Los Angeles defector

Buds in the Wind

Alright, maybe I can break through alive. Why is it always ambushes? Why is it always about breaking through? Is this my fate? Alright, I will break through! Alright...

Under the seduction of "battlefield syndrome," Jason wholeheartedly immersed himself in his imagined world. His narrowed eyes remained calm and resolute as he gripped a wooden spear in each hand, charging into the surging mass before him. A fierce blow struck his shoulder, painful but not overwhelming. It seemed his back was also hit, making breathing difficult. However, it wasn't as challenging as anticipated. Ignoring these sensations, he focused on what seemed to be the enemy's weak point, a potential opportunity for a breakthrough. Swinging the wooden stick fiercely, he shattered the enemy's wooden spear in front of him, then split it directly on the enemy's head, causing them to collapse and lie limp. Horizontally swinging the spear, he forced back one side with a clatter. Without time to catch his breath, a rain of blows came from the right, unstoppable. Choosing to face the attacks head-on, he fiercely struck the nearest opponent, resulting in a crunch—the sound of bones breaking—accompanied by cries of pain. Rolling on the ground, struggling, the opponent inadvertently created a breathing space for Jason. A buzzing sensation, likely from a blow to the back of his head, momentarily dazed him. Slightly staggering, he didn't need to look back, instead swinging his weapon back without hesitation. With a snap and a scream, he indeed struck the enemy behind him. Finally, his left wooden spear also broke, but that was inconsequential; a shorter weapon made it easier to exert force...

Amidst the gusts of cold wind, amidst the swirling dust, on the noisy, wailing, and cursing playground, Emily's petite figure stood still, gazing blankly. In her eyes, filled with tears, there was first astonishment, then confusion, followed by bewilderment, and finally, it turned into anger.

She finally reached out her small hand and picked up the wooden spear scattered at her feet, clumsily raising it and crying as she charged towards the center of the storm. Despite her limited strength, she didn't care, swinging with all her might, creating circles, attempting to knock down any obstacles in front of her, pushing forward into the battlefield. Advancing, striking, advancing again, she continued to cry, continued to rage.

The soldiers of Second Platoon weren't insane; they wanted to kill Jason, but how could they possibly harm the little girl? Seeing the little girl rushing in as if possessed, they helplessly dodged, creating a path, unwilling to stop her.

Jason didn't know how many times he had been struck heavily, swaying on the verge of collapse. Yet he hadn't fallen yet, relying solely on his belief that he had to break through, he must break through! Suddenly, he realized that his back was no longer being hit. He couldn't help but have a sense of illusion—why couldn't he feel the blows behind him anymore? Am I about to die? Have I lost my sense of pain? Finally, numbly, he turned around.

The little girl stood behind Jason, her back to him, fiercely wielding the wooden spear, crying, and madly blocking the Second Platoon soldiers who were trying to approach Jason.

Those pigtail braids are still so ridiculous! A faintly comforting curve appeared at the corner of Jason's bleeding mouth, a hint of tenderness finally emerged in his numb eyes, and then he fell into darkness...

Jason fell, lying unconscious in the middle of the makeshift dirt field. The soldiers of the Second Platoon still surrounded him, but they kept their distance, creating a large circular space, hesitant to approach.

Emily sat on the ground next to Jason's unconscious body, tears still wet on her face. She held the grenade that the captain had given her, the pin pulled out, the lever in her hand, and she looked around vigilantly.

"Emily, don't act recklessly! You saw him kill our captain. Put the grenade down now."

"They were just sparring. Don't blame Fox. You outnumbered them; you're not the good guys!"

"Emily, don't be confused. He's a deserter from the government army, you know that. Haven't you forgotten that your parents also died at the hands of the government army?"

"Don't deceive me. He didn't kill my parents, so why should I blame him? Now he's in Ninth Platoon, my comrade, my lifesaver. Who dares to come over and try?"

"You, this treacherous little girl, are we not your comrades anymore? I don't believe you dare to blow us up too!"

Seeing the people from the Second Platoon starting to act restlessly while speaking, Emily raised her eyes sharply, freeing up one small hand, swiftly taking off the military canteen that the Second Platoon had given her, and fiercely threw it into the crowd of the Second Platoon: "This was given to me by your Second Platoon, and now I return it to you. From now on, Emily severs all ties with your Second Platoon, with no debts between us. Let's see if what I, Emily, say holds true!" After shouting out these words sternly, Emily stood up, holding the grenade high in one hand and slowly pulling the pin with the other.

In the vast expanse of wind and dust, amidst rolling yellow sand, stood proudly a petite figure clad in gray military attire. A pair of small braids stubbornly protruded from the cute military cap, swaying slightly in the wind, appearing incongruous yet incredibly perfect, like a delicate and majestic sculpture standing tall on the playground.

Emily's stern tone and demeanor once again subdued the restless crowd around her. The soldiers from the Second Platoon no longer dared to approach, and the situation remained at a standstill.

Finally, the commanding officer's stern shout rang out from the sidelines: "Everyone, disperse! You, little girl, do you want to rebel? Put it down immediately! What are you still standing there for? Hurry up and send the injured to the medical team..."

The commanding officer and the chief of staff conducted an on-site investigation, inquired again at the medical team, and then returned to the regiment headquarters.

The chief of staff sat at the table shelling peanuts, while the commanding officer paced back and forth with his arms crossed, circling around without keeping count. Finally, he spoke up, "David, tell me, how long have we had peace and quiet? This Slashmaster, unreliable as ever, not only talks nonsense himself but has now even dragged in the Second Platoon. I don't think this Jason is a good guy either. He claimed it was a friendly sparring, but his actions were really harsh. After all, he's a comrade in arms of the regiment, not a vampire. What's wrong with him?"

The chief of staff continued shelling peanuts without saying a word, when Martin hurriedly entered from outside and said, "Report."

The commanding officer quickly asked Martin, "How is the situation at the medical team? Have they confirmed it?"

"Lieutenant Alan didn't die, he just got a head injury and passed out. Four others are severely injured, seven have fractures, and twelve have minor injuries."

The commanding officer took a deep breath and said, "Look at this, the battle hasn't even started yet, and the medical team is already full. What do you call this? Is this not embarrassing?"

The chief of staff set down the peanuts and asked Martin, "How is Jason doing?"

"No broken bones, lots of bruises, but the head injury seems quite serious; he's still unconscious up to now."

The chief of staff rubbed his hands, shaking off the peanut shells in his palm, and said to the commanding officer, "Commander, don't get too worked up. At least no lives have been lost; that's a silver lining in this unfortunate situation. I'm a political officer, and the main responsibility for this incident lies with me. I failed to anticipate the severity of the situation in advance." After speaking, he sighed inwardly. It seems that Jason is not an easy person to deal with. He's treating the playground as a battlefield, isn't he? Sigh...

Just as Martin had left the regimental headquarters, another signalman, wiping the sweat off his forehead, rushed in and said, "Report! Urgent message from the division headquarters!"

Currently, the deployment of vampire activities on the front is somewhat abnormal, and the vampires' intentions cannot be determined yet. In light of this, the division has decided to carry out an operation to probe the enemy's strength and intentions, while also serving to disrupt the enemy's operations. The independent regiment is ordered to move north immediately and conduct a raid in conjunction with friendly forces on the flanks.

After reading the orders, the regimental commander casually handed them to the chief of staff and remarked, "I don't know what kind of day today is, everything seems to be happening all at once." He then ordered the signalman, "Gather the entire regiment, prepare to depart!"

After reading the orders, the chief of staff looked up and interjected, "Commander, what should we do about the matters concerning the Second Company and the Ninth Platoon?"

The commander scratched his head and said, "What else can we do? They are all resting. The mission is urgent now; we'll discuss it later." He then added to the signalman, "Have the Second Company stay behind to guard the base."

As the sun rose again, this unnamed village in the Rocky Mountains felt much quieter than usual. The Independent Regiment had set off the previous day, leaving only the Second Company to guard this place, along with the Ninth Platoon, of course. People often say that heroes appreciate each other, that you don't truly know someone until you fight together, and that a smile can erase past grievances. This statement holds true sometimes, but other times it's just nonsense, at least when it comes to the Second Company and the Ninth Platoon. Of course, Sandy Sniffles is not included in this assessment.

Slashmaster couldn't wear a hat anymore, with thick layers of bandages wrapped around his head. Despite this, he stood on the parade ground, supervising the Second Company's drill on time. At the moment, he was the highest-ranking officer in this unnamed village, but even though he had become the leader, his mood did not improve. The majestic company commander, Slashmaster, the top knife fighter in the regiment, had the unforgettable shame of letting the damn government army deserter beat him in front of the entire company.

The soldiers of the Second Company couldn't be happy either. Their own company commander was knocked down by a government army deserter, causing injuries to over a dozen soldiers of the Second Company. This incident also led to a rift between the little girl and the Second Company, resulting in the loss of the opportunity to participate in combat missions. They were filled with resentment.

Emily couldn't be happy because Fox was still unconscious. She had been staying in Jason's small grass hut, feeding Jason water and porridge. She remembered a sentence Jason had said to her on the eastern hill, "The final victory is determined by momentum, not skill." She didn't believe it at first, but now she believed it. Just yesterday, on the parade ground at the edge of the village, she and Fox, with their momentum, defeated the Second Company. She felt proud.

Sandy Sniffles still appeared at the village head to sunbathe on time, becoming even more melancholic. He witnessed the conflict between the Second Company and Jason and Emily, but Sandy Sniffles didn't see this as an honor. Originally a deserter from the government army, now resorting to such harsh actions against the comrades of the Second Company, isn't this just a wolf? How will he face the comrades of the Second Company in the future as the so-called leader of the Ninth Squad? Ashamed, this was truly embarrassing to the extreme!

As a result, the nameless village became even quieter and more desolate than before. In the wind and sand, it seemed even more faint...