The Pseudo-Human Academy: Starting with a Bricklayer Personality

She rubbed her sleepy eyes, her eyelashes fluttering a few times, before she could slowly make out the person she was nestled against.

In an instant, a blush spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, like a layer of crimson rouge, and even her breathing became a little rapid.

"Captain Xu... Captain Xu..." she stammered, her eyes darting away, not daring to look Xu Feng in the eye.

Seeing her timid appearance, Xu Feng couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed that her shy, girlish personality had returned.

"Get out of the car." His tone was calm, yet carried a subtle hint of gentleness.

"Okay, okay!" Hongxia nodded hurriedly, her cheeks still flushed, and got out of the car in a fluster.

Watching Xu Feng turn and walk away, she quickly followed, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

The guest room of the research institute was warm and cozy.

An elderly man with white hair was waiting with a group of researchers; he was Xia Zhiping, the director of the research institute.

He took the document box from the soldier, his hands trembling slightly, and eagerly opened the latch.

The thick stack of documents was pulled out one by one. Xia Zhiping's eyes quickly swept across the pages, his brows gradually relaxed, and the look of surprise in his eyes grew stronger. Even his gray beard trembled slightly.

"This information is invaluable!"

Xia Zhiping raised his head, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement. He looked at Xu Feng and the others, his eyes filled with admiration.

"Thank you for risking your lives to bring these back. With them, we can at least break the technological blockade imposed by foreign countries for thirty years. This contribution is truly immeasurable."

The warmth of hot tea still lingered in the institute's reception room, and the enthusiasm and respect in the researchers' eyes remained vivid in my mind's eye.

Hongxia blushed and took Xu Feng's hand, slowly walking out of the heavily guarded courtyard.

The evening breeze was slightly cool, ruffling the stray hairs at Hongxia's temples and dissipating some of the warmth in the room, but it couldn't dispel the heavy sense of oppression in Xu Feng's heart.

Behind this seemingly smooth escort operation lies a path paved with the lives of countless people.

He followed Song Ze back to the Jingxi Expressway, where the battlefield that the military had already cleared was nearing completion.

He saw rows of martyrs' remains wrapped in white cloth.

The faces under the white sheets were so large and so young; each of them had a wonderful family, yet they were lying here now. Xu Feng felt a heavy weight in his heart.

Song Ze followed closely behind, his tone tinged with sorrow:

"Xu Feng, you have made a great contribution to this operation. The award ceremony has been arranged, and you must attend."

Xu Feng paused, his profile appearing particularly stern in the twilight. He shook his head, his voice low and hoarse:

"No need."

The three words were as light as the wind. Xu Feng clenched his fists, suppressing his emotions, and said:

"So many soldiers didn't come back alive, how can I possibly accept this medal? I feel unworthy of this honor."

Song Ze did not back down, but stepped forward and pressed down on his shoulder, his gaze earnest:

"This is not just your honor, but the glory of all participants, and a tribute to our fallen comrades. You must go."

Unable to resist Song Ze's insistence, Xu Feng finally followed him into the solemn office, Liu Yunlong's eyes reddening slightly.

However, he composed himself and stood in the office, staring intently at him.

There was no scrutiny in the commander's eyes, only undisguised approval. He looked at Xu Feng's upright figure, slowly nodded, and his tone was full of satisfaction:

"Excellent, excellent, what a hero emerging from among the young."

As soon as he finished speaking, Liu Yunlong changed the subject, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes:

"Young man, are you interested in joining the army? I guarantee you'll have an endless supply of uniforms if you're willing."

Xu Feng had long been accustomed to a free and unrestrained life, and the rules and regulations of the military camp were undoubtedly a constraint for him. He bowed slightly, his tone respectful yet elegant:

"Thank you for your kindness, sir, but I am already the head of Dachang City and a member of the End Guild, so it is really inconvenient for me to enlist."

A hint of regret flashed across Liu Yunlong's face, but he quickly waved his hand dismissively and laughed heartily:

"Oh well, I know you're the kind of person who doesn't like being constrained. I was just asking casually."

He changed the subject, his tone becoming somewhat dejected:

"More important than this, you must attend the mourning ceremony three days from now."

"Those soldiers who sacrificed their lives were martyrs who served the country and the people. They were all outstanding and deserve to be remembered by everyone."

Three days later, the Great Hall of the People was solemn and quiet, filled with a faint fragrance of flowers and an unspeakable sorrow.

The walls were covered with black and white photos. The young people in the photos all had youthful faces, but their eyes were full of determination and high spirits. It was as if you could still see their heroic appearance when they fought back to the death.

However, at this moment, these vibrant lives have been frozen in the photo frame, forever frozen in their most beautiful years.

White wreaths were placed in front of the photo, and plain white elegiac couplets swayed gently in the breeze, silently expressing their grief.

The families of the martyrs tried to suppress their grief, but intermittent sobs could still be heard, each one like a needle piercing their hearts.

Xu Feng stood in the crowd, silently gazing at the photos. His usually composed eyes were now filled with solemnity and sorrow.

He slowly raised his hand and bowed deeply to the black and white portraits of the deceased.

The curve of that bent back conveyed respect, grief, and endless remembrance of fallen comrades.

Meanwhile, a trial is underway in a military tribunal.

Those once arrogant mercenaries have long lost their former arrogance. China's advanced medical technology saved their lives, but it could not prevent them from escaping the punishment they deserved.

The man was reduced to a limbless stick, slumped in the dock, his former ferocity replaced by despair.

Ultimately, they were convicted of terrorism and sentenced according to law. The vast majority were sentenced to life imprisonment and forced labor, while the ringleaders were sentenced to death.

Even as prisoners, they could not escape the fate of atonement, their incapacitated bodies making it difficult for them to even take care of their basic needs.

Even after entering prison, they could only complete their labor reform tasks by talking, enduring both physical and mental torture day after day, a living hell.

When the news reached other countries, the countries to which the mercenaries belonged lodged protests, demanding in strong terms that China release its citizens. However, these feeble protests were nothing more than powerless shouts in the face of overwhelming evidence of their crimes.

China has always upheld the principle that those who offend China, no matter how far away, will be punished.

There is no room for compromise with these terrorists whose hands are stained with blood. So-called protests are ultimately just empty words and useless.