The supporting Special Forces finally arrived. These battle-hardened elites stepped by step tightened the encirclement radius, the more they walked, the more shocked they were. Every trace in the jungle told a thrilling duel story. This wasn't a battle of a company, nor a platoon, but a duel between two people using sniper rifles with not very high fire rates. To outsiders, the jungle seemed unchanged, but to these Special Forces who had long been fighting behind enemy lines, this jungle was practically a sniper textbook!
They carefully preserved these traces and searched along the duel route, finally discovering a Federation [Magic Beast Ⅲ] Mecha on a cliff, with the Mecha holding a corpse. The Special Forces Group commander leading the team carefully examined the features of the corpse, and based on Russell's description, it was undoubtedly Hopkins. Then, through the small viewport of the Mecha cabin, he saw Tian Xingjian sleeping inside.
The Special Forces Group commander waved his hand, leaving a company to guard [Logic], took the remaining Special Forces and turned away to find every trace of the battle and create a set of simulated images, not everyone had the fortune to witness such a top-tier battle. From their movement and shooting, the Special Forces Group commander believed he could learn a lot!
The commander started from the last Federation Special Soldier who was shot in the head, followed the direction of the blood sprays in reverse, first finding Hopkins's hiding position. Behind this rock, there were traces of depressions in the grass, then, he found bullet holes in the rock and the first scene where the battle began.
Reconstructing a scene from traces is a very challenging and not highly valued task, as not every shot and movement leaves a mark, but the Special Forces enjoyed it immensely. They lingered at each bullet hole, footprint, and rolling trace, numbering the marks while attempting to simulate the scene at that time. The more they advanced, the more shocked they were. What a thrilling battle it was, just based on these traces to speculate and simulate, already made all Special Forces' minds race with excitement.
Especially the dedicated sniper in the Special Forces group, engrossed in it. Such high-speed sniping, once started, was hard to encounter, but under the deliberate provocation of the Federation sniper, they entered this do-or-die battle. Even though the outcome was known, the Special Forces still broke into a cold sweat for the Federation sniper. Some bullet holes and traces were simply unimaginable. The Federation sniper was completely dancing on a tightrope over an abyss!
However, why this Federation sniper suddenly appeared in a Mecha puzzled the Special Forces. They strove to collect any clues, determined to uncover the mystery.
Many Special Forces had the same thought: "If this Federation sniper danced on a tightrope to lure enemies into a trap... this guy is too despicable, doesn't he have the awareness of a master!"
When several Generals followed the guiding Special Forces to Tian Xingjian, [Logic] was still standing in the same pose, drenched in morning dew on its tattered body. The Special Forces responsible for guarding stood quietly around, like towering statues!
The anxious Milan also came. Seeing Hopkins's corpse in [Logic]'s hand, she couldn't help but scream in fright.
The Special Forces Company Commander responsible for guarding saluted the Generals and reported, "General, the enemy is confirmed dead, the cause of death awaits further testing. Our sniper is resting in the cabin! Please instruct!"
Milan forced herself to suppress her fear of the corpse, turned her head, gritted her teeth, and quickly ran past [Logic]'s mechanical hand, opening the hatch with a spare remote controller and crawling inside.
[Logic]'s hand loosened, and Hopkins's body fell to the ground. Several Special Forces put him into a body bag and carried him away.
Inside the cabin, a drowsy voice from Fatty came through, "Who is it!... Young lady, why are you crying, don't pinch me, nothing's wrong! Come, kiss me."
The statues around nearly fainted. The Special Forces Company Commander reporting to the Generals twitched all over, looking at the Generals with strange expressions. Russell looked at the pitiful eyes of the commander, waved his hand, and cursed, "This bastard! Dismiss, nothing more to do."
Seeing the Generals turn and leave, the Special Forces suppressed their laughter and dispersed in a flurry. Before leaving, they heard Fatty's voice from the cabin, "Junior Sister, you've grown bigger!... Are there people outside?... When did Russell scare me?... When did Big Head Karl scare me?!"
The Generals simultaneously stumbled, while the battle-hardened Special Forces convulsed, falling all over the ground!
The jungle finally returned to peacefulness. It took a while before the two of them, with disheveled clothes, stumbled out of the mecha. Milan ran to the riverside to wash her face. Her face was burning hot, and only the morning river water could bring her back to her senses. When she looked up, she saw Fatty grinning lecherously at her, which made her face flush even more. She gently kicked Fatty and said, "Annoying! What are you looking at?" Remembering the scene just now, Milan couldn't help but feel both shy and angry. She glared at Fatty coquettishly and said, "You shameless idiot! Hurry up and come back with me. Look at how dirty you are!"
Fatty piloted the mecha back to the lab with Milan, parked it properly, and secretly called Ann Lei to report his safe return. It seemed Ann Lei hadn't slept all night, and she only relaxed upon hearing his voice. Fatty hung up, feeling lost. How long would this sneaky life continue? The Federation practiced monogamy. He recalled a particularly insightful history teacher explaining that monogamy emerged with the advent of private property, with spouses considering each other personal possessions. This, the teacher claimed, marked a significant step in human social progress. "But!" the never-married teacher would frenetically declare in class, "This is a suppression of human nature, a torment upon men!" He then enthusiastically expounded his views from physiological, psychological, and zoological perspectives, arguing that men and women were inherently different in countless ways, and thus, men should not be restricted to a single woman.
After class, the male students raised their thumbs and exclaimed, "Bravo!" while the female students spat angrily, saying, "Pfft!"
Fatty understood that even this professor, who rode the crest of contemporary thought, only dared discuss the physiological aspects and only showed approval for polygamy among men. If he analyzed it from a psychological standpoint, he'd have to concede to a polyandry system similar to primitive mating structures, where not only the female students would spit, but the male students' approval would likely turn into curses. Then they might just kill him in a frenzy!
Human psychology is the most complex. From a physiological perspective, male animals can dominate multiple partners through fighting and brutal competition. Humans, however, are different; they are not lower animals. Women's emotions are more delicate and require more care. Marriage is not just about sex. Those who favor polygyny, apart from a few women with heads in the clouds, are fundamentally all men. If you asked these men if they'd accept sharing a wife with other men, they'd probably go mad. Thus, in polygamous imperial countries, male chauvinism prevails, and women hold lower social statuses.
In the lab's resting room, Milan prepared bathwater, blushing as she handed Fatty a set of clothes he had previously kept there. The clothes were very clean and had a faint fragrance because they were stored in the same cabinet as Milan's clothes. Fatty walked into the bathroom. This was his second bath in twenty-four hours, and again, a woman handed him clothes. Fatty harshly drenched himself with cold water and slapped himself twice. How could he live like this? How was he supposed to shoulder such responsibility? Responsibility—does it mean accepting one and rejecting another? In such a chaotic world, amidst the noise of incessant warfare, does he even have the right to choose? Perhaps, when hit by a stray bullet on the battlefield, all these worries will disappear, but until then, he would just muddle through!
After showering, he came out to find Milan already asleep. She was curled up on the bed in the resting room, her silky hair softly splaying over the pillow, her eyelashes appearing especially long in her sleep, her body curled like a little cat, holding a sheet of "Logic" test data. Fatty gently lay down beside her. This lovely woman had been worried all night since he left, never relaxing until now. Fatty lay silently next to Milan, feeling that this moment of peace and joy was the greatest contentment in life.
It was near noon when Fatty woke up. He found Milan curled up in his arms, and his hands were in a very inappropriate spot. oh, the elasticity! Damn! Milan woke up the moment Fatty did but didn't dare move. The position of Fatty's hands made her so embarrassed she couldn't lift her head. The ambiguous position where they were curled together made her feel safe and comfortable in her shyness. She had no desire to leave Fatty's embrace. The two of them, each with their own thoughts, stayed in that position, listening to each other's breathing until Fatty's hands couldn't resist the temptation any longer, gently squeezing...
Milan's trembling body betrayed her. Fatty was dumbfounded; she was awake ... The atmosphere froze. Fatty waited a long time and Milan didn't move, so he grew bolder and squeezed again...
Still no reaction... Great, he slipped his hand inside her clothes...
His hand just reached Milan's waist when she felt a tickle and finally giggled, climbing on top of Fatty and playfully choking him with her little hands, "You shameless fatty, I'll strangle you!" The two of them laughed and played, wrestling together.
Finally, Fatty's stomach growled. Since last night, he hadn't eaten and had used up so much energy that he was now starving. Worried he might be hungry, Milan quickly got up to cook. Although the lab's meals were delivered from the cafeteria, Milan didn't like them. She had prepared food in the resting room and cooked it herself. Fatty often shamelessly came to mooch off her food. Milan's cooking was indeed delicious, especially when Fatty was so hungry that his chest nearly stuck to his back; the food was like the highest culinary delight. Milan didn't have much appetite, sipping some soup while watching Fatty devour his meal. After he finished, she said, "If you're free this afternoon, I'll take you somewhere."
"Somewhere? Did she book a room again, in the Simai Hotel!" Fatty's eyes lit up with excitement, eagerly nodding his head!
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