“Go home?”
That simple, almost simplistic word now carried an indescribably complex and heavy meaning.
“Return to Beihai.”
“Go back to your families, your loved ones, your friends… even if it’s only to make… a final farewell.”
“Tell them you love them.”
“Hug your children. Look upon your parents. Walk the streets you once lived on. Taste the food from home… Then, like ordinary people, wait for this dream to end. Or… continue existing in another form.”
“Don’t stay here.”
His voice suddenly turned sharp.
“Don’t follow me to carry out a mission with zero chance of survival.”
“So—”
Su Xiji’s gaze burned like a torch, searing into everyone’s soul.
“Now, the choice is in your hands.”
“Do you stay and continue the mission?”
“Or… do you go home?”
As his voice fell, the cavern sank into an unprecedented, almost suffocating silence.
Second after second ticked by.
Even the emergency lights seemed to dim a little.
Only the sound of one hundred and twenty-seven heavy or stifled breaths interwove, forming a heavy heartbeat.
On every soldier’s face, every officer’s face, expressions churned violently—shock, bewilderment, pain, struggle, attachment, reluctance.
Emotions surged like tides in their eyes.
Someone clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.
Someone closed his eyes, his chest heaving violently.
Someone looked up at the jagged rocks on the cavern ceiling, his gaze hollow.
And someone stared straight at the red flag still held high, as if trying to draw the last bit of strength from its weather-beaten color.
No one spoke.
Only silence, like a tangible lead weight, pressed on everyone’s heart.
Choose to go home?
Return to Beihai, where all their cares and warmth lay?
To spend their final moments with their loved ones, then calmly accept the inevitable end?
That sounded… like a mercy, a release.
Or choose to stay?
Continue this false battle, charge toward a false goal, then die falsely, annihilate falsely?
What was the point?
The long silence seemed to last an eternity.
Finally.
Step.
Step.
Step.
A slightly dragging but unusually firm footstep sounded.
A figure stepped out of the formation.
He was a soldier who looked about thirty, his face blackened by gunpowder, an unhealed scrape on his left cheek.
His movements were a bit awkward.
Looking closely, his right foot was slightly lame—clearly an old wound not yet healed, or a new one added.
He walked to the front of the formation and stopped a few paces from Su Xiche.
He didn’t look at anyone else, only stared straight at Su Xiche.
His eyes were clear, yet seemed to burn with two balls of fire.
“Division Commander.”
His voice was a little hoarse, but exceptionally clear.
Su Xiche looked at him and recognized him.
This was an old soldier, surnamed Li, a recon sharp shooter from the division’s direct reconnaissance battalion, known for his ferocity and alertness.
He remembered that in the last recon mission, Li and his team had risked their lives to bring back critical intel, at the cost of more than half the team being casualties, and Li himself was wounded in the foot.
“Li Zhanhe, speak.”
Su Xiche nodded.
Li Zhanhe licked his chapped lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as if the next question required immense courage.
“Division Commander, I… I want to ask.”
His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering.
“Since you said those people came from reality, from the future… then—”
He paused, took a deep breath, and asked the question that might have been buried deepest in everyone’s heart: “Beihai… did we hold it?”
That question sliced through the heavy silence in the cavern like lightning!
All eyes immediately focused on Su Xiji’s face.
Tension, hope, fear—countless emotions mixed together, almost spilling out of those eyes.
Did Beihai hold?
They had bled and fought here, watched their comrades fall one by one, endured enormous sacrifice and pressure.
Wasn’t that all for this answer?
Even if this world was fake, even if they themselves were fake, the blood and tears they paid for, the target they protected—Beihai—had it… succeeded?
In real history, in the world of those future people… had they won?
Su Xiji looked at Li Zhanhe, at those eyes that persisted in asking.
Then his gaze slowly swept across the entire hall, across those faces holding their breath, waiting as if for a final verdict.
The muscles on his face twitched slightly.
Then he nodded gently, but with absolute firmness.
“It held.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it exploded like thunder in everyone’s ears!
“In real history,” Su Xiji’s voice carried a strange calm, as if reading a battle report from the future, “our 103rd Division successfully completed the final plan.”
He paused, each word clearly enunciated: “We… died together with the main force of the Abnormal Beings.”
Died together!
No cheers, no leaps of joy.
Only a deeper silence, mixed with immense relief and endless solemnity, spread through the cavern.
“Beihai,” Su Xiji looked at Li Zhanhe, then at everyone, each word as heavy as a thousand pounds, “was held.”
After hearing Su Xiji’s words, Li Zhanhe stood still.
A few seconds later, he nodded.
The lines on his face, tight from tension and wounds, suddenly softened completely, like spring ice melting.
A brilliant smile, even a bit childish, bloomed on his powder-stained face.
In that smile were pride, relief, deep attachment, and a kind of… peaceful acceptance without regret.
“Held…” he repeated softly, as if savoring the sweetest fruit in the world.
“How wonderful…”
He raised his head again to look at Su Xiji, his eyes bright enough to be frightening.
“My son… just turned one month old.”
His voice choked a little, but his smile grew even brighter, carrying a clumsy but deeply affectionate fatherly pride.
“His photo is in my breast pocket, wrinkled now… As a dad, I’m not good enough. I’m afraid… I won’t see him grow up.”
He raised a hand, wiped his eyes hard, shaking off the stubborn wetness, then puffed out his chest!
“Division Commander!”
His voice shot up, carrying a decisive resolve that burned all bridges, echoing in the cavern: “Give the order!”
“I don’t understand all that real or fake, history or death realm stuff! I don’t want to understand!”
He spun around to face his comrades behind him, facing the red flag, and roared with all his strength: “I only know one thing—our 103rd Division!”
“Has no cowards!”
The roar was like thunder, bouncing and echoing off the rock walls, lasting a long time.
After roaring, Li Zhanhe turned, nodded hard at Su Xiji once more, then limped back into the formation with a firm step.
His back was straight as a rod.
Su Xiche watched Li Zhanhe walk back into the ranks, watching him re-merge into that silent but seemingly ignited forest of steel.
His nose suddenly stung.
A hot stream rushed to his eyes without warning.
He quickly lowered his head, took a deep, forceful breath, and barely suppressed that liquid that was about to spill out.
The damp, cold air of the cavern filled his lungs, bringing a sharp pain, but it also steadied his churning emotions.
A few seconds later, he raised his head again.
His eyes were still a little red, but his gaze had regained its former firmness, even sharper and clearer than before, like a cold star washed by tears.
He swept his gaze over his men again.
“Good!”
He only said one word, his voice steady and forceful.
“Anyone else have questions?”
He raised his volume.
“Speak up! If you don’t now, you might never have the chance!”
A brief silence.
Step.
Another person stepped out.
He was a very young officer.
His shoulder boards showed he was just a second lieutenant, with a touch of youthful immaturity still on his face, but his eyes were very steady.
He walked up to Su Xiche, stood at attention, and saluted.
“Reporting, Division Commander! Recon Company, Third Platoon Leader, Chen Qiming!”
“Speak, Platoon Leader Chen.”
Su Xiche returned the salute.
Chen Qiming lowered his hand and stood straight.
He didn’t speak immediately.
Instead, he turned his gaze slightly toward the front of the formation, toward the red flag held high by the senior sergeant.
His eyes became incredibly focused, incredibly… tender.
“Division Commander,” he spoke, his voice young but carrying a calm beyond his years, “I don’t have anything to ask anymore. Old Squad Leader Li… already asked what needed to be asked.”
He paused, as if making a decision.
“It’s just…” He turned to Su Xiji again.
A trace of almost shameful but deeply determined expression appeared on his young face.
“Before carrying out the mission… I request to sing a song with the brothers.”
Sing a song?
This request, at such a heavy, solemn moment, seemed a bit abrupt, even… inappropriate.
But Su Xiji looked at Chen Qiming’s clear and persistent eyes, seeing the red of the flag reflected in them, and suddenly understood something.
He looked at the young officer for a moment.
Then, his face, which had been taut as if carrying the weight of the entire planet, slowly broke into a smile.
It wasn’t a bright smile; it was even a little tired, a little desolate.
But the understanding, recognition, and warmth it contained made every soldier who saw it tremble slightly in their hearts.
“Sing!”
Su Xiji replied with just one word, decisively.
Chen Qiming’s eyes lit up instantly, as if stars were burning inside them.
He snapped to attention, puffed out his chest, and turned to face the entire formation.
His eyes swept across every face, across those familiar comrades who had lived and died together.
Then he took a deep breath and shouted the order with all his might, his voice trembling slightly from excitement but crystal clear: “All personnel—”
“At my command—”
“Sa—lute!”
Shwoosh!
Without a moment’s hesitation, without a second’s delay.
One hundred and twenty-seven people, including Su Xiji himself, moved in perfect unison, chillingly coordinated!
Right arms raised, fingers together, palms slightly curved, fingertips lightly touching the temples.
A standard military salute.
Everyone faced the red flag and saluted.
In the cavern, there was only the faint whoosh of arms cutting through the air and the rustle of fabric.
Chen Qiming faced the flag, his back to his division commander and comrades.
He couldn’t see their expressions, but he could feel the silent power behind him, like a volcano about to erupt.
His chest heaved violently, and his eyes instantly reddened.
He opened his mouth to start, but found his throat blocked.
He couldn’t make a sound.
He cleared his throat forcefully and tried again: “Arise, ye who refuse to be…”
His voice was a little dry, a little off-key.
He paused, closed his eyes hard, then opened them again.
His eyes were now a determined crimson!
He almost shouted the command that had been used countless times but now seemed to have a brand-new life: “One, two, sing!”
“Arise!”
The first note was roared out by Su Xiji.
The division commander, known for his steadfastness and cold demeanor, now roared like a lion cornered, straining his neck, putting in all the strength of his life to roar out those two earth-shattering words!
His voice was hoarse, even cracking, but it carried a mighty power that could tear through any darkness!
“Ye who refuse to be…”
The second, the third… everyone roared along!
Not singing—roaring!
It was a soul cry, a life scream!
“…”
“Arise! Arise! Arise!”
The sound waves crashed like a tsunami in this enclosed underground cavern!
They gathered into an unstoppable torrent, slamming against the rock walls, echoing in every chest!
The dim lights seemed to brighten at that moment!
Water droplets on the rock walls shook down in a shower!
Su Xiji stood straight, head high, roaring and singing hoarsely.
His face was flushed from exertion, veins bulging on his neck.
Scalding tears finally could no longer be held back.
They streamed down, mixing with the dust and gunpowder on his face, flooding down.
But he didn’t care.
He roared, he sang, as if transported back decades ago, to the naive days when he first put on a uniform, stood in a recruit formation, and clumsily learned the army song from his squad leader.
He seemed to see the recruit squad leader pointing at his nose and yelling at him, calling him a useless soldier who couldn’t stand straight or march in step, but with concern in his eyes.
He seemed to be back on a starry night, sitting on a dirt slope behind the barracks with the company political instructor, smoking cheap cigarettes, talking about ideals, responsibility, and sacrifice.
He seemed to stand again on that proud graduation stage of recruit training, the chief slapping his shoulder hard, saying, “Good kid, keep it up!”
He seemed to be in the solemn auditorium of the military academy, the white-haired old professor speaking emotionally, tears streaming as he recounted the deeds of the martyrs who used their flesh and blood to slow the advance of the Abnormal Beings in the early days of the war.
He seemed to return to the day he was officially appointed as the commander of the 103rd Division.
The sun was blazing.
He stood under the snarling military flag in the center of the camp, leading all the officers and soldiers, solemnly swearing, word by word…
Scene after scene, image after image, like yellowed but clear film reels, flashed rapidly in his tear-blurred vision.
Those sweat, those tears, those laughs, those pains, those sacrifices, those honors… everything that made Su Xiji the person he was—all the memories and emotions—at this moment, transformed into the blazing fire in his chest, into the roar breaking through all shackles from his throat!
“With one heart we march!”
“Into the enemy’s fire!”
“March on!”
“Into the enemy’s fire!”
“March on!”
“March on!”
“March, march on!”
The last “on” dragged out a long, piercing tail that seemed to stab the sky, slowly dissipating in the cavern.
The lingering sound trembled softly, like the wail of an undying battle spirit.
No one immediately lowered their saluting arms.
Everyone was still immersed in that torrent of emotion—tragic to the extreme, yet uplifting to the extreme.
Chests heaved violently, breaths came thick as bulls’, eyes red, many faces still had wet tear tracks.
Chen Qiming slowly lowered his arm and turned around.
His young face was covered in tears, but it carried a calm and firmness as if after a baptism.
He looked at Su Xiji, stood at attention again, saluted, then silently walked back into the formation.
Su Xiji also slowly lowered his arm.
With his rough, calloused hands, now trembling slightly, he wiped the moisture from his eyes forcefully and without shame.
His gaze swept over his soldiers again, one by one.
This time, he no longer saw confusion, struggle, or despair.
He saw rock-solid determination, fiery resolve, peaceful acceptance of a death with no regrets, and… the soul of the 103rd Division—the undying military spirit under that red flag!
No matter if the world was real or false, whether existence was real or illusory, this spirit was real!
It was forged by their flesh, blood, faith, and sacrifice—an undeniable truth!
A brilliantly warm smile, even with a hint of youthful boldness, suddenly bloomed on Su Xiji’s face.
That smile dispelled the last traces of gloom and heaviness in the cavern.
“Brothers!”
He spoke, his voice still a little hoarse but full of strength.
“Next life—”
He paused, his smile widening, revealing teeth slightly yellowed by tobacco, and said a sentence that stunned all the soldiers, then made their eyes redden again: “We’ll serve together again!”
He patted his chest, smiling like a child who had just gotten a promise: “I’ll wash your socks and scrub your underwear!”
Ha!
The emotion suppressed to the extreme finally found an outlet.
Someone couldn’t hold it back first—a snort of laughter escaped.
Then laughter spread like ripples.
Though mixed with tears, though full of sorrow, there was a kind of carefree boldness in that laughter, as if seeing through life and death!
Su Xiji laughed loudly too, rocking back and forth, laughing until tears came out again.
After laughing for a while, he slowly stopped.
He took one last deep look at his brothers, at the red flag that had weathered so much but still stood tall.
Then he wiped away all smiles, his face becoming as cold and hard as steel, solemn.
He straightened his spine, like a war blade about to be drawn, unbending.
“103rd Division, all personnel—!”
His voice exploded like thunder in the cavern, carrying unquestionable resolution and a murderous aura!
“Mission briefing, final phase—”
“Objective: Open the passage between the cavern and the Underground Great Wall. Each group follows the indicator diagram to find their respective detonation targets… We cannot let those future brothers and sisters die here for us.”
“So, the previous plan of unified detonation is scrapped. I need everyone to reach their target locations, then—”
“In batches, by zones, according to the specified time…”
“Manual detonation!”
“Our mission code name is—”
Su Xiji’s gaze seemed to pierce through the rock layers, toward that battlefield shrouded in gray mist and peril, toward those figures from the future fighting for reality.
The last four words he uttered were as heavy as iron, as hot as fire: “—Returning Ember!”
“For Beihai!”
“For the meaning of our existence!”
“Move out!”