Chapter 167: Inflicting 800 casualties on the enemy while losing 10,000 of our own

That soldier, I'm talking to you!

Ah?

Kong Long, who was dozing off, suddenly staggered and almost fell forward.

Panicking, he looked at the two white-capped figures walking up under the streetlamp, and his whole body shuddered.

Because he didn't place, and moreover the match was in the morning session, after eating lunch he took the car back.

He still had to stand guard honestly in the evening, but he never expected to be so unlucky—caught dozing off by the military police?

Private, were you just asleep?

No, I—I have a bit of low blood sugar.

Low blood sugar?

The lame old soldier walked around him once, observing that his build was slightly more robust than average.

You're so sturdy, yet you have low blood sugar?

Pay attention from now on—don't let it happen again!

Oh, okay!

Seeing another acquaintance, Zhang Jiaheng hurried to speak up for him.

Kong Long answered with a sound and also recognized that face, but he just couldn't remember the name.

His mind kept conjuring up the image of a Tifa Fiji Cup.

But at this critical juncture, he wouldn't be so foolish as to shout someone's nickname in public, so he could only stand at attention honestly.

After criticizing him with two sentences and leaving, his companion glared angrily at Zhang Jiaheng: "Why do you keep stopping me? It's obvious you're slacking on guard duty, and you're even using low blood sugar as an excuse!"

Zhang Jiaheng explained embarrassedly: "He's a comrade from my New Recruit Company, not from the same platoon, but we know each other."

His companions burst out laughing in anger: "How is it that everywhere you go, you have comrades? All under heaven are brothers! With so many friends, what are you doing as a military police?"

Zhang Jiaheng also felt annoyed: "I know lots of people—what the hell is it to you, you idiot?"

No wonder the military police have such a bad reputation outside—it's all because of you lot, waving feathers like orders, ruining things!

He and his squad leader went on duty, selectively picking out serious violations to punish; first-time offenders usually got just verbal criticism and education, only second offenses got formal punishment—but he never expected to run into such a stubborn blockhead!

He simply made a round in the Third Company's camp area and found nothing wrong.

Zhang Jiaheng wanted to leave, but his companion insisted on going up to the dormitory building to check.

He was really angry—so much that he even felt like hitting him from behind with a brick.

Even comrades can't stand each other, let alone the low‑rank soldiers who are punished for no reason.

The veteran on duty at the stairway entrance saw the two grim reapers approach, immediately frowned, but still rose out of courtesy and saluted.

Hello, may I ask what you need?

Routine inspection.

His companion returned the salute while marching, without even glancing at the guard, and headed straight upstairs.

Zhang Jiaheng, on the other hand, felt a bit embarrassed and nodded at him to indicate he was sorry for the disturbance.

After a simple walkaround, they found no problems, and there was no late‑night pointless fuss.

After all, it was already two or three in the morning, the prime time for deep sleep.

But when the two reached the third floor, they heard the click of a lighter coming from the toilet.

No need to ask—someone must be sneaking a smoke in there in the middle of the night.

Although the unit had no smoking ban, one could only smoke during free time.

As for what counts as free time, it depends on the situation.

It's definitely a new recruit staying up late to smoke in the toilet!

Couldn't it just be an old‑soldier squad leader taking a dump and lighting up?

Taking a dump is just taking a dump, but lighting a cigarette is deliberately dragging things out, wasting time! If you're not coming, just stand at the door—don't get in the way—I'll go in myself!

Having said that, his companion ignored Zhang Jiaheng's protests and insisted on going in, checking each stall one by one.

Sure enough, he found one in the rear stalls—a guy playing with a lighter, burning toilet paper.

Wan Baoshan, who was in the middle of a bowel movement, was also startled by the sudden appearance of a white‑clad figure.

Jesus, you scared the hell out of me—don't you know? Do you walk without making a sound?

Have you been smoking?

No?

No, then why do you have a lighter?

Just burning it for fun—the toilet smells strong, is that a problem?

Wan Baoshan is an old hand, so he naturally knows what this guy is up to.

But in front of him, this lame military police officer, unfamiliar with the ropes, was like a raw recruit—he couldn't gain any advantage.

According to regulations, nighttime bathroom use must be quick—what are you dawdling for?

I'm constipated.

You really haven't been smoking?

Of course—I never smoke.

Wan Baoshan had indeed lit a cigarette, but when he noticed a shadowy figure swaying furtively outside,

he realized something was wrong, immediately stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the pit.

This was a skill he'd honed during school—sneaking a smoke in the toilet between classes, battling wits and courage with teachers and the discipline chief.

But that petty‑tempered, hot‑headed military police officer refused to back down, repeatedly dressing him down all night, nearly making him explode.

Moreover, he was convinced the guy had definitely been smoking, and might even have hidden a phone or other electronic device.

Because when he approached earlier, he clearly saw a faint light, but the other side hid it quickly, so he wasn't discovered.

I don't believe it!

It's fine if the Sixth Company takes the loss, but when we get to the Third Company, are we still going to be kicked around like a ball?

"You said you didn't smoke, now stick out your hand for me!"

"If you smoked, your fingers would definitely smell of smoke!"

Seeing this hotheaded fool pressing in, he insists on grabbing him and not letting go.

Wan Baoshan's temper also flared up right away; taking a shit in the middle of the night, and he still can't relax?

Since this guy insists on treating himself as a soft persimmon, he might as well go all out.

He might as well go all the way and make a decision that goes against his ancestors.

Although this move can quickly get him out of danger, it truly is a case of injuring the enemy eight hundred while losing ten thousand himself.

Wan Baoshan poked his finger down, then directly shoved it under that guy's nostrils: "Smell it, sniff hard—doesn't it have no smoke smell?"

The next second, that military police officer's face instantly changed, as if his nose had been hit by a hammer, he covered his mouth and nose and fled backward in utter terror.

Zhang Jiaheng didn't understand, nor did he know what he was smelling, how could he be scared into such a state?

The next day, Lu Yang, who was on leave, woke up naturally.

Riding the company commander's red Ducati, wearing a full-face helmet, he passed by the Third Company to visit Ding Tengfei.

Hearing Wan Baoshan talk about this incident by chance, he laughed so hard he almost fell off the motorcycle, unable to straighten his waist for a while.

"Damn, Wan Baoshan, this move is too ruthless—how could you bring yourself to do it?"

"Hmph, courage is trained; handling these little military police is as easy as having them in the palm of your hand."

"Impressive, impressive!"

"Your Ducati is awesome—let me hop on and take a couple of photos?"

"No, I'm afraid you'll get the throttle dirty."

"I've washed my hands!"

"Nope either—this bike's a clean freak, and I also dislike you!"

"Oh my god, you private bastard!"

"Kong Long, cut him, kick him twice in the legs, then later I'll take you for a spin."

"Alright, Brother Yang has spoken, Assistant Squad Leader Wan feels sorry."

"Good grief, why are you elbowing out? He's from the Second Battalion, the Second Battalion—we're supposed to be one family......"