If I made you a special forces soldier, would you become a terrestrial god?

The intense rescue operation, which lasted for more than half a month, has finally come to an end. This end is not a simple pause; it embodies countless hours of hard work, countless efforts, and countless miracles.

With the all-out efforts and assistance of everyone in Kunlun, all the lives that were buried and trapped, no matter how weak or how long they struggled in the depths of the ruins, were snatched back from the clutches of death, without exception.

For the disaster-stricken area, which was like a living hell, this victory was more than just a triumph; it was a perfect miracle that etched the extraordinary strength of the Kunlun warriors and the limits of humanity into the annals of history.

at that time.

The Central Military Commission's final disaster report, delivered in an unquestionable tone, landed on Su Chen's desk. This cold, ruthless statistical data formed a stark and glaring contrast with the suffering experienced by the soldiers. Su Chen's fingertips lightly traced the edge of the paper. The report showed that the earthquake in Sichuan Province was unprecedented in its scale, magnitude, and destructive power, resulting in the most severe casualties. A rough estimate indicated that the economic losses had exceeded 100 billion yuan. Several once-prosperous county towns were completely reduced to ruins, unrecognizable. Hundreds of thousands of people were injured or killed, with the death toll approaching the alarming mark of 100,000, the majority of whom were students.

Each number represents a broken family, a life cut short. The report concludes with a bolded note: If the Kunlun troops had not intervened in time and used their extraordinary abilities to create a way out, the death toll would likely have exceeded 150,000, or even higher. Nearly a million people were affected, their homes destroyed, and the losses were incalculable—a trauma that cannot be measured in money or words.

Su Chen slowly put down the report. He didn't speak immediately, but looked through the window and into the distance. The Kunlun Base was as majestic and tranquil as ever, seemingly a completely different world from the ravaged land thousands of miles away.

He closed his eyes. Behind every cold number was a body of flesh and blood, a once vibrant life, and the lamentations of countless families who had suddenly fallen into the abyss of despair.

however.

At the same time, he also knew clearly that the moment the Kunlun troops arrived, the pervasive despair had begun to quietly dissipate, and life was sprouting from the depths of the ruins.

"Commander, the evacuation order has been issued, and the reconstruction teams from other units and the local government are gradually moving in."

Miao Zhiyuan's voice rang out at the right time. His tone carried a hint of weariness that was hard to hide, but he could not conceal the deep sense of relief in his eyes that came from completing the mission.

Su Chen withdrew his gaze, and the solemnity between his brows eased slightly, revealing a hint of relief.

"Alright."

"Kunlun is not a permanent military base."

His voice was calm, yet it contained a clear determination.

"Our mission is to provide emergency relief."

"It's about clearing the way."

"They will take over the reconstruction afterwards."

The day of evacuation has arrived.

At dawn, the first rays of sunlight outlined the distant mountains in faint silhouettes. The air was filled with the earthy, grassy smell of the earth, along with a faint trace of gunpowder smoke—the last marks left by the disaster.

however.

On both sides of the road that the Kunlun convoy would inevitably pass through, crowds had already gathered. It was not an organized farewell procession, but rather a group of villagers who came spontaneously, stretching for miles. They helped the old and carried the young, with children being held tightly in the arms of their elders, looking around curiously. Many elderly people had hunched over, but they tried their best to straighten their backs.

Their clothes were still simple, even bearing some dust and signs of repair, but at this moment, everyone's eyes were burning with passion. On their weathered faces, the purest emotions were hidden: excitement, reluctance to part, and boundless gratitude. There were no deafening slogans, no neatly arranged farewell banners, only a silent understanding that united all the survivors of this land.

A sense of reluctance surged through the crowd like a spring tide; many people's eyes were already moist, and there were even faint sobs carried on the mountain breeze.

No one urged them on; only countless hands, covered in dust and rough and calloused, held tightly to the soldiers' arms, refusing to let go.

"Children, you've worked so hard!" An old woman's voice trembled, tears blurring her vision. "Thank you! You've saved my life!"

"Soldiers like you!" a burly man roared in a hoarse voice.

"It's us ordinary people who have hope for the future!"

The simple, unadorned words rose and fell, like warm currents converging into waves of heat strong enough to melt the hardest ice, washing over the depths of the Kunlun warriors' hearts.

They had witnessed the clash of swords on the battlefield and experienced the tedium and loneliness of cultivation, but they had never encountered such pure and ardent gratitude, an emotion that reached the depths of their souls.

Gao Dazhuang's throat tightened slightly, and a hint of emotion appeared on his usually rugged face. An elderly man with gray hair and a hunched back trembled as he grasped Gao Dazhuang's large, calloused hands, which were covered in mud. Those hands had just dug life out of the ruins and had once held up hope.

The old man's chapped lips moved as he repeatedly muttered a few words.

"My benefactors, you saved my old life and my grandson."

"Even when I die, I will never forget you People's Liberation Army soldiers."

As he spoke, he hunched over and struggled to pull out a few crumpled, warm eggs from his pocket—the most precious gift he could offer as thanks.

Gao Dazhuang quietly stopped the old man's actions. He squeezed the old man's hand tightly. The heavy trust and gratitude he felt made him feel more honored than any medal.

He realized that the true meaning of the power in his hands was not just brute force to split mountains and crush rocks, but also the arms that carried hope and protected the weak.

His "Daoist heart" became even more steadfast at this moment, realizing that power was not a tool for self-preservation, but a vehicle for saving all living beings.

Lei Kaihua was surrounded by a group of children. These tender faces, who once cried like mosquitoes underground, now looked at him with bright eyes full of dependence and curiosity. They held a few wild fruits they had picked up in the mountains, green and fragrant with the scent of soil. The children eagerly handed them over, offering the gifts they could afford.

A little girl timidly tugged at the hem of his camouflage uniform, her voice barely audible.

"Uncle, will you come again?"

Lei Kaihua stopped and bent down, his rough fingers gently stroking the child's soft hair. The touch reminded him of a crying baby in his arms. His voice was deep but full of strength.

"My uncle is a soldier."

"As long as you need it."

"As long as the country needs it."

"Uncle will definitely show up."

This is not a perfunctory response.

This is a vow etched into the very bones of soldiers.

It is also his deeper understanding of his responsibilities after tempering his "Dao Heart".

His strength will forever exist for that innocent smile.

The children's eyes lit up instantly, as if they had received the most solemn promise.

Liang Sanxi's backpack was now filled with wreaths woven from colorful wildflowers and crooked thank-you notes. There was even a middle-aged woman who, when saying goodbye, deftly tore a piece of cloth from the cuff of his camouflage uniform, saying she wanted to keep it as a souvenir—a primitive and fervent attempt to keep him.

He inadvertently saw a young man who had lost all his relatives in the ruins. His eyes still held sadness, but the deathly despair had faded, replaced by a resolute determination for rebirth.

The young man gave him a slightly awkward military salute, his voice hoarse but carrying an undeniable firmness.

"Thank you, PLA comrade."

"We will definitely get back up!"

Liang Sanxi returned a standard and solemn military salute.

The hope in the young man's eyes, in his view, was the greatest victory of this rescue.

He knew that physical wounds would eventually heal and ruins would always be rebuilt, but the reconstruction of the spirit was true immortality. And they had undoubtedly sown this seed of hope in the hearts of countless people. This realization made his "Dao heart" even clearer and more resilient.

The number of banners received by Jin Kailai's troops was so great that they almost had to be tied together with rope. Each banner, with red background and gold lettering, read "People's Hero," "Close Ties Between the Army and the People," and "Benefactors Who Recreated Us." They fluttered in the mountain wind, embodying the most sincere and fervent emotions of the local people.

Jin Kailai, who was usually stern and unsmiling, softened his expression at this moment. He carefully arranged the banners as if they were the most precious treasures. Each banner was a silent affirmation and the most steadfast response from the depths of his "Dao Heart" to his responsibility to protect.

Su Chen stood at the front of the group, feeling the warm and profound farewell, and also feeling the surge of emotion in the hearts of the soldiers behind him.

His gaze slowly swept over the faces that were slightly weathered by half a month of high-intensity rescue work. The fatigue could not hide the determination in their eyes and the pride overflowing in their chests.

He knew that the rescue operation over the past two weeks had not only saved countless lives, but had also been a profound baptism of the souls of the Kunlun warriors.

They experienced life and death firsthand, witnessing the ultimate goodness and resilience of humanity. Those unforgettable experiences are far more valuable than any solitary ascetic practice. This is the true path of spiritual cultivation.

Finally, at Su Chen's brief but clear command, all the soldiers raised their hands in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized. They gave a standard and solemn military salute to the villagers behind them who were reluctant to leave. It was a silent farewell, a solemn promise.

Then, they silently turned around, not one of them looking back. The team, in the morning mist, embarked on the long journey back to the Kunlun base.

At this moment, the deep bond between the military and the people was perfectly embodied in the most authentic and moving way.

This People's Liberation Army, in a time of national crisis, demonstrated their faith and responsibility through extraordinary actions. They are not merely symbols of force, but rather embodiments of protection.

On their journey home, everyone had gained a great deal and their spirits were uplifted.

Those moments of life and death, those moments of human brilliance, those moments of pure gratitude, are deeply imprinted on their souls. They nourish them like sweet rain, becoming the most precious resources on their path of cultivation, and their "heart of the Way" becomes clearer as a result.

Even more indestructible.

Kunlun, forged in fire.

When I returned, the scene had changed completely.