148: Chapter 148 The Call of the Taihang Mountains

Chen Xi's rest was interrupted by an order from Long Lao.

He was taken to a briefing room deep within the "Great Wall" Command Center.

Unlike the brightly lit areas elsewhere, the light here was very dim, filled with a solemn atmosphere.

On the main screen, there were no longer the familiar city maps or data streams from before.

Instead, it was a satellite image of a continuous, majestic mountain range.

The mountains, like the spine of a giant dragon, stretched across the vast northern territory of the Dragon Kingdom.

"This is the Taihang Mountains."

Qian Lao from the History Team, that white-haired old professor, stood in front of the screen, his voice hoarse but powerful.

"It is also the starting point of your next journey."

The image on the screen began to change.

It was no longer a cold satellite image, but snippets of processed black-and-white archival footage from that era.

"Unlike the front-line battles you experienced before, this is behind enemy lines."

Qian Lao pointed to the screen.

"Here, there are no fixed front lines; everywhere is a battlefield. Here, your enemies are no longer organized divisions, but scattered strongholds, bunkers, and endless sweeping forces."

"The war here is not only military, but also economic and political."

On the screen, an arsenal converted from a ruined temple appeared.

A few shirtless men, covered in sweat, were using the most primitive indigenous methods to heat captured railway tracks until they were red-hot, hammering them with great effort.

"They use railway tracks to make rifles, and clay pots to make landmines."

"They lack weapons, ammunition, and even more so, food and medicine."

The screen switched again.

It was a field hospital converted from a cold, damp cave.

The wounded lay on door planks and straw. A young female medic was cleaning a severely wounded Soldier's wound with saltwater; there was no anesthesia.

The Soldier's face was twisted in extreme pain, but he bit down hard on a piece of wood, not making a single moan.

Chen Xi's fists clenched silently.

"But..."

Qian Lao's voice suddenly became high-spirited.

The scene changed.

It was a group of young Soldiers, averaging less than twenty years old, wearing gray military uniforms covered in patches.

They sat together in a circle, sharing a bowl of black, unidentifiable grain porridge, yet their faces were filled with an incomparably radiant, heartfelt smile.

On a threshing floor in a village, a Soldier was teaching a little girl with pigtails how to write, hand in hand.

Night fell. Under a dim kerosene lamp, a group of Soldiers surrounded an officer, chattering away in what they called a "democratic life meeting," where an ordinary Soldier could stand up and criticize the company commander's command.

"Although they are materially poor, their spirits are incomparably rich."

In Qian Lao's eyes, a light called admiration flickered.

"They are full of creativity."

On the screen, diagrams of tunnel warfare and sparrow warfare appeared.

Various makeshift landmines made of chili powder and broken porcelain shards appeared.

"They are full of optimism."

On the screen, a one-armed Soldier was playing a captured harmonica with his only remaining hand, the tune cheerful and impassioned, while his comrades around him were singing loudly to the rhythm.

The singing pierced through more than eighty years of time, as if it were still echoing in the briefing room.

"They are the true, unyielding spine of this land."

Qian Lao turned around and looked deeply at Chen Xi.

Long Lao stepped forward and took over the conversation.

His voice was steady and firm.

"Our new mission is right here."

The image on the main screen froze on the young, determined, smiling face of an Eighth Route Army Soldier.

"Your 'leisure items' can play an unimaginable role here."

"Your [super fertilizer] can make this barren land grow enough food, allowing the Soldiers to eat their fill."

"Your [advanced welding torch] can provide their arsenal with truly qualified steel, so the weapons in their hands are no longer just fire pokers."

"Your [hand-crank film projector] can let them see with their own eyes what the future they are protecting with their lives and blood actually looks like!"

Long Lao walked up to Chen Xi, pressed his hands on his shoulders, and stared into his eyes.

"Chen Xi, the organization has only one requirement for you."

"Go there and help them in your own way."

"Turn the sparks of this behind-enemy-lines base area into a prairie fire capable of swallowing all invaders!"

Chen Xi did not speak.

He just quietly watched the young, smiling faces on the screen that remained full of hope amidst the hardship.

He remembered the sorrowful and helpless look in Xie Jinyuan's eyes when he left.

He remembered the suspicion and framing in the Chongqing officialdom.

And then he remembered the people before him, dressed in rags, yet possessing pure smiles as if they owned the whole world.

He knew.

He had found the answer.

He had found the thing he truly wanted to seek on this path of blood and fire, and was willing to give everything for.

A long-lost, blazing flame began to burn in his chest again.

He slowly raised his head.

Facing the expectant gazes of Long Lao and Qian Lao.

A long-lost, heartfelt, radiant smile appeared on his face.

"Taihang..."

His voice was hoarse, but incomparably firm.

"I am coming."