Chapter 53: If It Comes to Real Steel and Gunpowder, Can We Truly Defeat the Chengyun Army?

On the position of the 67th Infantry Brigade, Brigade Commander Yao Shu watched the chaos unfolding within the 2nd Provisional Brigade with cold, detached eyes.

He shook his head disdainfully, a trace of mockery curling his lips. “What a rabble. If the 23rd Security Division were here, they’d have regrouped and counterattacked long ago. But these men— all they do is drag each other away in panic, terrified of being a step slower than the next. I’d wager the number they’ve trampled to death themselves far exceeds our own casualties inflicted!”

The deputy brigade commander beside him chuckled at Yao’s words and replied, “Commander, we shouldn’t be too categorical. Just imagine—if the 2nd Provisional Brigade were actually competent, we might not have had any part to play in this battle at all.”

Yao nodded in agreement, but then the implication of his subordinate’s remark dawned on him. He paused, awkwardly caught off guard.

“Damn it—are you complimenting me, or mocking me?” he snapped, his tone edged with anger despite the tension and smoke of the battlefield. Yet he did not pursue the matter further. Instead, he refocused his attention on commanding the fight.

He rose swiftly, eyes like burning torches, and issued his orders with unwavering authority: “All concealed machine gun positions, open fire immediately! And make sure every operator remembers to change the light machine gun barrels in time, and cool the heavy machine guns with water. If I catch anyone damaging a weapon through carelessness, I’ll have them strung up on a tree and beaten!”

At his command, the hidden machine gun nests on both sides of the mountaintop erupted in a thunderous barrage.

A pitiless rain of iron swept down the slopes like a storm-lashed waterfall, mercilessly cutting down any living thing exposed to their fire.

Under this sudden, savage onslaught, the soldiers of the 2nd Provisional Brigade found themselves with nowhere to hide. Agonized screams echoed across the battlefield, punctuating the endless rattle of gunfire, the sounds so harrowing that even the most hardened heart quailed.

Even shrouded by night, the despair and terror of those pinned beneath the withering fire were laid bare in their howls, reaching every soul present. Sometimes, a man’s happiness is never shared by another.

Amid this tension, a breathless voice shattered the brief silence: “Commander! The mountain is full of Chengyun Army troops—our retreat is completely cut off!”

The words struck like a thunderbolt, stunning all who heard them.

The only escape route had been sealed by the Chengyun Army. Wang Chengfei’s head spun as if the world itself were collapsing; his face turned deathly pale. Their sole retreat—a narrow pass threading through the valley—was now firmly in the enemy’s grasp. What had been their lifeline to the outside world had become a deathtrap.

There was nowhere left to flee. Now, they could only make a last, desperate stand against the Chengyun Army on this bloodstained ground. The mere thought was enough to paralyze Wang Chengfei with dread.

Could they really defeat the Chengyun Army in open battle?

What followed was a ten-minute artillery duel, the air thick with gunpowder and the acrid scent of scorched earth.

Then, the soldiers of the 66th Brigade, wild as unbridled stallions, surged up the steep mountain path, torches blazing in the night like shooting stars, hurling their ultimatum at the panicked soldiers of the 2nd Provisional Brigade: “Lay down your arms and you’ll be spared! Surrender and you’ll live!”

At this, one after another, the soldiers of the 2nd Provisional Brigade threw aside their weapons, raising their hands high and sinking to their knees, pleading for mercy—despair mingled with a desperate hope for survival. “We won’t fight anymore! We surrender! Spare us, Chengyun Army masters!”

One soldier, on the verge of tears, prayed silently, his voice barely above a whisper, “Grandfather Earth, Blessed Bodhisattva, Lord Jade Emperor! If you let me live and return home, I’ll offer you the richest incense as if you were my own father!”

As the tide of surrender swept through their ranks, others turned on their own, shouting, “Who’s still firing? Drop your weapon! If you want to die, don’t drag us down with you!”

As a hastily assembled security detachment, the 2nd Provisional Brigade had always lacked real fighting power. In such dire straits, unless a man was truly resigned to death, surrender was the only choice.

At last, when the final shot faded into silence, what should have been a blocking action ended as a massacre.

The outcome was decisive: the 66th Brigade captured nearly five thousand enemy troops, with the 2nd Provisional Brigade’s total strength numbering around seven thousand. This meant that, aside from a handful who escaped in the confusion, the actual battle casualties were minimal.

Meanwhile, trapped on Xiaoliang Mountain, Yan Chun was overjoyed when he received a dispatch and heard the sounds of battle. He believed the long-awaited reinforcements had finally arrived.

Without hesitation, he gave the order to break out—only to find that the route he had chosen led straight into the encirclement set by the 64th Brigade. After an entire night of bitter combat, Yan Chun’s forces not only failed to break through but suffered devastating losses, plunging into an even deeper despair.

As the night’s flames of war raged on, Yan Chun sat alone in his command tent, smoking his last cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into a haze beneath the feeble light.

Outside, the thunder of artillery was relentless, each explosion making the tent tremble.

When the final wisp of smoke vanished into the darkness, he flung the butt to the ground and declared, voice heavy with fate’s burden, “Damn it, I’m done with this war. I surrender. Notify the entire army—at first light, we’ll lay down arms to the Chengyun Army.”

On September 29, as dawn barely broke, Yan Chun led his battered troops through the morning mist, descending the mountain. Their figures, bathed in the cold light of sunrise, seemed more desolate than ever. After a night of desperate deliberation and futile attempts to break out, Yan Chun and his men had found no escape—only to be relentlessly pursued by Chen Shan’s forces. Their plight grew ever more hopeless.

Approaching the blockade line set by Chen Shan’s troops, Yan Chun drew a deep breath. He knew that continued resistance would only bring senseless slaughter. Faced with the looming threat of artillery fire, he made his choice. Dressed in his formal uniform, face grave and resolute, he led his men in surrender, placing their lives above all else.

Escorted to the command post of the 7th Reinforced Division at Wangkou, Yan Chun faced Jiang Bai. His expression was a blend of respect, helplessness, and the soldier’s own stubborn pride.

He spoke solemnly: “Commander Jiang, your tactical command and strategic vision are truly admirable. I concede my defeat with sincere respect. All I ask is that you treat my men with mercy. As for my own fate, I leave that to your discretion.”

Jiang Bai’s face was unreadable, but his eyes shone with stern resolve as he replied, “You need not worry, Commander Yan. My campaign is against those who betray the dynasty. As soldiers, we share a common faith and duty—to protect our homeland and our nation’s honor.”

These words not only gave this conflict a special meaning, but also allowed Yan Chun to maintain a calm exterior—even as, inwardly, relief washed over him. He knew there was hope for leniency for himself and his troops.