Chapter 42 - Veterans

“What? Did I just hear someone say A-rank? Who?”

Similar murmurs could be heard across the crowd. Most of them had been busy gossiping about the commanders’ old love lives and hadn’t heard clearly, so there was a moment of confusion.

“Regiment Commander Yang Wudong of the 439th said Han Qingyu’s integration level test came back as A-rank,” someone recounted, tone uncertain.

It was a plain relay of information.

“Huh?But the results haven’t been released yet. How would he know?”

“A-rank? Seriously? How long has it been since the 425th produced an A-ranker?!”

“It’s Little Qing! Little Qing!”

The murmurs rose from a low hum to a swarm of bees to firecrackers going off.

At the same time, the regiment lead advisor slapped himself on the forehead. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head toward the sky, as if asking to be struck down.

“Damn you, Li Wangqiang!” he cursed. “Didn’t we agree last night? We said we’d take it slow and figure it out when we got back. You even said we could suppress it if we had to!”

The situation was obvious. As the commander’s right-hand man, the regiment lead advisor could figure it out, even if he was thinking with his toes. Li Wangqiang had likely been trading insults with his old rival, lost the upper hand, and slapped the A-rank news in the man’s face instead.

That shameless idiot!

Regiment Commander Li had been swaggering over to gloat some more when he caught sight of the regiment lead advisor’s expression. As realization hit him, his confidence faltered, and he stopped in his tracks.

That left Han Qingyu standing alone before Regiment Commander Yang.

“Are you saying my test result is A-rank?” Han Qingyu asked sincerely, genuinely not knowing his result yet.

Nobody in the entire 425th knew except Regiment Commander Li and the regiment lead advisor.

“Yes.” Yang Wudong nodded, studying Han Qingyu’s reaction. “Your regiment commander said he and the regiment lead advisor asked the latter’s senior sister about it last night. It’s confirmed.”

“Wow...”

“Really? He’s really an A-ranker?!”

“Incredible!”

A wave of excitement and noise swept over the group.

Future Platoon Leader Mira extended both arms in excitement, then froze, lowering them as quiet dejection took over.

She ended up standing alone in a corner, silently heartbroken. It’s over. It’s hopeless. Why did I kiss the pennant? I’m a foreigner, a Western girl. What was I being shy about?

The commotion in the 425th was a little painful to watch, but it was still within Yang Wudong’s expectations. The A-rank recruit’s lackluster reaction, however, struck him as bizarre. Is he not even excited? Or is he so excited that he’s gone numb?

Yang Wudong was about to say something when Han Qingyu gazed up with earnest eyes and asked expectantly, “What about the others?”

He actually has the presence of mind to worry about that? Yang Wudong thought to himself.

Out loud, he said honestly, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh. Thank you, Regiment Commander Yang.”

Thank you, my ass, the commander thought.

“Wait,” Yang Wudong said, struck by what he felt was the only possible explanation. “Do you not know what A-rank means?”

Han Qingyu only hummed in confirmation.

Yang Wudong froze for a moment, speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish. It took him a good ten seconds or so before he found his composure again.

Pointing at himself, he said, “Look at me.”

Han Qingyu looked at him.

“My integration level is B-. In terms of personal combat abilities, I’m ranked top forty... top thirty-seven in the entire army.” Yang Wudong paused, then leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Your regiment commander can’t beat me.”

Han Qingyu nodded in understanding, unable to help glancing over at Regiment Commander Li standing a short distance away.

It was a good thing the man hadn’t heard that. If he had, the two of them would probably have come to blows.

“Remember this: real strength isn’t determined by integration level, and it isn’t fed into you by energy cores. Train hard, and I’ll see you on the battlefield. Long live the Ninth Army. Long live the Erasers.” Yang Wudong turned and walked away.

Surprisingly, despite the earlier shouting match and the subsequent storming over as if to pick a fight, it seemed this commander had only come to say a few simple words.

Relieved, Han Qingyu said, “Thank—”

“How about I kick you so you can feel it?” Yang Wudong suddenly turned around.

“What?”

“One-tenth of my power. Here it comes,” Yang Wudong said surprisingly loudly, not bothering to wait for a response as he stepped forward, raised his leg, and swept it horizontally with a whoosh.

Han Qingyu had no choice but to throw up both arms and take it.

A dull thud echoed with the impact.

It hurt.

It was heavy.

This was nothing like the kick Zhang Dao’an had given him on the training ground back then. Han Qingyu was locked into a deep right lunge as he braced with everything he had, sinking low to absorb the force.

Both feet carved deep grooves through the dry, yellow dirt as he slid backward with a screech.

“Did he hold his ground?”

“He held it!”

The instructors were in shock. In their eyes, being pushed back was normal. The astonishing part was that Han Qingyu managed to stop and stand at the end.

Even Han Qingyu himself thought for a split second that it was over. Then, a colossal force slammed into him out of nowhere.

It was as though he had been facing a steady, but manageable current, holding his ground through the strain, only for a wave of completely different magnitude and speed to crash over him.

Only Han Qingyu could feel it.

He didn’t even have time to mobilize his liquid source energy.

Cries and gasps of alarm filled the air as his feet left the ground and his body hurtled back toward a truck behind him.

Nearly everyone in the 425th was caught completely off guard.

That’s going to end with an injury.

Then Yang Wudong moved. As if expecting this outcome, he dashed forward in a blur, grabbed Han Qingyu by the shirt, and yanked him hard enough to stop him from flying backward.

They landed, standing very close together.

“Sorry. That kick actually had two layers of force built into it. I even added a surge at the end, just to be safe,” Yang Wudong quietly admitted.

Han Qingyu merely grunted in reply.

“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I just wanted to give my recruits some confidence. I looked into the 439th’s results too, and the best we have is one B-minus.” Yang Wudong paused. “I didn’t want them thinking that A-rankers are that big of a deal.”

Han Qingyu was silent for a moment.

“You can also think of this as raising the morale of your own fellow recruits. Most of them don’t have that kind of natural talent. Staying alive out there, pushing forward... It won’t be easy for them.”

With those whispered words, Yang Wudong turned and walked back toward his own troops.

“Forget it. We’ll let your regiment take this road. Who told your commander to bully us by pulling an A-rank? Hah!” he called out from a distance, letting out a booming laugh. “You all just saw it, though. As long as you train hard, integration level doesn’t decide everything.”

***

The route back shaved two days and one night off the trip, so it only took four days and four nights this time.

It was not quite accurate to say they were going home, though, as they would be leaving after the integration level results were announced in a few days.

Over a dozen trucks pulled to a stop, one after another, inside the 425th’s base.

Through the tailgate, the recruits spotted a familiar figure: Zhang Dao’an.

Despite being their head instructor, Zhang Dao’an had stayed behind this time, likely because both the regiment commander and the regiment lead advisor had chosen to go instead.

“That’s strange,” someone muttered while getting off the truck.

“What is?” someone else asked.

“I actually feel glad to see Instructor Zhang. He beat me half to death, but I still feel glad.”

“Huh? You’re not a masochist, are you? Wait, why do I kind of feel the same way?”

“Probably because we’re all slowly turning into veterans ourselves,” another person chimed in.

Zhang Dao’an stood as still as a statue.

The recruits walked past, greeting him and saluting.

He returned their salutes.

Dormitory 11 did the same.

When Han Qingyu’s turn came, Zhang Dao’an unexpectedly saluted first, then held it without lowering his hand.

Han Qingyu had no choice but to hold his own salute in return. “Instructor Zhang?”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“It’s been seven years. Old Miao called me on the phone for the first time today,” Zhang Dao’an said stiffly, as if fearing his emotions would come pouring out if he let his guard down. “Old Miao said he couldn’t make it, so he asked me to give you this salute on behalf of himself and Supply Depot 700.”

So it was about that debacle. The commendation report had been approved, and the details of the incident and the people involved had been relayed back to Supply Depot 700.

Old Miao was the depot chief of Supply Depot 700, and one of the last few surviving members of the original Red Erasers.

In truth, he had actually left the 425th in anger. Nobody could have expected back then that a recruit would put him in the 425th’s debt again.

The mess hall prepared a lavish dinner for the recruits that evening.

Grandpa Geng suddenly walked over, limping on his bad leg.

With a clunk and a clatter, he set down a bowl of beef noodles and a metal platter of roast lamb.

“These are the two best things I can make,” he said to Han Qingyu. “From Little Miao. Thank you.”

It was at that moment that the recruits realized that the limping head chef, Old Geng, was actually the other surviving veteran of the 425th’s once-legendary Red Erasers.