Late at night, the fire went out, leaving the camp hidden in darkness. Even the insects and birds in the woods had fallen silent. Everything was still.
"Zzzip—"
Just then, a tent zipper opened, and a head poked through the gap, looking cautiously around as though afraid of being discovered.
Seeing no one nearby, a figure emerged, hunched over, and crept toward a large tree in the distance.
He checked his surroundings once more, then crouched and began digging a hole. Slowly, he drew a pen-shaped object emitting specks of light from his sleeve.
Its red light flickered, faintly illuminating the shadowy figure's face. It was Lu Zhenghe!
He stared at the Signal Pen in his hand, recalling a conversation with his older brother, Lu Nian, shortly before they left for their field training.
That evening, he had suddenly received a call from Lu Nian. The first thing he heard after answering was...
"Little brother, I heard you lost your sparring match?"
"Come on, big brother, don't call just to make fun of me. I've already lost all face."
Lu Zhenghe's hand trembled around his phone as he spoke with a bitter expression.
"All right, tell me how the match went."
Lu Zhenghe gave him a detailed account without thinking much of it. After all, whenever he lost a match before, his brother would help him review it.
After quietly listening to the account, Lu Nian took a drag on his cigarette and said slowly,
"From your tone, you seem to have quite a grudge against that Mo Fan..."
At the mention of Mo Fan, resentment surged through Lu Zhenghe, and he complained,
"Of course I do! He clearly has three elements, but only used two. Isn't that looking down on us?!"
A moment later, a soft chuckle came through