Chu Han came to a stop and raised a hand in salute to the five hundred men. His gaze swept over the faces before him, faces he knew so well, watching the fervor burst from their eyes. It was the drive they had been holding back for far too long.
At this moment, these five hundred Wolf Fang soldiers knew exactly where they were headed, and they knew even better what awaited them after a night of marching. It was the battlefield ahead where Wolf Fang had lost seven hundred elite soldiers, where an unknown number of zombies and an unknown force of mutants awaited.
Yet even so, there was not the slightest trace of fear in the eyes of those five hundred men. What replaced it was an incomparable passion.
That was right—not vengeance, not killing intent, but passion!
Passion for war, passion for fighting, an eager desire to follow Commander Chu Han and charge across the battlefield with him!
Men were born with restless impulses in their blood. Under Chu Han's influence, they had completely become beings best suited for the battlefield. What the Wolf Fang Regiment feared least was going to war; to them, it was even the most exhilarating form of release.
Fearless, willing to pay any price!
Chu Han stood there for a long while. His eyes passed over the people before him as he took the longest possible time to memorize each and every face, leaving no one out. He knew the battle ahead was still uncertain, and he also knew it was impossible for all of them to return.
There were mutants. Death was inevitable!
So he wanted to remember what they looked like, even if it was only for tonight...
The pitch-black night was exceptionally quiet. Not one of the three thousand