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It was a huge accomplishment to enter Africa’s largest rebel base and take out its top commander. When Kang Chan stepped out of the truck, covered in blood, he looked toward the sky of Mangala, his shoulder, arm, and waist bleeding.
The wounded, including Dayeru, had been carried away.
“Mazani. Cigarette.”
“Captain! You have to get your wounds treated first!” Mazani insisted. However, Kang Chan’s gaze made him immediately dig through his pockets.
The Foreign Legion soldiers on the tarmac moved ahead of Mazani, handing Kang Chan a cigarette and lighting it for him.
“Hoo!”
The 9th and 10th units lined up behind Kang Chan, as if escorting him, and the Foreign Legion soldiers surrounded them.
Everyone could tell that Kang Chan was thinking of Éiric and the men he lost in Mangala.
Five minutes later, the blood that had soaked Kang Chan’s sleeve dripped down his fingers and onto the ground.
“Captain!” Mazani called again.
As Kang Chan reluctantly turned around, the men opened a path for him.
The 9th and 10th units saluted as Kang Chan walked by, followed by the Foreign Legion soldiers.
Click. Click.
Kang Chan walked in silence.
This was probably why the blood of the saluting soldiers boiled in their veins, why they passed on legendary stories about him, and why soldiers were resolved to join Kang Chan’s unit after hearing the stories.
Kang Chan couldn’t even...
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