Bullets flew everywhere. Wounded soldiers let out low groans of pain, while Radiation Cockroaches scuttled about in search of flesh and blood...
Yang Weite pressed a medkit against a soldier's wound and quickly bandaged him up.
The battlefield was the best place to improve one's medical skills, because there were simply too many people to practice on.
He was now an all-purpose logistics worker—carrying ammunition, carrying food, serving as a medic, serving as a communications operator...
Fortunately, Handy Teacher was at his side, occasionally blocking stray bullets for him and warning him where the Snipers were. Otherwise, even ten of him would have been doomed.
"I can't let you die so easily. It's too hard to find someone else willing to listen to me all day," Handy Teacher said haughtily, refusing to admit that its personality module had already ranked Yang Weite as its second-highest priority, surpassed only by its master, Old Popsicle.
"Okay, okay. Someone over there is calling for bullets again. Let's get there quickly. It'd be better if they didn't waste them like this," Yang Weite said seriously.
"They've long forgotten how to fight a war while conserving ammunition. Their kind master spoiled them like sweethearts," Handy Teacher mocked.
Yang Weite kept low, even crawling forward as he passed through discarded steel plates and uneven terrain. He reached a point near a defensive position and set down the ammunition crate.
"Thanks, brother." The soldier immediately opened the crate, loaded the heavy machine gun, and unleashed another burst of fire, driving back the surging Ghouls.
After witnessing the rate at which ammunition was consumed, Yang Weite finally understood deeply why, once surrounded by the enemy in war, generals and soldiers alike often lost morale so quickly.
Once surrounded, there would be no more ammunition supplies. The enemy only