Due to Tang Zhengde's stabbing in the back, the First Regiment of the Chǐ Army, stationed on the border line, had to prevent being encircled. Therefore, at the very beginning of the war, they were forced to abandon their defense zone and retreat towards the town of Juarez.

This directly led to the rebels pushing inward like they'd been injected with chicken blood. Furthermore, they had stockpiled troops around the border line in advance, so the First Regiment suffered heavy losses.

...

At the entrance of the field hospital in the town of Juarez, military vehicles lined up, and large numbers of wounded soldiers were carried down by their comrades. Medics and medical soldiers rushed into the field with medical supplies, first clearing up the indoor environment.

Many military family members were mobilized to help. In the dim light, they placed the seriously wounded on the few available beds indoors.

"Blood bags, get more blood bags!"

The head of the Chǐ Army's medical regiment kept shouting, "Hemostatic forceps, bandages, get as many as you can, quickly!"

The Chǐ Army's medical department was said to have a full regiment, but in reality, this regiment only had a little over a hundred people, and most of them were old soldiers who had been seriously injured and had some disabilities. After retiring from the regular army, they had nothing to do, so they stayed here to help.

It was already difficult to replenish the ranks of the regular army; how could they possibly supplement the medical regiment?

The Chǐ Army had revitalized its economy in the past year or so through the arms and supplies business, and had money and resources, but there were simply too few people.

The previously deserted field hospital was instantly filled with wounded soldiers. Three to four hundred people were crowded inside, and their wails merged into one.

On a bed near the window on the left, a soldier had his left leg blown open and fainted several times, only to wake up again. His face was pale, and he gripped the bed rails with both hands, roaring, "...Stop...stop it, I can't take it anymore...just shoot me and be done with it!"

"Don't shout, don't shout!" An old soldier pressed on his chest. "You can live, believe me, you can live."

"Painkiller!" Another medic, pressing on his injured leg, shouted at a farmer's wife.

The woman was a soldier's family member, and she knew some basic medical techniques, but at this moment, looking at the blood-soaked bed and the struggling soldier, she was instantly frightened, her face pale, and she didn't dare to move at all.

"Give him the shot!" the old soldier roared.

"I...I don't dare."

"Then you hold him down, close your eyes, don't look at him." The old soldier turned around and snatched the painkiller, skillfully broke the ampule, and used a syringe to draw the liquid.

The woman held the man down with both hands, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth, not daring to look him in the eye at all.

The old soldier injected the needle into his vein. After waiting for less than a minute, the wounded man gradually calmed down, staring blankly at the ceiling, no longer speaking.

The old soldier bent down, took a medical saw from the medical kit, lowered his head, held his thigh, and decisively put the saw to it.

"Crunch, crunch!"

The sound of bones being crushed echoed in the room, and a lower leg was sawed off alive.

The medic next to him immediately used a medical bandage to tightly tourniquet the upper half of his thigh, and quickly used hemostatic forceps to clamp the blood vessels and flesh, and began bandaging.

The old soldier wrapped the lower leg in gauze and placed it on the bedside. "No one touch it, it's his."

Inside the room on the other side.

"I can't take the suffering, get the hell out of here!" A young man, covering his neck spurting blood and his left face completely melted by the explosive heat, squatted on the windowsill in terror, snatched a pistol, and decisively pulled the trigger against his temple.

A shot rang out, and the man instantly fell from the windowsill.

The head of the medical regiment paused for a moment. "Get a body bag, carry it out."

In peaceful times, ordinary people would never come into contact with such a scene, but in this chaotic battlefield, after a battle, regardless of victory or defeat, what remained were corpses everywhere and wounded soldiers who had ruined their lives.

At the doorway, a group of people rushed over.

"Old Zhang, Old Zhang!" The chief of staff of the Chǐ Army shouted.

The head of the medical regiment immediately greeted him. "Chief of Staff!"

"Prepare a separate room, the Commander is injured," the chief of staff instructed.

Hearing this, the head of the medical regiment immediately looked up at the crowd and saw that Zhao Wei-Hu's left forearm was covered in blood, and his forehead was also cut.

"What's this...?"

"The military vehicle was ambushed on the road," the chief of staff briefly explained. "Hurry up and arrange it!"

"This way, this way." The head of the medical regiment led more than thirty people and strode toward the inside.

In the crowd, Zhao Wei-Hu clenched his fists, glanced at the Chǐ Army soldiers wailing in the room with a gloomy expression, and gritted his teeth.

...

Five minutes later, in a separate treatment room, the command's medical staff gave Zhao Wei-Hu an anesthetic and began to treat the wound on his arm.

Zhao Wei-Hu didn't lie down, but sat on the bed and asked, "What are the casualties of the First Regiment?"

"More than three hundred minor injuries, more than fifty serious injuries, and more than thirty deaths." The First Regiment commander immediately saluted and reported.

"Don't fucking lie," Zhao Wei-Hu roared, glaring. "Report the casualties truthfully!"

The First Regiment commander's mouth twitched, and after a long pause, he said again, "More than one hundred minor injuries, more than one hundred serious injuries, and sixty combat losses."

"Fuck your mother, Tang Zhengde!" Zhao Wei-Hu's brain went into a daze when he heard this number. He didn't hate the rebels at all, because the two sides were enemies, and it was fate if one killed the other.

But Zhao Wei-Hu, who hated evil like an enemy, hated traitors and the bastards who engaged in power struggles.

"Report!" At this moment, the guard rushed in from outside.

"Speak!" Zhao Wei-Hu responded, looking up.

"The Second Regiment commander is back and requests to see you."

"Let him in," Zhao Wei-Hu replied.

Dozens of seconds later, Chang Fei, the Second Regiment commander, entered the room alone, covered in mud and bloodstains. His one blind eyeball blinked mechanically, and his other healthy eye, filled with tears, shouted, "The Second Regiment, one hundred and forty-three combat losses, ninety-seven minor and serious injuries, and forty-six...sacrifices!"

Zhao Wei-Hu closed his eyes and thought carefully for a long time. "Draw the remaining troops from the two regiments and set up defense zones layer by layer along the entrance to the town to prevent Tang Zhengde from coming to finish us off."

"Yes!"

Everyone saluted.

Zhao Wei-Hu looked down at the ground and said in a hoarse voice, "Mǎng Zi...Mǎng Zi went to the war zone command to pick up people...and there's been no news until now...he's probably gone."

The officers present were silent when they heard this.

"Go do your jobs," Zhao Wei-Hu said in a hoarse voice.

After the officers left, less than five minutes later, the guard came in again, saluted, and shouted, "Commander! Hazar, the staff officer from the General Command, has arrived."

"Let him in."

...

Outside the town of Juarez.

Tang Zhengde sat in the command vehicle, holding the phone and roaring, "I can't give him any more time! Their two regiments have already entered the town. If the follow-up troops are replenished, my two thousand men won't be able to take him down. I'll give Zhao Wei-Hu a maximum of half an hour to consider. If he agrees, I'll withdraw my troops; if he doesn't agree, I'll open fire directly!"