Conflict

"Detonate!" Bazel ordered when the moment was right.

The engineers, who had been ready, pressed the switch with all their might. A series of deafening explosions followed, with one or two occurring along each street.

But the explosions were secondary; the barrels of gasoline hurled by the shockwaves and the ensuing flames were the real threat. They quickly ignited the surrounding ruins, already soaked in gasoline, turning them into blazing torches.

The fire then spread like a domino effect, and soon the entire western half of Tengerthin was ablaze, resembling a city on fire from afar.

And the British were trapped inside.

The air soon filled with harrowing screams, and for the first time, Qin Chuan truly understood the meaning of "wails of despair." The cries were a mixture of howls, shrieks, and otherworldly sounds, each more terrifying than the last. It was as if these desperate cries were piercing directly into Qin Chuan's soul, causing him to shiver involuntarily, despite the intense heat of the desert and the flames.

Through the fire, Qin Chuan could see figures—no, firemen—like demons from hell, running and jumping frantically between the streets and buildings, waving their arms. Some rolled on the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the flames consuming them... but it was in vain. The fire was everywhere, and there was no place left for them to find refuge.

The British tanks, too, were in a dire situation. While they had been invincible against German bullets and shells, they were helpless against the flames. The fire didn't burn through the armor; rather, it ignited the engines, turning the entire tanks into fireballs with a resounding "boom."

Some tank crews, in a desperate bid for survival, revved their engines, hoping to speed out of the inferno. Though they might still meet their end, at least it wouldn't be as excruciating.

However, their hope was futile... The desert heat, combined with the burning gasoline, caused the temperature to rise dramatically, making it impossible for the "Matilda" tanks' engines to function properly.

Soon, the tanks ground to a halt, and flames, like serpents, slithered and coiled around them.

Qin Chuan saw the hatches of the tanks open as British tank crews climbed out, staring at the surrounding inferno in despair. Some even waved frantically at the Germans for help... But they soon realized their situation was hopeless. One by one, they drew their pistols and ended their lives with a "bang."

Though reluctant, others followed suit as the fire closed in.

The German soldiers watched in silence as one after another fell. They made no move, knowing there was nothing they could do—nor was there a need to. Or perhaps they, too, were shaken by the sheer brutality of what they were witnessing, even though the victims were their enemies.

As for Qin Chuan, the one who had proposed this plan... He had only thought of how to defeat the enemy and save himself and his comrades. But now, faced with the reality, he found it far more difficult to accept than he had imagined.

However, it wasn't over yet.

One street, left relatively untouched due to the deaths of the cooks, became the only escape route in the inferno.

This led many surviving British soldiers to flock to this street, overcrowding it with desperate souls. Some, still on fire, threw themselves into the throng, causing inevitable chaos.

But that was a minor issue. This escape route was, in fact, a trap. On the other side of the street, German soldiers had prepared trucks loaded with gasoline barrels...

"Attack!" Bazel ordered through gritted teeth. Even he, a battle-hardened veteran, found it hard to bear the sight before him.

Upon receiving the order, the German soldiers started the trucks, placing rocks on the gas pedals to keep them accelerating. The trucks roared down the street toward the British.

The panicked British soldiers fired volleys at the trucks... The engines, unarmored and vulnerable, were soon destroyed by the gunfire.

Yet, the trucks, propelled by inertia and the slope of the street, continued their unstoppable charge toward the British... until they crashed into the tanks used by the British as cover.

The British, thinking they had averted disaster, were about to breathe a sigh of relief when they noticed the gasoline barrels rolling out of the truck bed, spilling their deadly contents onto the street.

Bazel calmly lit a match to light his cigarette, then tossed the match onto the ground... A wave of blue flames erupted with a "whoosh," racing toward the British.

"Fall back, fall back!" British soldiers screamed.

But it was too late. With a thunderous explosion, the entire truck was blown sky-high, scattering barrels everywhere, which burst into flames upon impact. Worse still, some barrels rolled across the ground like fiery wheels of death.

Qin Chuan averted his gaze and ducked behind a wall, unable to face the carnage any longer, especially knowing he had caused it.

At that moment, he saw Alfredo crouched in the corner, staring at Qin Chuan with wide, fearful eyes, as if he didn't recognize him.

Qin Chuan knew what Alfredo's gaze meant. He wanted to say something but ultimately remained silent.

He knew that anything he said would only be an excuse. No amount of eloquence could change the fact that he had led to the tragic deaths of these British soldiers.

So Qin Chuan simply avoided Alfredo's gaze, pulled out a pack of cigarettes with trembling hands, and lit one. But when he searched his pockets, he realized he didn't know where his matches were.

Suddenly, there was a "click." Kuhn had silently walked up beside him and struck a match, lighting Qin Chuan's cigarette for him. He patted Qin Chuan on the shoulder and said, "Well done, Sergeant. You saved all of us!"

Qin Chuan didn't respond. He just took deep drags from his cigarette, one after another.

Saving lives, or taking lives?

Hero, or demon?

Who can really say... This might be the contradictory nature of the battlefield, where to save lives, one must take lives, and to be a hero to some, one must become a demon to others.