Three hours earlier, Stark, who had built the Mark I Iron Man suit, successfully escaped with the help of Yinsen, but the hand-built Mark I was of such poor quality that its rocket pack only allowed him to fly a dozen kilometers before crashing into the desert.
A strong will to live made him struggle out of the sand, and seeing the scorching sun almost directly overhead, Stark wailed, looked at his already dirty shirt, and with a few rips, he had a simple sun hat made of tattered cloth strips on his head.
Tony Stark was incredibly grateful at this moment that he had, on a whim, specifically learned survival knowledge. He had even spent a large sum of money to hire a female survival expert to teach him. Although the lessons eventually moved to the bedroom, Stark still firmly remembered the female expert's advice: in the desert, try not to expose yourself to the sun; if you can be in the shade, be in the shade; if there's no shade, then create a shaded cover.
After confirming the general direction, Stark walked unsteadily through the desolate Gobi and desert. Under the scorching sun, the air in the distance began to distort, and waves of heat surged towards him.
High temperature, dehydration, and injuries, these unfavorable factors combined, assailing Stark in turns. For a moment, Stark even wanted to give up, but thinking of Yinsen, who died for him, Stark again had a strong desire to live. He wanted to avenge Yinsen!
After crossing one sand dune after another, Stark saw several dilapidated, yellowish mud houses appear on the distant horizon.
"Human habitation?" First, he spat hard on his hand, then wiped his fingers, and only then did Stark carefully rub his eye sockets, widening his bloodshot eyes, and staring intently into the distance.
After confirming it wasn't a mirage, Stark immediately used his last ounce of strength to rush over.
One thousand meters, five hundred meters, three hundred meters, when he was still dozens of meters from the houses, the door of one of the mud houses in the middle suddenly creaked open.
Stark jolted, rolled to the ground, and into a depression on the side of the dirt road. Then he secretly raised his head and looked at the mud house.
Several armed soldiers, dressed in combat fatigues, with large sand-colored scarves around their necks and cloth wrapped around their heads, walked out.
"Damn it!" Seeing their attire and how much they resembled armed militants, Stark's heart sank, but what happened next instantly made his cold heart warm up.
The militants seemed to be arguing fiercely about something. Then, one of the leading militants suddenly threw his weapon to a companion, then lay on the ground and started doing push-ups, while his companions began chattering, occasionally bursting into laughter. Suddenly, the laughing militant said something in English.
"You call that a push-up? My grandma does them better than you!"
"Shut up, you idiot! We said no English when we came! Speak the local dialect!"
Hearing the familiar English, Stark decided to take a gamble, first shouting, "Don't shoot!" then raising his hands and standing up from the dirt pile.
"Who's there? Don't move!"
The militants reacted quickly. Before Stark had finished speaking, the dark muzzles of their guns were already pointed at him.
"I'm Tony Stark! Who are you?" Stark pulled off the tattered cloth strips wrapped around his head, his chapped lips parting as he looked at them.
"Tony Stark?" The leading militant pulled down the scarf wrapped around his head, revealing a scruffy white face.
"We are the Sons of Truth assault team, part of Gigas. I'm Captain Gideon, and we're here looking for you!" The white man motioned for his subordinates to lower their weapons and walked forward, ready to shake Stark's hand.
"That's great! Can I have something to eat and drink?" Stark looked at the large hand extended towards him, his legs went weak, and he almost collapsed. Fortunately, Gideon caught him.
"Hold on a moment, I'll notify the others immediately. Michelle, get some water!"
"Yes!" A soldier immediately rushed into the house, and a few seconds later, he rushed out with a large water bottle with a straw.
"Thank you!" Taking the heavy water bottle, Stark's throat twitched, then he picked up the straw and began to suck desperately.
"Hmm? Hmm~" After taking a big, satisfying gulp of the water, Stark noticed it was slightly salty and had a hint of fresh vegetable aroma, which made him a little curious.
"This is our nutrient solution. It can relieve fatigue and replenish various elements. Drink slowly, we have more! If it's not enough, I'll have the plane bring a few more cans when it comes," Gideon explained, seeing Stark's confusion.
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm~" Stark nodded vigorously, then hugged the water bottle and happily sucked again.
After drinking nearly a liter of the nutrient solution in one go, Stark let out a satisfied burp, then took the chocolate and field rations Gideon handed him and devoured them, no longer appearing as weak as he had just a few minutes ago.
"Mr. Stark, I've treated your external injuries, but for the one on your chest, I can't do anything!" While Stark was eating, the medic from Gideon's team had already performed a preliminary examination and treatment, cleaning and bandaging some wounds. He also thoughtfully summarized Stark's current injuries on a note, which he then handed to Stark.
"This is?"
"An overview of your condition. This way, when you get to the hospital, the doctors can skip the initial examination and proceed directly with treatment!"
"Professional!" Stark suddenly felt a hint of admiration for Fischer. He seemed like an ordinary soldier, but he handled the wounded cleanly and efficiently. Such talent would be a treasure in any army; how did he manage to recruit him?
If Fischer were here and heard his question, he would surely mock Stark, saying, "You yourself always say money can solve everything, so why can't I?" Back then, Fischer, for Gigas, had headhunted many retired special forces personnel to be instructors, and even several officers. The facts proved that Fischer did an excellent job; these instructors hired by Gigas passed on all their lifelong knowledge to their students, and combined with regular real-world experience in war zones, the combat personnel currently under Gigas can even rival T1-level special forces personnel. In terms of weaponry and equipment, they are even a cut above, as Gigas is still a top-tier arms trading company, so Gigas's combat units possess the best of what Gigas has to offer.