The boss has no descendants, but he encounters four smaller versions of himself

At the edge of the ruins, a thin figure huddled in a half-collapsed corner, covered in rags and dust, almost blending into the background.

"Hey, look over there! There's a little thing!"

The patrolling enemy soldiers noticed something amiss.

The two men, guns at the ready, cautiously approached.

Using the gun barrel to push aside the broken wooden planks, they saw a face so dirty that its original skin color was unrecognizable, and a pair of dark eyes wide open in terror.

"Where did this brat come from?" the tall soldier spat. "A refugee?"

Another person crouched down and roughly ran his hands over the child's arms and legs to check for weapons or anything unusual.

"He looks like he's terrified and can't even speak."

The child was just trembling violently, making low sobs, and hugging himself tightly.

"Get rid of it?" the tall man asked coldly.

"Wait a minute." The squatting soldier thought for a moment and said, "Take him back and ask him. There are a lot of refugees on the border lately, maybe we can get some information out of him."

And so, Su Chaoji was roughly lifted up and taken to the enemy's territory.

He remained curled up throughout, perfectly portraying a homeless child separated from his family due to the war.

The temporary camp was built in an abandoned factory.

The corrugated iron roof was rusted and perforated, and the air was filled with a mixture of cheap tobacco, sweat, and festering wounds.

Su Chaoji was tossed onto a tattered blanket in a corner, like an insignificant trophy.

He huddled there quietly. The soldiers were initially interested in teasing or interrogating him, but seeing that he did nothing but tremble, they quickly lost patience and treated him as a little burden who was wasting food.

The food consisted of hard, black bread and thin vegetable soup. Su Chaoji silently accepted it, swallowed it in small bites, but his eyes secretly swept over everything around him.

The layout of the camp, the rotation schedule of the sentries, the number and condition of the soldiers, and even the type of equipment...

He noticed that the morale of the soldiers here was generally low.

There were many wounded soldiers, a lack of medical care and medicine, and their groans were constant.

The commander was a middle-aged man with a sinister face and a hideous scar on his face. He had a bad temper, and you could often hear roars and the sound of things being smashed coming from his tent.

Supply lines also seemed to be sluggish, and the soldiers' complaints often reached Su Chaoji's ears.

Su Chaoji searched around but didn't see Grandpa Bart's granddaughter, so he didn't want to alert her for the time being.

The next afternoon, several soldiers were gathered together maintaining their guns. One of the younger ones seemed to be having trouble, repeatedly pulling the bolt, but it jammed.

He kept cursing and swearing, and the people around him couldn't do anything about it.

Seeing this, Su Chaoji slowly moved over, squatted a few steps away, and stared intently at the malfunctioning rifle.

The young soldier shouted irritably, "What are you looking at, you little mute!"

Su Chaoji was not deterred. Instead, he moved a little closer, stretched out his dirty finger, and deliberately pointed timidly to a certain part of the bolt, and then pointed to a small bottle of gun oil in the toolbox next to him.

"Huh?" The soldier looked at him in confusion.

Su Chaoji made a pulling motion of the bolt, then pointed to the gun oil, and made a gesture of applying oil.

An old soldier nearby squinted and said, "This kid... seems to know something about this?"

The young soldier was skeptical, but he followed Su Chaoji's instructions, applied some oil to the stuck area, and then tried to move it gently.

A moment later, with a soft "click," the bolt smoothly returned to its original position.

"Hey, that's amazing!" the young soldier exclaimed in surprise.

Several soldiers gathered around, curiously examining the dirty little refugee.

Su Chaoji lowered his head at the opportune moment, reverting to his timid demeanor, but his precise guidance had already earned him the respect of the soldiers.

They initially thought of the child as just a refugee, but they were surprised to find that he knew how to use a gun. That made all the difference; he was a skilled gunner in battle.

No one would have imagined that such a young child could be a little undercover agent.

That evening, a commotion broke out in the wounded soldiers' quarters.

It turned out that a soldier with a severe leg injury had developed a serious infection, a high fever, and was in a semi-comatose state.

The camp's only medic was a roughneck who had received a few days of first aid training. Faced with a severe infection, he was helpless and kept saying that he should either have his limb amputated or wait to die.

An atmosphere of despair and death permeated the air.

Just then, a small figure wearing a pink coat and with two messy blonde braids, carrying a relatively clean bundle of old cloth, silently walked to the wounded soldier's side.

Su Chaoji recognized her at a glance; the little girl was Sophia, Bart's granddaughter.

His heart tightened, but he remained calm, simply shifting his position to a better vantage point.

Sofia ran there by herself.

She didn't look at anyone around her, but knelt down next to the wounded soldier and spoke in English in a childish voice: "My grandfather taught me that this is used for infections."

She pointed to the old cloth she had brought, saying, "It needs to be boiled first and cooled to a warm temperature before it can be used."

Then he said to the clumsy medic, "Uncle, do you have any liquor? Real liquor, the stronger the better."

Her composure and orderliness stunned the panicked adults.

The medic instinctively handed over half a bottle of his private stash of strong liquor.

What happened next shocked all the soldiers watching, including Su Chaoji who was hiding in the shadows.

The five-year-old girl was a little clumsy, but exceptionally focused and careful.

She cleaned the pus from the wound with a strip of cloth that had been boiled and cooled to a warm temperature, scraped away the necrotic tissue with a small piece of wood she had found herself, and then carefully disinfected it with strong liquor.

With each step, she would whisper an explanation, as if encouraging a wounded soldier: "Grandpa said this will kill the invisible little bugs. It might hurt a lot, but bear with it. It needs to be cleaned up properly for it to heal..."

Throughout the entire process, the wounded soldier convulsed from the intense pain, but did not scream; he simply clenched his teeth tightly.

Sofia's forehead was also covered in fine beads of sweat, but she did not stop.

Afterwards, she re-bandaged the wound with a clean strip of cloth, and then whispered to the wounded soldier, "My grandfather said that if you can get through tonight's high fever, there is hope. Don't be afraid, I will stay with you tonight."

She didn't leave; she really stayed by the box next to the wounded soldier, occasionally touching his forehead to check his temperature and wiping it with a damp cloth to cool him down.

An eerie silence fell over the camp.

Even the most short-tempered commander, after hearing his subordinate's report, merely glanced at the wounded soldiers' area with a gloomy face and did not mention "get rid of this child" again.

Su Chaoji overheard the soldiers' private conversations.

After capturing Sophia, they found her identity suspicious and originally intended to kill her. However, they did not expect that this little girl knew medicine. Since they were short of medics, they kept the little girl.

The person she saved was named Ivan, who was the good brother of that irritable commander.