Chapter 353

The medical team's military truck slowly descended the hillside, its tires thudding dully over the wooden bridge. With a sharp turn, it accelerated westward.

Luna White gripped the seat handle tightly. The open landscape outside the window was unnerving—not a single decent tree in sight for hundreds of meters. Her chest tightened. This must be the infamous "Line of Fire."

The four escort soldiers were on high alert, especially the two veteran drivers whose knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. They had been specially chosen to ensure these female soldiers made it through this deadly stretch alive.

The truck suddenly slowed.

"Boom—"

An explosion ripped through the air without warning. Luna's eardrums stung as a wave of heat nearly blew the roof off.

The driver yanked the wheel hard, and the truck roared out of the smoke like a wounded beast.

Chaos erupted inside. The women soldiers screamed, huddling together as their helmets clattered. The shouts of the four escorts were drowned out by the blasts.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A series of explosions shook them to the core. The windows shattered into dust, filling the cabin with the acrid stench of gunpowder.

The two trucks began swerving wildly. The transport driver's eyes burned with determination as they weaved between craters.

Luna pressed herself as low as possible. The helmet strap dug into her chin, but no one dared loosen it. Now they understood why this was called the "Line of Fire."

"Rat-tat-tat—"

Muffled impacts mixed with the sharp ping of metal being struck. No one could tell if it was bullets or shrapnel—they just scrambled deeper into the corners.

Luna's mind went blank. This was the first time death had felt so close.

The truck jerked sharply onto a dirt path heading west. Ahead lay rolling hills, and the explosions gradually faded behind them.

Then, it stopped.

Luna's fingers still trembled. The ashen faces of her comrades told her she looked no better. Her heart pounded like it might burst from her chest.

Miraculously, only three had been cut by glass. After quick bandaging, the escorts pointed to the fork in the road—it was time to part ways.