Chapter Seventy-One: He Has Not Yet Returned

The veterans nearby also each dispatched the black-robed warriors that tried to pounce on them, maintaining vigilance as they formed into a petal-shaped combat formation. Chen Cao held up his binoculars and gazed ahead; the swirling shadow was gone, evidently the enemy had retreated. His eyesight was exceptional, and through the binoculars, he could see that the hellish ground ahead no longer showed the abnormal flow of yellow sand.

He lowered the binoculars and spoke into his headset: "Maintain combat formation, pick up your weapons, and advance!"

"Ha! So these terrifying fellows were just playing tricks after all!" Griffith, still exhilarated from battle, seized his rifle and charged ahead.

Chen Cao called out, "Griffith, maintain your posture—these guys aren’t limited to cold weapons!"

Griffith quickly crouched, chuckling, "Heh, life comes first—if I lose that, there’s nothing left to play for. Still, I’d like to see what these bloodthirsty creatures really look like. Maybe they’re women—after twenty years as a virgin, they’d be lucky!"

His words set the nearby veterans laughing slyly.

Chen Cao spoke gravely into the headset, "Griffith, follow orders, and do not attempt to look at their bodies—you’ll never see them!"

"What?" Griffith asked in confusion.

Before their conversation could finish, a smell of roasting meat wafted over.

See, that’s the scent of charred corpses dissolved by corpse-dissolving fluid! Chen Cao said, then was the first to stand up, waving to his companions, leaving behind Griffith, whose shock was plain even behind his sand goggles.

"Come on, Griffith, the women are gone," a veteran clapped Griffith’s shoulder as he passed.

"Damn it, what rotten luck. Just when I thought there was hope, life turns out unbearable!" Griffith spat out sand that had gotten into his mouth while speaking.

Despite his complaints, the group maintained their formation, anxiously advancing several hundred meters. They encountered no further threats, but everyone felt the aftermath was harder to endure than the perilous battle itself.

Chen Cao took a sip from the straw attached to his helmet, which connected to his canteen at his waist. The water was nearly gone—surely they were close.

He took out his compass. According to the coordinates provided by Zhou Hongye, they should be here, yet he saw no sign of the giant stone, as large as a wind’s nest, Zhou had described.

Suddenly, the gale intensified, a gust laden with yellow sand making their bodies feel weightless, almost unable to stand.

Chen Cao wiped the sand from his goggles and caught sight, faintly, of a massive black shape a hundred meters away. He quickly raised his binoculars for a closer look.

At last, they’d arrived. He felt a surge of excitement; his hand trembled slightly as he held the binoculars, blood rushing faster through his body. He knew the real battle was about to begin.

The sandstorm made visibility poor—even the electronic binoculars couldn’t reveal what the giant stone looked like from just a few dozen meters away.

Then, suddenly, a tremendous explosion sounded.

"What was that?" Ian, still on high alert, gripped his weapon and nervously called into the headset.

"An explosion!" replied Chen Cao, unperturbed, still peering forward.

"An explosion? How odd," Ian lifted his binoculars, and suddenly a few small black figures appeared in his lens.

"They’re coming again!" Ian lowered the binoculars, raising his sniper rifle.

"Same old trick!" Griffith responded, raising his assault rifle and speaking into the headset, "Brothers, watch your flanks, get ready!"

Click—everyone chambered their weapons, watching both ahead and the shifting sand around them.

"No need for rash moves—they’re alive, not decoys," Chen Cao said, not lowering his binoculars. The electronic readings showed movement, getting closer.

His group immediately dropped prone in the sand, ready to fire.

Suddenly, Chen Cao spotted a familiar figure through the binoculars—tall and imposing, cloaked in black.

It was Bear! When the distance readout reached fifty meters, Chen Cao finally recognized the lead figure—it was indeed Bear, followed by Xiao Li, Bao Li, and others.

It’s them, my comrades—don’t shoot! Chen Cao called out orders, stood halfway, and raised his hand, drawing circles.

The other group didn’t have time to signal back; at twenty meters, they too dropped prone, then crawled over in a triangular formation.

"Bear, how did you escape?" Chen Cao pulled down his mask and gripped Bear’s shoulder, shouting.

Bear, recognizing Chen Cao, panted, "Quick, move, water, water..." Only now did Chen Cao see Bear was covered in wounds; if not for the sand, he’d have been a bloody mess.

Xiao Li crawled over next, his clothes in tatters, camouflage ripped to shreds, a deep wound on his shoulder clearly from a black-robed warrior’s scythe. Seeing Chen Cao, he said urgently, "Go, now—our leader is covering us, we need to retreat, they’re on our heels!"

As Chen Cao pulled out his straw to give water to the nearly unconscious Bear, he was startled, "Chen Diwen is holding them off alone?"

Ian and Griffith, seeing their own, and realizing the newcomers were severely dehydrated, promptly handed their canteens to Bao Li and Xiao Li.

Bao Li gulped water, stood, and said to Chen Cao, "There are hundreds of black-robed warriors behind us—if we don’t go now, we’re finished!"

Chen Diwen might have died holding off the enemy for his comrades. The thought stabbed at Chen Cao’s heart, memories flooding him like a film reel. He said no more, helped Bear up, and signaled to the veterans, "Withdraw!"

They’d just won a battle, but knew the black-robed warriors were formidable. Weapons ready, they aided the 0611 troops and fled into the sandstorm.

Ian supported Bao Li as they ran, pondering Alfred. He asked, "Did you see Alfred?"

Bao Li, exhausted but revived by water, glanced at Ian and replied between breaths, "He should still be at the base—I saw him, but don’t know if the blast killed him!"

"What, you blew it up?" Ian stared, trying to comprehend this young, yellow-skinned Dachen soldier barely twenty years old. If Bao Li spoke the truth, Alfred, the king of terror, might have died at the hands of these unknowns.

After over an hour and dozens of kilometers, Chen Cao and his group saw hills in the distance. The sandstorm faded.

They pulled off their goggles, gulped fresh air. Running with masks and goggles felt like sprinting in gas masks. For Chen Cao and his men, it was manageable, but some of the old Kola veterans, untrained for decades, looked pale when they removed their masks.

Just then, an old jeep approached from afar.

"Trouble, a vehicle!" Chen Cao realized their fatigue had caused carelessness, quickly aiming his weapon at the car.

Despite being a step slow, the group made ready for battle.

The jeep stopped some distance away, as if aware of their presence. A tall figure, clad in fitted camouflage, jumped down.

She wore no weapons, her cap pulled low, and waved to the wary group.

"Coach Guo!" Bao Li and Bear called out first.

"Don’t make a move—it could be a trick!" Chen Cao pulled them back.

Another person jumped from the driver’s seat: pale-skinned, blond, tall. Chen Cao recognized him instantly—it was Istrov, king of spies. He simply took a connected microphone from the jeep.

His voice came through everyone’s headset.

"Comrades, you’ve done well. Get in; I’ve notified the allies through special channels. Their army will arrive soon."

He hung up, spread his arms, and strode forward, knowing that any irregular movement might provoke the battle-weary soldiers.

Chen Cao kept hold of Bear and Xiao Li until Istrov was close enough to see clearly, then let go.

Guo Qianshuang followed, quietly standing before Chen Cao.

"Coach Guo, we completed the mission, but our leader—he covered our retreat..." Bear saluted, choking back tears.

Xiao Li and Bao Li wiped their faces, struggling not to cry.

They looked like sorrowful children; the veterans understood, gently patting their shoulders.

"I know. Every battle has sacrifices. Your leader didn’t die in vain—he completed the mission," Guo Qianshuang said quietly, then turned to Chen Cao. "Chen Cao, let’s go back. Your mission is finished."

"Mission? What mission? The school’s mission—what is the school’s mission?" Chen Cao was confused, unsure how to answer.

Guo Qianshuang gently patted his shoulder. "Let’s go. We’ll talk at the school." She turned away, expressionless, while Chen Cao quietly replied, "My mission isn’t over—there’s still someone who hasn’t returned."

Flame King 71_Flame King Full Free Reading_Chapter Seventy-One: He Has Not Returned Update Complete!