Chapter 1530 Rescue Kately

When the funeral procession came to an open meadow, Dorag slowly stood up. He walked to the coffin with firm steps and looked at it affectionately, as if he was bidding his final farewell to his comrade.

"Crow, Lindberg, rest in peace. Your sacrifice will not be in vain, the revolutionary army will surely achieve ultimate victory. We will carry your faith and continue to fight until this corrupt rule is overthrown and the world usher in true peace!" Dorag's voice was loud and firm, echoing in the open grassland, as if to break through the gloomy sky.

After saying this, Dorag took a step back and bowed deeply. The officers and soldiers followed suit, paying their highest respects to the two heroes.

Afterwards, the soldiers carefully placed the coffin into the grave that had been dug long ago.

The soil covered the coffins bit by bit, as if burying the figures of the comrades forever under the land, but their spirit remained forever in the hearts of every revolutionary soldier.

After the funeral, Dorag looked into the distance, his eyes revealing a determination and resolve.

The solemn atmosphere of the funeral gradually dissipated as the crowd departed, leaving only Dorag and Ivankov standing on this land burdened with heavy sorrow. The wind around them seemed to carry a sense of sadness, gently blowing, ruffling Ivankov's hair, but it could not dispel the surging sorrow in her heart.

Dorag's once upright figure trembled slightly, his chest heaving violently as if an invisible force were stirring within him. Suddenly, he opened his mouth wide and spurted out a mouthful of blood. The blood was like a flower blooming in the darkness, appearing particularly glaring in the dim light.

"Cough!!!" Dorag let out a painful cough, and his body began to shake, as if a gust of wind could blow him down.

"Dragon!" Seeing this, Ivankov's face turned pale with nervousness. She rushed over in two steps and reached out to support Dorag's shaky body, her eyes full of worry and heartache.

However, Dorag waved his hand, suppressed the discomfort in his body, spat out the remaining blood in his mouth, and said in a hoarse but firm voice: "It's okay, I can still hold on." His eyes revealed an unquestionable determination, as if telling Ivankov that he would not be easily defeated.

"Crow and Lindberg have been buried. Take your men to the front immediately. Now is our chance." Dorag took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady. He knew that the revolutionary army could not stagnate because of his injury.

"I know what to do, don't worry." Ivankov looked at him with a look of heartache. She knew all too well what Dorag had sacrificed to avenge Crow and Lindberg. To unleash her potential, Dorag had her inject herself with a large amount of stimulant hormones, which undoubtedly overdrafted her vitality, like a candle about to burn out, desperately emitting its last rays of light in the darkness.

"Okay, I'll leave it to you next. I need to rest for a while." Dorag nodded slightly. His body had indeed reached its limit. At this moment, he was like a mountain that was about to collapse. Although his appearance was still tough, his inside was already riddled with holes.

"Yes, go ahead. I'll let the doctor take care of you." Ivankov said quickly. She knew that what Dorag needed most at the moment was rest and treatment.

This time, Dorag didn't refuse. He slowly straightened up, each step seeming laborious, as if he were treading on heavy shackles. He walked towards his room step by step, his back looking particularly lonely and desolate in the dim light.

Ivankov quickly called for the doctors to follow. As she watched them carefully assist Dorager away, she felt a mixture of emotions. Only after Dorager had disappeared from sight did she slowly turn around and walk to the graves of Crow and Lindbergh.

She stood there quietly, tears streaming uncontrollably, wetting her delicate face. She recalled the days she'd fought alongside Crow and Lindbergh. Those joyful laughter, those moments of shared life and death, all played out in her mind like a movie. Now, they lay forever beneath this cold earth, unable to fight alongside her again.

"Crow, Lindberg, rest assured. I will lead my fellow revolutionary brothers to complete your unfinished work," Ivankov murmured to herself, her voice choking with sobs, but filled with determination. She knew the revolutionary army was at a critical juncture, and she couldn't afford to wallow in grief. She had to rally and lead them to victory.

The wind continued to blow, drying the tears from Ivankov's face, but it couldn't blow away the burning fire in her heart. She wiped her tears and turned to walk towards the tent. She was going to gather the soldiers and prepare to rush to the front. For the victory of the revolution and for the wishes of her comrades, she would bravely move forward at all costs.

...............................

Inside the vast, oppressive complex of Gunkanjima, the army's headquarters, the atmosphere was like the sweltering heat before a storm, suffocating. The highest-ranking officers in the army were gathered outside the operating room, their eyes fixed on the red lightbulb, as if it were a beacon that could determine life or death.

"What should we do? Will something happen to the marshal?" A young officer's face was full of anxiety, with fine beads of sweat on his forehead, and his hands were unconsciously rubbing the corners of his clothes.

"No! The marshal is so strong, how could anything happen to him?" Another officer clenched his fists, his eyes revealing a blind confidence, as if as long as he firmly believed that the marshal was fine, the marshal would really be fine.

"But the marshal's abdomen was torn open by Dorag." A calmer officer said with a frown. Although his voice was not loud, it was like a blockbuster bomb, exploding in the crowd.

"That won't happen!" The confident officer retorted loudly, but there was a hint of trembling in his voice.

The army officers were tense, each one filled with worry and uneasiness. Bedam stood quietly to the side, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with ambition, like a hungry wolf squinting at its prey.

"If Kettley dies, can I become Field Marshal?" Bedam's heart surged with excitement, even silently praying that Kettley wouldn't wake up. He began to imagine himself sitting on the Field Marshal's throne, the feeling of power intoxicating him.

Aqiduo sat in a chair with her arms folded across her chest. She didn't look nervous at all, as if what was happening here had nothing to do with her. Her eyes were calm and indifferent, like a bottomless lake, making it impossible to see through her inner thoughts.

Time passed minute by minute, and three hours seemed as long as three centuries. Finally, the red light turned green, and the door to the operating room slowly opened.

The doctor came out with a weak look on his face. His steps were a little staggering and his face was as pale as paper, as if he had just experienced a life-and-death struggle.