It was supposed to be a casual game, but the Long March dungeon brought tears to everyone's eye

The night was so long it seemed to have no end.

The campfire was small; it was lit by the soldiers using dried cow dung and withered grass that they had dug out of the snowdrifts.

The flames were only as tall as a finger, and we had to be careful not to let the wind blow them out.

The only sounds in the camp were the crackling of burning firewood and the occasional muffled cough.

Hawkeye hunched his shoulders, the strange taste of the leather soup still churning in his stomach, but he was too weak to feel nauseous.

For some reason, these NPCs, who were originally just background figures in his eyes, now seemed much more alive.

"Hey, squad leader."

Hawkeye couldn't help but speak, breaking the silence.

He simply couldn't understand this logic.

Why are you leaving like this?

Hawkeye placed the broken bowl on his lap, trying to make his tone sound objective and rational.

"There are still several more snow-capped mountains like this ahead. We're in a situation where we have no food, no water, and no bullets."

Hawkeye pointed to the soldiers huddled together around him.

"This is suicide."

"Surrender, or just break up here, is that not enough? This is not a life fit for a human being."

This is the most genuine question from Blue Star players.

In their value system, profit comes first.

If the input-output ratio is disproportionate, or even if it risks your life, then cutting your losses in time is the wise thing to do.

In the live stream, many viewers also sent comments in agreement.

"To be fair, Hawkeye is right, this is a complete suicide march."

"It's terrible, but is this kind of perseverance meaningful?"

"I would have quit the game long ago, it's too torturous."

The old squad leader was mending clothes by the dim firelight.

His stitches were rough, and his hands were covered in chilblains with blood seeping from the cracks, but he seemed not to feel any pain as he carefully sewed each stitch.

Upon hearing Hawkeye's words, the old squad leader paused in his actions.

He wasn't angry, nor did he lecture him.

He simply bit off the thread with his teeth and turned the mended clothes inside out—they were Xiaohu's clothes.

"They've scattered?" The old squad leader lowered his head, his voice fading in the wind.

"It's good that they've broken up. Now they can go back to their hometowns and sleep on a warm kang (heated brick bed)."

The old squad leader raised his head and looked at Eagle Eye, whose cloudy eyes reflected the faint flame.

"But if we break up, who will fight back against those who bullied us? Who will protect our home?"

"If we don't cross this snow mountain, those who bully us will take advantage of us."

"If we don't fight desperately to reunite, our children will end up like us, toiling like oxen and horses their whole lives, never even getting a full meal."

The old squad leader pulled out a small package wrapped in several layers of oil paper from his pocket.

He carefully opened it, and inside was a painting.

To be precise, it was a simple line drawing on the back of a cigarette pack.

The lines are crooked and twisted; the drawing depicts a stick figure with only three fingers, holding a little girl's hand.

Next to it was drawn a big sun and a bowl of steaming noodles.

"This was drawn by my child."

A gentle and proud smile suddenly appeared on the old squad leader's weathered face.

That smile smoothed out the wrinkles on his face.

"That was three years ago. The troops passed by my house, and my child was only this tall." The old sergeant gestured to waist level. "She handed this to me and said that after the war, her father would take her to eat white noodles."

"I said yes."

The old squad leader gently stroked the edge of the drawing paper, his voice trembling slightly from the cold and excitement.

"I promised her that once we drive away those bad guys and win, everyone will have land to cultivate and food to eat."

"I'll go back and cook her a bowl of white noodles that's all meat."

"What if we break up now and surrender..."

The old squad leader looked at Hawkeye, his eyes suddenly becoming incredibly sharp.

"What will happen to my child in the future? Will he still have to herd cattle and be whipped?"

"Young man, this road is arduous."

The old squad leader carefully wrapped the painting again and put it back close to his heart.

"But once we've finished our journey, our children won't have to go anymore."

Hawkeye was instantly stunned by the explosion.

He looked at the old squad leader's face, which was beaming with happiness as he mentioned his daughter.

Looking around at the soldiers, who, though thin and bony, would light up with excitement at the mention of words like "land distribution" and "children," he was struck by their gleaming eyes.

An emotion he had never felt before overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

On Earth, NPCs in games are all data.

Their mission is either to distribute rewards or to be killed.

But here...

This "old squad leader" seems to be more like a father than a program.

The little bean who got frostbite from cleaning the gun was a younger brother who wanted to avenge his company commander.

The little tiger who fell while trying to save someone was a living, breathing human being.

Each of them seemed to have their own concerns, something more important than life itself, supporting them as they journeyed through this hell.

The genuine emotions shown by the old squad leader during his conversation with Hawkeye made it hard for him to believe that this was simply a virtual NPC character.

"So that the children won't have to walk through these snowy mountains anymore..."

Hawkeye muttered to himself, these words carrying a heavy weight for those who were obsessed with entertainment.

In the live stream, the previously dense barrage of sarcastic comments suddenly dropped.

No one is using the word "idiot" anymore, and no one is using the word "trash game" anymore.

After a long while, a red, high-level bullet comment floated by.

"Hey streamer, stop talking. I'll give you ten Supreme Tomatoes, can you buy the class monitor a bowl of noodles?"

Immediately afterwards, the live chat exploded with comments.

"I'll swipe too! Please get Little Bean a new gun!"

"This isn't a game, it's like they ripped my heart out and threw it on the ground!"

"I was just laughing at them eating belts... I'm so stupid."

Eagle Eyes watched the barrage of comments scrolling across his retina, then looked at the old sergeant in front of him who was still happily sewing clothes, and suddenly felt a lump in his throat.

As a top-tier technical streamer, he has never cried during a live stream.

But at this moment, he lowered his head and, under the guise of tidying up his equipment, fiercely wiped his eyes.

Meanwhile, Ruan Ruan, who had been complaining about her germaphobia and the cold, fell silent.

She huddled in the crowd, looking at the bulging spot in the old squad leader's arms.

She thought of herself in real life, where she could fast for three days to buy a bag, and act coquettishly to get attention.

These people, for the promise of "ensuring that children have enough to eat," gave their lives by drowning in snowdrifts.

"that……"

Her soft voice was very small, with a slight tremor.

She pulled out half of a black dumpling that had long been frozen like a stone from her bosom.

That was something she had previously disliked and didn't want to eat, which she had secretly hidden away intending to throw away.

Ruan Ruan handed the black dumpling to the old squad leader.

"Class monitor... I'm not hungry."

With red eyes, Ruan Ruan told the worst lie of her life.

"You...you should eat something."

"You're going to lead us out of here."

The old squad leader paused for a moment, looking at the piece of dry rations with teeth marks in Ruan Ruan's hand.

He smiled.

Then he reached out and touched her soft head, just like touching his own daughter.

"Silly girl, keep it. We're going hiking tomorrow."