mesbooks Chapter 58 The War Ends
Chapter 58 The War Ends
Three days after the war ended, on the southwestern border, on the Dragon Kingdom side.
The morning sun pierced through the thin mist, casting its light on the winding mountain road. A long convoy of military vehicles slowly passed the border checkpoint, their wheels kicking up fine dust. Inside the vehicles, the soldiers sat quietly; no one spoke, no one cheered for victory.
This is a victorious team, but also a wounded one.
At the head of the convoy, several military jeeps were parked on the roadside. A dozen or so people jumped out of the vehicles—media reporters and cameramen who had arrived earlier. They set up their equipment, aiming their lenses at the passing military vehicles.
"Dear viewers, we are now at the southwestern border. The troops of the Dragon Kingdom in the self-defense counterattack are withdrawing back to the country in an orderly manner..." A female reporter stood in front of the camera, her voice deliberately lowered, lacking the usual high spirits when reporting the news. "This is a victory, but it is also a victory that has come at a price."
The camera panned across the military vehicle. Inside, the young soldiers' faces showed no smiles, only exhaustion and heaviness. Some had bandages wrapped around their heads, others had their arms in slings. Many more soldiers were carrying boxes draped with the national flag.
"Those boxes contain the remains of our fallen comrades," the reporter said, his voice choked with emotion. "They will never be able to go home again."
This scene was broadcast live on television and the internet, reaching the entire country.
Countless people in front of the screen had tears in their eyes. The joy of victory was overshadowed by the heavy price paid, replaced by deep respect for the soldiers and endless sorrow for the martyrs who sacrificed their lives.
Just as the convoy had passed most of the way, several unusual figures appeared on the distant mountain road.
They weren't traveling by car, but on foot. Eight people, arranged in a loose tactical formation, walked silently along the edge of the road. They were far enough away that their faces were obscured, but their unique aura instantly drew everyone's attention.
The reporter, noticing something amiss, immediately signaled to the cameraman, "Quick, zoom in!"
The camera zooms in.
Eight men, all dressed in stained and tattered combat uniforms, without any unit insignia or rank badges. They wore black special forces masks, revealing only their eyes—eyes sharp as knives and cold as ice; even through the camera lens, one could feel their chilling aura.
They carried bulging tactical backpacks and rifles. Their movements seemed casual, but every step was precisely placed in the safest position. The eight men maintained perfect distance and angles, ready to cover and support each other at any time.
What's most striking is the indescribable aura emanating from them. It's not a deliberately displayed imposing presence, but rather an aura that naturally emanates from countless life-or-death battles—like a tiger passing through the forest, causing all the beasts to hold their breath.
"It's them..." a soldier recognized them and exclaimed softly.
"Who?"
"That squad... went from four to eight?"
Whispers quietly spread among the soldiers. The convoy stopped, and the soldiers, both on and off the vehicles, straightened their backs and paid their respects to the eight men.
The eight people walked up to the border checkpoint and stopped. The one in the lead—though his face was not clearly visible, many people guessed who he was from his figure and movements—raised his head and looked at the convoy and the boxes draped with the national flag.
He slowly raised his right hand in salute.
The movements were precise and powerful, carrying a heavy solemnity.
The people behind them also saluted at the same time.
Eight men stood there quietly, saluting their fallen comrades and the returning troops.
At that moment, time seemed to stand still.
The reporters forgot to broadcast, the cameramen forgot to adjust the focus, and the soldiers forgot to breathe. All eyes were fixed on those eight mysterious and powerful figures.
Thirty seconds later, the eight people put down their hands, turned around, walked to an inconspicuous path to the side, and quickly disappeared into the dense forest.
Just as quietly as they appeared.
Sound only returned after they completely disappeared. The reporter took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke to the camera: "Ladies and gentlemen... those eight people we just saw were very likely members of the special forces unit that created legends in this war. Although we couldn't see their faces clearly, and we don't know their names, I want to say on behalf of all Chinese people—thank you! Welcome home!"
The footage was recorded in its entirety and broadcast on the news that evening.
Eight masked figures, silently saluting, became the most iconic image of this war.
"Hidden Dragon" Base, Medical Room.
Lin Zhe lay on the hospital bed, his left arm wound being dressed. The military doctor carefully removed the bandage, revealing a scabbed but still gruesome wound—a mark left by a bullet from a US special forces soldier.
"The wound is healing well, but you'll need at least a week to recover," the medic said while treating you. "Also, although the abrasion on your ribs isn't deep, you still need to be careful. Avoid strenuous exercise recently."
Lin Zhe hummed in agreement, his gaze falling on the television on the bedside table. The news was replaying footage of the border during the day, showing eight masked figures saluting the remains of their fallen comrades.
"That must be you guys?" The military doctor glanced at the TV, admiration flashing in his eyes. "Even though it's blurred out, I can recognize you. Especially you, Long Yuan, your walking posture is so distinctive."
Lin Zhe didn't reply. He stared at the boxes covered with national flags on the TV screen, a mix of emotions welling up inside him.
The war was won, the enemy was terrified, and the border was secure. But some people will never return. Little Li from Eagle's Beak Cliff, the nineteen-year-old private from Rolling Dragon Slope, and countless other comrades whose names he didn't know…
"Don't overthink it." The medic noticed his mood, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "That's how war is. All we can do is win every battle and make our sacrifices meaningful."
After changing the dressing, the military doctor left. Lin Zhe was left alone in the ward.
He picked up the encrypted tablet from the bedside table and logged into the internal network. The base forum already had thousands of posts discussing the war. Most were from other team members, analyzing tactics, summarizing experiences, and discussing equipment improvements.
But one post was pinned to the top, posted by Dragon King: "All participating soldiers, write a detailed post-war psychological assessment report. This is not a formality, it is mandatory. War leaves invisible wounds; the sooner they are treated, the sooner they heal."
Lin Zhe turned off the tablet and closed his eyes.
Psychological assessment… He recalled the American soldier in the jungle whose head he had blown off, the yellowish-green poison gas in the chemical weapons depot, and the bloodstained letter in the residence of the enemy's defense minister…
These images churned in his mind, but he felt no fear, no guilt, only a cold calm.
He knew this was what the "Hidden Dragon" team members had to endure. They were the nation's swords, and swords need no emotion, only sharpness.
Meanwhile, on the Chinese internet, discussions about that mysterious force had reached a fever pitch.
Top three trending topics on Weibo:
#Salute to Masked Heroes#
#The scene of the squad saluting brought me to tears#
#who are they#
A video created by netizens has been widely shared—it slows down the five-second salute scene from the news, adds solemn music, and finally freezes on the backs of eight people. The caption reads: "They are nameless, they have no surnames, they are our strongest shield."
The comments from young people in the comment section were very touching:
"I used to think being a soldier meant suffering, but now I think it's an honor!"
"I've passed the initial screening for military service! Although I might not be able to join that unit, it's worth it to stand guard for my country!"
"My grandfather is a retired soldier. He cried all afternoon after watching the video. He said he was relieved that our country has soldiers like this."
Even more surprisingly, many active-duty soldiers also quietly spoke out on social media. An account verified as "Instructor of a unit in the Southwest Military Region" posted: "As frontline soldiers, we have witnessed those heroes firsthand. Although we do not know who they are, please allow me, on behalf of all the soldiers who participated in the war, to pay them the highest respect. They are our pride, the pinnacle of the Chinese military."
This Weibo post was forwarded millions of times.
The shockwaves from this war continue to reverberate in the international community.
In Country M, a high-level meeting is underway. On a huge screen, footage of those men saluting, along with previously released snippets of combat footage, is playing repeatedly.
"Gentlemen, we need to reassess China's special operations capabilities." The general presiding over the meeting said gravely. "In the past, we believed we had an absolute advantage in the field of special operations. But now it seems... China may have already taken the lead."
An intelligence officer pulled up a report: "According to intelligence from the battlefield, the equipment used by that squad, including optical camouflage, individual drones, and miniature explosive devices... is at least a generation ahead of our current equipment. What's even more frightening is their individual soldier quality—they can operate deep behind enemy lines for twenty days, completing dozens of highly difficult missions with a near-zero casualty rate. This is something ordinary special forces cannot do."
Silence fell over the meeting room.
"The more crucial question is," the general tapped the table, "how many such troops does China have? In the event of a large-scale conflict, how many of these troops can they deploy to our rear? How much damage would they cause to our command and logistics systems?"
No one can answer that.
The same question has been repeatedly discussed in the military departments of other countries.
In a European country's Ministry of Defense, an emergency meeting went on late into the night. The generals stared at several masked figures on the screen, their brows furrowed.
"Gentlemen, we must admit that China is no longer the China of twenty years ago." The old general presiding over the meeting took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. "They are catching up with us in conventional military strength, and in special operations... they may have already surpassed us."
"We need to accelerate the development of our own special forces."
"We need more funding and more advanced equipment."
"We need to have exchanges with China in this regard and learn from their experience."
Similar scenes have played out in multiple countries.
Those masked figures were like a heavy hammer, awakening the entire world—the Dragon Kingdom already possessed top-tier special forces capabilities that were second to none.
Within China, the "military fervor" and "military worship" have become an unstoppable trend. Recruitment offices across the country are overflowing with people, the number of applicants for military academies has reached an all-time high, and many university graduates are even giving up high-paying jobs to join the army.
All of this is because of those few unseen heroes.
Their actions have shown everyone that the soldiers of the Dragon Kingdom are the strongest backbone of this country; the Dragon Kingdom's army is the most reliable shield for this nation.
Late at night.
At the "Hidden Dragon" base, most of the team members were already resting. Only a few were still recovering in the medical room, and a few were on night duty in the operations room.
The war is over, but the mission of "Hidden Dragon" will never end.
There are forces hostile to China from abroad, and there are provocateurs stirring up trouble on the border. The country still has interests and people that need to be protected.
And he, and his comrades, will continue to walk in the shadows, continuing to be the sharpest knife.