Dragon Clan: Lu Mingfei from All Quiet on the Western Front

Chapter 62 Vacation
"Look! Isn't that Mr. Lieutenant?" Hill's voice trembled slightly with excitement, and he pointed at a figure slowly walking down the Hill of the Dead and shouted.

Ever since Lu Mingfei stepped onto the Dead Man Mountain, Hill's eyes had never left the hillside, especially when he saw the blazing fire storm on the hillside, his heart seemed to be tightly grasped by an invisible hand, and every second seemed so long.

However, when the familiar figure reappeared in his sight, Hill's tense nerves finally relaxed for a moment.

"Prepare for artillery fire!" The commander's voice echoed on the battlefield. Not only Hill noticed Lu Mingfei's figure, all the soldiers and commanders who were preparing to attack saw him.

The commander remembered the instructions of Crown Prince William, that as long as the figure carrying the giant sword successfully came down the mountain, he would immediately launch a general attack.

Then the roar of artillery fire sounded again, and this time the scale of the artillery fire was almost twice as large as the one before Lu Mingfei went up the mountain.

The Prussian artillery fired almost all the shells that had been transported in the past few days, and the sky was torn apart by countless ballistic trajectories.

The shells whizzed past Lu Mingfei's head, landing on the hillside and the top of the mountain behind him with the breath of death, and deafening explosions continued to sound.

Flames, smoke, and mud rolled violently behind him. The entire earth was burning. However, Lu Mingfei did not look back. He walked forward with firm steps, as if he was completely isolated from the war behind him. He knew that his mission was accomplished.

Dense barrages of bullets covered the entire hillside. The land on the hillside was torn apart, flames shot up into the sky, and the Mountain of the Dead was like an erupting volcano. The rolling heat waves and gunpowder smoke mixed together, making the air hot and difficult to breathe. The earth trembled in the roar, and every explosion seemed to shake the whole world.

The artillery bombardment gradually spread from the hillside to the top of the mountain, completely suppressing the French position. Under the order of the commander, the Prussian soldiers began to charge, and the gray-green uniforms surged towards the Hill of the Dead like a tide.

The 304 Highland heavy artillery group that had threatened the Prussian army had been destroyed, and the machine gun positions on the top of the mountain had also been silenced by the fierce artillery fire. This time, there were no more obstacles in front of the Prussian soldiers.

When the furious bombardment finally subsided, the entire hillside and top of the mountain had become a ruin, and Prussian soldiers had poured into the heights of Dead Man's Hill like a wave.

The following scene seemed to have been rehearsed countless times. At first, only a few French prisoners were being escorted down the mountain. Later, groups of French soldiers came. They had lost their will to fight, and with expressions of fatigue and despair, they were silently lined up and escorted down the mountain.

With the last batch of French prisoners being escorted down, the Battle of Dead Man's Hill finally came to an end. The victory of the Prussian army was hard-won and they paid a heavy price.

The battle to attack the Hill of the Dead was originally just an auxiliary attack for the main force on the right bank of the Meuse River to attack Verdun. The battle should have ended in March, but was delayed until the end of May.

On the Hill of the Dead, the Prussian army suffered even more casualties than the French army. On this battlefield, the soldiers' blood dyed the land red, but the Prussian army eventually cleared the biggest obstacle to the attack on Verdun.

Despite the huge cost and the fact that it took several months longer than expected, the victory of this battle meant that Verdun was once again in crisis, the gears of history started turning again, and the shadow of war continued to loom.

But for Lu Mingfei, all this was no longer important. Crown Prince William kept his promise to him. Lu Mingfei and his comrades were approved for a month's leave and would be transferred away from Verdun, the hell on earth, after the leave.

…………

"Damn it, I almost thought I was going to die there... That guy is really scary..." Hornlohe threw Moreno to the ground, panting, his forehead covered with cold sweat. He wiped the sweat off, still feeling a lingering fear.

Hornlohe's usually aloof temperament could no longer be maintained at this moment. He angrily kicked Moreno, who was lying motionless on the ground, trying to vent all his fear and anxiety.

"You little brat! What are you running around for? I didn't keep an eye on you for a few days and you almost lost your life! You almost lost my life too!"

Moreno's body trembled slightly, his eyes were still dull and his voice was weak.

"You...why...want to save me..." His tone was filled with deep despair. His soul had been completely destroyed along with the mountain of dead bodies. Even the desire to live gradually disappeared.

When Hornlohe heard Moreno's question, his expression gradually became serious. He was silent for a long time before he slowly said, "Markel and De Leon are willing to believe in you. I grew up with them. I believe in their vision. Besides, you have walked the path to becoming a god and proved your potential, so I plan to take a gamble on you."

When Moreno heard the names of De Leon and Markel, a glimmer of light flashed in his lifeless eyes, but the light was fleeting and he fell into darkness again.

"I'm sorry, I let them down... I could neither defend Verdun nor end the war..." His voice grew weaker and weaker, as if even speaking had exhausted his last bit of strength.

Hornlohe stared at Moreno, his tone revealing a hint of complexity, "In addition to the ethnic conflicts among countries, this war also involves the Elders' Council's layout. Ordinary people's weapons are developing faster and faster. Some weaker hybrids are no different from ordinary people in front of bullets. Since the French Revolution, they have lost their absolute control over the human military and political power, so they began to hide behind the scenes."

His voice was steady and deep as he continued, "The purpose of starting this war this time is to weaken the strength of various countries, so that after the war, they can take advantage of the situation and support the people they support to come to power. In the process of reconstruction, they can lend a lot of money and completely control the most important financial lifeline. If they can't conquer mankind by force, then they will conquer mankind economically."

When Moreno heard this, the shock in his eyes gradually turned into disbelief. "So, this war was instigated by the Elders Council?"

"Don't you want to end the war? Then take the Elders into your own hands and change them, or destroy them." Hornlohe's tone was firm, with an unquestionable light flashing in his eyes.

…………

Lu Mingfei and Hill were on a train back to Prussia, a train that was used to transport soldiers from the front back home for vacation. The carriage was filled with the smell of tobacco, and some soldiers were leaning back in their seats, drowsy, while others were talking in low voices, sharing stories from the battlefield.

The wheels made a rhythmic roar on the rails, as if playing a triumphal song for the returning soldiers.

When the soldiers passed by Lu Mingfei, they noticed the medal of honor pinned on his chest and showed respectful expressions.

They talked in low voices, gazing at the young hero with admiration.

This medal of honor was pinned on Lu Mingfei's chest by Crown Prince William himself. It is the highest honor, symbolizing the great achievements made on the battlefield.

Although Lu Mingfei didn't care about it, this medal of merit undoubtedly brought him many conveniences in Prussia. Whether in the army or among the people, having such a medal would make him respected and treated preferentially.

Paul and Kropp are about to return to their hometown to reunite with their families, while Lu Mingfei and Hill will go to find his family according to the address on the photo given by Kaczynski.

After all, in this company, Lu Mingfei and Hill are the only ones who are alone without family members waiting for them. The other soldiers have families to return to, and they are each other's only support at this time.

At the station, Lu Mingfei and Paul said goodbye one by one. The comrades' eyes were full of reluctance, but they all understood that this was a temporary separation and they would meet again in a month. By then, they would rush to a new battlefield and continue to fight in the war. "Second Lieutenant, where should we go now?" Hill looked at the backs of Paul and the others leaving, with a hint of confusion in his eyes, and then turned to Lu Mingfei beside him and asked.

Lu Mingfei took out a photo from his pocket. It was the photo that Kaczynski had given him before. The photo had faded a little, but the address on it was still clearly visible.

This photo had been with Paul before, and Paul only returned it to him just now. Lu Mingfei stared at the address on the back of the photo, as if he could see a strange city through this piece of paper.

"Our next destination is Munich." Lu Mingfei said in a low voice, with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Munich?" Hill repeated the place name with a hint of surprise in his tone.

"That's great, I'm familiar with that place." A smile appeared on his face, as if he was recalling some good memories.

"Munich... It's beautiful, with ancient buildings and delicious beer. I used to sell paintings there for a while. Although I didn't sell many, and I usually had to sweep snow on the streets to make money, but I still like that city." Hill said softly.

Lu Mingfei did not respond. His eyes were still fixed on the address recorded on the photo in his hand. That was where Kaczynski's family lived.

On the front of the photo is a blurry group photo. Kaczynski's family of four are looking at the camera and smiling. They are Kaczynski's only concern on the battlefield.

They changed trains and continued on their journey. The scenery outside the window gradually changed into tranquil fields and villages. Lu Mingfei leaned against the window, watching the scenery passing by, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He didn't know how to tell his family about Kaczynski after arriving in Munich.

………………

The meeting place of the Presbyterian Church always seemed so mysterious and strange. The room was dim, with only two weak candles in the corner emitting dim light, barely illuminating the figures around the stone table.

Five men in black robes gathered in front of the stone table, their figures hidden in the shadows of their robes, their hoods covering their faces, and only their hands, as dry as branches, were exposed. Their sharp nails and fine scales on their hands revealed their non-human identities.

This room is isolated from the world. The noise and wind from the outside world cannot penetrate in. Only the suppressed voices of these people echo in the darkness, like whispers from the depths of hell.

"I believe you all know the news that Hornlohe brought back..." said the black-robed man sitting in the main seat. His voice was hoarse and dry, like the friction of cracked rocks, and was filled with a chilling chill.

"That guy Sweetin was actually killed by that hybrid. He is indeed a waste whose second spiritual awakening is 'Winter'." A black-robed man sitting on the left sneered, his voice full of sarcasm and disdain, as if he was mocking a completely failed experiment.

"Didn't they say that Sweetin saved his life with the help of 'Winter'?" A man in a black robe sitting on the right asked in a low voice, while his hand gently tapped the stone table, making a dull sound.

"You've been roasted to eight-tenths done. You might as well have just died." Another black-robed man on the left said disdainfully, with a cold irony in his tone, as if he had anticipated Sweetin's failure.

The atmosphere was filled with gloom and depression. The candlelight flickered in the dark environment, illuminating their hideous faces hidden under the black robes. Everyone at the stone table was looking at each other, trying to pry more information from each other's eyes.

“Then who should take on Sweetin’s position of dealing with the half-bloods who violated the Abraham Treaty? There are not many half-bloods who can walk the path to deification.” Another black-robed man on the right asked calmly. What they had to think about next was how to make up for this failure.

"Didn't Hohenlohe say that the kid from the Rothschild family has already walked the path to becoming a god? And his spiritual words are the 'Bronze Throne' plus the 'Sovereign Flame'. In that case, let him take this position." The black-robed man at the main seat made the decision, his tone carrying unquestionable authority.

"But didn't he violate the Abraham Treaty by going to the battlefield? Instead of punishing him, they promoted him to the top of the Elders' Council?" A man in a black robe questioned, with a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone, as if he disagreed with the decision.

"Geniuses will always be treated preferentially, won't they?" Another man in black robe responded coldly, with a dangerous light flashing in his eyes. To them, the existence of geniuses itself means privilege, and all they have to do is to use these geniuses for their own benefit.

"Then... what about the hybrid who defeated Sweetin? Even after the Rothschild kid walked the path to godhood, he was no match for that hybrid. I heard from Hornlohe that guy seems to be able to copy the words of other hybrids. Hornlohe knows of the 'Bronze Throne', 'Eye of the Wind King', and 'Sovereign Flame'."

Someone asked a more difficult question, with a hint of uneasiness and caution in his tone.

"'Mirror Eye' cannot copy so many Word Spirits. That guy is most likely a second-generation species whose memory has not been restored." A man in black robe analyzed, with heavy worry in his voice.

"He is likely to hinder our plans. Who should we send to deal with him?" another person asked in a low voice with an undisguised sense of crisis.

"Didn't they say that it would take decades for the dragon race to recover on a large scale? How could the next generation appear so soon?" someone asked puzzled, with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Find out his location first, then gather the other half-bloods in the Council of Elders to prepare to slay the dragon." The black-robed man at the main seat gave the order, his tone cold and resolute, as if he had already sentenced the half-blood to death in his heart.

"If that guy is really a second-generation species, we will lose a lot of people. By then, I'm afraid the newly formed secret party in the United States will take action." Some people began to worry about the chain reaction that might be triggered, with a hint of anxiety in their tone.

Several people at the stone table began to argue about this issue. The atmosphere became increasingly tense. Everyone's tone was filled with suppressed anger and worry, like a powder keg ready to explode.

However, at this moment, the door of the room was suddenly pushed open, and a young man walked in. He was wearing ancient Hanfu and had a handsome face, but his eyes were full of cold murderous intent. He held a bleeding head in his hand, and blood dripped from his fingers to the ground, making a dull sound.

"Sir!" Seeing the young man, the five people sitting at the stone table stood up one after another, bowed their heads respectfully, their voices full of awe.

"Svetin is such a waste. He wasted a drop of my blood in vain."

The young man walked to the stone table and threw the head on the table with disgust, with obvious disdain and anger in his voice. The head he threw on the stone table was Sweetin's.

He glanced around coldly, his eyes filled with a chilling chill.

"Try to test that half-blood again. If he's really strong, I'll go and try to get him to join me. How can you, a bunch of rubbish, resist Odin's Valhalla?" His voice was low, but filled with terrifying pressure.

The candlelight flickered slightly at this moment, as if it was also frightened by the murderous aura he brought. The room was silent, and only his cold words echoed in the air for a long time. The men in black robes looked at each other and exchanged complicated glances, but no one dared to speak.

A new storm is quietly brewing in this dark corner, waiting to swallow everything.

(End of this chapter)