Chapter 88: Chen Ming's Secret

"Hey, Chen Ming, aren't you afraid?" the civilian martial artist Xiang Long asked, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Afraid of what?" Chen Ming wheezed.

"You really have guts, don't you? Threatening Li Daoran, letting him enter the battlefield... aren't you afraid of dying?" Xiang Long rolled over and sat up from the ground.

"I am," Chen Ming replied, his hands resting on his knees.

"So you are afraid after all." Xiang Long laughed loudly, but then his expression shifted, his face twisting into a savage snarl. "Then do you think we aren't? Why are you people doing this?"

He surged up from the ground, using the momentum to close the distance to Chen Ming in a flash, launching a right hook at his face.

Chen Ming didn't dodge. He took the punch head-on. His left cheek swelled instantly, blood trickling down as he spat out two molars mixed with gore.

He grabbed Xiang Long’s head with both hands and slammed his own forehead into the man’s nose. Blood gushed from Xiang Long’s nose. Then came the second strike, and the third.

The sound of bone colliding with bone echoed. Finally, Chen Ming released the now-unconscious, blood-covered Xiang Long. He touched his own swollen left cheek, his left eye squeezed into a narrow slit, and chuckled.

"Understand now?"

He sat on the ground, letting the blood from his forehead flow freely.

Xiang Long’s body twitched a few times before he struggled to roll over, muttering incoherently, "Still... don't understand. You cheated."

Chen Ming looked at him in surprise. He had regained consciousness so quickly? He was truly not to be underestimated.

"If you don't understand, go back and think about it. If you're afraid of death, don't throw your life away so easily. This isn't a sparring match. If you didn't come here with the intent to kill me, why even show up?" Chen Ming’s own speech had become slurred.

In this conflict, Xiang Long was the challenger, but he had never imagined the battle would end this way. He had expected a drawn-out struggle where both men would display everything they had learned in their lives—exchanging rounds of offense and defense, transitioning from striking to grappling to ground combat. He never expected Chen Ming to resort to a street brawler’s tactics, ending the fight decisively with a mutually destructive blow.

"Can't you hear the voices of people like us? Are you really so willing to be a dog?" Xiang Long squeezed the words through his teeth.

"Don't think so highly of yourself. Your voices? What do you want to do? Can you bear the consequences?" Chen Ming gave Xiang Long a light kick, then stooped down to hoist him onto his shoulders, heading toward the medical bay.

Xiang Long coughed up two mouthfuls of blood from the rough movement.

"Where did that courage you had at the beginning go, Chen Ming? The courage to threaten Li Daoran? Are you just going to let that kid run wild now? This is war. What right does he have? How could he dare to go?" Xiang Long struggled to speak.

"Stop talking, and you might just live," Chen Ming said vaguely.

"Studying, playing games—we can support him in all of that. Even practicing with mechs, I’d applaud that with both hands and feet. But the battlefield? Absolutely not. Aren't you even curious how I got in here?" Xiang Long ignored the warning and continued.

"Not curious." Chen Ming stopped, placed Xiang Long on the ground, and retreated ten meters.

A dozen more figures emerged from the shadows, standing in a line.

"Get him to the medical bay first. I trust you don't want to see a dead man," Chen Ming said slowly.

The group parted, and several medics arrived to lift Xiang Long onto a stretcher and carry him away. One nurse looked at Chen Ming, wanting to say something but hesitating.

"I'm fine. Thank you for your hard work. You’ll probably have to make another trip in a little while," Chen Ming said, trying to force a smile.

The nurse’s eyes reddened, but her companion pulled her away. Chen Ming didn't know her; he had never seen her before.

Once the medics were gone, Chen Ming took off his jacket, revealing his muscular build in just a tank top. He bounced on his toes to loosen up his body and remarked, "It seems quite a few people are dissatisfied with us."

Chen Ming didn't ask about the forces backing them; both sides understood the unspoken truth.

"What do you want? I really don't want to fight," he spat out a mouthful of blood. "Especially not against our own people. It’s completely meaningless."

"I'm very busy, you know. The planning staff still hasn't finished the maps, the public relations department is calling for meetings, and now you lot jump out. Don't force me to be ruthless, brothers." Chen Ming’s gaze darkened as he stared at the dozen men before him.

Their movements and expressions marked them as seasoned soldiers; in other words, these men were truly "one of their own." Chen Ming hadn't expected the military itself to become unstable.

The nature of this conflict was clear: the higher-ups were crumbling under the pressure, and perhaps even they believed it was too dangerous for Li Daoran to be on the front lines, leading to this orchestrated incident.

They were giving these people a chance—a chance to make their voices heard by Li Daoran.

Simply meeting Li Daoran to state their purpose clearly wasn't what they wanted. They craved Li Daoran’s attention, and the best way to achieve that was to compete for one of the five positions. Those capable of vying for these spots had essentially set the rules of the game.

None of this had been communicated to Chen Ming and his four colleagues. Their orders were to prevent anyone from approaching Li Daoran.

With their intelligence, they could see through this at a glance. But they were all top-tier geniuses in their own right, and they possessed a certain pride. They couldn't simply go along with the ruse and let the intruders in.

"We need Li Daoran to leave the war. Boss, the higher-ups must have conveyed their wishes to you, but you refused. They believe you are no longer fit for your position." A voice came from the line. A face emerged from beneath a cap—it was Hou Liang, Chen Ming’s adjutant.

The dozen men began to strip off their uniforms, matching Chen Ming’s attire—tank tops and shorts. They stood silently in the sun, their muscular forms bared, facing him.

"Monkey, I didn't think it would be you." Chen Ming tried to offer a bitter smile, but it pulled at his facial injuries. Yet, the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

"A soldier's duty is to obey orders, Boss. That's what you always taught us." Hou Liang had been looking down, but he suddenly snapped his head up to stare directly at Chen Ming.

"True, that is what I taught you, and that is what I have done. But did I ever teach you that a general in the field may defy the orders of his sovereign?" Chen Ming said, keeping his left eye closed.

"Boss, this isn't a game. You tell me to go to the battlefield with you, and I wouldn't blink. People like us, even going to the front lines, have to be prepared to die. We know war better than anyone. Li Daoran is a college student, only twenty-two. I have a daughter. I'm sorry, Boss." Hou Liang’s words were disjointed, but Chen Ming understood.

The pain in his heart eased slightly. This wasn't betrayal; it was humanity.