Several squad leaders were chatting and laughing around a spread-out military map, completely unaware of the upcoming battle.
Yuan Bao slammed the communication shut and casually tossed the black military walkie-talkie onto the table, its heavy body making a loud thud as it hit the surface.
He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing directly on a corner where a man sat on a box of ammunition, meticulously wiping the barrel of a Type 56 semi-automatic rifle with a cotton cloth soaked in gun oil. The man's eyes were sharp as a wolf's, and his movements were steady, completely out of place with the frivolous atmosphere in the tent.
Yuan Bao's face was filled with undisguised smugness and contempt. His thick finger slammed down on the location of the No. 3 Battalion's headquarters on the map.
"Zhou Lang, did you see that? What did I tell you? Those bastards in Battalion Three are a bunch of good-for-nothings!"
Yuan Bao's voice was loud and clear, with a hint of smugness, "You fucking had to tell me all this about being careful and cautious, about being absolutely sure of everything, and about sending out a reconnaissance team. I think even those two sentries in the swamp are unnecessary! It's like taking off your pants to fart—completely redundant! With those cowards, do they even dare to cross the swamp? Give them ten lives!"
The man known as "Brother Wolf" is Zhou Lang, one of the elite squad leaders of the Second Battalion.
The man known as "Brother Wolf" is Zhou Lang, one of the elite squad leaders of the Second Battalion. He is introverted, well-versed in military strategy, and excels in all aspects. He is a recognized strongman in the Second Battalion, but he is no match for Yuan Bao's social skills or his ability to bribe the chief instructor Han Feng. The two often have disagreements due to their differing views.
Zhou Lang didn't stop cleaning his gun. He didn't even look up at Yuan Bao. He just stared at the area on the map that represented the swamp, his brows furrowed.
“Yuan Bao,” Zhou Lang’s voice was low and hoarse, “I feel something is wrong.”
The previously lively atmosphere inside the tent fell silent for half a second because of Zhou Lang's cold words.
Yuan Bao's smile froze for a moment, then he became impatient.
What annoyed him most was Zhou Lang's deadpan face, as if he were always ready to deliver a eulogy to a victorious army—it was unlucky.
"What's wrong now?" Yuan Bao waved his hand impatiently, spitting almost onto the map. "Didn't the monkeys already say it? They took out the outer outposts of the Third Battalion and also wiped out a dozen stragglers! Although we lost a few brothers, this just proves that the Third Battalion is a paper tiger! All bark and no bite! As long as our main force pushes in, one charge will take care of it!"
“Yeah, Wolf, you’re overthinking it.” Another squad leader, nicknamed “Iron Boy,” was the one who had just spoken to Su Tang on the walkie-talkie. “That Monkey kid is usually a slacker, but he’s been in the reconnaissance company for three years. How could he be wrong about something like this? Besides, those cowards in the Third Battalion were beaten to a pulp on the first day of the war. Where would they get the guts to fight us head-on?”
“That’s right!” Another squad leader stood up to agree, loading bullets into his magazine without looking up. “Brother Leopard is right. In front of our modified guns and grenade launchers, any tricks and schemes are bullshit! Zhou Lang, fighting is all about spirit! If you’re always so timid and hesitant, boosting the enemy’s morale and diminishing our own, we’ve already lost half the battle before it even starts!”
The atmosphere inside the tent became lively again, and everyone nodded in agreement, thinking that Zhou Lang had become timid because he had read too many books.
Zhou Lang finally stopped cleaning his gun.
He reassembled the gleaming gun barrel with a crisp "click," then looked up, his wolf-like eyes devoid of any emotion, staring directly at Yuan Bao.
"The monkey's report has too many flaws."
His words silenced the tent once again.
"First, the casualty ratio is wrong." Zhou Lang's voice was unhurried but exceptionally clear. "Monkey said that his eight scouts took down one of the enemy's sentries, wiped out more than a dozen stragglers, and only he escaped with his life. Eight well-equipped veteran scouts against a dozen scattered rabble, a casualty ratio of one to seven? That's not bravery, that's incompetence. Even if Monkey is stupid, he wouldn't use this method to claim credit, unless... it's not true."
"Secondly, and most importantly," Zhou Lang's gaze swept over everyone present, "what makes Monkey so certain that the main force of Battalion Three is all holed up in the main camp? He's a crippled scout who hasn't even penetrated the enemy's defensive line. How could he possibly have a global perspective?"
"You dare to believe a report that's riddled with flaws, full of contradictions, and based on conjecture?"
The smiles on the faces of the class leaders, who had been laughing and joking, vanished completely. They weren't stupid; they had just been blinded by their desire for victory. Now, as Zhou Lang dissected and analyzed their points one by one, they felt a chill run down their spines.
...
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