Chapter 508: Envying the Navy Idiot's Soft Bone

Hao Er felt a sharp pain in his chest as if it were being jabbed, but he dared not move. He could smell the tobacco and alcohol in Qingmu's breath—obviously, the captain had also taken part in Deguo's celebration last night.

"Navy?" Qingmu scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Those idiots who sit on pristine warships, drink coffee, and bask in the sea breeze—what do they know about war? Do they know what it's like to hunker down in a trench at minus ten degrees all night? Do they know the feeling of bullets whizzing past their ears during a charge? Do they know the temperature of blood splattering on their hands when a bayonet pierces a body?"

His voice grew louder, echoing through the barn.

"The Empire doesn't need more warships! The Empire needs soldiers like you—no, not the way you are now!" Qingmu suddenly erupted, kicking Hao Er's shoulder. "Soft bone! Envying the navy idiots with soft bone!"

Hao Er let out a wail and collapsed sideways into the straw pile. Yesterday's wound hadn't healed, and today brought a new one. The excruciating pain blackened his vision and churned his stomach.

Qingmu, still unsatisfied, lifted his heavy‑booted foot and slammed it into Hao Er's side. "Eight Yalu! I'll make you envy the navy! I'll make you want to be a navy idiot!"

"Captain, please calm down!" Yamada mustered courage and stepped forward. "Hao Er was just speaking offhand; he didn't mean it…"

"Shut up!" Qingmu snapped a backhand slap onto Yamada's face; the force sent the sturdy private staggering back several steps. "You want to get hit too?"

Yamada covered his face and retreated to the wall, too afraid to speak again.

Qingmu kept punching and kicking Hao Er. His boot struck the ribs, back, and thigh, each blow producing a dull thud. Hao Er curled in the straw, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. The pain burned through his body like fire, but the humiliation hurt more—being beaten like a dog in front of so many.

Why? He had only spoken the truth. If the Empire truly had a powerful navy, wouldn't that be a good thing? Aren't the army and navy both serving the Empire?

"Listen up!" Qingmu, out of breath, pointed at the prone Hao Er and addressed everyone. "In this battalion, under my command, anyone who dares to envy the navy or mention warships or cannons will learn what the army's way is!"

He bent down, grabbed Hao Er's hair, and forced him to lift his head.

"Remember, kid. Your life belongs to the army; your glory must be earned in the trenches. No matter how tough those iron shells of the navy are, they can't win this war. What decides victory or defeat is right here—" He released his grip and patted Hao Er's straw‑streaked face. "It's the lives of countless army soldiers like you. Understand?"

Hao Er's lips trembled, and tears finally broke free, mixing with the dust on his face to form filthy streaks.

"I‑I understand..." his voice was hoarse.

"Speak louder!"

"Understood! Captain!"

Qingmu sat up satisfied, smoothing his uniform. "Tonight there's a mission; your squad goes. Hao Er, you lead. If you don't bring back valuable intelligence..." He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Having said that, he turned and left the barn. The sound of his boots faded, eventually disappearing beyond the doorway.

The barn was deathly silent. After a while, Yamada and the others finally dared to gather around and lift Hao Er.

"Are you okay?" Yamada whispered, blood still seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Hao Er shook his head; every movement tugged at pain throughout his body. He was helped onto the ground mat and lay down; someone fetched water and a cloth to wipe the blood from his face.

"You too," Nakamura sighed, "saying that in front of Captain Qingmu... Everyone knows he's from the Choshu domain and despises the navy the most."

"I... I just..." Hao Er tried to explain, but didn't know what to say.

"Stop talking, rest," Yamada patted him. "We still have patrol tonight."

Hao Er closed his eyes. The physical pain persisted, but the ache in his heart—confusion and grievance—was worse. At Kumagai training camp he had learned to be "loyal to the Empire" and that "all soldiers are brothers." But reality? The army fighting the navy, the Choshu domain looking down on the Satsuma domain, officers freely beating soldiers...

Is this the Empire he has been fighting for?

【9】 From outside the barn came German singing. The neighboring Deguo barracks were celebrating, their voices bright and joyous, full of genuine merriment. Laughter rang out, glass bottles clinked, and an accordion accompanied the music.

From outside the granary came German singing. It was the neighboring Deguo barracks celebrating, the song bright and cheerful, filled with genuine joy. Someone laughed loudly, glass bottles clanged, and an accordion provided accompaniment.

Here, there was only silence, pain, and bewilderment.

Hao Er opened his eyes, staring at the barn's high timber roof. The lantern's light cast trembling shadows between the beams, like dancing ghosts.

He recalled his younger brother Kenta's words before he left home: "Brother, bring me foreign candy when you come back."

Can I still go back?

Can I still see Kenta?

He didn't know. He only knew that tonight he had to lead a patrol into the no‑man's area called the "Death Zone," and Captain Qingmu's demand likely meant another comrade wouldn't return.

Tears fell again, but this time he didn't wipe them. He turned his body and buried his face in the straw.

The straw smelled of mildew, earth, and a hint of blood—perhaps his own.

This is war.

This is the path he chose.

When night fell completely, Jin Shunzhi's squad assembled at the staging area.

This was the most forward section of the British Army's trench line, less than two hundred meters from the Degjun front. Twenty men, including Captain Park, Jin Shunzhi, Li Chengcan, and seventeen other soldiers from Cao County, each checked their gear: Type 38 rifle, bayonet, two Mills grenades, water bottle, dry‑rations bag—usually half a compressed biscuit and a small piece of cheese.

No steel helmets. They wore the British Army's soft caps, because equipment issued to the Eastern Auxiliary Forces was always second‑rate.

Captain Park gave the final briefing, his voice low: "Remember, our objective is to confirm activity in the abandoned communication trench. If we find an observation post, don't assault—mark the position and withdraw. If we encounter resistance, retreat immediately; don't linger. Survival outweighs glory, understand?"

"Understood," came the shaky reply.

"Also," Captain Park glanced toward the rear of the trench—where Lieutenant Watanabe was observing—"move lightly, move fast. We are in the light, the enemy in the dark."

At exactly nine p. m., they set out.

The first to climb out of the trench was Li Chengcan. He moved as lightly as a cat, pausing a few seconds at the edge to observe, then flipped up and rolled swiftly into the nearest shell crater. Next came Jin Shunzhi, followed by the others. The twenty men split into three squads, alternating cover between craters and corpses as they advanced.

Moonlight was blocked by clouds, limiting visibility to under twenty meters. But that gave them cover—Deguo snipers also struggled to aim in such dim light.

Jin Shunzhi kept close behind Li Chengcan. The two had cooperated on numerous night infiltrations and had developed a rapport. Li Chengcan handled listening—his ears were exceptionally keen, distinguishing subtle differences between wind, scurrying mice, and human breathing. Jin Shunzhi handled watching—his night vision was strong, allowing him to discern the outlines of barbed wire and ground undulations in the faint light.