29: Chapter 29 The Bugle Call Sounds Again

The trembling of the ground grew increasingly violent, causing even the gravel beneath Jack's severed leg to vibrate.

It wasn't a single sound, but a muffled thunder formed by countless footsteps treading on the frozen earth.

Jack instinctively turned his head, his pupils losing focus in that instant.

The previously dead silent snowy mountain had come alive.

The white snow covering the mountainside suddenly peeled away, revealing thousands of soldiers draped in white cloth leaping up from their hidden positions.

They were like a long-planned avalanche, surging toward Pine Bone Peak from all directions.

Didi da didi—! Didi da didi—!

A bugle call tore through the air.

Immediately following was the second, then the third.

Dozens, even hundreds of bugles sounded at the same time.

The sound was not smooth; it was even hoarse, as if metal was freezing and cracking, yet it possessed a power that pierced the soul.

It drowned out the sound of the wind, drowned out the roar of the tank engines, becoming the only melody in this world.

Jack was very familiar with this melody. He had heard it at the beginning of the game, and he had heard it at Feihu Mountain.

Back then, he thought it was just sound effects, even finding it a bit noisy.

But now, the sound made his scalp tingle, and all the blood in his body seemed to flow backward.

"They're here..."

Jack opened his mouth, his voice catching in his throat.

Tears welled up without warning, mixing with the soot on his face and flowing into his mouth, tasting bitter and salty.

"Reinforcements! They're finally here..."

He wanted to shout, to jump up and wave, but his body was already pushed past its absolute limit.

He could only collapse next to the scorching rock, like a child who had finally found their parent after being wronged, sobbing until his shoulders shook.

Brother Bao dropped the stone in his hand.

He stared blankly at the white tide; the streamer who was always calculating gains and losses and spouting slick talk now looked like an idiot.

He could only repeat one action: using his dirty, unrecognizable hand to repeatedly wipe his glasses, even though the lenses were already shattered.

Dai Dai knelt on the ground, clutching the empty first-aid kit, burying her head in her knees, her shoulders heaving violently.

The American tank cluster below descended into chaos.

The dozen or so dark muzzles swiveled frantically, trying to find targets. But there were too many targets; they covered the entire mountainside.

Those white figures paid no heed to the tanks' intimidation; they flowed over the ridge like a tide, over the scorched earth, over the still-burning corpses.

The American commander's roars turned into screams over the communication channel.

"Retreat! Full retreat!"

The steel behemoths, just moments ago so arrogant, were now clumsy, trapped beasts.

Their treads slipped on the ice, their massive bodies colliding with each other.

A Volunteer Army demolitions expert charged out from the flank.

He didn't slow down, nor did he even bend over.

Clutching the crude demolition tube, he charged straight toward the leading Sherman tank.

Boom!

Fire erupted towards the sky.

The tank's tracks were blown off, paralyzing it in the middle of the road and blocking the retreat path for the convoy behind it.

More soldiers charged forward.

They didn't have anti-tank missiles, nor high-tech scopes.

All they had were satchel charges, cluster grenades, and a chest full of boiling hot blood.

One soldier fell, and two more took his place.

Jack watched this scene.

He didn't need to fire his gun anymore.

This battle no longer required him.

But he didn't want to close his eyes.

He wanted to engrave everything into his memory.

A patch of red flag appeared in his field of vision.

The flag bearer was a young soldier, looking not much older than Little Shandong.

He carried the red flag riddled with bullet holes, stepping onto the charred earth, climbing toward the main peak step by step.

The wind was strong, making the flag snap loudly.

That red was so glaring, so vibrant in the grayish-white world.

It passed over Jack's head, over Brother Bao and Dai Dai, and was finally planted on the highest point of Pine Bone Peak.

"We won..." Brother Bao leaned against the rock, letting out a long breath.

He pulled out the half-damp cigarette from his pocket but couldn't light it no matter what.

Dai Dai lifted her head, her face covered in tear tracks, but she was smiling brilliantly.

Jack's vision began to blur.

The health bar on the system panel had hit zero, but it didn't force a log-out immediately.

That was the last bit of time Su Yun had left for them.

This body was too tired.

The sharp pain of his severed leg disappeared, replaced by a warm numbness.

In a daze, he seemed to see many people.

The Third Company Commander stood beneath that red flag, the fire on his body extinguished, his uniform pristine as new.

He was looking down at Jack, a rare hint of a smile on his usually stern face.

The squad leader was there too, holding the potato frozen solid, passing it to Little Shandong beside him.

Little Shandong took the potato, bit into it, then turned his head and waved at Jack.

"Brother, look, we held it."

Jack wanted to respond, wanted to reach out and grab the potato, but his hand passed right through Little Shandong's body.

So, I died too.

Jack smiled.

He tilted his head back, looking at the red flag fluttering in the smoke of gunpowder, looking at the white figures cheering on the position.

This game is damn hard to play.

No revival coins, no health packs, not even a decent gun.

But this game... is wonderful.

The world plunged into darkness.

The real world.

Jack violently ripped off the VR helmet, gasping for air.

That feeling of suffocation lingered, and the smell of sulfur and scorched flesh seemed to remain in his nostrils.

The room was silent.

The cold air from the air conditioner felt chilly on his skin.

On the screen of his live stream room, the bullet comments scrolled frantically, and the gift effects obscured the picture. But he didn't look.

He slowly stood up; his legs were weak, and he almost fell.

It was a residual effect of maintaining one posture for too long, as well as psychological phantom limb pain.

He walked to the window and pulled open the heavy curtains.

Sunlight streamed in.

Downstairs was a bustling commercial street.

Cars were flowing like water, and pedestrians were numerous.

A few fashionable young people were laughing while holding bubble tea.

On the large screen in the distance, a preview for the latest Hollywood movie was playing; the American Captain holding a shield was saving the world.

Even though he had only experienced a few hours of VR gameplay,

everything felt so familiar, yet so strange.

Jack placed his hand on the cool glass, watching the elementary school student downstairs eating a sausage while carrying a backpack.

The child was eating heartily, his mouth covered in grease.

Jack watched and watched, and tears began to stream down his face.

He didn't say anything, just watched quietly.

Watching the endless stream of traffic, watching this era of peace and prosperity.