The sun rose.
Shining over the vast snow-capped mountains, Zhuo Yong couldn’t help but turn back for a look.
The military cap on the snow mound that buried his fallen comrades, its red star, which should have faded, turned remarkably crimson under the rising sun.
...
The situation worsened the next day.
The blizzard swept in.
Fierce winds carried snowflakes, slicing across the face like knives.
Visibility was less than five ters.
The team was forced to slow down, moving one by one, with people occasionally collapsing, so getting back up, but many more collapsing and never rising again.
Ahead.
There was an instructor cheering everyone on, and a dic clapping rhythms to boost morale.
If there were a vantage point from above, one would see such a scene.
The team of the Red Army stretched endlessly, like a wounded giant dragon struggling to crawl through the snowstorm, whenever soone fell, a comrade would lift them up.
No one spoke.
Only the sound of heavy breathing and the crunch of snow being packed down.
Zhuo Yong’s mind was blank, chanically following the team.
Although his senses were dulled, he couldn’t block them out entirely. With the freezing environnt, even his thoughts slowed.
He didn’t know how long it had been.
The team finally ca to a halt, but looking at the sun in the sky,
It wasn’t ti to rest.
Zhuo Yong looked ahead.
A hundred ters away, the team suddenly stopped, and people were gathering there.
The surrounding individuals, seeing this, headed that way.
Zhuo Yong quickened his pace and followed along, wanting to see what was happening ahead.
As he got closer, he heard an angry roar:
"Where’s the logistics officer?!"
"Get the logistics officer!"
As Zhuo Yong approached, he saw an old man leaning against a tree, frozen into an ice sculpture in his thin clothes.
The old man’s expression was peaceful, with ice crystals clinging to his eyelashes and a faint smile at the corners of his mouth, as if he were just asleep.
But such a scene left everyone speechless.
Young, strong n barely managed with padded clothes, and even then many froze to death.
Yet an old man wore just a thin uniform, without even a bit of padding.
Such a scene.
It’s no wonder the Red Army general was furious, shouting for the logistics officer.
"Where’s the logistics officer?!"
"Who’s responsible for distributing clothes? Who!!!"
Everyone was at a loss for words upon hearing this.
Zhuo Yong’s heart sank as this situation was truly....
At that mont.
A young soldier choked and spoke:
"Re... report, chief..."
Pointing to the frozen old man under the tree:
"He... he is the logistics officer."
This statent was like a thunderclap in the snowstorm, causing the general to sway, incredulous as he looked at the old man, his lips trembling without words.
Looking at the frozen corpse, still maintaining a stance of distributing padded clothing.
Zhuo Yong and the Blue Star netizens in the livestream felt their hearts gripped by an invisible hand.
The logistics officer.
A logistics officer who froze to death.
This....
At any ti, isn’t the person in charge of logistics supposed to be well-off?
Even if not.
They would at least be well-fed and warm.
But at this mont, the logistics officer was a revelation to the Blue Star People.
How could there be such a foolish person....
Distributing all the padded clothing, not leaving a single piece for himself?
The team fell into a deathly silence, with only the howling winds echoing in their ears.
The barrage in the livestream suddenly disappeared.
After a long while.
A lone ssage slowly floated by:
[He could have survived....]
Indeed.
He could have survived....
....
Next door.
A nearly identical scene.
The cook, who joined the logistics team, squatted in front of a damp straw heap, trying all the fire-starting techniques known to Blue Star, including friction, kindling, and even photon supercomputer search thods for ignition.
But the pile of straw stubbornly smoked, refusing to catch fire.
The cook had no choice but to gather firewood with other soldiers nearby.
Upon return.
He found the damp straw ablaze, the water in the iron pot steaming.
This amazed many Blue Star netizens, who felt the old squad leader had so special skill.
Given the limitations of this era.
It was unimaginable for anything beyond physical knowledge to exist.
The damp straw that couldn’t be ignited with modern Blue Star knowledge was lit by the logistics team leader after a brief absence.
If that’s not so special ability, what is it?
Many urged the cook to secretly watch how the old squad leader perford this magic.
However.
As the logistics team leader lit the fire for the last al, every Blue Star netizen in the livestream went silent.
The damp straw that couldn’t be lit in the cook’s hands was ignited by the old squad leader.
But it wasn’t magic, nor was it a supernatural power.
Nor was there sothing beyond the realm of physical knowledge.
The reason for lighting the damp straw was rely the old squad leader pulling out cotton from his thin clothes, slowly feeding the fire.
One strand, two strands, three strands....
The cotton that should have kept him warm was gently tucked under the damp straw and ignited with a match.
As the cotton burned, the flas illuminated his gaunt face.
The logistics team leader’s clothing grew thinner, but the fire under the iron pot burned brighter.
The barrage in the stream froze.
There was no magic.
No superpower.
Only the old squad leader’s hunched back, and the garnt growing ever thinner, nearly transparent.
The fire finally blazed.
The old squad leader sat beside it, gazing at the steaming iron pot, a faint smile on his aged face illuminated by the firelight.
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