Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 64 The First Quenching of the Blade Embryo

What is the duty of a commander? It is not to cry when comrades fall, nor to wallow in useless self-blame, but to lead them to survive, and to find a glimmer of hope even in the most desperate situations.

"Look at them!" Herman abruptly turned Lu Mingfei's face toward the soldiers who were still groaning in pain, coughing and convulsing.

"Look at these people who suffered even more because of your hesitation and breakdown! They called you squad leader! They entrusted their lives to you! And what did you give them?! A rehearsal for a tearful funeral?!"

Lu Mingfei's gaze swept over the red, swollen, and tearful eyes of the soldiers beside him, over their bodies curled up in spasms—

"On the battlefield, a commander's emotions are poison!" Hermann loosened his collar, his voice lowering, yet becoming even more oppressive.

"Your fear is contagious, your despair will destroy morale, and your tears will save no one, only make your enemies laugh even harder!"

He stepped back, pointing at the soldiers struggling to stay afloat and help each other: "See that? While you were kneeling and crying, there were still people moving! Struggling! Thinking about how to survive! You're their boss! You should have stood up earlier than them! You should have known better than them what to do!"

Lu Mingfei's face was still wet with tears, and the burning pain continued, but his eyes, which had been shrouded in confusion and sorrow, regained their resolve.

Yes—what is he doing? Nono is still waiting for him; he still has a mission to complete, and he still needs to lead these people—

Survive until the war ends! What's the point of kneeling here and crying?!

Lu Mingfei knew he wasn't a god, couldn't predict everything, and couldn't ensure everyone was unharmed, but he was the commander, the pillar of this group, and he absolutely couldn't fall.

Lu Mingfei suddenly raised his hand and forcefully wiped away the tears and mud from his face. He took a deep breath of the pungent air, and the stinging sensation made his mind even clearer.

He had realized that this was not a real attack, but just a drill, but he had performed terribly in the drill and now needed to make amends as much as possible.

He stopped looking at Hermann and turned to his men, ordering, "Those who can move, don't worry about your own discomfort, go help those around you who aren't wearing their masks properly! Those who are wearing them but still coughing, pat each other's backs to help them catch their breath! Otto! Check Karl's mask and clean the filter nozzle! Bruckner, secure yourself, then go help the others adjust their headbands!"

A series of concise and specific commands burst from his mouth, no longer the previous frantic urging, but with clear direction and steps.

He no longer tries to do everything by himself, but breaks down the tasks and gets those who can still act moving. They are a team, and he is not fighting alone.

He himself started to move around again, and his demeanor became more composed.

Sergeant Hermann stood at the edge of the tunnel, coldly watching the scene unfold. The anger on his face gradually subsided, returning to his usual stern expression, but a barely perceptible ripple flickered deep in his eyes.

That wasn't an approving look, but more like a confirmation—a confirmation that this somewhat special blade blank hadn't shattered under the heavy blow, but instead was beginning to show signs of quenching.

The tear gas smoke finally dissipated, and although some people still had red and swollen eyes and were coughing constantly, they were not seriously injured.

The members of Lu Mingfei's class helped each other to their feet. Everyone looked disheveled, but their eyes were completely different from before. The collapse and panic had completely disappeared.

However, their gazes toward Lu Mingfei appeared even more determined.

They all saw that the squad leader had also broken down and shed tears, but after being slapped, he stood up again and resumed commanding them.

Lu Mingfei's breakdown did not diminish his prestige; on the contrary, it made him seem more authentic to some extent.

He also feels fear, pain, and self-blame, but he can get back on his feet. And he truly cares about them; only those who care shed tears.

"Line up!" Lu Mingfei's voice was still hoarse, but clear and powerful.

The troops stood in a crooked and disheveled formation, looking more disheveled than ever before. Their uniforms were covered in mud and wet patches, their gas masks hung askew around their necks or were held in their hands, their faces were smeared with tears, snot, and dirt, and their eyes were swollen and red like peaches.

On the other side, thanks to Caesar's advance warning, everyone in their class was wearing gas masks and was unaffected by the tear gas.

They stood in neat rows, appearing very composed, a stark contrast to the disheveled state of Lu Mingfei's class.

Hermann looked at Caesar with a very serious expression. He didn't know how this blond youth knew about his arrangements for the day.

But he knew one thing: everything he had done today was ineffective against Hoffmann's class and against this young man named Caesar, though he didn't say anything more.

"I am very disappointed with Hansband's training today. If this were a real battlefield, Hansband would have been wiped out." Hermann said, glancing at the two squads in front of him.

Lu Mingfei and the others all lowered their heads in shame; their performance today had indeed been exceptionally poor.

Meanwhile, Caesar's squad stood proudly with their chests puffed out, their eyes filled with admiration as they looked at Caesar. If this were a battlefield, they would all have survived under Caesar's leadership.

"I hope you will never forget this humiliation! The entire Hansband team ran 20 kilometers fully armed! William Hans, as the commander, you are the greatest disgrace of all! You ran 30 kilometers armed! No food allowed until you finish!" Hermann continued, looking at Lu Mingfei.

"Yes, sir!" Lu Mingfei straightened his back and replied firmly.

He didn't look at the reaction from Caesar's side, nor did he utter a single word in his own defense; wrong was wrong.

"Hoffman class, your performance today was acceptable. Dismissed. Organize your equipment and prepare for dinner," Hermann said calmly, turning to the other side.

"Yes, sir!" Caesar's reply was crisp and efficient, with his usual composure.

The recruits in Caesar's squad couldn't help but show a sense of relief and pride. Their gazes toward Lu Mingfei's squad were tinged with pity and a hint of superiority.

"Now! Hansban! Target, the outer ring road of the camp! Move out!" Hermann's order ended everyone's thoughts.

"Hansban! Turn right! Run!" Lu Mingfei shouted with all his might, carrying his heavy equipment, and started running out of the camp.

Otto, Bruckner, Karl—and the rest of the class—followed closely behind. Their steps were initially unsteady, their breathing heavy and disordered, their eyes red and swollen, their faces streaked with tears and mud, but no one fell behind, and they all tried their best to keep up with Lu Mingfei's pace.

"Squad leader, you're amazing! How did you know there would be poison gas?" A burly, somewhat simple-minded young man next to Caesar said to him with a smile, his eyes filled with admiration for Caesar.

His name was Rudolf. He was a peasant's son, very hardworking and obedient to Caesar's orders. However, he was a slow learner and his shooting skills were terrible.

"It's nothing, it just requires some observation and analytical skills. As long as you stay with me, I will lead you to the glory you deserve." Caesar turned his gaze away from Lu Mingfei's departing figure and revealed his signature arrogant smile.

"I don't understand anything about honor or anything. As long as I stay by the class monitor's side, I'll do whatever he tells me to do." Rudolf scratched his head and chuckled sheepishly.

Several Hoffmann soldiers who had gathered around nodded in agreement. After today's events, Caesar's prestige in their eyes had reached its peak.

Caesar enjoyed this worship, which he was used to and took for granted.

But Hermann's instruction today also served as a wake-up call for him: live-fire artillery fire and tear gas simulations—this was completely beyond the scope of normal recruit training and was fraught with uncontrollable danger.

This time he and his class were lucky enough to detect and avoid it in advance, but what about next time? What other outrageous training plans will that madman Hermann come up with?

He, Cesare Gattuso, could accept harsh challenges and even enjoy the thrill of walking the line of danger, but he would never allow himself and his men to become pointless expendables in some mad sergeant's unpredictable teaching experiments.

His subordinates' trust and loyalty are the foundation of his power and glory, and he must protect them.

A decision quickly took shape in his mind.

"Go to the cafeteria for a meal and rest. Behave properly and don't make any noise."

Caesar stood up, straightened the collar and cuffs of his uniform, which had become slightly loose from his earlier movements, and made sure that every detail was impeccable. His usual arrogant smile disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression.

"Squad leader, aren't you coming along?" a soldier named Kleiner asked. He was a clever man and considered Caesar's right-hand man in the squad.

"I have something to discuss with the company commander. I need him to warn Herman," Caesar said calmly, but his words immediately silenced everyone around him.

Go to the company commander's office? To report on Sergeant Hermann?

The thought made several soldiers instinctively shrink back, their faces showing fear. Herman's power was too deep-rooted; his riding whip and cold eyes were the most direct source of fear in this training camp.

Challenge him? Report him to your superiors? That would require immense courage, and might even invite more ruthless retaliation.

"Squad leader—can this be done? Sergeant Herman—" Kleiner asked hesitantly, his face showing fear.

He had been whipped twice by Herman for digging too slowly, and he still feels lingering fear about it.

"What's there to be afraid of?" Caesar's lips curled into a confident smile.

"We are soldiers, not livestock to be slaughtered. I accept reasonable training, but conducting drills with live ammunition and tear gas that involve unpredictable risks goes beyond the scope of training and threatens the basic safety of soldiers. I have the responsibility and the right to report this to my superiors."

His words were clear and logical, carrying an air of self-assured authority.

"The class monitor is right!"

"Hermann is a madman!"

"Support the class monitor!"

Rudolf was the first to shout it out. He was straightforward and believed that Caesar was always right. The others were influenced by him, and since they were indeed quite frightened by the live ammunition and poison gas today, they also expressed their support.

"I'll handle this. You all should eat and rest well to recover your strength and prepare for the upcoming training. Of course, I hope it's normal training. Remember to stay calm and don't talk about it to anyone." Caesar nodded, satisfied with their reaction.

"Yes, squad leader!" the group responded in unison, their gazes toward Caesar filled with even greater reverence.

Their courage to confront the devilish sergeant and even higher-ranking officers made them feel that following Caesar meant not only survival, but also a life with dignity.

Caesar waved his hand, signaling them to disperse, while he himself, with a solemn expression, strode toward the company commander's office.

He was confident he could persuade the company commander, who he had heard was a nobleman who had come to the company to gain prestige. He could say he was quite adept at dealing with such a person.