180: Post-war

Noon on the 17th.

The sky over the Shanghai remained gloomy, as if unwilling to disperse the haze of yesterday's smoke.

After a night and half a day of frantic emergency treatment, the lights in the temporary operating room finally went out.

Lu Fan walked out, dragging his legs that felt as heavy as lead, his scrubs stained with patches of blood and medicine.

His face showed extreme exhaustion that was hard to hide.

Under the full efforts of the medical team led by him and Tang Li.

They had exhausted all the high-grade medicines rewarded by the system, combined with modern medical supplies.

Finally, they pulled the severely wounded back from the brink of death, and their conditions had temporarily stabilized.

Looking back at the battle last night, though they had won, the price was enormous.

Among the one hundred and twelve severely wounded, more than half had permanently lost arms or legs.

Or they were left with irreversible internal injuries; their combat careers were over.

Even if the other half could recover, they would never again meet the high-intensity combat requirements of the Security Team.

As a modern person who had personally participated in the rescue, his heart felt as heavy as if a giant boulder were pressing down on it.

Just as Lu Fan stepped out of the temporary medical point, he ran into Li Zhenshan.

"Boss..." Li Zhenshan's voice was hoarse as he handed over a list. "The casualty statistics... are out."

Lu Fan took the list, his eyes sweeping over those cold numbers:

Killed in action: 38.

Severely wounded: 112.

Lightly wounded: 203.

Despite everyone being equipped with Level 3 Helmets and Level 3 Armor, and despite having firepower that surpassed the era.

But facing the final frantic counterattack of the Japanese and the brutal street and beachhead battles.

This elite force he had meticulously built still paid such a heavy price.

"Boss... our casualties aren't small, but people always die in war." Li Zhenshan's eyes were red, trying hard to lighten the atmosphere.

"We wiped out all the Japanese in the Shanghai; this battle was worth it! The brothers... didn't die in vain!"

"Was it worth it?" Lu Fan looked at the numbers on the list and coldly spat out those words.

In his view, this could have been a victory achieved at a minimal cost.

If it weren't for the blind commands from Jinling.

If it weren't for those three telegrams that were like death warrants.

If Zhang Zhizhong hadn't been forced to bet all his chips early.

His Security Team could have ended the battle with much better preparation and fewer casualties.

It was the foolish command from the rear that overspent his team members' lives.

A strong sense of regret, heartache, and an indescribable anger churned in his chest.

His confidence in continuing to fight in this giant whirlpool of the Shanghai area suffered an unprecedented blow.

Here, his power seemed forever unable to fill the bottomless pit created by bureaucracy and wrong decisions.

Thus, a thought uncontrollably sprouted and spread from the bottom of his heart.

Perhaps... it was time to leave this meat-grinder of a battlefield and start anew.

To strike the enemy in a purer, more autonomous, and more effective way.

Lu Fan lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, turned his head, handed a cigarette over, and asked, "Old Li, if... if one day I leave this place.

To fight the Japanese somewhere else, would you come with me?"

"Absolutely. As long as they're Japanese, it doesn't matter where we fight them!" Li Zhenshan replied without a second thought.

Then he lit the cigarette and complained, "Boss, to be honest, this damn place in the Shanghai is all alleys; we can't fully deploy our tactics.

If this battle were in Beijing, with our current equipment.

Damn it, if I didn't beat the crap out of the Japanese, I, Old Li, would have wasted all those years as a soldier."

"Yeah... on an open plain, we wouldn't even fear two Japanese divisions!"

Hearing Old Li's complaint, Lu Fan smoked and recalled the battle from a month ago, feeling deeply moved.

Suddenly he thought of something and asked, "Old Li, why haven't I seen Jin Biao?"

At this question, Li Zhenshan hesitated, and his carefree expression faltered.

"Speak... what happened to Bai Jinbiao?" Lu Fan narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming cold and sharp.

Li Zhenshan stammered, "Bo... Boss, don't worry, nothing major happened to Bai Jinbiao, it's... it's just that his hand got a bit injured!"

"Take me to see him."

Under Old Li's lead, Lu Fan saw Bai Jinbiao, whose hand was wrapped up like a giant Zongzi.

At the moment, he was busy settling the injured team members, bustling about.

The man indeed seemed fine, but a scan with the multifunctional glasses showed that three out of his five fingers were broken.

And they were the most critical ones: the thumb, index finger, and middle finger.

Seeing Lu Fan, Bai Jinbiao quickly tried to hide his injured hand behind his back.

At the same time, he tried his best to keep a calm and casual look, explaining, "Boss, the doctor already treated it, it's just a little..."

"Jin Biao, come with me to the operating room!" Lu Fan ignored the explanation, interrupted the defense, and gave a direct order.

Inside the operating room, Lu Fan nimbly cut open Bai Jinbiao's bandages to begin work.

As expected, it wasn't just as simple as losing three fingers; his palm was riddled with holes.

He hadn't even gone to a doctor for specialized treatment because, as a veteran, he knew his condition would likely lead to amputation.

If he hadn't seen that Zongzi-like bandaging, Lu Fan would have almost been fooled.

"Jin Biao, I suggest you shut up!" He frowned, suppressing his anger. "I'm repairing and suturing it for you now, so cooperate."

With those words, Lu Fan began his operation; it wasn't a discussion, it was a notification.

He truly felt for this group of people who didn't want to cause him trouble.

Bai Jinbiao's palm was soon finished. After doing a round of inspections, Lu Fan returned alone to Xiafei Manor.

The manor was silent, as if it were a different time and space from the world outside.

Extreme fatigue washed over him like a tide, but he had no desire to sleep.

As soon as he closed his eyes, the faces of the sacrificed team members clearly surfaced in the darkness.

He thought of Da Liu, the machine gunner from Beijing who always loved to chuckle.

He had followed him since the July 7th Incident, saying he wanted to avenge his parents who were bombed to death by Japanese planes.

Every time they fought, he always carried several more units of ammunition than anyone else.

This was so that during the battle, his firepower output would be more sustained and he could kill more Japanese.

This time, in order to suppress a Japanese fire point, he was blown to pieces by a grenade launcher... and there was Xiao Chen, the most educated one in the team, who was originally a primary school teacher and served as a scout.

In his spare time, he never tired of writing letters for the team members.

This time, while scouting Japanese ships to identify fire points for the squad, he exposed his position and was hit by several bullets... and there was Old Waitou, the taciturn Northeast veteran who was excellent with a blade.

He always charged at the very front in every battle. This time, to tear through the Japanese defensive line at the first opportunity, he resolutely broke through alone.

While creating a gap in the firepower for the brothers behind him, he was also riddled with bullets by Japanese machine guns... face after vivid face, brother after brother who had once fought side by side.

Now they had all become cold names and numbers on a list.

This loss was like a dull knife cutting flesh, making Lu Fan feel bursts of suffocating heartache.

He sat in the study, watching the sky outside gradually darken, unable to pull himself out for a long time.