The nurses were running back and forth. It seemed like Van Persie was not in good shape.
Major General Li Lie stood by Van Persie's bed, looking at the crippled major whose limbs were all heavily distorted. Even a part of his face had caved in. Van Persie had once been a brave man, yet here he was, weeping silently and hopelessly on the sickbed. The major general could not even spew a word of consolation because he understood the pain all too well. He had once shed similar tears, not once, but thrice. After all, he had served Iron-Blooded City for two decades, had he not?
Sometimes, the things that one did not want to remember was precisely what was the hardest to forget. Some wounds could never heal no matter the consolation. Those who had never been on the battlefield and had never experienced friends and brothers dying right in front of their eyes could never experience the torment.