Munitions Empire-Chapter 755 : 714 is also a person

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As the final flood peak was about to arrive, as the sky gradually cleared, it seemed the most challenging moment had passed.

Still, the dam burst—not from natural disaster, but human calamity. The explosion was heard loud and clear by all nearby.

"Why! Why would someone do this? Does he have no humanity! Any humanity at all?" an old man cried out in the rain, watching helplessly as the water level surged beneath his feet.

The raging river overflowed into the fields, instantly submerging all in its path, crumbling every house it met.

A nearby village was reduced to rooftops in moments, farmers who couldn't escape in time sat on tiles, dumbstruck by the expanse of water before them.

The disaster struck so suddenly that people, just returned due to stabilizing situations, couldn't evacuate in time, and hundreds went missing in the raging floodwaters.

"Everyone to the dam! At all costs, we must block the breach!" the commander, who was just having a meal, rushed to the scene in nothing but his underpants, his eyes bulging with fury at the sight of the torrent bursting from the gap: "Spare no expense!"

"Yes!" All officers present stood at attention and saluted; their troops were desperately fighting at both ends of the breach, trying to seal it.

But the current was too strong; sandbags disappeared as soon as they were thrown in. Soldiers were forming a human wall, hoping to lessen the force of the flow, stabilizing the sandbags and rocks thrown into the water.

A truck loaded with rubble pulled up at the breach, and the soldiers atop shoveled the stones down from the bed.

The soldiers surrounding the truck disregarded the danger and began to pass the stones hand by hand, hurling them into the breach.

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"The current's too strong! It can't be blocked!" The colonel commanding the troops cursed furiously, standing knee-deep in the water: "Those bastards! They just can't stand to see us live well!"

"When it's our damn turn on the front lines, we won't show any mercy in killing them!" A company commander, passing with a sack, wholeheartedly agreed with his colonel.

They strived to live in this harsh world, building their homes—why wouldn't those people let them have a chance at life?

"Right! No mercy!" Gritting his teeth, the colonel watched his troops struggling in the floodwaters, watched as civilians and military from nearby rushed in droves to assist at the breach.

More and more people arrived, but the breach wasn't shrinking in the slightest; the might of nature was unstoppable, and the concept of battling the elements seemed like a joke in the face of a real disaster.

Caught between heaven and earth, frail lives had to admit one thing: human strength sometimes reached its limits! The water level behind them rose higher, with only treetops peeking above the surface, and many neighboring villages had turned into a wetland.

"Hiss…" In the cab of a truck loaded with stones, a noncommissioned officer defied orders and lit a cigarette. He watched the rain on the windshield, blurring everything in sight.

He had a son, nine years old, studying in third grade at a Tongcheng primary school, the best in his class.

But he only had the one son. His wife starved to death on the journey fleeing north from Chu Country, starving so he could eat and he could keep his strength to care for their child. She barely touched any food.

Overwhelmed by hunger, she eventually ate a lot of dirt... and died upon seeing the border of Tang Country, among the throngs of refugees.

She never experienced the goodness of Tang Country, never knew what neon lights looked like, never saw the prosperity of Chang'an, nor the grandeur of Tongcheng.

But he had.

He lived in Tongcheng for three years—or, to be precise, his son had lived there for three years. As the child of a serviceman, the boy received considerable care from his teachers.

As a father, he learned to drive and became a motor transport soldier. Driving was still a rare skill then, being able to handle a truck well and understand basic repairs was no easy feat.

Each time he returned on leave to see his son, there were many changes. The boy had grown taller, and his clothes looked decent. He had learned to make fried rice with egg and could wash his socks himself, even taking very good care of himself.

A few social workers in the school took care of the children's laundry and meals. These women were not young but very experienced, looking after these "left-behind children" quite well.

This year the children visited the Tongcheng airport, seeing many things even high-level Shireck engineers hadn't seen, under the guidance of their teachers.

When he came home this year, his son showed him drawings of airplanes and talked about the joyous experience of touching a propeller blade.

Now, his mind was filled with his son's smiling face at that moment and his wife's weak voice just before she closed her eyes for the last time.

His wife had urged him to raise their child well, to endure the hardship, to swallow his pride, to not stir up trouble in Tang Country, to obey the law and not to lose his life.

She never went to school, but her innate goodness couldn't be erased. He had never remarried; all his earnings went to his son. The Great Tang Bank was trustworthy, especially for military personnel—even if they died in battle without an heir, it never made an error with their accounts.

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The wages and pensions of those soldiers who had become martyrs were timely deposited into something called a fund, which provided aid to other military families and orphans.

He had a son, a very bright son, a Tang person like himself, so his son was bound to live a carefree, happy life as a descendant of a soldier in this world.

His son had touched the propellers of airplanes! His son had ridden on trains and in cars! There were radios in school, along with electric lights and telephones...

He would grow up and become someone useful!

Isn't it just about not valuing one's life? If you all don't value your lives, I can also throw mine away! My wife, I might have to break my promise, I managed not to start trouble, but this life... we owe it to this country.

For the first time, he casually flicked ash in the cockpit, a truck he had driven for two years and cared for diligently, never allowing it to be mistreated.

Every time he got in the truck, he would check the soles of his shoes; every time he cleaned the truck, he meticulously removed the dust from the crevices with his hands. The gear stick shone from his handling, and the wooden steering wheel had taken on a patina from his grip.

The windows were always sparkling clean, even carefully wiped down after his son sat in the passenger seat.

But this time, he recklessly flicked the ash and expelled a puff of white smoke. Everything felt so natural, his nonchalance mixed with a hint of resoluteness.

"Turns out, smoking while driving feels quite good," he muttered, pressing down on the clutch and starting the engine. The engine purred smoothly, then started churning, the body of the truck beginning to shake slightly.

"The idle is high, huh... old buddy... you're not mad at me, are you?" he caressed the steering wheel, gently shifted the gear stick, lightly lifted the clutch, and smoothly pressed the accelerator.

That last question, "you're not mad at me, are you?", even he didn't know if it was addressed to the truck, his deceased wife, or his son far away in Tongcheng.

He smiled because he knew his gentle wife no longer had the chance to be upset with him, and his truck couldn't possibly hold a grudge either, while his son in Tongcheng might, but, once the son grew up, he would surely understand.

The heavy truck moved forward slowly, its headlights lit up, its horn honking. Soldiers coming to unload stared momentarily, then instinctively stepped aside.

Then they just watched, wide-eyed, as the truck wobbled toward the breach.

"Beep! Beep!" The horn was sounding incessantly, and the soldiers carrying sandbags turned their heads to see a truck charging toward them.

The front of the truck, like the bow of a warship, cut through the river water, and the bright headlights made it impossible to see the person inside the cockpit.

In panic, people instinctively got out of the way; the commander, watching from afar, opened his eyes wide, then yelled instinctively, "Stop! Stop your damn truck!"

Under the gaze of the crowd, the truck did not stop. Instead, it gained speed after passing the obstacles ahead.

It plunged into the raging river, and in a moment, the furious waves engulfed the front of the truck and surged into the cockpit.

In just one second, the river water rose above the driver's chest, but he persisted, resolutely pressing the accelerator.

The truck lurched as it ran over something, then the front dipped slightly due to the force of the water; soon, the cargo area too began to sink.

Positioned across the breach, the truck significantly obstructed the flow of water, and the surrounding soldiers, now grasping the situation, hurriedly began throwing more sandbags into the gap.

A few soldiers in orange vests, good swimmers, entered the river with ropes tied around their waists, seemingly trying to save someone.

But as soon as they dove in, they were swept far away by the current, unable to get close to the sunken truck, now invisible even at the roof.

The water flow slowed down, and the sandbags, supported by the truck's body, were finally holding. As more and more sandbags were thrown in, the breach was being gradually filled.

Another truck also drove into the water but, because the flow had lessened considerably this time, the driver was rescued.

More people began to jump into the water, and with the support of the two trucks, a human wall was established, reducing the flow even more, allowing people to stand more firmly.

The water level nearby was noticeably dropping, the river, which had been at knee level, was gradually receding to the calves, and though the expanse beyond was still inundated, it all seemed once again under control.

The river continued to churn, rushing eastward.

The rain seemed to be easing.