Chapter 372

Luna White tucked the stethoscope deeper into her lab coat pocket and waved at the young soldiers. "The rest is up to you. I'm a doctor—duty calls." Humming an old patriotic tune, she strolled out with her hands in her pockets, her ponytail swaying behind her.

"Dr. White sings beautifully!" Private Liu murmured, so entranced he forgot to clean his rifle.

Sergeant Li smacked the back of his head. "Don't get any ideas! That's Captain Smith's fiancée!"

"I just like the melody!" Liu's face flushed red. "Dr. White has saved so many of our brothers—who wouldn't respect her?"

As the four soldiers escorted their prisoners toward headquarters, none noticed the glint of sunlight reflecting from a distant hilltop.

Andrew Smith crouched in the trench, inspecting ammunition when a piercing whistle cut through the air.

"Incoming! Take cover—"

The first shell struck the frontline, showering dirt like rain. Then the second, the third... The entire mountain trembled.

"Casualty report!" Andrew wiped mud from his face.

"One critical in Third Squad—shrapnel to the chest!"

Through the smoke, medics worked frantically on the wounded soldier. Blood soaked through bandages as the man's face turned ghostly pale.

"He needs evacuation now!" Andrew grabbed the radio, static drowning the broken replies.

Down at the medical post, Luna was inventorying supplies when thunderous explosions rattled the windows.

"The frontline!" Her syringe clattered to the floor.

Twenty minutes later, the bombardment ceased, leaving the ridge scarred and smoldering. Shattered trees spewed black smoke; trenches had collapsed into rubble.

"Where are the stretcher teams?" Andrew eyed the darkening sky as the wounded soldier's breathing grew faint.

"They said after nightfall—"

Movement on the trail interrupted him. A petite figure led a small group up the slope, her medical kit casting a long shadow in the sunset.

"Luna?! Who authorized this?!" Andrew's voice held equal parts fury and fear.

She was already kneeling beside the soldier. "Any later and he'd be gone." With practiced hands, she cut away the bloodied uniform. "Prep the surgical kit."

Under the moon's glow, the final shrapnel fragment was extracted. Only when removing her gloves did Luna notice her trembling hands.

Andrew handed her a canteen. "Trouble below?"

"The prisoners talked," she said tightly. "They'd mapped defenses across five highlands."

In the moonlight, both turned toward distant flickering fires—where another allied position was enduring the same hell.