That was beyond his understanding of sniping.
That person was the biggest variable and hero in this operation, besides the commander Su An!
He must know this person's name; if he loses, he must lose clearly and decisively.
The atmosphere inside the tent froze instantly upon hearing this.
Su An met Zhou Lang's probing gaze and spoke calmly.
"It's me."
Just two simple words.
Zhou Lang's pupils contracted as he looked at Su An, seemingly trying to find a trace of a joke on her calm face.
But he failed.
That face held only the calm indifference of stating the facts.
"It was you who removed the hidden sentry." Zhou Lang muttered to himself.
"The one who ambushed the reconnaissance team... was you."
"You're the one who fooled us all with your ventriloquism."
"You're the one who stormed into my command post all by yourself."
"Even that mysterious sniper... was you."
When Zhou Lang raised his head and looked at Su An again, all the resentment in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness.
He lost.
The defeat was not due to equipment, troop strength, or even tactics.
He lost because of the dimension; it was a complete and utter defeat, a dimensional reduction attack.
He looked at Su An, a bitter smile suddenly appearing on his face, "With an opponent like you in Battalion Two, we... have no reason to lose."
...
An hour later, it was just beginning to get light at the center of the No. 3 training camp.
After a night of fierce fighting, the soldiers, who hadn't slept, were already yawning constantly.
The order to end the exercise had been given, but the atmosphere on site remained eerily tense.
The playground was invisibly divided into two worlds.
On one side were more than fifty soldiers from the Second Battalion, who, before the competition, were holding modified Type 56 rifles and were full of vigor, regarding the Third Battalion as an easy target.
But at this moment, everyone hung their heads, like a group of eggplants that had been hit by frost, listless and drooping, their faces filled with resentment and humiliation.
They couldn't understand why, despite completely dominating their opponents, they ended up losing.
Their head instructor, Han Feng, stood at the front of the line with a face as black as the bottom of a pot, his lips tightly pressed together, not uttering a word.
Whenever he felt Lei Kuan, the chief instructor of the Third Battalion, glancing at him from the side, his cheeks burned with pain, as if he had been slapped countless times in public, and he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
How embarrassing!
This is an absolute disgrace!
On the other side of the parade ground were more than thirty soldiers from the Third Battalion.
Jiang Yan, Xu Gaogui, Zhuo Yue, and the other soldiers were all covered in mud, their clothes were tattered, and they were stained with blue and red paint that represented "falling in battle." They looked as disheveled as a group of beggars.
But their backs were ramrod straight.
Everyone's face was filled with the ecstasy of surviving a disaster and the immense pride of defeating a stronger opponent.
Jiang Yan stood at the front of the group. He was also in a sorry state, with several scratches on his face, but his steady gaze was always fixed on the direction of the camp entrance, as if he was waiting for something.
Just then, a sudden, uncontrollable gasp erupted from the crowd.
"Look! Over there!"
Jiang Yan looked up and saw a group of more than twenty figures, looking like clay figures, walking towards the playground in the dim light of the morning sun.
They walked very slowly, clearly exhausted.
They were dressed in rags and covered in mud, like a victorious expeditionary force.
The slender figure at the head of the group walked with a steady gait and had a calm gaze.
Behind her, Gao Kai and the others were exhausted, but in each of their eyes burned a flame that could start a prairie fire.
"They're back! It's Su An! They're back!"
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