He is getting closer and closer.

It was a young man about seventeen or eighteen years old.

He was not too tall, probably about 1.75 meters tall. He had black hair that was half long and not short, and did not look messy. The hairbands hanging from his forehead were bent inward like female bangs. The expression on his face looked particularly quiet, and even a little shy. However, the color of his skin showed a pathological paleness. At first glance, there was a faint melancholy atmosphere. He was wearing a summer-style combat suit in jacket style, and the edges were worn out very badly, with a strand of obvious visible threads, and a ceramic armor plate protruding from the inside of high elastic nylon. The buttons on his chest were open, revealing solid and hard chest muscles. This made up for the visual difference in his slightly thin figure in some ways. Coupled with the straight and tall nose bridge and eyeballs that were exactly the same as his hair color, the whole person looked full of strength and handsomeness.

Hard, but not without softening.

The superior sergeant stood up from the rock and leaned towards Wei Wen next to him. His right hand subconsciously grabbed the assault rifle and asked in a voice that only two people could hear: "Is it him?"

Wei Wen narrowed his eyes, nodded lightly, and said in a low voice: "Maybe! If you can come from that direction... there shouldn't be a second person."

A few minutes later, he had arrived at a place only three meters away from the reconnaissance team and stood still.

The Freckled Private and the superior sergeant have changed their positions. They centered on Wei Wen and formed an irregular triangle. The wounded soldiers leaning against the rocks have also adjusted their seats, with an amp full of bullets on their legs. These actions seem careless, but they are the most effective way to deal with strangers to serve. If necessary, the young man at the core of the shooting will be completely covered by unimpeded fierce firepower.

Every pair of eyes was looking at him.

He was also looking at the people in front of him curiously.

Wei Wen suddenly noticed that deep in the young man's pupils, there was a hidden light that could not be explained indefinitely, flashing faintly. But it was certain that it was definitely not hostility.

This made his nerves that were tense to the extreme gradually relax. His right hand left the leather holster with a gun around his waist, reached towards the stranger opposite him, and said in a gentle and friendly tone: "Hello."

The strange young man hesitated a little. He put the gun in his hand up on his shoulder, held the other person's palm, and responded in a tone with a smile: "...Hello."

Wei Wen continued to add: "Search brigade of the Third Regiment of the 179th Infantry Division, Wei Wen."

The young man still had a smile on his face and said lightly: "The 81st Division of the Reorganization, Zhao Yi."

As soon as he spoke, the atmosphere at the scene immediately became silent.

Unconcealed fear flashed in the Freckled Private's eyes, his lips were wide open, and dense beads of sweat began to seep out from his forehead.

The superior sergeant's expression was relatively calm, but he could clearly hear the "hiss" sound of his breathing in his mouth.

As for the wounded soldier who was slumped on the ground, his bandaged face could not reveal his emotional changes. He could only see his hands trembling slightly. The amplitude was getting bigger and bigger.

Wei Wen, who was standing in the middle, did not speak or did anything that could make his companions react strongly.

In the history of the Earth Federation for more than ten years, the reorganization of the 81st Division is a legend and the most admired symbol of all soldiers and even all citizens.

The battle 18 years ago will reorganize everything about the 81st Division, along with the nuclear warheads and countless names given the title of "martyr", they are all buried in the deepest part of the S12 mine.

They held on to the end.

None of them surrendered.

They held their opponents who were more than ten times stronger than themselves until the last moment.

The Earth Federal Military Department has not yet restructured the 81st Division.

This special number can only be found in the military history room. It is like a trumpet, inspiring countless soldiers and those who want to make achievements on the battlefield. It allows them to regain their spirits and confidence in the most desperate, helpless and sluggish times. Go to fight, roar, and fight for their own honor with their blood and life.

Countless answers flashed through Wei Wen's heart in an instant———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Zhao Yi saw the fear and doubts in their hearts. He separated his right foot, stood firmly on the ground, and said seriously: "I am the only survivor."

The Freckled Private and the superior sergeant looked at each other and clenched the guns at the same time. Just as they tried to control their emotions, held their breath as much as possible, and suppressed the continuous expansion of fear and shock in their hearts, and were so nervous that they wanted to raise the gun and aim at the other... Wei Wen finally took a step forward.

He walked to the strange young man with mysterious identity and stared at the clear eyes of the other party. After nearly five minutes, he reached out and patted his shoulder heavily. He said in a voice that was uncertain but calm enough: "Thank you... Thank you for saving us. Welcome back----"

......

The ceiling is pink and white, with a little gray caused by dim light.

Lying on the camp bed with only a thin blanket, Zhao Yi raised his hands, crossed them behind his head, and looked at the rectangular space above his head calmly.

From the moment he decided to contact Wei Wen's team, he had already predicted that he would be treated as he is now.

Following the rescued reconnaissance team, he returned to the headquarters of the Earth Federation Army. Without applause or hug, several fully armed military police brought themselves here directly. From beginning to end, he had not even asked a word.

In fact, imprisonment is not aimed at him alone.

Whether it is the Earth Federation or the Pan-United Nations, every soldier returning from the battlefield must undergo detailed interrogation. This is an essential degree to determine the military achievements and various information. Especially when approaching the frontiers of the war zone, being vigilant against the secret infiltration of opponents has become the most basic principle for both sides of the battle to defend silently.

However, Zhao Yi's "treatment" is... more special.

The door is made of all titanium steel up to five centimeters thick. As humans continue to explore space, this metal, which was a special material in the last century, has become more and more ordinary. However, the hardness and firmness have not changed at all.

The bed is a simple alloy structure. Zhao Yi has never figured out the function of the blanket. It is very thin, and it is not suitable for laying or covering the quilt. Perhaps it is because the decorations in this narrow cell look a little richer, so this kind of thing that is deliberately added to deceive the vision but actually has no effect.

No extra objects can be found. As for light and ventilation, they rely on a window more than three meters high from the ground. Standing in the house, it feels like being locked in the bottom of a narrow and deep well. You can only rely on the faint slanted light above your head, and it is probably judging the morning, evening, day and night, as if even the air is completely stagnant and may suffocate at any time.

This is actually not much different from the place I spent more than ten hours ago.

The only difference is that it is lifted from a location 560 meters underground to the ground.

Zhao Yi did not lie———He is indeed the only survivor of the reorganized 81st Division.

Of course, this refers to the present. If time goes back eighteen years ago, those who are still alive underground... will be even more.

"Uncle Fantsi is right. There are Rayom and Lee Sung...the people outside, they do think we are all dead."

Looking at the ceiling that could never change, a melancholy smile appeared on the corner of Zhao Yi's mouth and said to himself: "No one thinks we are still alive. However... the fact is not what we imagined after all."

......

Captain Morves's office has always been the darkest room in the base.

It is no different from the office locations of other intelligence officials. There are locked alloy cabinets around the walls, and thick document bags are stacked on both sides of the table. Hundreds of paper with different contents are piled up on storage shelves. Near the corners of several paper pages in the middle of the table, you can clearly see the light brown stains after the tomato sauce and coffee have dried up.

Morves is 48 years old this year and weighs more than 197 kilograms. This is the result of long-term dealing with words and paper. He has no dietary rules and alcoholism. However, his tortured body prefers nitrite-rich foods such as bacon and grilled sausages. This makes him look much older than his actual age, and his gray-white hair is becoming increasingly sparse. In the 20-year-old photo, his handsome figure is completely bloated and distorted, but his persistent and almost stubborn personality has not changed at all.

He sat on a swivel chair that was squeezed by his solid body, his thick and short fingers slowly stirred the espresso with double sugar cube and creamer. His eyes were crowded with wrinkles and fat, and he kept staring at the documents placed on the table.

The upper right corner of the open title page is a photo of Zhao Yi that the military police just submitted a few hours ago.

"What a funny little guy."

Morves mumbled, shook his head and took a big sip of thick coffee.

As the head of the intelligence department, this is the first time he has encountered such a thing.

The whole incident was actually not complicated - a young man who saved several Earth Federation soldiers on the battlefield returned to the base with the rescued object. According to the normal story, he should receive rewards and praise. The problem is... this young man in old military uniforms actually claimed that he was the only survivor of the reorganized 81st Division.

In the raid eighteen years ago, no one of the troops guarding the S12 mining area survived.

This is an open secret in the Earth Federation.

Morves does not think that Zhao Yi is a spy.

Identity identification is an extremely complicated thing - every citizen of the Republic must receive information entry from the General Census Administration from the time of birth. Recording items include fingerprints, genes, eye mask identification codes, and the probability and proportionality of parents' chances of children being produced by children... A primitive file of personal identity involves about 15,000 texts. Even if the intelligence department of the Pan-United Army really wants to use the old trick of rescue on the battlefield, secretly inserting lurkers in the Earth Federation will not easily get an inexplicable person.

A spy can use any identity to get into the Federation, but he will never use the special number of the reorganized 81st Division.

But how can I explain what happened under my nose?

All members of Wei Wen's team proved that this young man named Zhao Yi came from the north. The shooting position in the battle was also deep in the S12 mining area.

Apart from the mutated creatures and ghosts infected by radiation, there is no living human being in that place.

How did he do the shooting distance of more than 4,500 meters?

Morves has seen the gun seized by the military police. The metal inscription on the handle shows that it was the m201k rifle produced by the Atlanta Ordnance Factory in 2036. The effective range of this gun is no more than 480 meters, and uses five-50 and six-mm caliber bullets. However, the pruning rifle has been obviously modified. The barrel part has become a launching device similar to the magnetic power field. The nine-mm warhead in the magazine is longer and heavier than the ordinary similar caliber bullets. They have traces of hand-improved improvements. They are similar to the latest "Shadow Kill" sniper rifle, or even stronger. But in terms of appearance, they are actually a bunch of rags pieced together with various parts.

No spy is so stupid that he uses this kind of thing. Unless he is clamped through his head when he comes out of his mother's belly, he is flat.

The military uniform he was wearing was a stale product. Through spectral comparison of nylon fibers, Moves successfully found the third Asian garment factory that produced the batch of high elastic fabrics. Comparing the samples and the fuzzy number of the neckline of the military uniform, the factory confirmed that this was indeed their product 19 years ago. The item number and military code showed that the batch of combat uniforms were distributed by the Logistics Department of the Republican Army. As for the receiving unit... it was the reorganized 81st Division stationed in the S12 mining area at that time.

Morves is an extremely old intelligence officer. He pays attention to details and is good at analyzing the whole thing without paying attention to others. However, the flaws of the mysterious young man are too obvious. I searched through the reorganized 81st division roster left in the computer. There were eleven people with the same name and surname as him, but no one matched the information he provided.

He kept reiterating that he was only eighteen years old.

This is simply a boring joke.

"This guy... should be a critically ill patient who was lost in a mental hospital."

Close the folder, Morves closed his eyes and gently pressed the top of the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. After nearly three minutes, he opened the case file again, frowned, and looked silently.

In any case, before sending him to a mental hospital, he should be interviewed at least once.
Chapter completed!