Chapter 10: The Gun Echoes

In no time, the big pot of pork stewed with vermicelli was completely distributed.

Those who hadn't received any yet began to get restless.

Jiang Anguo shouted at that moment, "Everyone's just watching the show here; I'm going to be your camp commander from now on. If you want a full meal, do it yourselves—prop up your pots for me, and the brothers who've eaten, go up and help."

Everyone looked and indeed the Carriage still held plenty of meat; that pot earlier fed only about seventy to eighty people, while Chanda had over eight hundred people, most of whom smelled the aroma while their stomachs rumbled.

Jiang Anguo was also a bit anxious; the pork he brought didn't seem sufficient.

But Mi Long and Meng Fanle wore expressions of watching a performance.

Meng Fanle knows English, indicating he has been schooled and is a knowledgeable person, not a Big-Head Soldier.

Mi Long, among the broken soldiers, has watermelon and canned food, showing he is a clever individual, possessing not only brute strength but also brains.

"Thank you, officer," the group of broken soldiers shouted immediately upon seeing there was still food.

Jiang Anguo then remembered he also had a system.

"System, do you have food—meat, vegetables? I'll use points to buy some," Jiang Anguo said.

"Yes, Host."

Soon, the system presented Jiang Anguo with all the food, selecting it for him.

Good fellow, this system must truly be conscientious; this is defying the heavens. The best Military Rations of World War II should be the American ones, and a single portion from the system weighed 2500 g, that is five pounds.

Of course this isn't a single meal; indeed, for a laborer's appetite, eating three to four pounds in one sitting isn't a problem.

Military Rations aren't calculated that way; this portion of field rations is a day's worth of food, covering breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Jiang Anguo was very satisfied; not only that, one point can be exchanged for ten portions of Military Rations, totaling fifty pounds.

"Thanks, system; you really solved a problem for me," Jiang Anguo thought.

"You're welcome, Host. Additionally, the Host can use the same points—one point—to exchange for fifty pounds of meat, vegetables, or staple food, all are possible."

The system is truly powerful; Jiang Anguo really loves the system, at least he won't go hungry anymore.

System Prompt: Frontline Combat is best conducted with Military Rations; fresh foods are inconvenient to store.

The system concluded with a warm reminder.

During combat, hot rice, stir‑fry, and fresh food are clearly impossible; Military Rations are still needed.

Those who ate the pork stew also put down their cracked bowls; few had decent bowls or chopsticks—most chopsticks were just wooden sticks or branches, and some even ate with their hands, unsure if they'd get burned.

They ate at a truly rapid pace, and it's unclear whether they even tasted the flavor.

The whole of Chanda was as bustling as a New Year celebration.

The items on the Carriage were quickly taken; the Carriage originally held seventy pounds of pork, one hundred pounds of vermicelli, and two hundred pounds of cabbage, all of which were taken at once.

Jiang Anguo sent Xiao Si to maintain order; he had already finished eating.

Then he secretly moved the Carriage to the back, out of sight, spent ten points, and exchanged for five hundred pounds of supplies: fifty pounds of pork, one hundred fifty pounds of vermicelli, three hundred pounds of large cabbage.

Although he couldn't eat openly, he could still get about seventy to eighty percent full; Jiang Anguo wasn't stingy.

These people have been chronically malnourished; after just eating, it's like the starving dead being reborn—if they eat too much, I'm truly afraid they'll burst.

Now they need to nourish their bodies.

"This officer is really generous," Dou Bing said enviously.

"What, you want to go over!" Mi Long shouted angrily.

Dou Bing kept following Mi Long, looking like a junior, and upon hearing Mi Long's words, didn't dare to speak.

The veterinarian said nothing, slipped out, and joined the helping team; he liked the pork stew, but Mi Long ate the last bit, leaving the Wounded Soldiers with nothing.

He wanted to go up and help, then ask the camp commander for a bit.

"Y‑you‑you, come over and move all this stuff down for me; I'm going to be your camp commander from now on. Today's meal is a welcome gift for everyone; I will never let you starve again."

"Okay," the crowd made happy sounds.

The chosen ones, seeing so much supplies on the Carriage, widened their eyes.

They didn't know when they'd ever seen that much food.

"Hey hey hey, what are you doing! That's my horse, not for you to eat," Jiang Anguo immediately stopped them, fearing they'd faint from hunger.

It started as just joining the fun, but now all of Chanda's broken soldiers have come out, including standing Wounded Soldiers; some are supported by companions, the lighter ones lean on a makeshift cane—just a wooden stick—limping along like Meng Fanle.

It also gave Jiang Anguo a more comprehensive view of the Shelter's situation.

The main street of Chanda, long missing its bustle, filled with people chopping firewood, fetching water, heating water, cutting vegetables; everyone became busy.

A group gathered together, and Jiang Anguo happened to pass by.

A soldier said, "Do you think this officer is stupid? This pork is something you'd be reluctant to eat even during New Year," clearly not realizing Jiang Anguo was right behind.

The few people in front of him were also squinting and winking.

"Sigh, what's wrong with you, got eye problems?"

"I really wish there were more idiots like this."

"Good day, officer," the soldier opposite immediately said, stopping him, fearing to say something wrong.

That person also reacted, his brain turning, and upon seeing Jiang Anguo, wore a terrified expression.

Jiang Anguo smiled, "What's your name?"

"C‑c‑c—officer, I am Guan Qiang," he said with a Hebei accent.

"Nice name, keep up the good work," Jiang Anguo patted Guan Qiang's shoulder. The man liked to speak behind others, but his muscles were indeed impressive; surviving in such conditions showed his capability.

Only after Jiang Anguo walked away did Guan Qiang come to his senses, "You lot, the officer was behind me, why didn't you speak?"

"Guan Qiang, why didn't we speak? Didn't you see us squinting at you?"

"It's over, it's over." In the following days, Guan Qiang muttered for a long time, fearing the officer would be displeased, and was driven away.

He glanced at the time; it was past two in the afternoon, and Jiang Anguo was indeed hungry.

Xiao Si ladled a bowl of freshly cooked pork stew with vermicelli for Jiang Anguo.

He slurped a mouthful.

"Hmm, it's salty," Jiang Anguo was truly hungry; even if it was salty, he ate it with relish. This cooking skill was certainly a little inferior to his own—he had just made that pot himself and had already tasted its flavor.

Looking at the bustling street, Jiang Anguo handed the bowl in his hand to the side, and Xiao Si immediately took it.

Jiang Anguo drew the gun in his hand and fired three more shots.

Bang bang bang.

Remembering there was one bullet left, he fired it as well—bang.

After the four bullets were spent, four unlucky pigeons happened to fall from the sky; as they flew through, Jiang Anguo's four shots killed them.

Quickly swapping the Magazine, he put the empty Magazine back into the gun belt.

The four birds fell among the crowd; those close enough could see clearly that each pigeon's neck had been broken.