Chapter 12: The Wounded Soldiers’ Treatment Camp

Sun Fei spoke with grand words of righteousness, putting on an act of bravery like a warrior.

But in his heart, this beast was completely without grace, jumping around and shouting like a thief: Haha, yes, yes, this is it! Exactly this! Hehe, conquering an underage girl’s worship of a warrior’s heart with a heroic image… this is the essence of the secret ‘seduction method’ passed around online in my past life! Wahahahaha…

“Enough, Alexander, you’re just causing trouble here…”

Blond little loli Gemma paid no attention to Sun Fei’s act. The little girl’s pretty face was flushed red with anger. Her sapphire-blue eyes glared at Sun Fei, both furious and impatient.

“Gemma, Angela, let Alexander stay here!”

Three-Star Warrior Frank Lampard had walked over unnoticed. He patted the angry little Gemma lightly on the shoulder, looking at Sun Fei with a complicated expression.

Lampard found that he now completely failed to understand this Little King he thought he knew inside out. This Alexander, whom he had watched grow up from childhood, mocked and teased by countless people, today had given him unimaginable shocks. Up to now, Lampard hadn’t fully processed everything he had witnessed.

“Huh? Sir Lampard, you…”

Neither Angela nor Gemma had expected Lampard to say this; both were shocked.

The two young girls knew that if there was anyone else in Shampoo City besides them who cared deeply about Alexander, it was this Three-Star Warrior Frank Lampard who had always protected Alexander as he grew up. Therefore, they couldn’t believe it when Lampard seemed to agree that Alexander, someone who couldn’t even protect himself, should stay on the city wall where swords clashed and life was constantly in danger.

“Angele, Gemma, look at how the soldiers are looking at Alexander…”

Lampard pointed at the soldiers who were hurriedly preparing defenses or resting, then looked back at Sun Fei, who was looking smug. Only then did he say with a smile, “Alexander is right. Just now, if it weren’t for his timely arrival and turning the tide, Shampoo City would have already fallen to the enemy… Angela, I have to admit, you were correct. Alexander is destined to become a great king… Alright, I’m a bit tired, going to rest!”

After saying this, Lampard quickly walked away.

Someone noticed the moment he turned, Lampard’s face suddenly changed, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth…

Finally, Angela and Gemma became aware of the strange mood surrounding them.

Every soldier was looking at Alexander with unparalleled admiration. This king, who they used to laugh about over meals, now seemed to have become a super idol for whom the soldiers were ready to sacrifice their lives at any moment. That kind of fervent, worshipful gaze was something previously reserved only for Shampoo City’s strongest Three-Star Warrior, Lampard.

“Long Live the King!”

“Long Live King Alexander—!”

Sun Fei smiled slyly while flaunting his ‘charm’ at Angela, and winked at the soldiers—a wink any man would understand. The soldiers roared with laughter and very cooperatively raised their arms, shouting ‘Long Live the King!’ a few times.

Before, all the soldiers thought Angela becoming Alexander’s fiancée was like a beautiful flower stuck in cow dung. But now they felt that, apparently, only this King Alexander of Shampoo City, this very lump of cow dung, was worthy of a kind and beautiful girl like Angela.

This kind of atmosphere was something Angela and Gemma had never seen before.

“What happened?” Both intelligent beauties were a bit bewildered.

Right at that moment—

“Your Majesty the King, Pierce is barely hanging on…”

Squadron Leader of the Royal Guard, dark-haired Brook, rushed over anxiously.

Even though he clearly knew King Alexander was neither a Divine Master of the church nor a physician, the shocking scenes from today’s battle had Brook rushing over to Sun Fei for help in desperation. He nursed a sliver of hope: God of War, bless us, may this king who performed the miracle create some kind of miracle once more.

Pierce?

Hearing this name, Sun Fei immediately recalled that white-haired fierce man on the city wall who had taken several sword blows, fought desperately with his life, and destroyed two enemy Siege Ladders. Undoubtedly, a man like that was a true warrior—not only because of his strength, but even more so because of what he protected and cherished.

“Brook, you take care of these two beautiful ladies. I’ll go check!”

Sun Fei patted Angela’s soft, fair little hand gently, affectionately telling her over and over to ‘be careful’. He then shot a provokingly raised eyebrow at the blond little loli Gemma. Led by a soldier, he went to see the white-haired Pierce.

“Hmph! So what’s he got to be so proud of!”

The blond little loli was furious. She glared fiercely at Sun Fei’s retreating back, then turned and called out sweetly, “Uncle Brook,” asking in confusion, “Just what happened earlier? Alexander seemed to…”

This question was also something Angela, whose heart was still fluttering from Sun Fei’s ambiguous gesture just now, desperately wanted to hear.

Brook smiled and started recounting everything that had happened during the critical moments of the battle on the wall.

As Squadron Leader of the Royal Guard, Brook doted on these two beautiful girls like a father doting on his own daughters—in fact, almost every citizen of Shampoo City cherished these sensible and kind-hearted little girls. People used to feel indignant on Angela’s behalf, pitying this lovely young girl for having to marry a foolish king. But now, Brook and many soldiers who had fought earlier firmly believed: only King Alexander deserved a pure and kind-hearted girl like Angela, an angel.

As they listened to Brook’s account to the end, Angela and Gemma’s big eyes filled with shock.

Was the hero Uncle Brook just described truly that idiot Alexander?

Little loli Gemma remained skeptical.

……….

Shampoo City’s Wounded Soldiers’ Treatment Camp.

The moment Sun Fei stepped inside, he was startled.

This wasn’t a treatment camp; it was practically a pigpen—

A musty smell of damp chill filled the large room that looked long abandoned. There wasn’t even a proper door to block wind or rain. The windows on all four sides were blocked with stones. Dust and dirt lay everywhere. A bit of dried grass was haphazardly spread on the ground, and upon it lay hundreds of wounded soldiers, covered in blood. Moans and cries filled the air.

Four or five people dressed in black and white robes, looking like physicians, moved back and forth among the wounded. But they were clearly overwhelmed, working frantically, sweat pouring down their faces.

“His Majesty the King is here!”

The soldier guiding Sun Fei shouted as he entered.

This shout stirred everyone in the treatment camp—except those heavily injured and unconscious.

Stories of King Alexander’s bravery in the recent battle had already spread among the wounded who were later brought here. The descriptions of that blood-boiling, intensely fierce, purely masculine combat scene made many wounded soldiers feel stirred with excitement. Of course, there were also soldiers injured earlier who hadn’t witnessed it who were skeptical; they wanted to see face-to-face this king who had suddenly transformed from a fool into a hero.

Seeing King Alexander arrive, the injured soldiers stirred.

Some wounded men, disregarding their injuries even, tried to struggle to sit up, reopening barely healed wounds. Those soldiers who had fought alongside Sun Fei, however, excitedly raised their arms and shouted ‘Long Live the King!’.

Sun Fei shot the guiding soldier a slightly reproachful look before quickly trying to comfort those soldiers struggling to rise…

He didn’t know what to say.

This was clearly not an occasion for putting on airs and acting the haughty king. Seeing those faces—some mature, some terribly young, some aged and weathered—and seeing the horrifying wounds on their bodies, the blood flowing out to stain the soil beneath them…

A certain nerve in Sun Fei’s heart was instantly plucked.

Stories of glory and heroes from his past life seemed to be vividly replaying before his eyes. In a sense, these soldiers were wounded defending him. Some were inevitably left with lifelong disabilities. But as a transmigrator, Sun Fei found he couldn’t possibly accept this. If possible, he truly wished he could have fought alongside them from the beginning.

Humans seem to be contradictory creatures by nature, like Sun Fei.

He was terrified of dying, yet at this moment, he yearned so intensely to fight. Maybe it was related to the endless blood-soaked battles he experienced in the Diablo World, or perhaps his true nature had just been awakened.

“My warriors, you have protected Shampoo City and your own Glory!”

In the end, Sun Fei, who usually thought himself quite eloquent, found himself at a loss for words. He stood at the entrance and bowed deeply to the wounded soldiers. The ghost of a phrase—‘Comrades, you fought hard!’—almost slipped out, but he managed to change it into ‘Glory’ at the last second.

For a world resembling medieval European feudalism, with its rigid hierarchical system, a king bowing to his own lowly soldiers was unheard-of—even if it was a Foolish King.

Human hearts are simple.

Many were moved to tears in that instant.

Some soldiers who had been wallowing in self-pity over their injuries and disabilities now had a spark of light appear in their eyes.

…

Sun Fei comforted the injured soldiers one by one, finally coming to the white-haired Pierce.

This fierce man, so overwhelming and formidable on the city wall, was now in a state of semi-consciousness. The shadow’s sword blade, imbued with a wisp of Battle Qi, had struck deep into his left shoulder, damaging internal organs. Blood flowed uncontrollably from the wound. A young physician fussed helplessly beside him, seemingly unable to do much.

Sun Fei had already observed the working methods of these physicians.

To his disappointment, the physicians of Shampoo City did not possess the miraculous Magic healing abilities he had imagined. They only managed basic bandaging, or at most, applied some poultice that resembled messy herbal pastes common in his previous life. Such treatment clearly had very limited effectiveness. Whether someone lived or died afterward largely depended on the wounded soldier’s own physical strength and constitution. It was left to fate—endure and live, fail to endure, and die.