Island of Death, located on the western side of the Pacific. The terrain is treacherous, with mountains rising and falling, but the most terrifying thing, of course, is the cluster of military-style buildings on the island that even Jian Hao can see.
The island's environment is more for exploration and survival than for residence and health.
"Brother, is this island really yours?" Jian Hao asked, his eyes filled with confusion and doubt.
"Who exactly are you?"
Though the brother before his eyes was clearly still him, why did he seem so unfamiliar?
Especially not far ahead, there were wounded people disembarking from helicopters, supporting each other, while battlefield nurses came out to administer aid.
Everything before his eyes was not something that would happen in peacetime.
"I, I am..." Han Mochen suddenly got stuck.
Being honest was really the right thing to do, and judging by Jian Hao's capacity for acceptance, he might not be unable to handle it.
But just...
