Chapter 367

The six trudged along the rugged mountain path, their feet slipping on the uneven terrain. Suddenly, a flickering light appeared behind them—the kind-hearted mountain man had caught up, torch in hand.

"Let me see you through!" His sun-weathered face was earnest. "These trails are treacherous in the dark."

With their guide leading the way, their journey became smoother. When they reached the camp, the man waved goodbye, but Luna White quickly stopped him. "Brother, at least have some water before you go!"

"Can't stay—the wife and little one are waiting!" He flashed a toothy grin before vanishing into the night.

Back in the barracks, their stomachs growled with hunger. Remembering the nearly empty rice jar in the villager's home, they hadn't touched a single bite. The new mother needed nourishment, the baby needed milk—how could they take food from those who had so little?

"Come on, let's head to the mess hall!" Luna motioned.

The mess sergeant, hearing of their selflessness, stoked the stove without hesitation. Soon, the aroma of steaming rice filled the air, and he even cracked open two precious cans of meat—a rare indulgence.

"Easy now, don't choke," the sergeant said, watching them devour the meal with a pang of sympathy.

That night, everyone slept more soundly than ever.

The next afternoon, as they worked, the distant clamor of gongs and drums startled them. Luna's heart leapt. "Could it be...?"

A procession appeared on the mountain path, led by the same man from the day before. Villagers carried bamboo baskets overflowing with wild herbs, eggs, and even two clucking hens.

"Comrades of the People's Liberation Army, this is our humble thanks!" the man called out.

The deputy captain fidgeted. "This—this isn't proper protocol..."

"Protocol be damned!" An elderly man with silver hair stepped forward. "You saved our daughter-in-law—you saved our whole village!"

Seeing their refusal would be futile, the deputy captain had an idea. "Wait here, folks!" He turned and ordered soldiers to fetch supplies from the storehouse.

Soon, troops returned with sacks of rice, flour, oil, and other staples, insisting the villagers take them.

"We can't accept this!" The villagers protested.

"That's an order!" The deputy captain feigned sternness. "Soldiers and civilians are family—what's family without sharing?"

In the end, the villagers accepted the gifts with glistening eyes. On their way back, the mountain man wiped his face. "The PLA... truly good people..."

Back at camp, the soldiers gazed at the mountain of gifts, warmth swelling in their chests. These weren't just offerings—they were the people's trust, heavy with gratitude.

"Comrades," the deputy captain stood tall, voice ringing clear. "This is why we serve!"

Every spine straightened in unison. In that moment, their resolve to protect their homeland burned brighter than ever.