39: powerlessness

The cheers of victory were short-lived.

They were as brief as a pebble thrown into water, stirring only a small ripple before being swiftly swallowed by something deeper.

The smell of gunpowder had not yet dissipated.

In the air, a thicker, more nauseating scent permeated.

It was the metallic sweetness of blood mixed with the burnt smell of charred flesh and the stench of rotting wounds that medicine could not mask.

The Japanese Army's attack had been repelled.

That arrogant type 92 infantry gun, along with its crew, had turned into a pile of twisted scrap metal and blurred flesh.

But the warehouse did not become peaceful because of it.

The temporary infirmary had been expanded, occupying nearly a third of the ground floor.

The wounded were carried in from every corner, one after another.

Their injuries were varied and bizarre.

Some had their bellies sliced open by shrapnel.

Some had their lungs pierced by stray bullets.

Some were bleeding from all seven orifices due to the shockwaves of explosions.

Groans rose and fell one after another.

Suppressed, painful, and hopeless.

The Military Doctor and several Boy Scouts shuttled back and forth among the wounded, so busy their feet hardly touched the ground.

But there was never enough gauze, and never enough medicine.

For many more, one could only watch helplessly as vibrant lives slowly flickered out before one's eyes.

Chen Xi did not participate in this chaotic medical effort.

He sat alone in a corner in the deepest part of the warehouse.

It was very dark and damp there.

The cold wall pressed against his back, allowing him to clearly feel the chill seeping from the gaps in the masonry.

He just sat there, looking at this literal hell on earth before him.

Watching those Soldiers who, not long ago, were cheering for the flag-raising, now lying on the ground like tattered sacks.

Watching their blood stain the straw beneath them red.

His 'Kite Bombing' had been very successful.

Precise, efficient, and filled with the beauty of a dimensional strike that did not belong to this era.

But what was the result?

He had taken out the Japanese Army's headquarters and destroyed their artillery positions.

But he couldn't stop the Japanese Army's subsequent frantic counterattacks.

He couldn't block the overwhelming hail of bullets and shrapnel.

His victory had not brought peace.

It only brought more tragic casualties.

He felt like a clown.

A clown holding a powerful toy, feeling smug in a slaughterhouse.

In the livestream room.

The bullet chat that was once flooded with '666' and 'Master Xi is awesome' had now become exceptionally quiet and heavy.

[I... for the first time, I feel like the price of victory is so high.]

[Yeah, when I saw Master Xi using kites to bomb the devils just now, I felt great, but now... I can't feel happy at all.]

[Those Soldiers... many of them look even younger than me...]

[I feel for Master Xi; he's sitting there all alone, looking so lonely.]

[This game is too real... so real it's heartbreaking. I'm almost afraid to keep watching.]

[Don't leave, brothers! If we leave, Master Xi will truly be all alone!]

Chen Xi did not look at the bullet chat.

He just buried his head deep between his knees, not wanting anyone to see his expression at this moment.

A set of footsteps approached from afar and stopped in front of him.

"Chen... Brother Chen."

It was a somewhat timid voice with a thick local accent.

Chen Xi slowly raised his head.

It was Chen Shusheng.

That shy young Soldier who always followed behind him, looking at him as if he were a deity.

His face was stained with ash from the shelling, and there were a few holes in his uniform, but he didn't seem to have any serious injuries.

In his hands, he held a chipped enamel bowl containing half a bowl of vegetable porridge so thin it could reflect a person's shadow, with a small piece of dark flatbread carefully placed on top.

"Brother Chen, you... you haven't eaten all day."

Chen Shusheng handed the bowl over, his eyes filled with the purest concern and admiration.

"I saw you sitting here, so I brought some over for you. Eat quickly; you need strength to keep leading us against the devils."

Chen Xi looked at the bowl of porridge, then at Chen Shusheng's young and sincere face.

His throat felt as if something were blocking it.

He didn't take it.

"Brother Chen?" Chen Shusheng looked at him with some confusion. "Aren't you hungry?"

Chen Xi remained silent for a long time.

So long that Chen Shusheng began to feel a bit at a loss.

Only then did he slowly squeeze a raspy voice from his throat.

"Little Chen."

"Aye! Brother Chen, I'm here!"

"Do you all... think I'm a deity?"

Chen Shusheng paused for a moment, then nodded heavily, a flush of pride appearing on his face.

"Yes! Brother Chen, everyone says so! They say you're a deity descended from the heavens to save us! If it weren't for you, today we... today we might have all..."

He didn't finish.

But the lingering fear and relief in his eyes said everything.

Chen Xi looked at him, but a smile slowly appeared on his face.

That smile looked worse than crying.

It was filled with endless bitterness and self-mockery.

"I am no deity."

He said softly.

"What?" Chen Shusheng didn't hear clearly.

"I said, I am no deity." Chen Xi raised his head, his gaze passing over Chen Shusheng's shoulder toward that hopeless corner filled with wounded Soldiers.

"I am just an... ordinary person who doesn't want to see anyone else die."

His voice was very soft, yet it was like a hammer gently striking Chen Shusheng's heart.

The smile on Chen Shusheng's face slowly froze.

He didn't understand.

He didn't understand why Brother Chen would say such a thing.

Brother Chen was clearly so powerful; he could cut through iron like butter, bring people back from the brink of death, and even take a man's head from a thousand miles away like in the myths.

How could he be an ordinary person?

"But, Brother Chen, you..."

"My things can kill, but they can't kill all the enemies."

Chen Xi interrupted him, as if explaining to him, yet also as if whispering to himself.

"My things can save people, but they can't save everyone."

He reached out and pointed to a Soldier lying on the ground, whose lips were pale from excessive blood loss.

Then he pointed to another Soldier who was coughing incessantly from inhaling poison gas.

"I can't save them."

"And I can't save this rotten world."

A massive, indescribable sense of powerlessness, like cold seawater, rushed in from all directions, completely submerging Chen Xi.

He could easily kill one enemy, or a hundred enemies.

But he couldn't end this war.

He could easily heal one wounded Soldier, or a hundred Soldiers.

But he couldn't smooth over the massive, bone-deep trauma this war had brought upon this nation.

His technology, here, seemed both powerful and ridiculous.

Chen Shusheng stood blankly on the spot.

He looked into Chen Xi's eyes, which used to always carry a hint of cynicism but were now filled with endless sorrow.

He half-understood.

The bowl of porridge in his hand had gone cold at some point.

In the end, he said nothing, only silently placing the bowl at Chen Xi's feet before turning and walking back into the crowd, looking somewhat despondent.

In the corner, only Chen Xi remained once more.

Leaning against the cold wall, he slowly closed his eyes.

In his ears were the groans of the wounded, the low shouts of the Military Doctor, the sporadic gunfire in the distance—the most authentic wails of this era.

He felt he had never been so powerful.

And never so powerless.