Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 100 The Cruel Mountain of the Dead, the Spirit Nearing Its Limits

On an ordinary spring afternoon in Verdun, Lu Mingfei pulled an entrenching tool from the chest of a French soldier, blood splattering all over his face, but the soldier showed no reaction, his eyes empty and numb.

At that moment, an extremely faint shriek came from the sky. The instant Lu Mingfei heard the sound, his body reacted even faster than his mind.

The warm blood that came out when the entrenching tool was pulled out was still flowing down his face, but he had already curled up and rolled into a shallow pit plowed out by the previous artillery fire, like a frightened groundhog.

He then pulled the body of the French soldier who had just lost his life and covered himself with it. The soldier was probably only eighteen or nineteen years old, and the downy hair on his upper lip had not yet completely disappeared.

In the past, Lu Mingfei might have felt a pang of sadness or even a touch of melancholy upon seeing such a corpse. But now, he felt nothing. He had seen far too many such corpses to count.

Not far away, Otto and Caesar made almost the same choice.

But not everyone knew why they were doing this. Dozens of meters away, a group of Prussian recruits, also belonging to the assault team, were overwhelmed by their recent success.

They roared, bayonets at the ready, completely oblivious to the instinct of the veterans around them seeking cover, continuing to surge upwards like a gray tide.

"Take cover! Fire!" the veterans who had already taken cover shouted.

But it was too late. Sometimes, the only way to survive is to seize a second or two, and those young soldiers who had just entered the battlefield had already missed their chance.

The first shell landed at the edge of the crowd, like an invisible giant hand, throwing three or four people, along with the dirt, into the air. Then, the second, the third—a barrage of shells pounded on the open, unprotected slope like hail.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The world was filled with deafening roars and tremors; dirt, rubble, severed limbs, broken guns, twisted helmets—everything danced in the explosions before falling in even more gruesome ways.

Thick black smoke and yellowish-brown dust rose up, quickly engulfing the area. Screams were instantly extinguished by the explosions, then briefly echoed again between explosions before being swallowed up once more.

Lu Mingfei trembled violently under the weight of the corpses. Each explosion felt like a hammer blow to his spine and internal organs. Small pieces of soil and some warm, sticky stuff splattered onto the muddy ground around him, some even splashing onto his bare wrists.

That could be bits of meat, or fragments of internal organs.

He gritted his teeth and buried his face deeper into the mud to block out the devastating sight and sound, but the shockwave from the explosion still penetrated the ground, shaking his internal organs out of place.

The shelling lasted for about half an hour. Only when the echo of the last explosion dissipated in the smoke did Lu Mingfei cautiously raise his head and look outside.

The spot where the charging soldiers had just stood was now a steaming crater, with gray fragments of military uniforms, severed hands and feet, and bits of flesh scattered around its edges; not a single intact corpse remained.

Lu Mingfei's numb eyes remained unmoved. He pushed aside the gradually stiffening corpse on his body and looked in the direction of Otto and Caesar. Otto was crawling out covered in dust and spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva on the ground, glaring fiercely at the French army position. Caesar also stood up, dusted himself off, and looked unusually pale.

"Retreat!" Lu Mingfei coldly ordered.

At this moment, a group of French soldiers had already rushed down from the top of Dead Man's Mountain in the distance. After hearing Lu Mingfei's order, Otto Caesar and his men did not hesitate to grab their guns and start running down the mountain.

When Lu Mingfei and the others came down the mountain, everyone in the camp looked at them with awe, for they had survived again.

When they first attacked Dead Man's Mountain, these people looked at Lu Mingfei and his group coming down the mountain with contempt, thinking that they had deserted in the face of battle. They wondered why they were the only ones who survived and why they hadn't held their ground and handed over the territory they had just captured.

If Lu Mingfei hadn't been a recipient of the Medal of Merit, and if his legendary feat of capturing Fort Dumont hadn't already spread throughout the front lines, he would have long been court-martialed.

But as the battle gradually reached a stalemate, their eyes all changed. So many troops climbed the Mountain of the Dead and ended up as corpses, but Lu Mingfei and his men were able to survive time and time again.

By this time, Lu Mingfei and his men had been fighting on Dead Man Mountain for more than two months. However, Lu Mingfei had not actually killed many people during these two months. Their daily routine consisted of waiting for the artillery to eliminate the French troops on the mountainside and then occupying the positions there. These positions were just some shell craters.

Then they lay in those shell craters waiting for the French artillery to come. After the French shelling ended, they slunk down the mountain, leaving those shell craters to the French.

Sometimes, after Lu Mingfei and his men climbed Dead Man's Mountain, they couldn't even see the French soldiers. They just lay in the shell craters waiting for French artillery shells.

The main characters in this battle are the artillery, while Lu Mingfei and his men are just cannon fodder whose only duty is to go up and die.

In two months, the mountain of dead men had become a real mountain made up of dead bodies. At least 100,000 people had died on that small mountain, most of them killed by artillery.

The hillside was covered with corpses, and all of them were mutilated. Even if you were shot dead one second and left with a complete body, you could be torn to pieces by a shell the next second.

Lu Mingfei and his group were able to survive there initially because of Caesar's reminders. Later, even without Caesar's reminders, they would instinctively cower and curl up together whenever they heard even the faintest sound in the air. This had become their instinct.

Lu Mingfei and his men returned to the familiar muddy ground of their camp. Almost simultaneously, they all lost the last bit of strength that supported their bodies, slumped to the ground, took off their helmets, let them roll to their feet, placed their rifles across their knees, and gasped for breath.

Just then, as if to complete the handover of this death cycle, the sound of cannons firing came from the Prussian artillery positions behind them.

The shells flew over their heads toward the dead man's mountain they had just left. They could even imagine the arc the shells traced, and their landing points were probably the craters where they had been lying.

French soldiers were probably rushing down the ridge at that moment, trying to retake those positions, but they were about to be met with another rain of steel from the sky.

The battle at Dead Man's Mountain was too brutal, brutal to an extreme.

On the French side, under Pétain's command, a rotation system was established, sending troops from all over the country to the "dead man's mountain"—a shredder—in rotation, like parts on an assembly line.

A company with a full complement of more than 200 people may be reduced to only a few dozen or even fewer after holding out on the mountain for several days.

Afterwards, this depleted and morale-broken unit will be immediately withdrawn to a relatively safe area in the rear to rest and recuperate, and replaced by another fresh force.

Although the rotations were frequent and the casualties were heavy, this system at least ensured that the soldiers on the front lines knew that their time on the mountain was limited, which allowed the French defenses on Dead Man's Hill to maintain a tenacious resilience.

Prussia, on the other hand, kept a unit stationed at the front line, sending in new recruits to replace any who died, much like the Ship of Theseus.

Lu Mingfei discovered that apart from them, there were hardly any veterans left on the front line; they were basically all dead. However, the unit's designation remained the same, but in essence, it was a new unit.

"We don't even know if the new troops will come tomorrow. This batch of new recruits has all died—" Lu Mingfei said calmly, sitting on the ground.

There was no mourning, no anger, not even regret, because there was no time to mourn, anger was meaningless, and regret seemed pretentious. The speed at which the Dead Man Mountain devoured lives exceeded the limits of human emotion. People you just met a second ago were dead on it the next.

He fumbled in the pocket of his military uniform, so dirty that its original color was no longer discernible, and pulled out a flattened cigarette case, shaking out the last crumpled cigarette inside.

Someone handed him a light; it was Caesar. Lu Mingfei leaned over, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. The pungent smell of the cheap tobacco filled his lungs, bringing a slight dizziness.

However, his fingers holding the cigarette were trembling uncontrollably, a lingering effect of prolonged tension and shock. He tried to grip his wrist with his other hand, but the trembling was transmitted, and both hands began to shake together.

"Caesar, I feel like I can't hold on much longer—"

More than nine months after arriving in this world, Lu Mingfei revealed his vulnerability to others for the first time, because he could not see any hope. His daily task was to go up the mountain of dead men, lie in a bomb crater, and watch the new recruits who had just gone to the front line get blown up.

They're still alive, breathing, smoking, and climbing Dead Man Mountain again—all because of good luck. But can their luck last?

Caesar did not answer. He also took out a cigarette and lit it, but his hand was also trembling. He tried several times before he was able to light the cigarette. He leaned against a tree and took a deep drag. He had actually reached his limit.

Whether his eyes were open or closed, all he could hear was the sound of artillery fire. Sometimes he even wanted to go deaf so he wouldn't have to hear those sounds anymore.

Not only the two of them, but the other three platoons of soldiers around them were in the same situation, even more so than Lu Mingfei and Caesar. Karl, Otto, and others were in a situation similar to Herman's back then.

Lu Mingfei understood that if things continued like this, they would all eventually be swallowed up by that mountain of the dead and become part of those severed limbs. But he had no choice. He was a soldier and had to obey orders. If he deserted, he would also die. He had not forgotten what the mission said about not deserting.

So what should we do now?

Just then, Henrik walked over with a serious expression. Although he was still the company commander, he was now a major and no longer needed to go to the front lines with Lu Mingfei and the others. This was one of the benefits of military rank.

"Hans—" Henrik looked at the few remaining soldiers of the Ninth Company in the camp and at Lu Mingfei with his empty eyes, his voice very hoarse.

This was the first time he had ever seen Lu Mingfei look like that. In all the battles before, he had been the pillar of support for these people.

His calmness, decisiveness, and even his almost beast-like instinct for danger and survival skills convinced Henrik and his men that following him meant a chance of survival, but now this pillar seemed to be crumbling.

"Prince William has come to the front lines—he specifically asked to see you—" Henrik's voice was low, carrying a rare sense of guilt. He was the company commander of this unit, but he had placed all the pressure on Lu Mingfei.

Lu Mingfei paused, his fingers holding the cigarette still. He slowly raised his head and looked at Henrik.

"See me? Do you think we haven't died enough and want to see with your own eyes how that mountain devoured us?" Lu Mingfei's voice was frighteningly calm, even disdainful.

It was Crown Prince William and his staff who devised one offensive plan after another, sending countless troops, including the Ninth Company, to that furnace called Dead Man's Mountain, like adding fuel to the fire.

"Hans!" Henrik subconsciously raised his voice, even with a hint of warning. Criticizing the Crown Prince, especially in this situation, was extremely dangerous. But the next moment, he felt powerless; he knew what Lu Mingfei meant.

"It's not for that—" Henrik struggled to organize his thoughts, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers slumped around him, their eyes unfocused, as if their souls had been ripped away.

"His Highness William—he has heard about your situation on Dead Man's Mountain, and not just yours, but the casualties of the entire left wing—far exceeding expectations. They are already preparing to adjust their battle plans—"

Lu Mingfei twitched the corners of his mouth, forcing a smile that held no real mirth, and said, "So many people have died before you even start adjusting your battle plan—"

He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the mud, then propped himself up on his knees and slowly stood up. He then called out to Caesar beside him.

"Caesar".

Caesar, leaning against the tree, raised his eyes. He didn't speak, but simply nodded silently, indicating that he understood Lu Mingfei's meaning and that he would keep an eye on these people.

Lu Mingfei stopped looking at anyone else and said to Henrik, "Lead the way, Major."

He didn't bother to straighten his uniform, which was already tattered and filthy beyond repair. He followed Henrik step by step toward the command post, still covered in the indelible smell of blood and gunpowder.

The soldiers and officers they encountered along the way all turned their heads to look at him. They recognized Lu Mingfei and the blue Max medal around his neck, which shone brightly even in the dirt.

Blue Max, the highest honor that countless Prussian soldiers dreamed of.

But at this moment, the owner of the medal was completely different from the heroic figure they had imagined, the one who was full of vigor and whose image was the focus of the whole country when he received the award. He was more like a wandering soul who had luckily crawled out of the deepest part of hell.

Henrik stopped at the door, and Lu Mingfei pushed open the barracks door alone. The light inside was dimmer than outside, and the air was filled with the smells of tobacco, leather, and paper. Several senior staff officers were gathered around a map, discussing in hushed tones.

At the other end of the room, a tall figure dressed in a well-tailored general's uniform stood with his back to the door, gazing out the window towards the direction of the Dead Man's Mountain.

Hearing the door open, the person turned around.

It was Crown Prince William of Prussia, but his expression was not good either. The stalemate at the Battle of Verdun and the heavy cost of the left-wing offensive had obviously put him under tremendous pressure.

His gaze fell on Lu Mingfei, the Prussian hero who had once personally awarded him a medal of honor. But Lu Mingfei was nothing like a hero at this moment. His military uniform was dirty and tattered, his face was exhausted, his eyes were empty and numb, and the medal of honor hanging on his dirty uniform looked particularly out of place.

The room fell silent instantly, all the staff officers’ eyes focused on the front-line officer who had suddenly barged in and seemed completely out of place with his surroundings.

Crown Prince William took two steps forward, stopped in front of Lu Mingfei, and said, "I've heard that your troops are the ones who have survived the longest on Dead Man Mountain."

"Just lucky," Lu Mingfei said calmly. To survive so many shelling attacks was indeed incredibly lucky.

"I want to know if my men and I can withdraw from the battlefield; we haven't had a break for months."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Hans, as you know the current situation, we can't let any usable combat force escape. We plan to target Hill 304 next."

As he spoke, Crown Prince William pointed to Hill 304 on the map, not far from Dead Man's Mountain. There was a French artillery group there, and the shelling that Lu Mingfei and his group encountered came from this place.

The Prussian army launched its attack on the left bank of the Meuse River in order to eliminate the French artillery fire behind the Dead Man's Hill that was bombarding the Prussian right side. However, now that they are attacking the Dead Man's Hill, they will be attacked by French artillery from the very edge.

Therefore, to win Verdun, the artillery on Hill 304 must be dealt with first, then Dead Man's Hill must be taken, and then the French artillery behind Dead Man's Hill must be dealt with.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant Hans, our troops have already begun to assemble. Once Hill 304 is taken, your situation will be much better," Crown Prince William continued.

"Transfer us there. If we take Hill 304 and plant our flag on the summit of Dead Man's Mountain, can you allow me and my troops to withdraw from the battlefield?" Lu Mingfei said.

Crown Prince William was completely stunned by Lu Mingfei's words. The advisors around him exchanged glances. Some shook their heads slightly, while others curled their lips, clearly taking Lu Mingfei's words as the utterances of someone who had been subjected to long-term mental torture, or as a desperate gamble by someone on the verge of collapse.

Their guess was right. This was Lu Mingfei's desperate gamble, driven by the extreme pressure he was under. Continuing to attack Dead Man Mountain would only lead to certain death, so he might as well fight to the death.

"Alright, if your troops can take Hill 304 together with other troops, and also take Dead Man's Mountain in the subsequent battles, I will not only give you and your troops a long leave, but I will also award you another Medal of Merit." Unexpectedly, Crown Prince William agreed.

"Your Highness, this—" An older advisor couldn't help but try to dissuade him, but the Crown Prince raised his hand to stop him.

The Crown Prince's gaze was fixed on Lu Mingfei's face as he continued, "Lieutenant Hans, I agree to your conditions. I hope you can keep your word. I will give you three days of rest. After three days, you will advance on Hill 304 together with other units."

"Mission accomplished!"