he had never seen an Oracle; in fact, there were several Oracles in the 682nd Regiment under his command, but this was the first time he had seen an Oracle with such bizarre abilities as Gu Qiancheng.
Lu Fan forcibly suppressed the raging storms in his heart.
He knew that now was not the time to investigate these things.
The fatal crisis had been temporarily lifted, but a greater conspiracy had already surfaced, and the source of the murderous intent directed at him was very clear.
Zhao Zhenwu!
The Deputy Chief of Staff of the Operations Staff Department, now the nominal highest commander of the remnants of the 103rd Division!
A traitor, a turncoat, a bastard who stopped at nothing to frame people and kill his own side just to cover up his own crimes!
At the same time, the absurd things that Gu Qiancheng said when he abruptly appeared in his tent in the afternoon—which were partially verified by the facts before his eyes—rushed back into Lu Fan’s mind like a tide.
“…We come from the future.”
“…This is not the historical process you know, but an abnormal space known as the Dead Realm, similar to a circulating illusion or cage generated based on real historical data.”
“…Our goal is to stop the expansion of the Dead Realm, which concerns… a future you might not understand.”
At the time, Lu Fan had only taken these as the ramblings of a madman or a calculated deception.
Out of cautious rejection and guardedness, he did not believe it and had simply driven this guy who had suddenly appeared in his tent away.
However, now, the real traitor had surfaced and even wanted his life, while Gu Qiancheng, the guy he regarded as a madman, had appeared at the most critical moment and instantly dealt with the elite killers sent by Zhao Zhenwu.
Facts speak louder than any argument.
Lu Fan took a deep breath of the cold air that carried the smell of gunpowder, his eyes becoming sharp and firm.
He looked at Gu Qiancheng, who had turned back around and still wore a relaxed expression, as if he had just shooed away a few flies.
“So,” Lu Fan’s voice recovered its steadiness, even though it was still a bit hoarse, “what you said in the afternoon… that you have had comrades enter the Dead Realm before, and… replaced the identities of some people?”
He chose to throw out the question actively; this was the beginning of trust and cooperation.
Gu Qiancheng seemed quite satisfied that Lu Fan had adjusted his mindset and gotten to the point so quickly.
The cynicism on his face converged a little, and he nodded, his tone becoming slightly more serious: “Yes.”
“One of the operating rules of the Dead Realm.”
“Normal entrants—their consciousness will merge with the vacancy or projection of an existing individual within the Dead Realm, replacing their identity.”
“This way, they can blend into this world relatively naturally to conduct investigations or interventions.”
He pointed to the unique long vest he was wearing, its patterns seeming to flow slightly with his movements: “But our batch… the situation is special.”
“We broke in forcibly. You could understand it as a hacking operation?”
“The reason we were able to get in is actually because of this—” He tapped the vest, “It helped us hack into the Dead Realm. The benefit is keeping our self-awareness and complete capabilities; the downside, well…”
Gu Qiancheng pushed his hands out, somewhat helplessly: “Like this afternoon, if I had come to find you wearing the face and identity of one of your company commanders, or even just a messenger, even if you didn’t believe me, you wouldn’t have pulled your gun immediately, right?”
“Tsk tsk, imagining you pulling a gun to get rid of me this afternoon, I still feel a bit lingering fear~”
His analogy was a bit rough, but Lu Fan understood the principle.
Without a legitimate identity, in this disciplined military environment, one was indeed unable to move an inch and was easily treated as an enemy.
“I roughly understand.”
Lu Fan stood up completely from the army cot and quickly straightened his shirt, his eyes as bright as torches, “The top priority is to control Zhao Zhenwu.”
“He is a traitor and must be captured immediately to prevent him from taking desperate measures, causing greater destruction, or… running away.”
Cold light flickered in his eyes.
Zhao Zhenwu had not only betrayed the 103rd Division, leading to the collapse of the division headquarters and the sacrifice of countless brothers, but now he was even directly trying to kill him to silence him.
If this monster were not removed, justice would not be served.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Gu Qiancheng nodded, “Where is he?”
“His tent is in the center-north of the camp, with independent guards.”
As Lu Fan spoke, he had already walked with long strides toward the corner of the tent, where his webbing and sidearm were hanging.