Chapter 1695: Chapter 892: Deadlock, Desperation (Part 2)
At this moment, several shrapnel pieces, two fingers wide, splattered through. They slipped through the gaps protected by the Shadow and embedded deeply into Qing Chenâs legs, waist, and arms.
The artillery barrage was too dense; even with two Shadows assisting to shield him from disaster, it was still impossible to block all damage.
Qing Chen only felt a wave of despair.
However, when the first round of shelling paused briefly, he shook off all distractions and stood up.
When he confirmed that Boss Heâs body was unscathed, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Qing Chen gritted his teeth and smiled, "Boss He, letâs face life and death together!"
As he spoke, he took advantage of the pause in shelling to pick up He Jinqiuâs body and hobbled around the craters, running another few dozen meters.
Then he employed the same trick and pounced down again!
This time, Qing Chen had a vague sense of the parameters. Observing the enemyâs artillery angle, he chose a location roughly centered in the shell impact zone.
The rumbling sounds of artillery fire rang out again. At this point, Qing Chen was completely unable to hear external sounds.
He could only feel his own breathing, heartbeat, and tinnitus.
The pulse of blood flow seemed unusually vivid.
After the boiling and clamorous round of shelling, more than a dozen tiny shrapnel pieces were embedded again into Qing Chenâs arms and thighs.
Fortunately, he had calculated the trajectory correctly; this time the parameters were clearer.
Probably, the commanders of the Silver City Army could never imagine thereâd be someone audacious enough to attempt surviving in an artillery-covered zone.
They could also never imagine that the opponent actually survived two rounds of salvo!
Yet, when Qing Chen wanted to calculate the shellsâ trajectories again, he found himself enveloped in smoke... he couldnât see the artilleryâs angle anymore.
He couldnât see the opponent, nor could the opponent see him.
But the Silver City Army didnât care about these, continuing to fire, no matter if they could see or not, until a base amount of shells was expended!
A base amount of ammunition varies across military units. For example, an automatic rifleâs base is 300 bullets, a mortarâs is 120 shells, and a large-caliber self-propelled gunâs is 40 shells.
This means, if Qing Chen didnât escape, heâd experience the same agonizing ordeal at least forty times...
In theory, after a base amount of artillery salvos, even a Demigod in the covered area should be dead.
Qing Chen needs to flee this area to survive!
Otherwise, sooner or later, he would be riddled like a sieve!
Run!
When Qing Chen got up again, he felt as if his body wasnât his own.
Every step he took brought piercing pain; his muscle fibers and skin tissues rubbed against sharp metal shrapnel, each movement exacerbating the wound.
Actually, he could use Boss Heâs body along with the Shadow to shield himself.
After all, itâs the body of a Demigod, an experimental subject, surely resilient.
Three bodies covering one person, finding the right angle could even prevent shrapnel injuries.
This way, his chance of surviving would at least increase by 5%.
But for some reason, Qing Chen just didnât want to do so.
He thought maybe he was being a bit pretentious, a bit impractical.
He didnât even understand his own mind, he just didnât want to do it.
In the past, Qing Chen would probably have been the first to mock himself now.
But he suddenly thought.
When Boss Heâs body returns to the Outer World, there will surely be many attendees at his memorial service, right? Then everyone would take turns presenting flowers to him before looking one last time at Boss He under the glass cover to say goodbye.
Qing Chen hoped that by then He Jinqiu still looked as he does now, at least without a face pierced by shrapnel, as that would be too unseemly.
Of course, heâs probably just overthinking it; crematoriums do employ beauticians.
Ultimately, he just wanted to bring Boss He home in one piece.
Comrades who fell in distant lands should be taken through artillery and smoke, across forests and streams, over mountains and plains, back to the place that birthed and raised them.
He ought to rest in that peaceful world, awaiting the arrival of prosperous times.
The next moment, after running another few dozen meters, Qing Chen dropped down again, then ran out another few dozen meters when the shelling paused.
He had begun to forget the pain; he was even starting to forget where he was.
There was only one thought left in his mind: to go home.
To go home.
Again and again Qing Chen got up, again and again he lay down, yet it was just then that the enemy abruptly adjusted the artillery distance, and a shell landed precisely three meters away.
In an instant, even if he and the Shadow managed to brace themselves, they couldnât avoid being overturned by the explosionâs shockwave.
Fortunately, the primary Shadow blocked the direct damage from this direction, or else he would have died on the spot!
Qing Chen was flung into a nearby crater, suddenly spitting out a mouthful of blood... his internal organs had all shifted.
But he didnât dwell on this nor wait for the smoke to clear, immediately crawling out of the crater to check if Boss He was alright.
Qing Chen suddenly relaxed; Boss He was intact!
He laughed hoarsely, saying, "Boss He, youâre quite lucky!"
But as for Qing Chen himself, his luck wasnât so good.
He looked down and saw a palm-sized piece of shrapnel embedded in his abdomen, blood gushing out; if the wound were any larger, his intestines might spill out.
At this moment, Qing Chen felt utterly desolate... he couldnât run anymore.
In reality, once a normal person found themselves under artillery fire, theyâd likely either flee blindly or lie down waiting for death to come.
But Qing Chen was never one to surrender.
Even here in Hell.
Even with only a one in ten million chance of survival, he wanted to try.
But the question is, could he continue trying now?
Why not just give up?
Nothing in the world is difficult if youâre willing to give up. Just lie down here, and everything ends.
Qing Chen suddenly laughed, "Screw it, Iâve killed Demigods before, whatâs there to fear?"
The next second, he actually stood up again, trying hard to lift Boss He back up, gritting his teeth and roaring as he stood up.
He wobbled forward.
Artillery flashes in the distance, another round of shelling approaching.
Qing Chen couldnât calculate the trajectory; he could only gamble with his life.
"Boss He, letâs gamble if our luck holds! If it doesnât, just wait for me down there, Iâll join you soon! Weâll head to the Hall of Yama and erase our names from the book of life and death!"
Seeing they were only 200 meters from the woods, Qing Chen roared and sprinted madly, with the primary and secondary Shadows guarding him on both sides. He was betting if he could charge through directly!
But his luck seemed not tough enough; a shell spun out from the barrel, the end of its curved trajectory aimed right at Qing Chen.
Hereâs a fun fact.
If you hear a strange whistling sound of a shell coming over the battlefield, donât think about anything else, and donât wish for luck. That shell is heading right towards you.
Qing Chen heard that whistling sound.
The shell penetrated layers of smoke and fog, passing through fateâs designated ending.
People often say, in that instant before death, your life flashes before your eyes like a carousel, time freezes as even Death grants you a few moments to look back.
But Qing Chen didnât review his life before 17âshadowed and bland as it was.
Nothing worth reminiscing.
Qing Chenâs carousel began after turning 17.
Started with Prison 18.
In that instant, it felt like he was back in Prison 18.
The place where the dream began.
Just like before, he sat opposite his master again.
The oncoming cannon.
The brave soldier crossing the river.
Everything seemed to return to the original place.
Qing Chen said, "Master, I might be about to die, thank you. If I hadnât come here to become your disciple, there wouldnât have been so many stories afterward. Sure, I might die at 18, yet this half-year has been more precious than life to me. Master, Iâm leaving."
In his mind, Uncle Li Dong suddenly looked up, seriously at his disciple: "You wonât die."
Qing Chen: "Huh?"
The shell dropped!
With an ebbing roar!
...
Another Chapter at midnight
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