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During an in-depth reconnaissance mission targeting a suspected Viet Cong command post, Su Ning's platoon of Company A encountered an unprecedentedly fierce ambush.

The enemy's firepower and tactical skills far exceeded those of ordinary guerrillas; they were more like experienced North Vietnamese regular troops.

Platoon leader Walker was shot in the shoulder by a sniper in the first few minutes of the firefight, and the radio operator had his throat torn open by shrapnel.

The troops were pinned down in a low-lying swamp, suffering heavy casualties and completely losing contact with the company headquarters.

Rainwater, blood, and mud mingled together, and despair began to spread among the survivors.

At this critical moment, several ghostly figures intervened in the battle in a way that A Company had never seen before, with deadly efficiency.

They are like part of the tropical jungle, moving almost without making a sound.

They were using captured AK-47s, and their burst fire was terrifyingly accurate. Almost every short shot corresponded to an enemy firing point going silent.

Making perfect use of the terrain, sometimes appearing in the treetops and sometimes disappearing into the grass, appearing and disappearing like ghosts, the group actually created the illusion of a squad-level firepower on the flank, greatly relieving the pressure on Su Ning and his team from the front.

During a lull in the fighting, these mysterious figures slipped silently into their makeshift shelter like cheetahs.

These people were covered in mud and plant sap, with only a pair of sharp, hawk-like blue eyes that were scarred yet burning with an indomitable will.

Almost all of them were muscular and strong, with muscles that looked like they were made of steel. They were covered with homemade equipment and weapons, exuding a wild power that was a mixture of dirt, sweat and the smell of killing.

One of the burly men walked towards them, a group of weaklings, and gave a very brief self-introduction in a hoarse and deep voice.

"John Lamb. Green beret."

Everyone in Company A was stunned by the sudden appearance of this man who resembled a human weapon.

Only Suning, upon hearing "green beret," had a knowing glint in his eyes.

He had naturally heard of this unit, the U.S. Army Special Forces, which were experts in unconventional warfare, survival behind enemy lines, and sabotage.

These people in front of me are a living textbook of war machines that have returned from hell.

Led by Rambo and his green berets, the remnants of the A Company 1st Platoon finally escaped their pursuers and found a relatively safe cave as a temporary hiding place.

This group of green beret special forces soldiers temporarily stayed with the first platoon of A Company, clearly indicating that they had their own missions to complete.

Rambo and his team skillfully set up traps and eliminated traces with concise, precise, and efficient movements.

As the remnants of Company A's platoon, still shaken, tended to their wounds and counted their dwindling ammunition,
Su Ning walked up to Rambo, who was standing guard at the cave entrance, as still as a stone statue.

“Sergeant,” Su Ning’s voice was calm, filled with pure respect for knowledge and ability, “the movement techniques and firing rhythm you just used are completely different from our regular training. Is that… the way special forces operate?”

Rambo turned around, his deep gaze lingering on Su Ning for a few seconds, seemingly assessing the young man who looked more like a scholar than a soldier.

He saw in Su Ning's eyes an unusual calmness and thirst for knowledge, rather than ordinary fear or admiration.

"The army teaches how to act collectively and how to obey orders." Rambo's voice was deep, carrying a kind of indifference that came from having experienced countless brushes with death. "Here, if you want to survive, you have to learn how to fight alone and how to kill the enemy."

He pointed to the dark jungle outside: "There are no rules, no honors here. Only life or death. The Vietnamese are the masters of this. Do you want to learn?"

Su Ning nodded without hesitation. His rationality told him that this was survival wisdom forged in real hell, far beyond textbooks and conventional training.

Learning this knowledge will definitely increase your chances of survival.

In the days that followed, while Rambo and his crew were deciding on their next move, a special "teaching session" unfolded deep in the jungle.

Rambo, the taciturn ghost of war, became Suning's strictest and most effective teacher.

“Observe, not with your eyes, but with this.” Rambo pointed to his temple and drew a simple topographical map in the sand. “The direction of the wind will reveal your scent and sound; the unusual quiet or commotion of animals will tell you the location of your enemies; the color of the broken edge of a trampled leaf can indicate the time. Everything here is talking, and you must learn to listen.”

"Move like water." He demonstrated how to lower his center of gravity to the lowest possible level, how to use every terrain feature for cover, and how to make his footsteps so that they were completely silent.

"Speed ​​doesn't mean safety. Staying undetected is safety."

"Killing requires efficiency." Rambo disassembled an AK-47 with a speed that was dazzling.

"Throat, heart, forehead. Make sure it's a fatal blow. In close combat, your dagger, your elbow, or even a rock are more reliable than a jammed gun."

Rambo demonstrated several simple and ruthless hand-to-hand combat techniques, each move aimed directly at vital points, without any fancy moves, purely designed for killing.

Suning absorbed all of this with great eagerness.

His analytical and learning abilities were now being applied to every skill Rambo had taught him...

Tracking, counter-tracking, trap setting, wilderness first aid, efficient use of weapons, and psychological resilience were all quickly understood, digested, and put into practice.

They can even apply their knowledge to other situations, using physics to understand the trajectory of arrows and biology to distinguish between edible plants and poisons.

As Rambo watched Su Ning quickly grasp the experience he had gained with years of blood and lives, a barely perceptible hint of surprise and approval flashed in his cold blue eyes for the first time.

“You learn very quickly,” Rambo said, unusually speaking after a lesson, his voice still hoarse. “You’re different from them. Your brain is your weapon.”

"Survival is the only goal, Sergeant," Su Ning replied calmly, wiping the military knife that Rambo had taught him to modify. "Any knowledge or skill that can improve the probability of survival is worth learning."

Suning not only learned a set of real jungle warfare and survival skills far beyond those of ordinary soldiers, but more importantly, Rambo showed him a tenacious will to never give up in desperate situations and to turn himself into the most lethal weapon.

At this moment, Su Ning is no longer the student soldier who relies solely on talent and knowledge.

His calm rationality, combined with the brutal survival philosophy taught by Rambo, created an even more deadly and unpredictable being.

Suning continues to pursue capital for survival and the future, but its methods will be more direct and efficient.

This journey through hell truly transformed him from a scholar into a warrior.

……

In the following weeks, Suning absorbed everything Rambo taught him at an astonishing speed, like a dry sponge.

The analytical mind nurtured at MIT quickly deconstructed, summarized, and integrated Rambo's experience derived from battlefield instincts and special forces training, forming his own unique combat system.

Not only can it perfectly replicate the stealth techniques taught by Rambo, but it can also calculate how to adjust the center of gravity to minimize noise under different humidity and slope conditions; when setting traps, it not only considers the killing effect, but also uses environmental psychology to guide the enemy into a fatal trap; shooting is no longer just about accuracy, but has a predictive, deadly rhythm, and often the enemy has just shown a weakness before his bullet has already arrived.

On one occasion, their squad encountered a well-equipped North Vietnamese patrol.

During the firefight, Suning eluded the home team like a ghost, using the terrain to outflank the enemy.

Su Ning did not rush to fire, but calmly observed the situation. First, he silently eliminated the sentry with a sharpened tree branch, and then accurately threw a grenade to destroy the enemy's light machine gun position.

When the enemy was thrown into disarray, Su Ning emerged from the shadows, eliminating targets one by one with precise bursts of fire, his movements so fluid it was as if he were performing a choreographed dance of death.

After the battle, Rambo and his men examined the bodies of the enemies who had been killed in one fell swoop; their positions were tricky and the kills were swift and clean.

The way he looked at Suning had changed from disdain to approval, and then to a burning admiration.

That evening, by the campfire, Rambo unusually took the initiative to sit next to Suning.

The flickering firelight illuminated his angular, weathered face.

“Gan,” Rambo’s voice was still hoarse, but less cold than usual, “your learning ability is the most terrifying I’ve ever seen. You don’t belong here.”

He pointed to the ordinary infantrymen around him who only knew how to obey orders, "It's a waste to hang out with them."

Su Ning paused slightly as he wiped the rifle, but did not look up.

Rambo leaned forward, his blue eyes sharp in the firelight, filled with a longing like someone finding a kindred spirit: "Come with me. I have a way to recommend you for the selection. The Green Berets... that's where you belong. There, your abilities will be truly unleashed, and you will become a top-tier weapon, the nation's sharpest blade!"

This is a very high level of recognition and invitation.

Entering the Green Berets means better equipment, greater autonomy, higher honor, and the risk of venturing deeper into the heart of Hell.

To Rambo's surprise, Su Ning slowly raised his head, his eyes calm and unwavering, showing no excitement whatsoever at being moved by the invitation.

The campfire flickered in his deep black eyes, but it didn't reflect a trace of passion.

“Thank you for your recognition, Sergeant.” Suning’s voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear. “However, I don’t want to go to the Green Berets.”

Rambo froze, his brows furrowing deeply: "Why? Are you afraid of tougher training? Or afraid of more dangerous missions?"

He couldn't understand why a warrior with such talent would refuse such an opportunity. "No," Suning shook his head, his gaze fixed on the boundless darkness beyond the campfire, as if it could pierce through the jungle and see into the distant future. "It is precisely because I see clearly enough that I must leave."

Turning his head, he looked directly into Rambo's puzzled eyes: "Sergeant, what do you think is the meaning of this war? For the country? For freedom? Or..."

Then, with a mocking expression, he spoke of this pointless war, "Just to prove that we are a useful 'sharp blade'?"

Rambo remained silent. He had experienced betrayal and had long harbored doubts about the orders from higher-ups, but deep down he was still a soldier, and fighting was his duty.

Su Ning continued, his tone as calm as if he were analyzing a physics formula: "I joined the army not out of choice, nor out of faith. I was simply forced by fate to choose the path with the highest probability of survival at that moment. My brain is my greatest asset, and it is not meant to serve as a 'sharp blade' indefinitely. The green beret means deeper involvement, a higher probability of death, and... a harder time escaping."

“I have witnessed enough death and learned enough survival skills. Now, my goal is no longer to become a better soldier, but... how to leave this jungle alive and never come back. My battlefield is not here.”

These words, calm, rational, and even somewhat "selfish," left Rambo speechless for a moment.

They saw in Suning's eyes an ambition and plan that transcended the battlefield and was not something ordinary soldiers could have.

This young man never considered this place his home. Suning was simply using everything here, including the skills he learned from Rambo, as stepping stones to where he truly wanted to go and to ensure his own safety.

After a long while, Rambo slowly leaned back into his original position, his expression complex and difficult to decipher.

He picked up the kettle, took a sip, and finally said in a hoarse voice, "You're very smart, maybe...too smart."

I don't know whether to praise or regret.

Lambo did not insist any further.

Because he understood that Su Ning and he were essentially two different kinds of people.

He himself is a beast trapped in the cage of war, and fighting is the only meaning of his existence; while Su Ning is a calm chess player, and war is just a game of chess that he must pass through. He learns the rules, improves his chess skills, and his ultimate goal is to leave the chessboard.

Su Ning was well aware of his identity and did not want to become a war beast like him, so he thought about escaping from here all the time.

After this conversation, Rambo will still give Suning pointers, but he will no longer mention joining the special forces.

Meanwhile, Suning had a clearer plan in mind for how to extricate itself from this war.

His exceptional military skills were not for promotion, but to increase his bargaining power in a future crucial moment, to negotiate, trade, or even... "buy" freedom.

Beneath the guise of a killing god lies a heart that is always calmly calculating its survival and way out.

Soon Rambo and his green beret teammates left to continue their relentless killing spree.

……

The suffocating dampness of Vietnam's rainy season seems to seep into one's very bones, eroding away even the last glimmer of hope.

During a brief respite after retreating to a rear supply depot, Suning finally found a relatively quiet corner with a stable power supply.

He spread out the letter paper he had obtained from the logistics department, took a deep breath of the air mixed with the smells of mustiness and diesel, and began to write two letters that could determine his fate.

The first letter was written to his MIT advisor, Professor Elliott Wheeler.

"Dear Professor Wheeler:"

Please forgive my presumptuous letter.

I am currently on the edge of a damp jungle in central Vietnam, and the distant sound of artillery fire is the most inappropriate background noise for this letter.

First of all, I must thank you again for your careful guidance during my undergraduate years and thereafter. Your profound insights into the singularity problem in general relativity still often linger in my mind. It is one of the few precious memories that helped me keep my mind clear in this green hell.

I cherish your words to me before I left: "The mission of physics is to explore the order of the universe, not to participate in the disorder of the human world."

Professor, the "disorder" here has far exceeded my initial expectations.

I have witnessed too much senseless killing and destruction, whether for so-called strategic needs or the more straightforward instinct for survival.

Thanks to the analytical and observational skills you taught me, I survived here and even gained some "recognition" that was not what I originally intended.

However, I have come to realize more and more clearly that my value should not be reflected in the speed and efficiency of taking away lives.

My brain is meant for analyzing the curvature of spacetime, not for calculating trajectories and setting traps.

With each additional day I stay here, I feel I'm getting further away from science, rationality, and even normal humanity.

Therefore, I seek your help with great shame and urgent hope.

You have extensive connections and a strong reputation in American academia and some government advisory committees.

I wonder if it's possible, through any legal and compliant channels...

For example, could someone apply for a special talent exemption or early retirement on the grounds of continuing basic physics research that has potential importance to national security?
I know this request is extremely abrupt and difficult, but you are the only person I can think of who can understand the absurdity and suffering of a mind that should be exploring the universe being trapped in a trench.

Any possible guidance or help would be a ray of light in my endless darkness.

Your student, Su Ning, is in dire straits at a frontline supply depot in Da Nang, Vietnam.

The second letter was written to Elvis Presley.

Mr. Presley:
I hope this letter reaches you safely, and I thank you for your previous care and support of Jenny Cullen.

I am currently in Vietnam, and as you know, I have been drafted into the army.

The reality here is far more brutal and chaotic than described in the newspapers.

I am writing to you not to reminisce, but as a desperate person in dire straits, making a heartfelt request.

I am well aware that you are exempt from military service due to health reasons, and I also understand the unique influence you wield in American cultural and political circles.

I am not asking for unreasonable privileges, but simply hoping to obtain a relatively fair opportunity...

An opportunity for a technically skilled person like me to return to a more suitable position and serve the country in another way.

The ongoing jungle warfare is irreversibly draining my energy and focus, which could have been used for more constructive purposes.

I've heard that you have personal relationships with some senators and even high-ranking military officials.

If you could mention, in any appropriate setting and in any casual manner, that there were young men like me on the battlefield of Vietnam, with special academic backgrounds and skills whose value was wasted in infantry positions, you might catch the attention of a key figure.

Sometimes, a seemingly casual reminder from a non-military source is more effective than a formal application submitted through multiple layers of bureaucracy.

I understand that this request is also unreasonable, but the instinct for survival drives me to try every possibility.

Whatever the outcome, thank you for taking the time to read this.

Please take good care of yourself; your health is of utmost importance to countless music fans.

Sincerely, Suning Gan

After writing the two letters, Su Ning carefully sealed them and affixed stamps.

He knew that these two letters were like two messages in bottles thrown into the vast Pacific Ocean, with little hope of success.

Professor Wheeler, though prestigious, faces numerous obstacles in intervening in military affairs; Elvis, though well-connected, has shallow relationships with her, and it's already quite generous of him to accept Jenny Cullen, who may not be willing to take the risk.

However, after rational analysis, this was one of the few paths that, apart from meritorious service on the battlefield or illegal escape, might change his fate.

Even if you are really injured, you will still be sent back after you are healed. Like Forrest Gump in the original movie, you were shot in the buttocks and after recovering, you were transferred to the special forces to play ping-pong. That's really lucky.

Of course, severe injuries like broken arms and legs can definitely lead to a safe retirement, but that would only make him the second Lieutenant Dane, which is not the outcome Suning wants to see.

Su Ning dropped the letter into the military mail box, and listening to the soft sound of it hitting the box, he felt as if he heard a faint turn of the gears of his destiny.

He turned back into the dark jungle, continuing to play the role of the calm and efficient "god of death."

But deep within, a faint flame called "hope" has been quietly ignited.

I must survive, live until the day I might receive a reply, live until the day I can retire and return to Alabama.

...(End of chapter)