Chapter 1324 Complaints

Chongqing Yangtze River waterway, Guoyuan military loading and unloading wharf.

Before the end of the world, Guoyuan Port was the largest multimodal transport hub port in Zhoubang's inland waterways, with a complete dedicated railway line directly connected to the national railway trunk network, enabling "port in front and park in back" and "seamless intermodal transport of water and rail".

As a national-level logistics hub, Guoyuan Port covers a huge area and has numerous modern container berths, bulk cargo berths, heavy cargo berths, as well as a large rear storage yard and warehousing facilities.

Its existing advanced hoisting equipment (such as gantry cranes), wide port roads, and planned layout provided an excellent physical foundation for the Chongqing Municipal Administration Committee to quickly transform it into a giant military wharf.

At this moment, we are in Zone 3, north of the pier.

This area, temporarily enclosed by sandbags, discarded containers, and barbed wire, is right next to the end of the platform where the railway extends, less than 100 meters from the 6th Army train that had just come to a stop.

The air was filled with the fishy smell of the river, the acrid smell of gunpowder drifting from afar, and an even stronger stench of sweat, blood, and dirt that could not be washed away after a long battle.

A standard nine-man infantry squad—the soldiers of the 1st Platoon, 3rd Company, 2nd Battalion, 13th Infantry Brigade of Yezhou—are scattered in various extremely relaxed postures behind several concrete blocks and sandbag piles at the edge of the restricted area.

They had just finished a 48-hour high-intensity clearing and blocking mission on the eastern front of Changshou, and were rotated out six hours ago to be put on guard duty at this relatively "safe" dock. It was a kind of rest and recuperation, and also a kind of alternative "warehouse watch".

Squad leader Zhang Zhiwei, dark-skinned and thin, nicknamed "Black Squad," was currently squatting on a half-collapsed sandbag.

Leaning against the cold container wall, with a cheap cigarette burned down to the filter between his fingers, he took a deep drag, letting the pungent smoke swirl in his lungs before slowly exhaling, as if trying to use the smoke to replace the weariness and bloody smell in his chest.

He was in his early thirties, his face stained black and yellow from gunpowder and grime, his beard unkempt, and his eyes bloodshot, yet his gaze remained sharp, like that of a weary but wary old wolf.

His jungle digital camouflage training uniform was covered in dried mud, dark red stains, and several scorch marks caused by the acidic bodily fluids of the mutants.

Beside him lay a well-maintained Type 191 assault rifle, with several shallow scratches on the stock—marks of his kills of special mutants.

The other students in the class were in a similar state.

The burly machine gunner, Wang Tiezhu, lay sprawled on the open ground behind the sandbags, his helmet behind his head, and he was already snoring softly. He was still holding the squad automatic weapon in his arms, as if it were his wife.

Hou Xin, a scout nicknamed "Monkey," is short and stocky. He is huddled in a corner, carefully removing the black dirt from under his fingernails with a multi-functional military knife in the dim light.

The assistant shooter, Zhao Xiaopang, leaned against Wang Tiezhu's leg, holding a piece of compressed biscuit in his hand, nibbling on it intermittently, his eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in thought.

The rest of the men were either sitting or leaning against something; some were checking their magazines, while others were just staring blankly at the navigation lights flashing on the river in the distance, or at the night sky further north that was occasionally illuminated by firelight.

No one spoke; only heavy, uneven breathing and the occasional cough could be heard.

The weary tranquility was broken when a long steel train, with tremendous force, drove in and came to a stop.

"Holy shit!!"

The first to speak was Hou Xin, nicknamed "Monkey," who was picking his nails. He looked up, squinted at the platform, and unconsciously uttered two words before stopping what he was doing.

The commotion drew the attention of the other students in the class, who all turned to look.

The beam of the searchlight swept across, illuminating clearly the enormous objects fixed to the flatbed trucks.

"Squad leader, who the hell is this?!" Zhao Xiaopang asked, forgetting to even chew his biscuit, his words muffled as his eyes reflected the cold gleam of those steel behemoths.

Zhang Zhiwei didn't answer immediately. He stubbed out his cigarette on the sandbag, squinted, and examined it carefully.

He was assigned from the system's military, so he naturally recognized those equipment.

Type 99A main battle tank, Type 04A infantry fighting vehicle, Mengshi 3...

The paint job was a brand-new standard digital jungle camouflage, with a matte finish under the lights. There were almost no scratches or stains on the vehicle body, and the gun barrel and sighting equipment were shiny. Compared to his "old buddies" who had just been pulled out of the mud and blood, it looked like an exhibit that had just come off the production line.

Then look at the soldiers who are quickly assembling and lining up on the platform.

They wore brand-new training uniforms, with helmets integrated with night vision goggles and communication modules. Their tactical vests were bulging with various magazine pouches, grenade pouches, and medical kits, and pistol holsters were strapped to their legs.

The rifle in his hand was clearly the latest batch, equipped with a holographic sight, tactical light, and grenade launcher.

Everyone was full of energy and acted swiftly, exuding the spirit of an elite force that was "well-fed, well-equipped, and highly trained."

The contrast is so damn glaring.

Zhang Zhiwei looked down at his old training uniform, which was faded from washing, covered in various stains, and had worn-out cuffs. He then touched the simple ammunition pouch containing six spare magazines and a water bottle.

He glanced again at the other guys in the class, whose faces looked like they'd just been dug out of the ground. The indescribable feeling in his heart was like a spilled spice shop, a mixture of sour, bitter, and salty flavors rushing straight to his head.

Hou Xin, nicknamed "Monkey," clicked his tongue, his voice filled with undisguised envy and a hint of self-deprecation:

"My goodness... Look at that tank, not a single paint chipped off! And look at their outfits, like they're filming a movie! Ours... tsk tsk, like the elders of the Beggars' Sect having a meeting."

"Pah!" Wang Tiezhu, who had been lying down, woke up at some point, spat out a mouthful of saliva, and said in a muffled voice:

"What good is being flashy! In war, real skills matter! We can fight even with inferior equipment, but our quality requirements are even higher!"

That's what he said, but his eyes were glued to those 99A tanks.

Those thick cannons, that heavy armor... If they had these things clearing the way, how many fewer brothers would have died when they were fighting house-to-house battles in the streets of Changshou?

Zhao Xiaopang finally swallowed the biscuit in his mouth and muttered to himself:

"But...but their equipment is so much better. Look at the scopes on their guns, they must be able to see really clearly at night...Our platoon only has an old-fashioned infrared camera for our squad leader, and it's not always working."

Listening to his men's discussions, Zhang Zhiwei felt a growing pang of bitterness in his heart. He had once been one of them...

Thinking of this, he subconsciously reached for his cigarette case, only to find it empty. Frustrated, he crumpled the empty case into a ball and tossed it aside.

"Say less," he said in a hoarse voice, carrying the authority of a class monitor, but also a hint of weariness that was hard to hide.

"That's the 6th Group Army, a newly formed Class A fully-staffed combined arms group army, an elite force directly under the theater command."

He heard the news from a fellow villager staff officer at the brigade headquarters yesterday, before the rotation.

"The 6th Army Group? Never heard of it?" Zhao Xiaopang asked curiously.

"It's a newly established unit. I heard the personnel are all elites selected from various war zones, and they're given priority in equipment supply," Zhang Zhiwei explained simply, then turned his gaze to the silhouettes of the ships busily loading cargo.

"They are not here to attack Chongqing. They are using the Yangtze River as a route to go east and attack Nanjing."

"Attack Nanjing?" Hou Xin's eyes lit up:

"Running that far? What's the situation over there? Our war zone is getting more and more awesome. We're still in Ye Province, and now we're heading east!"

"It seems the day of national liberation is not far off! My son shouldn't have to fight anymore, hahaha—"

When his son was mentioned, Hou Xin's somewhat numb eyes instantly lit up. In his class, no, it should be said that at least the company, and even the entire battalion, everyone knew that he had a son in the Beibei settlement, who was said to be in elementary school.

Every time she talks about her son, she gets all excited, saying that her son got first place again. She's just like those moms who post pictures of their kids on WeChat Moments before the apocalypse. She even insists that her son's poop is different from other people's.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Zhiwei, the class monitor who was already used to it, showed no extra expression, and even completely ignored the other party's mention of his son:

"Who knows, it's definitely not easy."

"Neither of them are easy to deal with. The monsters are different from those here, so it's going to be a huge problem." He mentioned it vaguely, without saying more.