I put you in charge of those rebellious female soldiers, how come they all became top special forces

The old woman spoke a long string of words in Tibetan.

As Ram listened, his expression changed.

What started as doubt turned into shock, and then from shock into anger.

She turned to look at Chen Zheng, her gaze darkening.

"Instructor."

Chen Zheng looked up.

"She said the Gongjue family wasn't the only ones bullying them," Ram translated.

These words immediately turned Chen Zheng's eyes cold.

Not the only one.

There is more than one Gongjue family on this land.

Chen Zheng didn't rush to speak, but just glanced at the old woman.

The old woman couldn't understand his expression, but under that gaze, she inexplicably felt much more at ease.

Lhamo gently squeezed the old woman's hand and comforted her with a few words in Tibetan.

The latter nodded, wiped away his tears, and slowly retreated back into the crowd.

Chen Zheng stood up and whispered to An Ran, "You continue to watch the scene and wait for the military district to arrive."

Anran nodded without asking any further questions.

Chen Zheng then turned to Ram: "Take me to see."

Ram took a deep breath and followed the group of herdsmen, leading Chen Zheng out of the ruins.

On the way, the Tibetan man in his forties started talking.

His name is Losang, and he is the village chief of a nearby village.

However, this village chief didn't dare to breathe loudly in front of Gongjue's family.

Losang speaks Mandarin, but not fluently. He sometimes speaks Tibetan when he can't say a word, and Lhamo helps translate.

The things that the Gongjue family has been doing in the area over the years are far more than Chen Zheng knew before.

They forcibly bought up ranches, monopolized the purchase of caterpillar fungus, and forced herders to sell their cattle and sheep at low prices.

Anyone who disobeys will be sent to their home to be disciplined.

After I beat you, I'll ask if you'll obey. If you don't, I'll beat you again.

Tashi Dondrup's leg was simply a coincidence that he happened to be a relative of Lamu.

As Losang spoke, his voice lowered.

He glanced at Chen Zheng hesitantly, as if judging whether this outsider was trustworthy.

After a moment, he gritted his teeth and said two names.

Qiangba's family.

Dawa's family.

Like the Gongjue family, these two families are descendants of nobles from the old era.

In recent years, he has made a fortune by doing mining and transportation business, and has formed a circle in the local area.

Lausanne's choice of words was also very straightforward—the new aristocracy.

On the surface, the three families each ran their own businesses, but in reality, they exchanged goods and resources, dividing the surrounding villages into their own territories.

The herders on whose territory they live on have to listen to them.

You have to pay a fee to herd livestock, sell caterpillar fungus through them, and even register your child's enrollment with them before starting school.

This reporting was not registration, but kowtowing.

Ram grew angrier as he listened, and clenched his fists again.

Losang's voice grew lower and lower as he spoke, and he stopped when he reached the village entrance.

He pointed to a mud-brick house by the roadside that had collapsed halfway.

"Instructor, take a look at this."

On the wall of that house, a few Tibetan characters were written crookedly in red paint.

The color had faded somewhat, but it was still dazzling under the moonlight.

Ram glanced at it, and his face immediately turned ashen.

"This is the mark of the Qiangba family."

"It means—this place already has it."

Losang shook his head with a bitter smile.

"It's exactly the same as the mark of the serf owners in the old society, just written differently."

Chen Zheng stood in front of the broken wall, his eyes fixed on the line of red Tibetan script.

Ram stood behind him, seeing the instructor's expression so gloomy for the first time.

Then, Chen Zheng stared at that line of text for a long time.

Ram could even hear him clench his fists.

Finally, he withdrew his gaze and turned to continue walking into the village.

He didn't say a word.

But Ram knew that the instructor had already remembered.

It's not just about remembering that line of text.

They remembered this wall, this half-collapsed house, and this village that had been marked with red paint as its place of origin.

……

The village is small, with fewer than thirty households.

When Chen Zheng followed Losang inside, it was already very late at night.

But news travels very fast in such a small place.

The news that Gongjue Suolang's knee had been broken spread instantly.

One by one, herders came out of their tents and houses and gathered around in twos and threes.

Some were wearing old cotton-padded coats, some were wrapped in sheepskin jackets, and there were a few children, barefoot on the frozen mud, staring at Chen Zheng with wide eyes.

The scene in the village made Chen Zheng even more silent.

The poverty here cannot be summed up by the word "poor".

The mud-brick house leaked wind and rain; some of the walls had large cracks that were barely covered with plastic sheeting. You could see a few not-so-strong yak yaks tethered in the yard.

A little girl of three or four years old hid behind the door frame, peeking at Chen Zheng, snot hanging from her lips.

When Ram saw the little girl, a pang of sadness welled up in her heart.

She took out a red sausage that Guo Huaiying had given her from her pocket, tore open the packaging, and handed it over.

The little girl hesitated for two seconds, then quickly snatched it and ran into the house.

Losang took Chen Zheng to see several more families who had been oppressed by the new nobles.

The first household, the male head of the household is named Dajie.

My right arm was broken by the Dawa family last year.

The reason is simple: the Dawa family wants to build a road through their ranch to the mine.

Dajie disagreed, feeling that if the road passed through the middle of his pasture, the cattle and sheep would not be able to graze.

The Dawa family first tried to persuade him twice with kind words, but the third time they came, they were not persuaders, but four thugs with steel pipes.

I suffered three fractures in my right tibia, and it hasn't fully healed yet.

Dajie sat in the dimly lit room, his left hand supporting his injured arm, his face expressionless.

He's become numb.

His wife stood beside him, her eyes red, but she didn't cry.

The whole family relied on her herding to make a living, with more than twenty yaks.

I have to go out before dawn and come back after dark every day.

Dajie's right arm was too weak for heavy work; he couldn't even chop wood, let alone ride a horse or herd livestock.

Ram squatted down in front of Dajie and stared at the bandaged arm for a long time.

She didn't speak, but her teeth were grinding together.

Chen Zheng stepped forward and gently pressed a few spots on Dajie's right arm with his fingers.

Dajie instinctively shrank back.

But Chen Zheng's hand was very steady, and he controlled the force just right.

"The bone wasn't set very well; it's crooked in one place," Chen Zheng said calmly, withdrawing his hand. "I'll have the military doctor take another look; there's still room for correction."

If it can't be corrected, he'll have to consider getting a prosthetic leg for him.

Dajie stared at him blankly for a long time before he reacted and nodded repeatedly.

The second family was in an even worse situation.

The family's surname is Tsering, and their son is named Tsering Wangdui, a young man in his early twenties.

Six months ago, I was recruited by Qiangba's family to work in the mine. It was agreed that I would be paid 3,000 yuan a month.

For herders, three thousand yuan is an astronomical figure.

Tsering Wangdu went off happily.

After working for half a year, I didn't receive a single penny.