Chapter Ninety-seven: Interlocking Links, Deciding Victory

Hearing these words, Kazuo Isao remained silent. His heart had sunk to the bottom of the abyss, utterly cold. A chill rose from the soles of his feet and spread along his back, making him shiver uncontrollably.

When Kazuo Isao witnessed this scene, he already understood—it was undoubtedly a trap set by the Chinese army. He had intended to exhaust the enemy's ammunition through relentless assaults by his soldiers, but he failed to realize that the enemy had deliberately reduced their rate of fire, waiting for him to take the bait. And he had crashed headlong into it.

An entire battalion of soldiers had lost their lives because of his mistakes and erroneous command. If it were only this, Kazuo Isao might not have felt so desperate; but with the loss of this battalion, he was left with less than two battalions, and he truly did not know whether he could hold out any longer.

The main force of the division was still half a day's march away, and with less than two battalions, there was no way he could endure until reinforcements arrived. After all, he was caught in a pincer, forced into a passive defense, no longer able to attack. It could be said that his blind self-confidence had squandered the Seventh Regiment's only opportunity for a proactive assault.

...

At this moment, those charging soldiers fell one after another along the path of attack, many of their bodies shredded by bullets. Some were struck in vital spots and died instantly, but others were less fortunate—hit in other areas, not yet dead, but writhing and screaming on the ground, their cries echoing with agony.

Compared to those already dead, these men suffered immense pain.

“Kazuo Isao, that fool! What on earth is he doing? He’s murdering the empire’s heroes, dooming the fate of the Seventh Regiment!” The battalion commander lying on the ground wailed, unable to restrain his voice from roaring in both pain and fury.

The Japanese soldiers who had been lucky enough to avoid the bullets stared in terror at the carnage, their eyes betraying a growing fear as they looked toward the defenders’ positions. Their fighting spirit was on the verge of collapse.

Though their resolve and tenacity were strong, such qualities only mattered when both sides suffered losses in the fight.

Now, they couldn’t even reach the enemy’s lines, only to be mowed down by bullets, dying in droves. This was a one-sided slaughter. In such conditions, even the firmest fighting spirit would crumble.

As the defenders’ machine guns fired ceaselessly, seemingly without end, the Japanese saw no hope of victory. With things as they were, it was a wonder they hadn’t broken and fled already.

Kazuo Isao watched his subordinates die in waves, saw countless imperial soldiers fall under the hail of machine gun fire. His lips trembled as he tried to speak, but no words came forth.

He looked at the soldiers writhing on the ground, pain etched across his face. “This is all because of me! My faulty command led to this…”

“Hurry, hurry—send word to withdraw all units. We must retreat!”

Kazuo Isao had realized that if they did not retreat now, the Seventh Regiment would be annihilated here. Issuing the retreat order was difficult; he knew that once they withdrew, he would face the division commander’s harsh questioning, perhaps even be sentenced to death. Yet, if he did not give the order, the remaining men would truly have no hope of survival.

The battalion commander received the order and shouted, “Everyone, assemble and break out!”

But as he finished speaking, a sharp whistling noise pierced the air, and in the distant sky, dozens of streaks of light suddenly appeared, crashing down toward them.

The artillery battalion had opened fire.

Seeing this, Kazuo Isao’s face flushed strangely red, and the command sword in his hand clattered to the ground. His body swayed, then his vision went dark, and he collapsed, losing consciousness.

In the final moment before he lost awareness, he seemed to see countless imperial soldiers engulfed by the barrage.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Shells crashed down around the Japanese, sending those struggling behind cover flying through the air, their bodies tossed like rag dolls amidst earth and debris. Some were blasted apart, their bodies shattered beyond recognition.

Stones exploded, the ground torn open by craters large and small, soil and rubble raining down. Many panicked soldiers were killed by shells as they tried to flee.

Under the bombardment, the Japanese will finally broke.

“Hurry, retreat!” the battalion commander shouted, rushing to Kazuo Isao’s side, hoping he would direct the withdrawal. But when he reached him, he found Kazuo Isao unconscious.

He was shocked, immediately kneeling to shake him and shout, “Commander! Commander, wake up!”

After some effort, Kazuo Isao slowly regained consciousness. The battalion commander helped him up, and as he witnessed the shelling, Kazuo Isao felt frozen to the core, a chill rising from his feet and making him shiver.

“It’s over. Everything is over,” he stammered. “My Seventh Regiment... finished!”

Upon awakening and seeing his regiment decimated by artillery, he understood everything.

The Chinese army had set trap after trap, locking his Seventh Regiment in a deadly embrace.

First, they ambushed with infantry, catching them off guard, then suppressed them with powerful fire, inflicting heavy casualties.

When the Japanese finally reacted, the enemy feigned weakness, luring them into the trap. By then, they had fallen completely into the Chinese army’s snare, led by the nose at every turn.

Then came a sudden, overwhelming counterattack to stun them, followed swiftly by artillery bombardment to disrupt their formations and destroy their fighting spirit.

At this stage, all preparations were complete; next came the decisive blow.

As Kazuo Isao thought this, he saw the Chinese forces suddenly unleash a thunderous shout, and countless soldiers surged out from both flanks.

This was their decisive move.

Seeing this, Kazuo Isao understood—the Seventh Regiment was utterly finished.

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