Chapter 140: You’re Not Good at Ambushes

The border defense quickly reported the battle—Team Red broke through Team Blue’s siege, but the losses were brutal. Out of a 150-man reinforcement unit, only 30 survived.

The moment he heard the number, the Team Red commander’s teacup crashed to the floor.

Hugh was still leaning back in his chair, silent.

The conference hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. No one dared to speak.

Several minutes later, the Team Red commander seemed to steady himself, took out his communicator, and called back the surviving 30. At the same time, he patched through to customs and summoned all the remaining troops stationed there.

There were thirty or forty stationed at customs, plus the thirty returning from the border, and forty or fifty still in the tower—over a hundred in total, matching Team Blue’s border-crossing force and even surpassing their current numbers,

Everyone knew why the commander was making such a big move—after this battle, Team Blue’s force that crossed the border was certain to attack their tower. With only seventy left, how could they possibly stand against Team Blue’s ferocious main force?

The outcome was already decided. One by one, the others left the conference hall, leaving only the commander and Hugh.

Hugh never spoke. He wasn’t like some people, smug because he’d predicted the result, nor did he have the ruthless streak of a dictator, angry that things hadn’t gone his way.

From beginning to end, he kept his emotions in check.

The Team Red commander looked at him with a complicated gaze, finally saying, “Hugh, do you think it’s absolutely impossible for us to win?”

The border called back 30, customs called back thirty or forty, the tower has forty or fifty—over a hundred.

Team Blue’s main force that crossed the border also numbers about a hundred. They took losses today too—careful counting, maybe less than a hundred. How could defeat be certain?

Besides, Team Blue is attacking the tower; Team Red is defending. Victory won’t be easy for them, but losing isn’t guaranteed either.

The commander only asked to hear Hugh’s perspective.

Hugh’s icy, solitary eyes were already open, gaze calm and steady as he looked at the commander. Hearing “impossible to win,” his lashes quivered, then he looked up at him: “What do you think, Commander?”

The commander shook his head before saying, “We won’t win. But winning won’t be easy for them, either.”

Just as expected. Hugh said nothing more, bracing himself with a hand on the chair back and rising to his feet.

The commander watched him leave, brows furrowed, calling out, “Hugh…”

Hugh stopped, looked back and said, “You didn’t ask me to know my prediction. You wanted to see if I could predict your prediction. But… sorry.”

With those last two words, he strode toward the door— but he couldn’t quite let go. Those pieces he once set up, now doomed, stopped his steps at the threshold. His cold, deep voice rang out: “Tonight, I’ll lead the team to assist the customs squad.”

…

They were planning an ambush tonight. Dane had drawn up detailed plans. The only spot left for an ambush was the same mountain road where they’d previously ambushed Hugh’s team—the only route they had to take.

Jay Monroe propped up his chin, speaking lazily with his first words of the meeting: “Hugh will definitely be waiting for us there.”

Dane had expected it too, his lips curling into a smirk: “So, our first move is a feint against the Team Red Tower. That way, Hugh won’t show up.”

No matter how smart Hugh is, the Team Red commander calls the shots. If he acts on his own, he’s out for breaking the rules.

Jay hadn’t expected Dane to think one step ahead already, giving him a thumbs-up: “Nice!”

The squad leader was half lost, but he knew that feinting at Team Red Tower was meant to tie up Team Red, so they couldn’t help their customs squad caught in the ambush.

But Dane seemed to think it was just a matter of delaying Hugh, and seemed certain he wouldn’t come.

The ambush on the customs squad was a two-step operation: step one was to attack Team Red Tower and cause chaos there.

Step two was to set an ambush on the only road the customs squad would take back to the tower.

The leader and Jay were in charge of “attacking” Team Red Tower.

Dane and Renee Morgan were in charge of the ambush, shrinking or even wiping out Team Red’s customs squad.

Jay wanted to swap spots with Renee: “Hugh’s temper isn’t the best. If he realizes we’re doing this on purpose, he’ll go all out. I’m afraid he’ll torch me.”

Dane rejected him outright: “No way.”

“Why?” Jay frowned, picturing Hugh’s poker face and feeling a pang in his chest.

Dane crossed his arms and shot him a look, his reasoning solid: “You’re no good at ambush tactics.”

Jay: “…”

Compared to Renee’s ability to snipe lying low at night and always hit her mark, he really wasn’t good.

The leader and Jay huddled up to talk specifics for the “attack” on Team Red Tower. Their aim was a feint, to stir up chaos, minimize casualties or avoid them altogether.

Dane slid over next to Renee, wanting to go over plans for the ambush. Renee yawned and raised a hand, stopping him: “Can I nap for half an hour?”

Dane frowned hard at Renee, her sleepy eyes tearing up: “Renee Morgan…”

Renee jolted, the drowsiness vanishing by half.

Dane relaxed his brows, sighing lightly with a helpless look in his eyes…

The livestream audience sent up a wave of pink screams.

[Dane’s gaze is so hot, so gentle, so full of love.]

[He gave in, he gave in, he finally caved!]

[Folks, chasing the wife hell-chamber opens in three seconds.]

[No, please, chasing the wife hell-chamber is too tragic. I like the everyone-pampers-her plot, just imagine—everyone dotes on Morgan, it’s so sweet.]

Dane sighed again, looking at her with helpless affection. With a sudden “shunk,” he drew a military knife from his waist, the blade cold and deadly, a black chill in his dark eyes as he said, “I can help you wake up.”

Renee’s remaining sleepiness vanished instantly as she backed up a step, beaming nervously: “Alright, alright, let’s talk plans, let’s talk plans…”

Dane gestured for her to take a seat beside him.

After Renee sat down, Dane sat cross-legged across from her.

Renee eyed the knife still in his hand, sweating a bit: “Um… maybe you could put the knife away first?”

Dane glanced at the knife, then lifted his shining eyes and said with deadpan seriousness: “I’m just worried you’ll doze off, so I’m ready to wake you up anytime.”

Renee: “…” Thanks, but really, not necessary at all.

The viewers in the livestream, grinning like aunties, suddenly broke into cold sweats when they remembered Dane’s identity and the kind of heat|weapon|business he’s in.