Chapter Nine: Live and Die with the Position!

At this moment, everyone was still reeling from the shock of Chen Qingzhi single-handedly killing five Japanese soldiers in an instant. They had only seen his bayonet thrust forward once, yet five enemy soldiers had fallen at once—a scene that defied all imagination.

They simply could not fathom what kind of technique could allow five enemies to be killed in the blink of an eye. Only Chen Qingzhi himself knew the truth: in that split second, he had struck five times in rapid succession, each thrust piercing the carotid artery of a different enemy soldier. His movements were so swift that the five strikes blurred into a single motion—observers saw only one attack, but the five soldiers fell dead in unison.

This display of speed was nothing short of extraordinary, leaving all who witnessed it utterly stunned. Yet, unbeknownst to them, the very man who had just achieved this astonishing feat was frowning in dissatisfaction.

“I can’t believe my speed has dropped to this level! And in that last attack, I nearly slipped up. I’ve regressed far too much!” Chen Qingzhi thought to himself.

In his previous life, as the Republic’s top special forces king, his skills were nothing short of terrifying. At his peak, if faced with such a situation, he could have struck at least twelve times in an instant; now, he had barely managed five, and even that had felt forced.

This result left him deeply unsatisfied. If the others around him knew his thoughts, they would surely have rolled their eyes in disbelief. To strike five times in the blink of an eye—so fast that the naked eye could hardly follow—and still be dissatisfied? How could anyone hope to live up to such standards?

The other soldiers didn’t know what was going through Chen Qingzhi’s mind, but that didn’t dampen their excitement. Once the initial shock subsided, they were filled with elation and shouted joyfully, “Well done, Commander! Well done, Commander!”

“Kill them! Kill the enemy!”

While the soldiers’ morale soared, Chen Qingzhi seized the moment, shouting loudly to spur them on, urging them to fight with all their might against the Japanese invaders.

“Baka! All of you Chinese, die! Die!” The Japanese officers quickly regained their composure. One of their company commanders, his face dark with fury, brandished his command saber and bellowed, “Attack! Quickly, attack!”

“Kill them!” Under the officers’ command, waves of Japanese soldiers surged onto the battlefield, launching a brutal hand-to-hand assault against the First Battalion’s defenders.

Though Chen Qingzhi’s earlier display had stunned the Japanese momentarily, they soon rallied and charged toward him, undeterred by his prowess. The officers’ shouts, the spirit of bushido, and the glory of the Emperor inspired them, and they advanced with unwavering resolve, rifles at the ready, leaping into the trenches and charging at Chen Qingzhi and his men.

Chen Qingzhi quickly became their primary target. Yet he showed no fear, skillfully wielding his bayonet and cutting down the attackers one by one. Still, the enemy numbers were overwhelming. No matter how formidable Chen Qingzhi was, two hands could not defeat a hundred foes. Surrounded by the unending tide of enemy soldiers, he was gradually forced to fall back as he fought.

The other soldiers found the struggle even more arduous. Despite their soaring morale and willingness to lay down their lives, their numbers were too few. Outnumbered and outmatched, they could not hold back the relentless Japanese assault.

One by one, soldiers fell, their bodies pooling in blood.

“Die, you Chinese dog!” shouted a Japanese soldier, thrusting his bayonet into the body of one of the defenders. A cruel grin twisted his face as he yelled.

The wounded soldier spat blood, the bayonet having pierced him through. Crimson spread across his abdomen, and his body nearly collapsed under the agony, but with a last surge of strength, he gripped the bayonet impaled in his body and hurled himself forward.

A sickening sound as the blade tore through flesh. The soldier, run through, seemed oblivious to pain. Blood streamed from his mouth as he bared his teeth and bit down savagely on the Japanese soldier’s throat, determined to take his enemy with him in death.

With a scream, the Japanese soldier felt the bite at his neck and blood gushed forth. Enraged and panicked by the pain, he stabbed the bayonet again and again into the soldier’s abdomen.

The defender’s stomach was a ruin of wounds, his organs pierced, intestines spilling out, a river of blood soaking the earth. Yet even as life ebbed from him, his jaws remained locked on his enemy’s neck—he would not let go, even in death.

“Baka! Die!” The Japanese soldier, feeling the icy grip at his throat and his strength draining with his blood, was seized by terror. He kicked out desperately, trying to dislodge the dying man.

With a ripping sound, the defender was flung aside, but he tore away a huge chunk of flesh from the Japanese soldier’s neck as he went. Blood sprayed from the gaping wound, and the Japanese soldier collapsed, howling in agony and clutching at his neck, his face contorted in pain. For a moment, he lingered between life and death.

Seeing this, the fallen defender finally managed a faint smile before collapsing in a pool of blood, silent and still forevermore.

A comrade, witnessing this grim scene, drove his own bayonet into the wailing enemy, silencing him and ending his suffering for good.

“Baka!”

Before this soldier could catch his breath, two more Japanese surged forward, cursing as they ran him through with their bayonets.

Coughing blood, the wounded man fumbled at his belt for a grenade. With desperate determination, and under the horrified gaze of the two Japanese, he pulled the pin.

An explosion rocked the trench, sending the two enemy soldiers flying, their bodies torn asunder.

Scenes like this played out again and again on this small patch of battlefield. Countless defenders fought and died, laying down their lives in a desperate struggle against the invaders. Their only wish was to do all they could to annihilate these hated aggressors.

“Hold the line, brothers! Kill! Kill the enemy!” Chen Qingzhi drew a deep breath and cried out, leading his men in the fierce, unending melee.

“Kill! We’ll live and die with this position!” Tiger answered with a shout. As he fought, he roared in rage, his broadsword flashing coldly as he cut down any enemy who dared approach, leaving a trail of dead in his wake.