But despite their victory, the men were reluctant to move on.
These were the spoils of war — the hard-won Hydra tanks and armored vehicles they had captured. Far more advanced than anything in Allied service, they were technological treasures. To abandon them here felt like a knife through the heart.
Bucky turned to Steve, hoping his friend might have a solution. Steve frowned, his mind racing, but he came up empty. Truthfully, he didn't want to leave the weapons behind either. The engineering alone could be a breakthrough for Allied R&D.
Catching Bucky's gaze, Steve could read his thoughts. He thought long and hard, but the facts were clear: the valley was nearly two kilometers long, choked with boulders and debris. Getting those massive machines through was impossible. At last, he sighed and shook his head helplessly.
Disappointment settled over the group like a fog. Only Chen Mo remained calm, standing quietly off to the side, waiting for them to rest before resuming the march.
To him, these Hydra vehicles weren't worth a second glance. He knew Hydra's true technology — these tanks were outdated prototypes, discarded models he'd let the rebel base keep for appearances. Junk, really.
Still, when Steve's eyes lit up and he rushed over, Chen Mo could already guess what was coming.
"Master, there must be some way to get these tanks back! It's such a waste to just leave them here!"
Chen Mo gave him a tired look. These scraps? You're treating them like treasures.
Of course, he couldn't say that aloud. Here, he was an Allied officer — and Steve's mentor. He had a role to play.
"Where's the sword I gave you?" Chen Mo asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
Steve immediately drew the long Adamantium blade from his back. "Right here, sir. Why?"
Seeing his student's confused expression, Chen Mo had to fight the urge to rub his temples.
Was this really the future Captain America? The so-called tactical genius of legend?
Maybe he'd trained the wrong guy — perhaps the real Steve Rogers was still back in Brooklyn picking fights with bullies in alleyways.
Rolling his eyes, Chen Mo turned and started walking into the valley.
As he walked, he slowly drew the Sword of the King from his back.
Reaching a one-meter-wide boulder, he stopped, raised the gleaming blade — and swung.
Under the astonished stares of Steve and the soldiers, the sword flashed once.
When Chen Mo stepped aside, the boulder was gone — replaced by a neat pile of head-sized stones.
By the time he moved on to the next rock, realization finally dawned on Steve.
He quickly raised his own Adamantium sword and joined in, hacking apart larger rocks while the others rushed forward to clear away the rubble.
Once the shock faded, excitement spread through the ranks. No one needed orders. Every soldier jumped in to help, hauling broken stones aside, opening a path for the vehicles.
The Hydra tanks and armored vehicles were huge — nearly four meters wide, much bulkier than any German or Allied design.
They would need to clear a path at least that wide for them to pass.
Fortunately, even these "obsolete" Hydra machines were marvels of engineering — superior to anything either side had. Their traction systems and mobility were exceptional, capable of crossing uneven terrain once the largest obstacles were removed.
All Chen Mo and Steve had to do was slice the massive boulders into manageable pieces, and the soldiers could carry the rest away. Smaller debris posed no threat to those engines.
Even so, clearing the short valley — less than a kilometer long — took the entire day.
Chen Mo, tireless as ever, was unfazed.
But Steve and the others were exhausted.
Thankfully, the German troops who had been stationed here were all dead, and no word of the battle had escaped.
There was no risk of reinforcements arriving anytime soon.
After a brief rest, the group pressed on — moving their captured vehicles through the newly cut path, finally breaking through the German blockade and heading back toward Allied lines.
When they returned to camp, leading a column of freed prisoners and captured Hydra war machines, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of triumphant.
The soldiers in camp erupted in cheers. Word spread quickly — the commander of the legendary special forces unit, the man whispered about across the front, had returned.
For months, stories had circulated about a mysterious team that hunted Hydra. Its commander was said to be unstoppable — able to split tanks in half with a single stroke, to annihilate entire Hydra battalions alone.
Until now, most had dismissed those tales as exaggeration.
But the rescued prisoners had seen it all — Chen Mo cutting through artillery, slicing apart boulders with his sword. Their firsthand accounts left no room for doubt.
The myth had become real.
All eyes turned toward him in awe.
He stood before the crowd, tall and formidable, clad in his black alloy armor — silver-edged sword on his back, black shield at his side, twin pistols on his thighs, and his belt lined with throwing knives, grenades, and magazines.
His cold expression and towering presence made him stand out like a figure carved from steel — commanding both respect and fear.
Beside him stood Steve, transformed by battle. His bearing was steadier now, more assured. Wearing the same gear, he didn't have Chen Mo's overwhelming aura, but there was a new sharpness in him — a confidence that had earned the admiration of the troops.
Once, to the front-line soldiers, Steve Rogers had been just an actor — a performer in a flag suit.
A mascot.
But after charging deep behind enemy lines with Chen Mo, rescuing over a hundred Allied prisoners, and leading them home, no one doubted him anymore — not even Colonel Phillips.
As Phillips and Agent Carter approached through the crowd, Steve's heart tightened. He remembered that he had disobeyed orders to go after Bucky. Would this cost Carter her position?
He straightened, stepped forward, and saluted crisply.
"Colonel, I'm willing to accept punishment."
Phillips studied him for a long moment, then turned his head away.
"No need."
He started toward Chen Mo, pausing just long enough to give Steve a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Steve caught it instantly.
The colonel never smiled — not once before.
A warmth rose in his chest.
"Yes, sir," he said softly.
After Phillips moved on, Peggy Carter stepped forward.
Her eyes — bright, emotional, and full of pride — met Steve's.
He looked back, equally intent.
She had been the one who believed in him when no one else did, who saw his courage when others saw only weakness.
And now, he had finally proven her right — and found the courage to face her not as the weak man he once was… but as the hero he had become.