It turns out Chapter 36 was blocked, so this has been modified and re-uploaded.

New release, hope it doesn't get blocked.

After a night of battle, as the sky broke into dawn, the fighting in Wata City gradually subsided.

Time trickled by, and who knew how long had passed, when from within a collapsed ruin in the southwest of Wata City, a hand covered in wounds reached out, followed by a figure struggling to crawl out of the debris.

After Zhou Ning crawled out of the ruins, his head felt groggy and dizzy, and a sharp pain shot through his abdomen.

Frowning, he began to recall the events of the previous day in his mind.

Yesterday, they had been ambushed. Though his special sense for danger had put them on alert, in the end, the enemy lurked in the shadows while they stood in the light.

Add to that the darkness of night—the moment they clashed, they suffered a small setback.

In the ensuing battle, after they organized a counterattack, the enemy was no match for them and could only retreat step by step, using the city's layout to stall and maneuver.

Then, because he accidentally triggered one of the enemy's traps, though he reacted immediately and tried to dodge, he was still caught in the blast. Everything went black before his eyes, and he passed out.

Zhou Ning looked down at his abdomen, seeing the clothes over his stomach stained a dark red, the blood already clotted.

At the same time, a sharp piece of metal was lodged in his belly.

Pressing a hand over the wound on his abdomen, Zhou Ning slowly stood up, then endured the pain as he left the ruined area.

Finally, he found a spot and, little by little, leaned against a wall to sit down on the ground.

The motion of sitting inevitably tugged at the wound on his abdomen, causing him to break out in a cold sweat from the pain.

"Rip!!"

Tearing open the clothes over his stomach, he looked at the bloody, mangled wound. It had already started to fester and was filthy to boot—likely already infected by now.

He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but the fact that he could still wake up meant his time wasn't up yet.

Even so, if he didn't treat the wound soon to prevent further deterioration, it wouldn't be long before he met the King of Hell.

So now, he had to save himself.

"Hiss~"

After tearing off a strip of cloth, rolling it into a ball, and stuffing it into his mouth, Zhou Ning gripped the metal shard in his belly and pulled it out bit by bit. The searing pain made him want to just pass out again.

The moment the shard came out, a gush of blood mixed with pus sprayed out.

Seeing this, he quickly removed the cloth from his mouth and hastily bandaged the wound.

Once everything was done, he collapsed onto the ground, completely drained, not wanting to move an inch.

Lying still on the ground, he stared up at the bright sun in the sky and the black smoke drifting through the air.

Ten minutes later.

After resting a while and regaining some strength, Zhou Ning got up from the ground. Glancing at the city around him, filled with smoke and ruin, he slowly began to walk outward—he needed to find his squad.

He didn't know how his teammates were doing, but he had to see them alive or see their bodies.

Picking up a wooden stick along the way to use as a crutch, Zhou Ning hobbled forward. On the road, he could see scattered corpses throughout the city. Thankfully, what eased his mind was that he hadn't yet spotted the bodies of his comrades.

That meant they had won yesterday's battle. Only if they won would there be time to collect the dead—otherwise, the enemy wouldn't be kind enough to bury them.

Just then, he spotted a severed arm in a pile of rubble, still bearing the distinctive cloud patterns of the Yanhuang Empire's uniform.

Seeing this, Zhou Ning rushed over and picked up the arm. He recognized it at once—it belonged to one of his soldiers.

Then he looked at the rubble beneath his feet and began digging frantically. In moments, blood started seeping from his abdominal wound.

A few minutes later, staring at the person buried under the debris, the familiar face now long dead.

Looking at this man, Zhou Ning dug him out, hoisted him onto his back, and planned to find a place to rebury him and set up a grave marker.

He knew that in his current state, doing this was practically suicide, but he wanted to do it anyway. He couldn't let his soldier die without even a proper grave.

When he reached the outskirts of the city, he saw at once a row of simple earthen burial mounds.

In front of these mounds stood wooden grave markers, each carved with a name. Looking at those names, Zhou Ning felt his heart tremble.

An hour later, after burying the man on his back, he was about to leave when he heard the sounds of battle in the distance.

Hearing this, he froze for a moment.

Then, he quickly hurried toward the direction of the noise.

Though he still didn't know what was happening over there, he had to go—after all, maybe those fighting were his comrades.

Unlikely as it was, he couldn't abandon hope.

When he arrived, he spotted the skirmish from afar. They weren't the people he was looking for, but from their uniforms, they were on his side.

The Alliance, Third Zone Garrison.

At the headquarters, staff members in uniforms were rushing about, looking very busy.

From time to time, angry shouts could be heard from inside the rooms.

The highest commander of this zone, Lorjio Imwe, slammed down the phone in fury, nearly losing his mind.

He couldn't believe that at this critical moment, the logistics department had actually screwed up—absurd.

Now that supplies from the rear couldn't be delivered, upon learning of this, Lorjio was so furious he wanted to run back and hack those noble lords to death with his blade.

Truly, those people were nothing but a hindrance, more trouble than they were worth.

They were completely holding them back.

Watching the enraged Lorjio, the adjutant beside him couldn't help a flicker of sorrow in his eyes, and a trace of despair rose in his heart.

After all, the Alliance was already at a disadvantage, and now their own people were tripping them up—what meaning was there in their desperate struggle here?

Were they just protecting those noble lords in the rear?

Turning these thoughts over in his mind, the more he thought, the more lost he felt.

"Those nobles never took us seriously. It's one thing to drag us down in peacetime, but now, at a critical moment..."

"Yeah, without supplies, how are we supposed to fight next? Are we supposed to fight with our fists?"

"And what about food? We can't go into battle on empty stomachs, can we?"

"Those bastards, every one of them living it up in the rear, eating and drinking, and now they're still holding us back. I wish I could kill them all."

"What do we do now? Without follow-up supplies, we won't last long.

And this counteroffensive has already been decided—one move affects the whole plan.

If we screw up here and mess up the entire counterattack, we'll be nailed to the wall of shame."