Chapter 447: Iron‑Blooded Shield Sets Out for the Distant Wilderness

Shenzhen's morning mist, carrying a briny sea scent and dew, dampened the grass at the edge of the training field in Ping Shan Industrial Park.

Wang Dahu stood with his hands behind his back on the simple cement‑poured viewing platform.

His figure remained as towering and broad as a tower, his spine straight, though his temples had taken on a touch of frost—a gift from years and wind.

A deep‑blue security uniform clung tightly to his solid frame; the shoulder insignia bore no gaudy decoration, only steady lines.

In the faint morning light, dozens of young figures were training on the field below.

The chant was short and forceful, ringing with metallic clang.

Their steps struck the ground, kicking up a light dust that mingled with the scent of sweat and youthful vigor.

These were all veterans recruited from across the country over the past six months.

Most came from field units or border forces, their eyes bearing the sharpness of wolves and the discipline of iron.

Wang Dahu squinted, his gaze measuring each person's movements as if with a ruler.

The height of the raised leg.

The breadth of the arm swing.

The neatness of the turn.

Meticulous.

It was his habit, and his stubbornness.

From the section chief of the Red Star Steel Rolling Mill Security Department, who oversaw dozens, to now the general manager of Wanxiang Group Security Company, he commands a professional security force of hundreds spread at home and abroad.

His post changed, his territory grew, but some things etched in his bones cannot be altered.

To lead troops, one must look the part of a leader.

These were the words an old company commander, pipe in mouth, told him back in the army.

He has remembered them his whole life.

"Stand—still!"

The on‑duty Instructor's command cracked the morning air like a whip.

The formation halted in unison, motionless.

Only the rise and fall of chests and beads of sweat rolling off foreheads testified to the intensity of the training.

Wang Dahu stepped down from the platform, his leather shoes sinking into the damp mud with a muffled thud.

He walked to the front of the line, moving from the head to the tail.

His steps were slow.

His gaze swept over each face—young or no longer young, yet equally dark and resolute.

Some eyes showed the rawness and curiosity of newcomers.

Others were steady and restrained, clearly having weathered more storms.

But without exception, all stood as straight as javelins.

"Speak up."

Wang Dahu spoke, his voice low yet bearing a gritty, sand‑stone texture that easily cut through the open field.

Everyone held their breath.

"At ease."

The formation moved in unison.

"Some of you came here after hearing old comrades, others after seeing a recruitment notice."

Wang Dahu said slowly, "No matter how you arrived, once you put on these uniforms, you are no longer ordinary civilians."

He paused, his gaze flashing like lightning.

"You are Wanxiang employees, and the company's trusted shield. The work may be dull—standing guard, patrolling, monitoring equipment. It may also… be dangerous."

"The company will not shortchange those who work hard and follow the rules. Salary, insurance, compensation—everything written in the contract will not be less, only more. But there is one point I must state up front."

His voice suddenly grew stern.

"Obey orders! Follow commands! Do not ask what should not be asked, do not speak what should not be spoken! Remember, you are one unit; if anyone drops the chain, it shatters everyone's livelihood, tarnishes the company's face, and even the face of us Chinese fathers!"

The speech struck the ground, each word weighing a thousand pounds.

The formation fell silent, only the morning breeze brushing past ears.

"Can you do it?"

"Can!" The shout thundered, startling a few sparrows perched in distant trees.

Wang Dahu's face showed little expression, merely a slight nod.

"Continue training."

Back in the office, a cup of strong tea was already steeped on the desk, the leaves drifting up and down in the boiling water.

Wang Dahu lifted the cup, ignoring the heat, and took a big sip.

The bitter taste slid down his throat, dispelling the lingering chill of morning.

Several maps hung on the office wall.

A map of China.

A world map.

And a few detailed topographic maps of key regions.

His gaze habitually fell on the Australian region.

There, a red pen had drawn a somewhat irregular circle.

At the circle's center lay the red wasteland where Zhou Wenbin and his team were "planting tea".

General Manager Li had called personally a few days earlier; his Telephone was concise yet each word weighed a thousand pounds.

"Wang Dahu, over in Australia we've found something good. It's underground, temporarily safe. But on the surface we need absolutely reliable own people to watch it. Zhou Wenbin's group is using Soviet veterans; they can fight, but they're outsiders, and hearts are hidden behind skin. You should quickly pick a batch of the most trustworthy, solid, domestically retired veterans and form a dedicated overseas guard unit. They must endure hardship, withstand desolate loneliness, and be absolutely loyal, able to hold the line at critical moments."

Li Ping'an's voice came through the Telephone line, calm yet carrying undeniable weight.

"The team must be elite, not numerous. Prepare the first batch at fifty men. Equipment, visas, logistics—the Wanxiang Group will fully support. Your mission is to forge this team into iron, cast it into a shield, so that when needed it can be firmly planted on that red land."

After hanging up, Wang Dahu sat in his office for a long while.

He smoked away half a pack.

He understood Li Ping'an's meaning.

Soviet veterans are useful; they're the spearheads.

But the ones who truly guard the house and protect the lifeline must be our own people, those who know us inside out and share the same blood.

This is trust, and also a heavy responsibility.

The work of selecting personnel had actually begun long ago.

Wang Dahu has his own channels and methods.

He taps the network of old comrades and former leaders, mainly scouting candidates from units with strict discipline, hardened conduct, and recent large numbers of soldiers retiring.

Recon Soldier.

Border Defense Armed Police.

Armored troops.

There are even a few who retired from special units; they speak little, but their steady gaze is frightening.

The selection standards are extremely harsh.

Military competence is the foundation; political vetting is even stricter.

Family composition, social connections, performance in the unit, reasons for discharge… all must be investigated thoroughly.

Wang Dahu personally interviews each person who makes the final list.

When the office door closes, it's just the two of them.

His questions are very direct, yet also tricky.

"Why come?"

"Fear hardship? Fear death?"

"If we send you thousands of li away, unable to return home for years, unable to see parents, spouse, children, can you hold out?"

"If an emergency arises, with no backup and unclear orders, what would you do?"

Most people's answers are plain, even a bit clumsy.

"I want a stable job, earn money to support my family."

"What's there to fear about hardship? I've endured every soldier's hardship."

"Follow commands, do whatever I'm told to do."

Some have flickering eyes, or answer overly slick and smooth.

For such people, Wang Dahu marks a cross in his mind.

What he wants isn't a slick talker but a solid person—someone who may have thoughts but will throw themselves into executing orders.

Just like back at the Steel Rolling Mill, when Li (the boss) had him guard the plant, he truly could lead men to confront the troublemaking thugs head‑on, not yielding an inch.

The list of the first fifty was finally finalized three days ago.

Wang Dahu sealed the list and detailed files, and sent someone straight to Li Ping'an's office.

Li Ping'an replied with only two words: "As soon as possible."

Thus, the training intensity suddenly surged.

Besides basic drills, physical fitness, and Hand-to-hand Combat, a large number of specialized courses were added.

Wilderness Survival.

Map reading.

Simple communications.

Key area defense points.

Everyday English and basic local language phrases.

There were even corporate culture classes—the instructor was sent by Lin Wanyi, covering Wanxiang Group's development, the significance of overseas expansion, and the values of loyalty and dedication.

Wang Dahu sometimes attends the lectures.

He sits in the back row, listening as the lecturer, with a passionate tone, describes how the group strives internationally for national resources and quietly cultivates the rise of the national industry.

Watching the young team members below, their gazes shift from initial bewilderment to growing focus, even a hint of sparkle.

He knows that discipline and salary alone cannot bind hearts.

There must also be ambition, that drive to "do great things."

Li's move here is shrewd.

During training breaks, Wang Dahu also summons a few pre‑selected squad leaders to the office for private talks.

"When you go there, the environment may be even worse than you imagine."

He points to the red area of Australia on the map, "Desert, water‑scarce, scorching sun; within a few hundred li you may see hardly any smoke of civilization. Apart from our own people, there are the Soviet veterans and a few local hires."

"Your mission: first, guard our 'tea field'; no unauthorized person, vehicle, or aircraft may approach the core zone. Second, ensure the absolute safety of our technical staff and workers. Finally, if—if I may say if—a sudden armed clash occurs, you may act at discretion provided the primary objective remains safe. All actions must obey the on‑site supreme commander's orders; for now, that commander is appointed by me."

His gaze sweeps over the squad leaders.

They're all around thirty, having served as Squad Leaders or Platoon Leaders in the troops, with command experience and steady eyes.

"Any questions?"

"No!" they reply crisply.

"Is everything at home settled?"

All settled, Boss Wang can rest easy.

Wang Dahu nodded, took out several thick envelopes from the drawer, and pushed them over.

This is family support money. Before departure, send it back to your families. Tell your parents and wives that the company won't forget their contributions. Out there, be sharp, but don't be cowardly. Remember, behind you is the company, and even more, what the nation needs. You can lose face, but not the supplies.

Several squad leaders took the envelopes, feeling their substantial weight.

They exchanged a glance, each seeing in the other's eyes a greater resolve.

On the eve of departure, Wang Dahu set up a few tables for a simple farewell banquet at the small canteen beside the training field.

No liquor; tea was served in its place.

The dishes were carefully prepared by the canteen's master cook, hearty fare with generous portions.

Wang Dahu lifted his tea cup and rose to his feet.

The canteen fell silent in an instant.

"Tomorrow, you will set out."

Wang Dahu's voice remained clear despite the slight noise in the canteen: "Other things have been said on the training field. Just this: once you're out there, you're brothers, look out for each other. Go in peace, return whole. If your families face trouble, seek the organization. As long as the company stands, and I, Wang Dahu, am here, we won't abandon you."

He raised his tea cup.

"Tea in place of wine, a toast to all you brothers. Safe travels!"

"Thank you, Boss Wang!" dozens of men rose in unison, lifted their tea cups, and shouted loudly.

The tea cups clinked, producing a clear sound.

There was no reluctance to part; instead, there was a solemnity before deployment and a faint excitement.

Wang Dahu went table to table, clinking cups with each person and saying a few words.

He patted this one's shoulder.

He gave that one two reminders.

His gaze swept over the young and mature faces, as if he wanted to etch them into his memory.

These are the troops he personally selected.

Now they are to be scattered across a desert ten thousand li away.

Deep down, to say there isn't a ripple would be false.

But he cannot show it.

He is the backbone.

He must stay steady.

Late at night, Wang Dahu returned alone to his office.

He didn't turn on the main light, only switched on an old desk lamp.

The dim yellow light shrouded the final personnel equipment list on the desk, about to depart with the unit.

He picked up his pen and made annotations after several key items of equipment.

Stab-resistant vests need to be issued.

Desert camouflage uniforms and boots, request an additional batch.

First-aid medicines and water purification equipment must be sufficient.

Moreover… he pondered a moment, then added a small line at the end of the list: "Request issuance of a small quantity of non-lethal defensive equipment and signal flares."

This is to cope with possible gray-zone situations between ordinary clashes and armed attacks.

After writing, he carefully checked it once more, then sealed it in a file folder.

Tomorrow morning, this list will depart with the unit.

Having done these, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

In his mind, however, surfaced that afternoon years ago at the Steel Rolling Mill Security Section.

Li Ping'an found him, his gaze calm yet profound.

"Dahu, the factory is in your keeping; I'm at ease."

Just those words.

From then on, he bound his own hundred-odd catties, this person, and this ever-growing enterprise together firmly.

From the Steel Rolling Mill to Shenzhen.

From watching machinery to guarding mineral deposits.

The stage keeps growing larger.

The responsibility keeps growing heavier.

But he, Wang Dahu, is still that same Wang Dahu.

Entrusted by others, loyal to their affairs.

That's an old principle.

It is also the foundation of how he conducts himself.

Outside the window, Shenzhen still has scattered lights.

In the distance, the port emits a faint whistle.

This city, like his conglomerate, is growing and expanding at an astonishing speed, extending its reach farther afield.

And safety is the foundation of all this.

Without a reliable shield, even the sharpest spear may break.

Without loyal guards, even the grandest blueprint is merely a sandcastle.

Wang Dahu opened his eyes, his gaze once again falling on that world map.

The position of Australia, that red circle, appears somewhat glaring under the light.

What is about to be hoisted there is not just a company's banner.

It is also an intangible shield forged by fifty Chinese veterans with sweat, loyalty, and even blood.

Beyond the shield lies a dormant black ore vein.

It is grain that the nation's future industrial development may urgently require.

It is a crucial piece on Li Zong's chessboard.

He stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

The southern night breeze, warm, brushed his face.

He took a deep breath.

It seemed he could smell, from thousands of miles away, the dry, scorching, yet potentially threatening air over that red desert.

"Brothers," he whispered to the endless night, his voice audible only to himself, "It's up to you."

Dawn is about to illuminate the training ground once more.

And a special team will, facing the morning light, head for the far wasteland.