Chapter 67: The Bravery of the Little Devils Is Useless Before Artillery Shells!

In this symphony of death, the enemy threw themselves into the fray with reckless abandon, yet every assault they launched against the 66th Brigade was rendered futile by the brigade’s agile and masterful defensive tactics. Each time the enemy massed their forces to deliver a ferocious blow at a single point, the Chengyun soldiers would swiftly withdraw, evading direct confrontation through their intricate network of trenches. The artillery bombardment that followed only exacted a heavier toll from the attackers.

When the enemy tried to disperse their troops to reduce casualties, the 66th Brigade, with the support of their artillery, would pinpoint their weaknesses for precise counterattacks, rapidly weaving through the lines and plunging the enemy’s offensive into stalemate. On occasions when the enemy attempted to encircle the small detachment, they were met with empty fields and a sense of bewilderment, as if their foes had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the desolate battlefield and endless confusion.

In a corner of the battlefield, Major Ayakawa rallied his remaining troops for one final charge, his voice a desperate blend of command and despair: “Charge! Forward, now!” But the only answer was the silence of the dead. This hush was not from a lack of courage, but because so many fearless warriors had already found their eternal rest on this blood-soaked ground.

Surrounded by the corpses of his comrades, Ayakawa was overcome by despair and confusion. His weapon slipped helplessly from his grasp into the cold mud, the final resting place for his fallen brothers-in-arms. Moonlight bathed the battlefield in a mournful glow, the scent of blood and gunpowder swirling together in the night breeze.

Ayakawa fell to his knees upon the war-ravaged land, his face twisted in agony and his eyes brimming with tears. In a broken whisper, as if appealing to some unseen force, he murmured, “Why has it come to this? Where did we go wrong? Has even the divine abandoned us?”

Under the shroud of darkness, the flashes of artillery lit every corner of the battlefield, and the mere fifty meters between the 66th Brigade and Ayakawa’s men seemed an unbridgeable chasm. Smoke and the stench of blood hung thick in the air, bodies lay scattered, and every charge teetered on the edge of death.

Ayakawa’s expression was grave, his brow deeply furrowed. He tried to break through the enemy lines by adjusting tactics and increasing firepower, but all efforts proved futile. Suddenly, a soldier who had been blinded by an explosion stumbled past Ayakawa.

The sight of this suffering soldier filled Ayakawa with shock and rage, his face a tumult of conflicting emotions, his eyes burning with anger and indignation. He muttered bitterly, a wry smile at his lips, “So a man must die on the road to the charge. Our Emperor awaits news of our victory!”

With grim resolve, he ended the suffering of the wounded soldier, then steeled himself once more. Determination flashed in his eyes and a resolute smile curved his lips. Alone, wielding his command saber, he charged toward the front line.

Inspired by his example, the troops launched a suicidal assault.

On the opposing side, Liu Quan, Chief of Staff of the 66th Brigade, observed the spectacle with a frown, surprise and perplexity flickering in his eyes. He muttered to himself, “A bunch of fools! They know full well that charging en masse under our fire is suicide, yet they keep throwing themselves at us again and again!”

Beside him, Brigade Commander Liang Fei stood at the command post, binoculars clutched tightly in his hands as he coldly surveyed the battlefield. His face was expressionless, eyes icy, and a cold sneer tugged at his lips. “Hmph, it seems our division commander’s prediction was right! These enemies are nothing but a pack of lawless madmen and idiots!”

As the enemy soldiers pressed closer, they were mercilessly cut down by the 66th Brigade’s superior firepower. The battlefield echoed with the sounds of shattering limbs and ceaseless screams.

Liang Fei watched it all without a flicker of emotion—there was no pity in his heart, only a satisfaction he could scarcely conceal. As a survivor of the Fengshun Massacre, it was his deep-seated hatred of the enemy that had kept him alive to this day. His gaze was resolute, his smile grim. He had often sworn that unless every last one of these invaders was wiped from the earth, he would never leave the army.

Liang Fei had once become a prime target for the enemy’s assassins. Were it not for the elite guards dispatched by Jiang Bai, his forthright nature would have doomed him long ago.

“Commander, it looks like an enemy officer is charging toward us!” a soldier reported tensely.

Liang Fei replied with curiosity, “Give me your rifle.”

Without hesitation, the soldier handed his rifle over. Liang Fei expertly chambered a round, took aim from a half-kneeling position, and with practiced calm, zeroed in on Ayakawa’s head before decisively pulling the trigger.

A single gunshot rang out, and a bullet tore through Ayakawa’s skull, leaving a gory hole. In that split second, Ayakawa’s expression froze. He instinctively reached for his forehead, but before his hand could rise, the life drained from his body and he collapsed to the ground.

With Ayakawa’s fall, his regiment was left leaderless and plunged into chaos.

At the same time, the 67th Brigade successfully broke through the lines of the 3rd Infantry Battalion. Encircled and attacked from both front and rear, Ayakawa’s regiment lost all capacity to break out.

Witnessing the enemy’s collapse, a cold satisfaction filled Liang Fei’s heart. The battlefield, that vast expanse steeped in death and suffering, bore silent witness to the brutal reality of war.

In the face of utter defeat, not a single soldier on either side chose to retreat. Even in their final moments, some enemy soldiers clung tightly to the bodies of Chengyun troops, their eyes burning with a fanatical light.

“If our weapons hadn’t far outclassed theirs, they would have broken our lines long ago,” Liang Fei said, his features set with determination in the glow of distant artillery.

With their numerical superiority and having thoroughly sealed off the enemy’s retreat, the annihilation of Ayakawa’s regiment seemed inevitable. But even in their despair, the enemy’s resolve and sacrifice were impossible to entirely ignore.

As the battle drew to a close, Liang Fei knew the war was far from over. He turned to his fellow commanders and said, “This front is settled, but we must move quickly toward Wangkou City.” Though his voice was calm, it was thick with urgency.

“There are still nearly thirty thousand enemy main forces over there. The 63rd Brigade has held out this long—no small feat.” They all understood that the fate of Wangkou City was crucial.

Without a moment’s rest, the commanders of the 66th and 67th Brigades issued swift orders, leading their troops at a rapid pace toward Wangkou City.

In the night, the soldiers’ footsteps and the clatter of their gear rang out together, sounding the trumpet of their advance. Determination was etched on every face as they prepared for the battle that lay ahead.