Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2630 A Battle for Victory (First Update, Please Subscribe)
Gunshots!

Instantly, gunfire erupted at the bridgehead. At the same time as the explosion, the machine gunner in the Warrior off-road vehicle and Liu Xingyang and others immediately unleashed a fierce barrage of fire on the pickup truck.

Amidst the intense gunfire, Qiao Zhiwei, who was lying on the ground, felt his military uniform being ripped open by the blast wave, and when he stood up again, his face was covered in dust.

There was also a tattered piece of his helmet near his ankle—Wang Changde's helmet had been reduced to pieces, but what about him?
"Wang Changde!"

Zhao Changyong, who was standing to the side, rushed over with a roar, his voice trembling with sobs.

As for Zhang Kai, he stared blankly at what was in front of him. He hadn't even lay down while he was taking pictures.

It wasn't that he didn't realize it, but rather that he hadn't reacted in time. However, he remembered that he seemed to have taken a picture.

As the thick smoke dissipated, they saw Wang Changde lying on the ground, his helmet torn to shreds by the explosion. He lay motionless, with only the blood gushing from beneath him reminding people what had happened.

"damn it……"

After killing the terrorist, platoon leader Liu Xingyang immediately ran towards Wang Changde.

"How could this kid..."

Regardless, what had just happened was beyond his imagination. The breathtaking scene from before flashed through his mind once again—Wang Changde's reaction was as fast as lightning, without the slightest hesitation, he used his own body to form a barrier.

No one expected that fate could be so cruel. Wang Changde actually did the thing of throwing himself on the bomb. He sacrificed himself, but his comrades around him were not injured at all.

Qiao Zhiwei reached out with trembling hands and probed Wang Changde's carotid artery, feeling a faint but still present pulse at his fingertips.

"Quick! Quick! He's still alive... Call a helicopter..."

Qiao Zhiwei's roar was choked with sobs. He flipped Wang Changde over, his bulletproof vest was blown open, and blood was seeping from his wounds.

“Tear off his clothes.”

It wasn't tearing, but ripping apart the fragments. Because so many fragments of bulletproof vests and combat uniforms were blocking the bandage, his comrades could only keep washing his chest with water.

At this moment, Wang Changde's consciousness was like a piece of wood submerged in deep water, floating in a pitch-black chaos for a long time.

In the instant immediately following the explosion, it seemed as if his consciousness froze, or rather, his consciousness remained frozen at that moment.

He didn't even know what had happened; all that remained was the deafening roar of the explosion echoing deep in his eardrums. This wasn't because he had triggered anything, but rather a natural reaction of his organs.

He coughed violently, and finally light appeared in his cloudy vision—it was Qiao Zhiwei's face, his expression anxious, and someone was pressing on his abdominal wound with a first aid kit.

"Water...stop splashing water..."

He managed to utter a few words, his voice hoarse.

His clothes clung tightly to his skin, sticky with blood, feeling cold and heavy. He felt someone pouring water on him, but in his dazed state after the explosion, he mistook it for a prank by his brothers.

He tried to raise his hand to push the person in front of him away, but his arm felt as heavy as lead. With the slightest movement, a tearing pain shot through his chest, making him gasp involuntarily.

"Wang Changde, hold on! The helicopter is coming soon!"

Qiao Zhiwei's voice was choked with sobs. He tore open the first aid kit, gave Wang Changde an injection of morphine to relieve the pain, and then pressed hard on Wang Changde's bleeding wound. The blood between his fingers quickly stained the ground red.

Wang Changde's gaze swept unfocusedly over Qiao Zhiwei's face, which was covered in dust and blood.
"I……"

He suddenly remembered something and vaguely tried to ask himself what was wrong.

Oh, it looks like I threw a grenade, and I really did cover it with my helmet.

I actually did it!
That's impressive... but his eyelids started to feel heavy again.

The coldness of his body made him shiver uncontrollably; only the burning pain from the wound in his abdomen reminded him that he was alive. The excruciating pain throughout his body felt like countless red-hot steel needles, densely piercing every inch of his muscle and bone.

He vaguely felt as if he were lying on the lawn at home, with the sun shining warmly on him, but the excruciating pain and the smell of blood pulled him back to the cold reality.

"You've gone mad, how could you do something like this..."

Then, his head tilted weakly to one side again, and his consciousness once again fell into a brief darkness, but this time, a faint smile remained at the corner of his mouth.

He knew why he was doing it.

Because in that situation, sacrificing one person could save everyone, but if he didn't use his helmet to hold the grenade, the others might also die.

While the medics were bandaging his wounds, Liu Xingyang kept calling for a helicopter. Just a few minutes later, a helicopter that was flying nearby made an emergency landing at the bridgehead. The helicopter's rotors kicked up a cloud of dust. When Wang Changde was rushed into the cabin, his breathing was so weak that it was almost imperceptible.

The soldiers in the rear of the helicopter saw the wounds on his chest and body and asked loudly:

"What happened? How did he get so badly injured?"

Qiao Zhiwei shouted:

"Terrorists are throwing grenades at us. He shielded us from the grenade by pressing it against his chest... We must save him!"

"Oh my God!"

The helicopter pilot couldn't help but turn around and look at his comrade covered in blood. Without pausing, he pushed the control stick hard.

The helicopter took off immediately.

Wang Changde lay in the cabin as the helicopter flew toward the base, his breathing so weak it was almost imperceptible.

"Faster! His breathing is getting weaker and weaker!" the machine gunner at the rear door shouted at the helicopter pilot.

The helicopter pilot has already made contact with the field hospital at the base via the onboard radio.

"Yes, you're right. He threw himself at the grenade to save his comrade. Yes, he used his chest to press down on the grenade, yes..."

Perhaps the incident was so shocking that the helicopter pilot had to explain how he was injured.
He pressed the grenade down with his chest, which means he was only wearing a bulletproof vest and had solid pectoral muscles.

He was still alive, though his breathing was growing weaker and weaker. On the way, the machine gunner at the hatch gave him two injections of adrenaline.

Twenty minutes later, just as the helicopter landed in front of the field hospital, paramedics arrived with a cart.

"my God……"

As Wang Changde, covered in blood and gore, was lifted onto the gurney, a female nurse was horrified by his injuries.

His body was covered in blood and gore, and he showed almost no signs of life.

"Hurry, hurry up!"

They shouted as they pushed the cart toward the operating room at the hospital. At the same time, a doctor straddled Wang Changde and checked his blood pressure and pulse.

"He still has a pulse, prepare the operating room. His pulse is weak, and we can't measure his blood pressure... Quick, give me 400cc of general-purpose plasma..."

After completing a simple measurement, the military doctor straddling the vehicle immediately began transfusing blood, even though the patient had already received a blood transfusion on the plane, but needed to continue receiving blood.

Minutes later, Wang Changde was wheeled into the operating room. The operating lights instantly turned on, and as soon as his blood-covered body was placed on the operating table, the doctor in charge of the rescue frowned—his blood pressure was too low to be measured, his heartbeat was almost stopped, and multiple fatal wounds all over his body caused the instruments to emit piercing alarms.

"Prepare to announce your death."

The doctor's voice was filled with helplessness; in his view, no one could survive such severe injuries.

As Wang Changde lay on the operating table, he felt the sounds of the world rapidly receding into the distance, leaving only his own thunderous yet rapidly fading heartbeat echoing hollowly in his eardrums.

Each breath felt like someone was pressing down hard on his lungs. It was becoming increasingly difficult, and darkness was creeping in from the edge of his vision. Cold, an irresistible cold that seeped from the depths of his bones, engulfed him. Yet he still struggled with all his might to breathe.

The nurses nearby noticed and immediately shouted.

"Doctor, he's still breathing..."

At that moment, the monitor showed a change in his pulse. The monitor suddenly jerked, and a faint heartbeat curve reappeared on the screen like a wisp of smoke.

Wang Changde's fingers twitched slightly, and a faint groan escaped his throat.

"Quickly, prepare the ventilator..."

The doctor suddenly came to his senses:
"Quickly! Resuscitate him again!"

They immediately began cleaning his wounds, performing field surgery, and controlling the damage.

Two hours later, the emergency surgery was completed, but the rescue efforts did not stop.

He was quickly taken to the airport by ambulance and then loaded onto a military transport plane, a medical transport plane specifically used for transporting the wounded.

The SEA's field medical system is extremely sophisticated, having established a tiered medical evacuation system over 20 years ago—the physical and institutional foundation for this "relay" system. Each level has clearly defined treatment capabilities and evacuation missions, all interconnected.

Level 1 combat medics provide on-the-spot first aid and initial stabilization at the wounded's side.

Then they move to the Level 2 battalion/brigade aid station, which is usually located in a relatively safe area behind the front lines. It is used for initial resuscitation, stabilization and simple surgery, and is staffed by a physician assistant or military doctor.

Next is the Level 3 mobile field hospital, which has basic surgical, internal medicine, and intensive care capabilities, and can perform damage control surgeries. Once the wounded are stabilized here, they are prepared for evacuation.

The fourth level consists of fixed hospitals within the war zone: such as hospitals located within large bases, which possess comprehensive specialties and rehabilitation capabilities, such as neurosurgery and thoracic surgery.

Level 5 consists of top-tier local medical centers, such as the military medical center in Chang'an, which provide long-term, definitive treatment and rehabilitation.

Because of the severity of Wang Changde's injuries, he skipped the two-stage rescue process and was immediately sent to a medical aircraft after initial treatment at the Fourth Field Hospital.

They didn't even fly directly to Chang'an, but instead chose to land in Baghdad.

Because the military has a military medical center in Baghdad. The medical standards at the Baghdad military medical center are no worse than those in Chang'an; the most important thing now is to race against time.

In order to get him to Baghdad as quickly as possible, the military dispatched a medical plane. Wang Changde is the only injured person on the plane, and there are more than a dozen medical personnel who will provide him with appropriate treatment along the way.

"How is the situation now?"

Once again, after inquiring about the condition of the wounded, the doctor contacted the driver to ask how much longer it would take to reach Baghdad.

After learning that the plane was flying at maximum speed but still wouldn't arrive in Baghdad for another hour, the nurse asked:
"Doctor, what should we do now?"

Looking at the wounded soldiers covered in medical equipment, the doctor said helplessly:
"Now we can only leave it to fate..."

However, they clearly wouldn't leave their comrade's fate to chance. They continuously transfused him with blood along the way to control his injuries. Meanwhile, at Baghdad airport, a helicopter was ready, waiting for the medical plane to arrive so that the wounded could be transported to the medical center as soon as possible.

The pilot and his medics were there talking about what they had heard on the radio, about how he had snatched the grenade from his chest.

Just as they were talking, someone suddenly shouted:

"It's here! The plane's here! Quick, get ready for takeoff..."

(End of this chapter)