Special Forces: At the beginning, An Ran pulled him to get his certificate.

Chapter 1542 We've Bringed You Home

A terrifying scream echoed through the alley, the sound shrill and piercing, as if it were being torn from the throat, sending chills down one's spine.

Then the windows on both sides of the street were carefully opened, and people kept leaning out to look down.

"It seems like soldiers from our Yan Kingdom have arrived..."

A middle-aged woman leaned halfway out of the window, squinting as she looked towards the alleyway entrance. Her hands gripped the window frame tightly, her knuckles white, and her body trembled slightly, whether from nervousness or excitement, it was hard to tell.

"Yes, that military uniform is definitely it!"

A window next to them opened, and a man poked his head out, his voice low but barely concealing his excitement. His eyes were fixed on the figure at the alley entrance, on the familiar military uniform, on the color.

"But so few people?"

Someone else opened a window, their gaze falling on the figure at the alley entrance. There was only one person standing there, surrounded by five or six blond-haired men carrying knives and clubs. Those men also had guns, their dark muzzles gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

"He's surrounded!"

The woman's voice was filled with panic; she covered her mouth, her eyes wide. She stared at the figure in military uniform, her heart clenching with a sharp, painful grip. One person, facing so many people, and guns—

Some people began to close their eyes, unable to bear watching any longer.

At that very moment, the Indo-Indian monkeys had already drawn their guns.

The dark muzzles of guns were pointed at Chen Jun. One of the men, with blond hair, grinned maliciously, his finger on the trigger. He cursed something, his eyes filled with malice. The others also raised their guns, aiming at the man in military uniform.

bang bang bang-

Gunshots echoed, making people's eardrums tingle.

Some couldn't bear to watch any longer and abruptly lowered their heads or closed the windows. The gunshots continued, each one like a blow to the heart, each one sending chills down their spines. That Yan soldier, the one who said he would come to take them home—

Some people did not close their eyes.

They saw Chen Jun move. The instant the gun fired, he ducked low, like a shadow, and rolled across the ground with lightning speed. Bullets struck the ground, sending sparks flying, and left bullet holes in the wall behind him. Plaster splattered everywhere, and gravel fell in droves. But his figure rolled on the ground too fast to see clearly; by the time they tried to aim again, he was already upon them.

A snap.

Chen Jun kicked the man who was shooting at him in the chest. The man was sent flying backward, crashing into the wall before sliding down, leaving a trail of blood. The gun in his hand flew into the air, tumbling and gleaming in the sunlight, but the bullets didn't harm Chen Jun at all.

"it is good!"

Someone let out a low growl, tears welling in their eyes. Their voice was hoarse, trembling with sobs, yet filled with excitement.

Chen Jun reached out and caught the falling gun. The gun tumbled in the air before landing steadily in his hand. His eyes remained expressionless, as if he were doing something ordinary, as if what had just happened was just a common occurrence.

He raised his gun and pointed it at the Indo-Indian monkeys.

The men froze. Some turned to run, some tried to raise their guns, and some shouted something.

Bang bang bang.

Gunshots rang out again.

The spent cartridge cases ricocheted from the chamber, landing on the ground with a clattering sound. With each ricochet, an Indo-Pacific monkey fell, dead. Two ricochets, a second fell. Three ricochets, a third fell. Four ricochets—

The gunfire stopped.

The alleyway was quiet.

The group of blond-haired men lay sprawled on the ground, motionless. Some had their eyes open, some had their faces buried in the dirt, and some were curled up in a ball. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, a mixture that made one want to vomit.

Chen Jun stood there, his gun still smoking. A wisp of smoke rose from the muzzle, almost invisible in the sunlight, but undeniably present. He lowered the gun and glanced at the windows lining both sides of the street.

Behind the window were faces—men and women, young and old—all watching him. Some had tears streaming down their faces, some had their mouths agape, some clutched their chests, and some held tightly to the hands of those around them.

Chen Jun spoke up.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was steady, and every word was clear and distinct, as if carved in stone, striking into everyone's heart.

"I am a soldier of the Yan Kingdom. I've come to take you home."

The stirring sounds echoed through the deathly silent streets.

No one speaks.

Those few seconds of silence felt like an eternity. The air seemed to freeze, even the wind stopped. Only the sound continued to echo, crashing against the walls, over and over again.

Then--

Squeak.

A window was pushed open. Then another. And yet another. The windows kept opening, and more and more people leaned out. They looked at Chen Jun in his military uniform, at the insignia on his shoulders, at the gun in his hand, at him standing there, the sunlight shining on him.

A warm feeling welled up in my heart.

That warm current surged from the deepest part of their hearts, flowing through their chests, down their throats, and into their eyes. Some began to cry, some began to tremble, some began to laugh, and then laughed and cried again.

The motherland has not abandoned them.

An elderly man in his seventies pushed open the door and came out.

He walked slowly, his steps trembling slightly, but he moved forward step by step toward Chen Jun. His back was slightly hunched, his hair was completely white, and his face was full of wrinkles. But his eyes were fixed on Chen Jun, on that military uniform, on that young face, on that familiar color.

The old man walked up to Chen Jun and stopped.

His lips trembled, several times, before a sound finally came out. The voice was hoarse, aged, and carried an indescribable emotion.

"Are you... a member of the Yan State People's Liberation Army?"

Chen Jun looked at him and nodded.

"Yes."

Just one word, a single, simple word.

The old man's eyes lit up immediately.

What kind of light was it? It was like someone who had walked in darkness for a long time finally seeing a light. It was like a drowning person finally grabbing a rope. It was like a child finally being picked up by an adult.

He then asked, "Are you alone?"

Chen Jun said, "There's also a fleet; they'll be here soon."

The old man's eyes shone even brighter, as if they were filled with light, like the sun shining into their sockets. He said "good" three times in a row, his voice growing louder and louder.

"Good, good, good!"

Then he turned around and shouted at the house, at the street, and at all the people still watching from behind the windows.

"The People's Liberation Army has come to take us home!"

The sound was so loud that the whole street could hear it. The old man's throat was almost hoarse from shouting, but he didn't care; he kept shouting.

"The People's Liberation Army has come to take us home!"

Seconds later, the street erupted in cheers.

Cheers erupted everywhere. People rushed out of houses, some waved from windows, and some hugged their loved ones, laughing and crying. Children shouted, adults yelled, and the elderly wiped away tears. Some knelt on the ground, some laughed uproariously, some waved wildly, and some shouted "Long live the motherland!"

Then someone started sprinkling flowers.

It's unclear who started it, but a handful of petals fell from the window and landed on Chen Jun. They were red petals; he didn't know what kind of flower they were, but they were as red as blood, as red as fire.

Then another round, and another round.

More and more petals fell from the windows on both sides. Red, yellow, white, pink, fluttering down like rain. The petals landed on Chen Jun's head, shoulders, hands, his gun, and the ground at his feet. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers, overpowering the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Chen Jun stood there, bathed in sunlight, his body covered in petals.

Sunlight streamed down from the sky, shining on him, on the flower petals, and on the cheering crowd. The whole street was glowing and shining.

However, he knew that these flowers were not just for him, but for all the Yan soldiers behind him.

He was just one of them.