89: Chapter 89 Addicted to Killing? Platoon Leader

"Dragon-Subduing Eighteen Stir-fries?"

These five large characters echoed in Qin Feng's mind, and he was completely stunned.

"What the hell is this?"

He had just been excited about getting his first kill and obtaining military merit, only for the system to turn around and shove a cookbook at him?

And it was a culinary skill, of all things!

He had fought bloodily and narrowly escaped death, all for this?

Qin Feng felt deeply humiliated; this was even more frustrating than being forced to flip a ladle.

At least flipping a ladle was a job, but what was this cookbook skill supposed to be?

Was he really going to walk down the path of being a Chef until the end, and eventually earn the title of "All-Army Special Combat Chef"?

He patiently accepted the skill.

The next second, countless recipes for Hunan and Sichuan cuisine flooded into his mind like a broken dam.

Chopped chili fish head, poached sliced meat, mapo tofu, spicy diced chicken...

Techniques for stir-frying, dry-frying, and braising were all there, refined down to the ratio of every gram of seasoning and the control of heat down to every second.

It was all chili!

Without chili, this skill was completely useless!

Good grief!

Qin Feng almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

He didn't eat spicy food in his past life, and he hadn't touched a bite in this one either.

Was the system messing with him?

Did he have to make his own mess, only to have to eat it all up tearfully later?

Forget it, having something is better than nothing.

Qin Feng quickly adjusted his mindset; after all, he was more concerned about another matter now.

He slowly turned his head, weighed the blood-stained kitchen knife in his hand, and his eyes, glowing with a green light, fell upon the remaining Yang Country prisoners of war.

One sergeant was worth 10 points of military merit.

There were five left here, even if they were all just ordinary soldiers, together they had to be worth at least twenty or thirty points, right?

This was all shiny, pure military merit!

The remaining Yang Country prisoners were scared out of their wits the moment they met Qin Feng's gaze.

Their bodies trembled violently, a foul stench drifted from their crotches, and some had already wet themselves in fear.

The guy in front of them was not human at all!

He was a demon!

He was a pervert who killed without blinking and did so with great joy!

They would rather rush out of the prison now and die under the guns of the guards outside than look at this butcher for one more second!

"Stop!"

Just as Qin Feng raised the kitchen knife, preparing to walk toward the next "military medal," Platoon Leader Long Zhan's hoarse voice finally rang out.

Qin Feng's movements paused.

He turned his head somewhat reluctantly and looked at Platoon Leader Long Zhan.

"Platoon Leader, are we saving these for the New Year?"

Platoon Leader Long Zhan's face twitched violently.

He walked over quickly, grabbed Qin Feng's hand holding the knife, and lowered his voice.

"We haven't interrogated them yet! We haven't extracted the intelligence! What do you think you're doing, kid?"

"If you hack them all to death, are we going to go hungry?"

He was really starting to regret it now.

He had thought the higher-ups had sent over a rookie who needed some tempering, but instead, they had sent a mad tiger that had just been released from its cage.

This kid wasn't here to be a Cook; he was clearly here to steal the executioner's job!

And he was getting addicted to it!

Hearing the word "intelligence," the killing intent in Qin Feng's eyes subsided slightly.

He knew the rules: the value of prisoners of war lay in what was in their brains.

What a pity.

Qin Feng sighed inwardly and could only resentfully put the kitchen knife away.

He turned around and kicked a prisoner who had collapsed in fear nearby.

"Eat!"

The roar was like a thunderclap on flat ground.

The prisoners were startled, and without caring what that stuff actually was, they scrambled towards their bowls.

They finally understood now.

If they didn't eat, they would die immediately.

If they ate, they could live a little longer.

For a time, the only sounds in the prison were the "slurping" of swallowing and the sobbing of those trying hard to suppress their nausea.

The Yang Country prisoners held their bowls, tears streaming down their faces, as they wolfed down the dark cuisine that even pigs wouldn't eat.

Under the supervision of Qin Feng, who looked like a god of slaughter, they didn't dare leave a single drop of soup behind.

After eating, they collapsed on the ground, foaming at the mouth and convulsing, looking even worse than if they had just been beaten up.

"Platoon Leader."

Qin Feng leaned in close to Platoon Leader Long Zhan, rubbing his hands together with an expectant look.

"After you're done interrogating them later, can you... let me handle them?"

Platoon Leader Long Zhan felt his molars aching.

He now seriously suspected that this kid had some special fetish.

"Get lost! Stay put and behave yourself!"

Platoon Leader Long Zhan cursed irritably and turned to leave; he was afraid that if he stayed with this kid any longer, he wouldn't be able to resist shooting him.

Chen Mo walked over and patted Qin Feng on the shoulder with a joyful expression.

"Brother, you're awesome."

He gestured with his mouth toward the unlucky fellows in the prison who were already rolling their eyes.

"I reckon there's no need for interrogation; they definitely want to talk more than anyone else right now."

"After all, if they confess early, they might still be able to live."

"Don't!"

Qin Feng was startled and blurted out.

"Killing them to silence them is my specialty! Keeping them alive is a waste of food!"

military merit!

military merit!

His mind was filled with nothing but military merit!

Chen Mo: "..."

Just then, Platoon Leader Long Zhan stopped, looked back, and clapped his hands.

"Alright, stop hiding, come out!"

As soon as he finished speaking.

Seven or eight figures emerged one after another from behind the surrounding bunkers, from under camouflage nets, and even from an inconspicuous dirt mound.

They were all wearing the same training uniforms as Chen Mo, with greasepaint on their faces, but they were all grinning, without a trace of the grim, murderous atmosphere from before.

"Hahaha, Platoon Leader, you lost! I told you this new brother was a ruthless man!"

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! A pack of cigarettes for everyone, don't try to welch on the bet!"

"Brother Qin Feng, right? My name is Huazi, welcome to Falcon!"

"My name is Tie Zhu, we're family from now on!"

A group of people enthusiastically crowded around, talking and laughing, patting Qin Feng on the shoulder, handing out cigarettes, thumping his chest; the atmosphere was incredibly lively.

It turned out that everything that had just happened was not just a test.

It was also a bet set up by this bunch of old veterans and the Platoon Leader.

They were betting on whether this new Cook was a softie or a real man.

Qin Feng looked at these enthusiastic faces in front of him and smiled as well.

He liked this atmosphere.

Simple, direct, and without any hypocrisy.

He swept his gaze over them, but his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Something was wrong.

There were too few people.

A standard reconnaissance platoon should have about thirty people at full strength.

But right now, counting himself, Platoon Leader Long Zhan, and Chen Mo, who hadn't spoken much.

There were only ten people in total here.

The smile on Qin Feng's face slowly solidified.

The lively atmosphere from just a moment ago gradually quieted down along with his silence.

The smiles on the faces of those veterans faded, replaced by an indescribable heaviness.

"What's wrong, brother?"

The man named Huazi seemed to notice Qin Feng's abnormality.

"Is our platoon... left with only this many people?" Qin Feng's voice was a bit dry.

No one answered.

It was Chen Mo who walked over, took the cigarette that had been in his mouth but remained unlit, threw it on the ground, and crushed it with his toe.

"Half a month ago, the Falcon reconnaissance platoon had thirty-seven people."

"In order to take a place called 'Hill No. 3', we had a head-on clash with a reinforced company from Bear Country."

"The hill was taken, but the men were all wiped out."

"Later, quite a few people were replenished, but..."

At this point, he choked up.

"Only the nine of us survived."

"Now, adding you, there are ten in total!"