Chapter 105: Hymn of Praise

Chapter 105: Hymn of Praise

As if swept away by a fierce storm, the Dark Star vanguard’s encampment lay in utter ruin.

What once resembled a steel colossus, a massive transport aircraft sprawled across the earth, was now reduced to shattered slabs of twisted metal.

Sparks intermittently flickered across its surface, crackling softly.

Not far from the wreckage, the vanguard soldiers were scattered in small groups—some sat dejectedly on the ground, heads bowed; others tended to the bodies of fallen comrades.

A heavy atmosphere of sorrow and despair hung over the site, morale plummeting.

Seeing this, Max’s face darkened. He stepped forward.

One soldier, caught in the depths of despair, caught sight of Max and seemed to find a pillar of strength in his presence.

A brilliant light sparked in his eyes, and his entire demeanor lifted.

“Captain!” he called out.

Max waved his hand, signaling that there was no need to rise or salute, then nodded in acknowledgment.

In a low voice, he asked, “Tell me the details.”

“It was the Lava Unit...” the soldier began.

“Their firepower was overwhelming—we couldn’t hold them back.”

“Many brothers...” His eyes glistened faintly with unshed tears.

“The plane was destroyed by the Lava Unit. All the communication equipment inside was completely wrecked.”

Max fell silent, biting his lip.

“Didn’t you have satellite phones in your packs?”

“Try to contact headquarters and request reinforcements.”

“We tried... we all tried.” The young soldier bowed his head deeply.

“The entire Gray Page Island’s signals are being jammed. We can’t...”

His voice faltered.

Max looked at the young soldier before him—dark-skinned, youthful, barely eighteen or nineteen years old.

Sighing, he reached out and gently patted the soldier’s head without saying a word.

Max’s deep eyes swept across the field.

Suddenly, a jolt of alarm struck him.

Besides the soldiers originally stationed there, he spotted several others who had been sent to explore other directions.

Raising his hand to summon them, he inquired in detail.

“How are your two teams holding up?”

The soldier who was called over had his entire right arm severed cleanly, the stump crudely bandaged with blood-stained white cloth.

Faced with his superior’s question, the wounded soldier seemed about to speak but then fell silent, shaking his head faintly.

Max clenched his fists tightly at his sides, as if trying to drive his nails into his palms.

Then, abruptly, he released them with a helpless sigh.

“You go rest now.”

His hoarse voice rasped like sandpaper scraping against a table.

Max’s once upright posture seemed to hunch slightly in the eyes of Lu Yun, who stood quietly behind him.

Comrades and subordinates they had stood with day and night—over half had been lost in less than a day under the enemy’s fierce assault.

With the plane destroyed and all signals jammed, the remaining soldiers were mostly wounded, their combat effectiveness drastically reduced.

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