Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 78 Winning the Battle, Returning to Defense and Rest

They had been inside the French trenches for almost two or three minutes, killing many French soldiers but also suffering nearly half their casualties.

But everyone knew that this situation could not continue. The French army had three times the manpower and a complete command system. Once the enemy calmed down and organized an encirclement, these fifty-odd people would be sitting ducks.

Such a thing is very likely to happen. Melee combat usually lasts very short. If the battle cannot be ended in a short time, reinforcements will arrive and end the battle instantly. Therefore, we must destroy the enemy's command system now.

"Company headquarters? Are you confident you can find it?" Caesar asked, frowning.

"Then it's up to you." Lu Mingfei grinned, revealing a bright smile stained with blood, his eyes filled with absolute trust.

"I believe you will be able to find their location."

Caesar understood that this meant he should continue using the Kamaitachi, so he didn't say anything more and decisively closed his eyes.

Golden eyes burned beneath his eyelids, and the wind demons were reborn from nothingness, spreading outwards from him in all directions, flowing along the main and branch lines of the trenches, permeating every corner of the battlefield like blood in veins.

The sounds came like a tidal wave: nearby were the heavy breathing of our own soldiers, the scraping of weapons, and in the distance, the cacophony of French shouts, officers' orders, the wails of the wounded, and the muffled thuds of ammunition boxes being moved.

But these are all noises.

Caesar filtered these voices like a gold prospector sifting through sand, finding his target.

"Eleven o'clock, about one hundred meters!" Caesar exclaimed, his eyes snapping open.

Lu Mingfei didn't ask another question. The moment he received the message, he rushed out and reached the location Caesar had indicated in just over ten seconds.

He had already heard the discussion inside. Without hesitation, he threw the two entrenching tools in his hands at the same time, like spinning scythes of death, whistling as they flew towards the entrance of the reinforced bunker.

Two screams suddenly came from inside. While the French soldiers in the company headquarters were still in shock, Lu Mingfei had already rushed in.

"Enemy attack!" A French lieutenant drew his pistol, but Lu Mingfei was faster.

He sidestepped the gun barrel, reached out with his left hand, grabbed the lieutenant's wrist and twisted it in the opposite direction. The cracking sound of the wrist bone breaking was clearly audible. Then, with his right hand, he slashed fiercely at the lieutenant's Adam's apple. The latter's eyes widened, and his throat collapsed instantly as he slumped to the ground.

The whole process took less than two seconds.

There were three French soldiers inside the bunker. A communications soldier tried to grab the field telephone on the table, but Lu Mingfei kicked it away. A staff officer drew his knife and stabbed at him, but Lu Mingfei dodged to the side, grabbed the knife-wielding hand, and used the force to throw the man against the wall. His head hit the reinforced log, and he stopped moving after a dull thud.

Finally, there was a young French captain, presumably the company commander. He drew a sword and assumed a standard swordsmanship stance, clearly indicating that he was of noble birth and had received formal training.

Lu Mingfei's gaze fell on the young captain. The sword in his hand was exquisitely crafted, with beautiful etched patterns on the blade and a family crest inlaid on the hilt—a typical French noble officer.

Although the French nobility were stripped of their political power and legal privileges during the Great Reformation, they still retained their noble titles and vast wealth.

But times had changed, and France no longer had an emperor, so these nobles no longer needed to exist. In order to avoid being sent to the guillotine, these nobles encouraged many of their sons to join the army, attempting to rebuild their family's glory and status in the military.

The nobles proved with their blood that they deserved to be accepted by France; this was a slogan many of them often uttered.

"Put down your weapons and surrender," the captain said in French, trying his best to remain calm, but his hand holding the sword was trembling slightly.

Lu Mingfei didn't speak French and couldn't understand it, but he took a step forward.

The captain shouted and thrust his sword straight forward. It was standard academic swordsmanship, with proper movements but lacking the ruthlessness of real combat. Lu Mingfei didn't even dodge. Just as the tip of the sword was about to pierce his chest, his left hand shot out like lightning, and his index and middle fingers precisely clamped the blade.

To catch a blade barehanded.

The captain's pupils constricted, and he tried to pull the sword back forcefully, but it seemed welded to his fingers and wouldn't budge. Lu Mingfei followed up with his right hand, gripped the bottom of the hilt, and twisted it hard, causing the captain to release his grip in pain. The sword had changed hands.

Lu Mingfei flipped the sword, pointing the tip at the opponent's throat, but he did not immediately stab.

"Order your troops to cease resistance and lay down their weapons. You have already lost," Lu Mingfei said, pressing the tip of his sword against the captain's throat.

The cold touch of the sword tip pressed against his Adam's apple; just one more inch and it would pierce his skin and cut his trachea. The French captain could feel the breath of death, yet his eyes remained defiant.

"We haven't lost," he said in French, knowing the other person might not understand, but still unwilling to admit defeat.

Although Lu Mingfei didn't understand French, he could understand about 70-80% of what was going on from the other person's eyes and tone. He grabbed the French captain and walked outside.

Lu Mingfei grabbed the French captain by the collar like a chick and dragged him out of the bunker, where a captured nobleman's sword was firmly pressed against his throat.

The moment the two appeared on the main road of the trench, an eerie stillness appeared on the front line where the fighting was taking place.

Many French soldiers knew their company commander, a young nobleman who had proudly declared he would prove his family's honor with blood. He would recite Victor Hugo's poems before battle and tell stories of his grandfather's campaigns under Napoleon during breaks.

But now, this young nobleman had a sword pressed against his throat, his military uniform stained with dust and blood, and his face, which was always adorned with a polite smile, was as pale as paper.

The French army watched this scene in bewilderment, while on the Prussian side, Otto and his men took the opportunity to catch their breath and quickly reorganize their formation.

Lu Mingfei looked around. He didn't understand French, but he knew that language was sometimes superfluous. He raised the prisoner's collar so that more French soldiers could see the company commander's face, and then slowly increased the pressure on his hands.

The sword tip pierced the skin, and blood flowed down the blade, dripping onto the collar of the French captain's uniform.

"Cease fire—lower the weapon—" The young nobleman finally spoke, his voice filled with endless humiliation; he did not want to die.

Upon hearing the company commander's order, the first French soldier lowered his rifle. He was a young man who looked to be under twenty years old, with freckles on his face. He trembled as he threw his Lebel rifle to the ground with a clatter.

Like toppling the first domino, then the second, the third—more and more guns were put down.

Lu Mingfei released his grip, and the French captain stumbled a step, barely managing to stand, but kept his head down, not daring to look at his subordinate.

"Count the prisoners, confiscate their weapons, quick!" Lu Mingfei ordered Otto and the others.

Otto immediately led his men to gather the French soldiers who had laid down their weapons, searched them for all their weapons and ammunition, and ultimately captured 120 French soldiers.

Lu Mingfei left half of his men and Caesar to guard the newly captured position, while he led the other half of his men back with the more than one hundred prisoners under their command.

The Ninth Company, which was in chaos because of Klaus's death, was stunned when they saw Lu Mingfei and others returning with a large number of French soldiers.

Everyone stared blankly at the incomprehensible scene before them: a group of wounded soldiers who had been sent on a suicide charge and whom everyone thought were doomed had not only returned alive, but had also brought back so many prisoners.

Lu Mingfei, who was walking at the front, looked even more alarming. There was hardly a clean spot on his body, and his military uniform was soaked in blood and mud, turning it dark brown. He held a beautiful noble sword in his right hand.

"Get out of the way." Lu Mingfei said coldly, looking at the soldiers in front of him.

The soldiers instinctively made way, and some recognized the ranks of some of the prisoners, including captains, which meant that they had not only captured ordinary soldiers, but also dismantled the command structure of a French company.

Ignoring the shocked looks around him, Lu Mingfei walked straight toward the company headquarters. He needed to report the battle situation to his superiors immediately, deal with the prisoners, and, more importantly, confirm who held command of the company after Klaus's death.

In front of the company headquarters bunker, several officers were arguing heatedly about who should take over command from Klaus. When they saw Lu Mingfei and the long line of prisoners behind him, all the arguments stopped abruptly.

"Acting Platoon Leader Hans? You—you're back? And you brought—" a second lieutenant platoon leader from the Ninth Company said in surprise.

But Lu Mingfei ignored him and went straight to Captain Henrik to report.

"We captured the position of the French 137th Infantry Company, killing about two hundred French soldiers and capturing one hundred and twenty, including a captain. We also seized two heavy machine guns, more than two hundred and eighty rifles, and a quantity of ammunition."

"Our army originally had 230 men, but now there are only 58 left. Are we allowed to be transferred to the rear for rest and reorganization?"

Captain Henrik was stunned. He hadn't expected Lu Mingfei to come and report to him. When Lieutenant Klaus died, he hadn't even thought about vying for command; he was only thinking about how to get away as soon as possible and return to the safe training camp in the rear.

He had almost forgotten that he was still the nominal highest-ranking officer in this mixed unit.

But now, Lu Mingfei, the recruit whose name he had almost forgotten, suddenly handed the issue of the victory and command back to him in the manner of a victor.

All eyes around him were now focused on him.

Yes, there is also a captain here. According to rank and convention, command should rightfully be given to Henrik.

"This—Acting Platoon Leader Hans, you—did very well, very well." Henrik cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound calm and composed, attempting to regain some of his officer's authority.

Looking at the soldiers behind Lu Mingfei, who were also covered in blood and had tired but hopeful eyes, he felt a mix of emotions.

"As for being transferred to the rear for rest and recuperation—this—" He originally wanted to refuse, or at least delay, since the front line had just made a breakthrough and needed manpower to consolidate the position.

However, when he looked at Lu Mingfei's face, which was covered in blood, and the soldiers behind him who were in the same state, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. After all, these soldiers had come from his training camp, and they had just completed an almost impossible mission at an unimaginable cost. A feeling of guilt welled up in his heart.

"I'm proud of you—you can go back and rest now." As Captain Henrik finished speaking, a brief silence fell around the company headquarters, followed by a sigh of relief from the soldiers behind Lu Mingfei who were almost unsteady on their feet.

You can rest now.

For someone who struggled for more than twenty hours under the scythe of death, these three words are more precious than any medal or award.

Lu Mingfei's tense nerves finally relaxed a little. He stood at attention and gave Captain Henrik a standard military salute: "Thank you for your consideration, Captain."

"Of course. Arrange for men to take over the position captured by Acting Platoon Leader Hans, properly settle the prisoners, and let the medical team give priority to treating the wounded of the third platoon." Henrik avoided his eyes and turned to a second lieutenant next to him, finally showing some backbone.

"Yes, Captain," the lieutenant replied, and quickly began making arrangements.

Looking at Henrik's composed command, Lu Mingfei understood that this noble captain was not entirely incompetent; he simply lacked the courage to face the real battlefield.

"Thank you, Captain." Lu Mingfei saluted again, then turned and waved to the soldiers behind him.

"Everyone, retreat to the rear camp!"

The soldiers helped each other as they walked along the trenches toward the rear. Before long, the detachment sent by the Ninth Company arrived at the front line, and Caesar and the men who had stayed behind withdrew. The two remnants of the army joined together and returned to the rear.

Instead of resting immediately, they went to the cafeteria to find Frank and eat meat as agreed.

Inside the cafeteria, Frank was humming an off-key tune as he stirred the fragrant stew in a pot with a large wooden ladle.

A satisfied smile spread across his chubby face. The sausages, salted meat, and fresh vegetables he had secretly hidden away, along with the ones he had coaxed and pleaded with the head cook, were all in this big pot.

He stayed up all night preparing enough for 150 people. Although he knew it was impossible for everyone to come back, he still stubbornly prepared the amount that Lu Mingfei had mentioned before he left.

This is a way of expressing hope through food; if enough food is prepared, then enough people will surely return.

The cafeteria door opened, and Frank looked up to see Lu Mingfei and the others. A smile instantly spread across his face.

'

You go back————

But his smile froze the next moment.

The number of people who came in was far fewer than he had expected, fifty at most, and each of them was covered in blood, their military uniforms were tattered, and their faces were filled with extreme exhaustion.

Some people were using makeshift crutches, some were being helped by their companions, and others were being carried in on makeshift stretchers.

Lu Mingfei walked at the front, his body also wrapped in bandages, and blood had even seeped out.

But when he saw Frank, he still managed a forced smile: "Frank, we've come to keep our appointment."

Frank's hand holding the wooden spoon began to tremble. He had prepared food for 150 people, but only 50 had come to the feast.

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