How to Become a Trusted Confidant

“I can provide you with an additional thirty men, but if you want more soldiers beyond that, you’ll have to figure it out yourself. There are still villagers nearby—you can capture them, arm them, and send them to the front lines as cannon fodder, so our fighters can make a greater impact.” Captain Mulu said coldly. Just as he was about to order thirty soldiers from his accompanying unit to stay behind, the distant sound of artillery fire suddenly rang out.

“Boom! Whizz—crash.”

A small-caliber mortar shell landed directly beside Captain Mulu, on top of the pile of fallen alliance soldiers. The explosion sent countless limbs and fragments flying into the air. Unluckily, Mulu was struck in the head by a severed human head blasted from the blast, and he collapsed cleanly to the ground.

“It’s government forces’ mortars, run!” shouted a wounded soldier. The already disorganized alliance troops instantly panicked. Some dropped to the ground to dodge shrapnel, others scrambled to retreat beyond the range of the enemy barrage. Most vanished like smoke into the nearby woods.

Amid the chaos, the reinforcement troops Captain Mulu had brought performed relatively well. At least this more disciplined group of over fifty men did not collapse instantly; most took cover behind trees and rocks, waiting for the government forces’ bombardment to cease.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” More shells rained down. Within thirty seconds, over ten shells had landed near the alliance’s field dressing station. Unfortunately for the Somali government forces, their artillery accuracy was poor—the shells scattered over a radius exceeding 500 meters. As long as the alliance soldiers didn’t run recklessly, casualties were minimal.

Once all the alliance soldiers had hidden, Hou Rui, crouching behind a large tree, noticed Captain Mulu lying alone on the ground. Mortar shells sporadically landed around him, and who knew if the next one might strike Mulu’s body.

Should he rescue him or not?

If Hou Rui dashed out now, he risked being hit by blind fire from the government mortars. But if he didn’t aid Mulu, the fallen captain would likely be shattered by the next shell. That cruel and ruthless man’s death wouldn’t be a loss, yet if Mulu died, Hou Rui’s plan to use him to get close to the Liberators Alliance would be ruined. Who knew if such a rare opportunity would come again in the next six months?

Damn it! After much deliberation, Hou Rui decided he must save the man.

Frustrated with himself, Hou Rui slammed his fist against the tree trunk he was hiding behind, then widened his eyes, searching for an opening. Finally, as another shell landed, Hou Rui moved with the agility of a leopard, sprinting out in a flash toward Captain Mulu, who lay just over ten meters away.

“Boom!” Another shell exploded, hitting the root of a large tree about 56 meters from Hou Rui. The blast sent soil, shattered wood fragments, and deadly shrapnel flying. Hou Rui was knocked over by the shockwave but luckily only suffered minor scrapes—none of the vital areas were struck.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” The government’s shelling continued. Even a second’s delay meant a brush with death, so gritting his teeth, Hou Rui pressed on, finally reaching Captain Mulu’s side. Instead of helping him up, Hou Rui suddenly leapt, pinning the unconscious Mulu’s upper body and spinning around half a turn while holding him.

“Boom!” Another shell landed nearby. Lying sprawled and exposed, Hou Rui used Mulu’s body as a shield against the blast and flying debris. After all, Mulu was unconscious and couldn’t blame him.

When the dust and dirt settled and a faint wisp of smoke rose from the shallow crater, Hou Rui cautiously reached out to check Mulu’s pulse.

Fortunately, Mulu’s pulse was strong. He had only been knocked out by the flying severed head—no serious injuries.

Hou Rui then gave Mulu’s body a strong tug. The two rolled together in place, spinning over and over until they reached the safety behind the large tree where Hou Rui had hidden before. The government forces fired over forty shells in total before ceasing their barrage on the area.

“Crack!” A tree, heavily damaged by the mortar shells, finally gave way under the weight of its sprawling canopy. The massive treetop crashed to the ground with a thunderous roar, and silence fell over the battlefield. The uninjured alliance soldiers cautiously peeked out, while Sergeant Kun seized the moment to lead the reinforcements in loud shouts to protect Captain Mulu.

“Captain! Captain!” Hou Rui shook the still-unconscious Mulu vigorously. When there was no response, Hou Rui harshly pressed a finger into the captain’s philtrum.

“Mmm”—after about twenty-three minutes, Captain Mulu finally opened his eyes, seeing Hou Rui’s concerned face before him.

“Captain, are you alright? The government shelling has stopped,” Hou Rui briefly explained.

“Was I hit by something just now? Did I fall? Was it Sergeant Douglas who saved me?” Mulu tried to speak and, with Hou Rui’s support, managed to stand.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” Hou Rui replied flatly, showing no hint of pride. Mulu’s expression remained equally calm, with no sign of overwhelming gratitude or desire to repay his savior.

At that moment, Sergeant Kun and other officers arrived. Once fully conscious, Captain Mulu quickly issued several orders: first, to send forty more soldiers to the frontline; next, to add a 60-caliber mortar to counter and retaliate against the government’s bombardment; and finally, to look for opportunities to probe the government’s blockade line with small-scale harassment attacks—mostly to vent his own anger.

After handling frontline affairs, Mulu’s convoy began retracing the route back to the town. Sitting in the jeep, Hou Rui expected the captain to continue dispatching troops to prepare for potential government attacks. Instead, Mulu suddenly ordered the driver, “Go check on Sergeant Kun’s camp.”

“Yes, Captain,” the driver replied, steering the vehicle as the soldier in the passenger seat leaned out to relay the order to the pickup trucks behind.

Minutes later, the convoy stopped at an abandoned school playground. As Mulu, Hou Rui, and Sergeant Kun disembarked, a chaotic swarm of about 2,300 children aged nine to fourteen surged out, forming an unruly formation on the grounds. After thirty-four minutes, a ragtag child army was assembled before Captain Mulu.

Hands clasped behind his back, stepping briskly, Mulu gave the formation a sideways glance before dismissing them. Then he approached Sergeant Kun eagerly, asking, “How many are ready for combat?”

“Captain, five hundred are ready to fight at any moment,” Kun replied, chest puffed out.

“That’s too few. How many are still in training?”

“About two hundred. In two weeks, half of them will be qualified warriors.”

“Oh, take me to see them,” Mulu said, leading the way toward the school’s classroom building.

Inside the two-story building, the second floor had been turned into barracks for the child soldiers. Each room was packed with children. Those holding Type 47 rifles were the trained veterans; the unarmed ones were still in training. Soon, Hou Rui spotted the vacant-eyed, motionless Little Camel lying on a heap of dry straw.

In just one day, the child forced to kill his own mother had changed. His once-innocent, clear eyes were now dull and numb. A thin stream of drool uncontrollably trickled from the corner of his mouth. Little Camel looked like a child with severe mental impairment.

What had been done to these children? Hou Rui wondered, while Captain Mulu, walking ahead, asked for an update: “How far along are these kids?”

“They’ve just started the medication. None are addicted yet. Steps two and three haven’t even begun,” Sergeant Kun explained. He was in charge of training the child soldiers.

“We need to accelerate the process. A major battle could erupt anytime at the front. I need every able-bodied gunman.”

“Yes, Captain,” Kun quickly agreed.

Mulu toured the child soldier quarters, asking many questions. On the way back, he suddenly spotted the frail Little Camel. His face darkened immediately.

“How old is this little kid? Can he even go to the battlefield? I don’t need dead weight like this in my unit!”