Chapter Sixty-Four: Profound Memories

Chen Cao moved his fingers, continuing to send signals to Moxika as he spoke. “It’s quite odd, truly. I can’t help but find it strange. First of all, their attire is odd. They carry scythes, weapons strapped to their backs, their faces obscured, moving with astonishing speed. Their combat formations are seamless, as if they’re demons straight from hell.”

Zhou Hongye asked in surprise, “How do you know this? Did you encounter them yourself?”

Chen Cao replied calmly, “Naturally. Not only did I witness their methods of killing with my own eyes, I even managed to take down a few of them. But when they die, their bodies instantly disintegrate into ash, leaving no trace behind. It appears that before every battle, they drink some sort of potion that causes their bodies to self-destruct once their physical functions are depleted.”

After listening, Zhou Hongye said, “That’s right. That one time in the jungle, Instructor Huang, Yu Hongxiu, and I personally witnessed them fighting against the Justice League’s special forces. Their speed and ferocity were on par with the elite troops of a superpower. In an instant, they wiped out a whole squad by surprise. Their treatment of the corpses was chilling—after draining the blood, they’d let out excited howls, as if they’d been empowered anew.”

Chen Cao nodded. It seemed Zhou Hongye’s account matched his own experience; in this, at least, he wasn’t lying. But truth be told, at this moment, he trusted no one.

Zhou Hongye continued, “By that point, we’d already been stationed on the Oderu battlefield for three months and were well aware of Oderu’s combat capabilities. The so-called Holy War Organization’s forces were, in reality, just a rabble of impoverished civilians led by terrorists—completely lacking in real fighting strength. The only reason they’d lasted so long was the constant influx of terrorists from elsewhere and the hiring of mercenaries with money. But this black-robed army was so strange that, from any angle, we had every reason to investigate them.”

Chen Cao asked, “So, you started tracking them?”

“Yes,” Zhou Hongye replied. “We tailed the black-robed army, piecing together clues, until we discovered their connection with the Crimson Iron Legion. Guess how we found out?”

“Oh?” said Chen Cao. “That’s something I’m quite interested in—especially how you were captured, and how Yu Hongxiu turned out to be a traitor. I need to understand that part.”

Zhou Hongye detected the skepticism in Chen Cao’s tone but wasn’t fazed. He went on, “We found them in a stretch of desert wasteland.” At this point, Chen Cao distinctly sensed Zhou Hongye shiver beside him.

Zhou Hongye paused, as if picturing that chilling scene.

Amidst the boundless sea of sand, on a barren strip of desert, lay a massive stone half-buried in the sand—a gigantic nest, riddled with countless holes, like a beehive, though each hole was large enough to fit a person. If they hadn’t trailed the black-robed fighters after their battle, Zhou Hongye, Huang Tianyu, and Yu Hongxiu would never have known that such a hidden site existed in the vast desert.

Even allied reconnaissance planes avoided that part of the desert, and no one could have guessed a nest so enormous lay hidden there.

The three of them dared not follow too closely, keeping several hundred meters away. From afar, they watched the black-robed team enter the nest and let out a low growl. Suddenly, from the countless holes, heads began to emerge—one after another, black-robed figures crawling out like ants, more than a hundred in all. Through binoculars, Zhou Hongye saw them swarm down the giant stone, surrounding the returning warriors and chanting in eerie tones, as if praying or perhaps celebrating the return of their comrades.

By then, dusk had fallen. The desert’s temperature was shifting from stifling heat to bone-chilling cold. In that suffocating twilight, the scene was so bizarre that Zhou Hongye was transfixed.

“Hongye, get the recorder. Film this and send it to headquarters!” Huang Tianyu, seasoned instructor that he was, quickly regained his composure, recognizing the intelligence’s importance.

“Yes… yes, sir…” Zhou Hongye, trembling, took the recorder from his pack and began filming. But when he pressed the send button, he found there was no signal.

“Instructor Huang, there’s no signal!” Zhou Hongye’s lips were dry as he spoke.

Huang Tianyu adjusted his glasses. Drawing on years of military and intelligence experience, he surmised that the black-robed warriors’ choice of such an open dwelling was premeditated—this wasteland was a reconnaissance blind spot, off the path of any allied aircraft equipped with advanced instruments.

After a moment’s thought, Huang Tianyu said, “Save the chip. We withdraw now.”

Professionally trained, Zhou Hongye quickly steadied himself, pressed save, removed the memory chip, packed up, and told Huang, “Instructor, I’m ready.”

Huang nodded, adjusted his glasses again, and turned to Yu Hongxiu, who was standing guard nearby. “Hongxiu, we’re pulling out—”

He never finished his sentence; his expression froze in mid-word.

“Hongxiu, you…” Zhou Hongye looked at Yu Hongxiu. Her face was calm, but her eyes, once innocent, were now unfathomably deep.

“Instructor Huang, there’s no need to be so serious. You’ve seen what you wanted to see, completed your mission. Now it’s time for me to complete mine,” Yu Hongxiu said, raising a pistol at them.

Facing her weapon, Huang Tianyu said coldly, “I want to know why.”

Yu Hongxiu replied just as coldly, her voice devoid of emotion. “There’s no why. Isn’t it obvious?”

Huang Tianyu said, “So, you lured us to the black-robed soldiers, and here, your goal is to capture us. Our nation didn’t participate in this war; the only ones targeting us would be our mortal enemy—the Crimson Iron Legion.”

Yu Hongxiu’s lips curled into a slight smile, her eyes narrowing. “As expected, Huang Tianyu, you’re top-tier in headquarters’ intelligence division—your logic and reasoning are unparalleled. Pity you’ve walked straight to your doom this time.”

Huang Tianyu raised an eyebrow, unafraid. “So I guessed right.”

Yu Hongxiu waved her pistol toward the distance. “Does it matter? Anyway, I can’t guarantee you’ll survive—but as for them…” She left the threat hanging.

Following her gaze, Zhou Hongye saw, in the growing dusk, a mass of black shadows moving slowly toward them, scythes gleaming in their hands.

As Zhou Hongye recounted this, Chen Cao fell silent.

He asked, “And then?”

“Then, Instructor Huang and I managed to seize Yu Hongxiu’s pistol and wounded her. In the ensuing melee, seeing no chance of escape, we prepared to use a grenade to destroy the evidence, but were knocked unconscious before we could do so.”

“That’s all?” Chen Cao asked.

“That’s all,” Zhou Hongye replied. “When I came to, I was already in the base. I never saw Instructor Huang again—he must have met a grim fate. They kept interrogating me for intelligence, torturing me. I knew, in the hands of these terrorists, I was as good as dead, so I resigned myself to my fate.”

Chen Cao said, “That’s still just your account. I’m not convinced.”

After a brief silence, Zhou Hongye spoke in the darkness. “I have evidence, but I can’t produce it now.”

“You have evidence?” Chen Cao asked.

After a moment, Zhou Hongye said, “Yes. It’s in my stomach.”

“In your stomach? You swallowed… what?” Chen Cao pressed.

“Yes. That’s why I haven’t dared eat anything. When I was about to use the grenade, Instructor Huang shoved something into my mouth—so fast no one else saw. I figured it was important and swallowed it without thinking. I believe it was a memory chip.”

“So that means Instructor Huang might not have died yet, and it was likely he who knocked you out. He must have had a backup plan; otherwise, he wouldn’t have made you swallow the chip. As an experienced intelligence officer, he’s survived countless life-and-death situations—he must have believed you had a chance to survive, or else he’d have swallowed it himself. He did it to protect you.”

“I don’t know. I fear the worst. He was an excellent instructor. His death would be a great loss to the academy,” Zhou Hongye’s voice was tinged with sadness.

“I still think it was he who knocked you out. But what was his intention?” Chen Cao mused. Had Huang Tianyu foreseen that he and Chen Diwen would come to their rescue? Perhaps. Even when Yu Hongxiu suddenly betrayed them, he placed his faith in Zhou Hongye. Such wisdom and decisiveness commanded Chen Cao’s admiration.