068 Misfortunes Never Come Singly

The solemn, standard military salute softened the frantic look in the recruit’s eyes. That unspoken understanding, shared only between soldiers, needed no words. He stared steadily at Ma Tian, observing the man’s stern expression and raised arm, before suddenly lifting his own hand to pull the safety pin of his suicide vest. He discarded the pull-pin detonator and returned the salute with the same disciplined posture.

Seeing the pin pulled and the detonator dropped, Wang Chen, who had been holding his breath, finally exhaled. He was not alone; the civilians who had slipped through the gates behind Ma Tian let out long, shaky breaths as well. Some, like Chen Chong, simply collapsed onto the floor, oblivious to the fact that he had wet his pants in terror.

At a moment like this, no one had the heart to mock Chen Chong. In truth, every civilian there felt the same pressure on their bladder. After all, standing in an ammunition depot and watching a soldier draped in a suicide vest, holding a detonator and shouting about going down with the facility, it was a testament to Chen Chong’s courage that he had merely lost control of his bowels rather than fainting or turning to flee.

Seeing the recruit voluntarily disarm and return the salute, Ma Tian lowered his arm according to protocol. Normally, the recruit should have followed suit, but instead, the man remained standing with his arm raised for a moment before collapsing straight onto the floor.

Though the floor was anti-static and somewhat cushioned, the thud of the recruit hitting the ground was bone-chilling. Ma Tian hurried over and checked the man’s neck; his pulse was strong. After a brief check of his forehead temperature and breathing, he concluded that the recruit had been under extreme tension for too long and had simply passed out from the sudden rush of relief.

"Ma Tian, don't go any further. Stay here and look after him, and keep an eye on our rear," Wang Chen whispered as he approached. "What’s the plan from here?"

"We have a saying: rifles to the left, mines to the right, artillery in the back. The left warehouse should be ammunition, the right for rocket launchers, landmines, and other gear. Remember to take off any synthetic clothing and touch the anti-static device at the entrance." Ma Tian shook his head, adding, "I’m fine. Just have a couple of people watch the recruit. I need to go in with you. Also, watch your step—this guy might have rigged traps inside."

Wang Chen did not object. He ordered two men to carry the unconscious recruit into the depot’s guardroom. The rest formed a single file, with Ma Tian leading the way toward the warehouse on the left.

The tunnel was quiet and bone-dry. Emergency lights flickered dimly, and a faint rumbling suggested that a generator was running deep within the mountain. After passing a vacant area marked as a temporary storage zone, they found four forklifts parked neatly against the wall. Further in were rows of orderly ammunition crates.

At the sight of the crates, not only did Wang Chen and Ma Tian’s eyes light up, but the civilians behind them also grew visibly excited. Only after Ma Tian’s repeated warnings about safety did they begin moving ammunition according to the storage maps on the walls. Ren Wanrong had specifically warned them not to take Type 53 ammunition, as their current weapons couldn't chamber it; they were to prioritize Type 56 ammo, 5.8mm rifle rounds, heavy ammunition, and pistol cartridges.

It was easy enough to identify the general types by the crates: plastic cases were almost certainly 5.8mm rifle or pistol rounds, while wooden crates required careful inspection to ensure the caliber was correct.

A crate of rifle ammunition typically weighed twenty to thirty kilograms and contained between one thousand and fifteen hundred rounds. Pistol cases held two to three thousand rounds, while crates for 12.7mm heavy machine gun rounds held only one hundred and seventy. Of course, nothing is ever perfect; the depot only stocked 5.8mm pistol rounds. If they couldn't find 9mm police ammunition in the future, the NP22 pistols the Zero-Eight team had just grown accustomed to would have to be replaced with military-issue Type 92s.

Generally speaking, an Iveco truck could carry about two tons. However, ammunition was bulky. Even if they stuffed the armored vehicle with supplies, they could only fit about sixty or seventy standard crates—at most seventy thousand rounds. In reality, it would be less; Wang Chen wasn't sure if they would have another chance to scavenge here, so he reserved space for hand grenades and anti-infantry mines. Once factored in, and averaged out across the number of weapons at the Peninsula base—assuming one long gun and one handgun per person—it amounted to only five or six combat loads per soldier.

Regardless, many hands made light work. Using the forklifts to move dozens of crates was efficient. The recruit was still unconscious. Wang Chen stood at the edge of the parking area, scanning the extraction route with low-light binoculars, when he heard Ma Tian call out. He turned around just in time to see Ma Tian toss a bundle toward him.

He caught it easily. Under the light of the vehicle's headlamps, Wang Chen took a closer look. It was a peculiar item, consisting of six pieces, each about forty centimeters long and wrapped in dark brown leather sheaths. He sat on a stone block, undid the straps, opened the buckles, and pulled out the contents. They were military bayonets—or rather, knives converted from Type 56 bayonets. The hardwood grips were wrapped in fiber cord for a better hold, and the pommels were embedded with heavy pins and wrist loops. The middle and rear of the blades were not sharpened, and three wide blood grooves reflected a dull blue light. The tips had clearly been specially ground into three small edges—not overly sharp, which prevented the tips from snapping while maintaining excellent penetration.

Wang Chen was a complete layman when it came to cold weapons, but he took an immediate liking to the bayonets. The leather sheaths were cleverly designed to be strapped tightly to the calf without hindering movement, with the grip sitting just above the knee for a quick, natural draw.

"Where did you find these?" Wang Chen toyed with the blade. Everyone had seen *The Bodyguard from Beijing*, and the villain's bayonet had been incredibly cool. Now that he held the real thing, he found it hard to put down.

"Ha! When I was a kid, I used to sneak into the armories. There was always a section for old, obsolete gear that was slated for disposal, or items surrendered by veterans when they retired. You wouldn't believe it—soldiers would often use shell casings to make pen holders as retirement keepsakes, but some things couldn't leave the base, so they had to be turned in and stored. I just took a chance and poked around the junk area, and sure enough, I found some good stuff. These bayonets were among them."