Chapter 421: Ghosts on the Battlefield

Seeing the two slip away with guilty backs, the others began to get confused.

For a moment they couldn't tell, some couldn't tell whether this was part of the assessment or a script.

But none of that mattered; what mattered was that Lu Yang actually sprayed a stream of urine on Bai Yuan's head, giving everyone a harsh burst of bad energy!

The others quickly lowered Lu Yang from the tree, each with a face full of admiration; Lu Yang also modestly waved his hand, saying the urine wasn't for himself, it was purely to help everyone vent.

Such self‑sacrificial, altruistic spirit made everyone admire him to the point of prostration, and also gave the squad greater cohesion.

Lu Yang was ushered forward to the camp, laughing openly, but in his heart he missed his comrades even more.

Perhaps because he missed them so much, he constantly felt that those comrades were right beside him, on this island.

He seemed to hear someone pointing at Zhou Kaidong, saying, "That soldier, that soldier, I'm talking about you!"

He seemed to see Kang Changyi proudly wagging his tail, belittling himself, then saying, "I'll carry the future banner of Iron Foot, and Lu Yang is just a little Karla!"

Looking at the surrounding grimy, disheveled smiling faces, Lu Yang felt as if he had returned to the Special Third Regiment, to the Sixth Company.

This further strengthened his resolve to learn more useful knowledge and, after returning, lead those former comrades toward a brighter tomorrow together.

Lu Yang made up his mind: "Wait for me, wait until I return fully trained; I will restore Iron Foot's glory and lead everyone toward a new brilliance!"

"All supplies have arrived, but before training officially begins, I will organize you into a squad."

"Since it's a squad, it needs a squad leader and a deputy squad leader."

"I'll give you five seconds to discuss freely?"

Bai Yuan took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes.

He glanced at his watch and said, "Time's up: is the discussion finished?"

The group spoke in unison: "Report, we choose Lu Yang as squad leader and Xu Ce as deputy squad leader."

Bai Yuan and Lao Mao exchanged a glance, showing little surprise.

Lu Yang had long been the leader of these people, and becoming squad leader was well deserved.

Xu Ce was the most educated and highest‑ranked in the team, with no issues at all.

Days passed, and this period focused mainly on specialized training such as camouflage and infiltration, near‑shore terrain analysis, unarmed close‑quarters raids, and handling sudden standoffs.

At the same time, it also included armed tactical assaults, infiltration and decapitation, rapid coordinate marking, break‑out and anti‑break‑out, and even bait mines and trap making.

Special Operations usually enter the battlefield in 3–5‑person squads or 8–10‑person teams; they strike quickly, accurately, and ruthlessly at high‑value enemy targets with precision.

High‑value targets include enemy commanders, Platoon Leaders, snipers, and heavy weapons operators.

These individuals are called battlefield ghosts precisely because they appear and disappear like phantoms.

Once they appear, they can, thanks to superb combat proficiency and precise tactical coordination, swiftly destroy and dismantle a unit's command core.

And the shortcoming of a Special Operations squad on the battlefield is also obvious: once its position is exposed and surrounded by many enemies, it meets a death with no burial.

After all, no matter how tough a mortal body is, it cannot compare with aircraft, artillery, or tanks.

As for a 1‑to‑25 casualty ratio, it only occurs in ambushes under specific battlefield conditions; on open battlefields, conventional units simply cannot clash head‑on like that.

It's like pitting a versatile elite assassin, unarmed, against a three‑hundred‑plus‑pound heavyweight in a ring—the outcome is obvious.

But if, on the battlefield, a few Special Operations troops bypass the cordon and infiltrate successfully, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Because from that moment on, every commander's head hangs over their own, and they must sleep with one eye open.

The internal artillery positions and Headquarters will soon be bombarded by precise enemy fire, truly indefensible.

Day after day of high‑intensity combined training drained all their energy.

Even so, in the more than half a month since training began, the instructors never scolded them.

Even so, these days the canned food has been sufficient, and occasionally Lu Yang would bring some seafood to change everyone's palate.

But everyone felt a death‑worse fatigue, so weary that they even missed the previous phase of wilderness survival training.

Back then, they still had enough energy to curse the instructors and complain about everything around them.

Now, they're so exhausted they lack the strength even to complain; after training they just want to return to the tent and sleep.

In the tent, everyone squatted on the ground, lethargically eating canned food, their expressions numb as if they were walking dead.

Suddenly, the distant bursts of gunfire made everyone slowly look up, and immediately after came faces contorted in desperate pain.

"Again, it's starting again!"

"He really never gets tired?"

"Number Twelve is a monster, he must be a monster!"

Following everyone's gaze, they saw the abandoned lighthouse atop the hill.

Lu Yang was half‑crouched, aiming at the drifting plastic bottles on the distant sea, pulling the trigger of his Type 81 Rifle.

The sea's rolling is irregular, and the sunlight makes the surface sparkle, affecting aim, so the difficulty is far greater than shooting at a fixed target.

Fortunately, Lu Yang's eyes have built‑in light‑filtering, and with a Type 81 Rifle in his hand it somehow produced half a sniper rifle's effect, nearly every shot hitting.

Bai Yuan stood aside, using a telescope to watch the bullet‑hit, bobbing plastic bottles on the sea: "Not bad, an improvement over the start; but the aiming time is still a bit too long."

"If you encounter a top‑level shooter on the battlefield, or a tactical sniper team, even a half‑second hesitation could cost you your life."

Lu Yang, surprised: "That exaggerated?"

Bai Yuan said calmly: "You're not the only gifted one; moreover, your current shooting posture and method have major issues."

Lu Yang's body was hidden behind cover, only the barrel perched on the windowsill, fully in a concealed crouching shooting stance.

This was a shooting technique he had learned from Guo Yongwen in the past, and had also verified its feasibility in books.

So he lowered his head to check once, but noticed nothing wrong with himself?

Bai Yuan grabbed his collar, lifted him from the ground, and crouched with a gun at his spot.

"Look at it again yourself; do you think what you're doing has any flaw?"

Lu Yang furrowed his brows, stared at the crouching Bai Yuan for over two minutes, still unable to find the problem.

At the four‑minute mark, Bai Yuan shifted his right foot, switching to his left foot for support, and Lu Yang finally realized…