The War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression Begins in Songhu

Chapter 448 Why Shouldn't a Man Carry a Wu Hook? (Two Chapters Combined)

Time: Day 20 of the rest period, in a fast food restaurant specializing in Mexican cuisine in San Diego, California, North America.

Huang Feifan, the same Huang Feifan who recently speculated on gold and almost lost everything, was a member of the time-traveling team who eventually had to go to North America to become a drone pilot. He was essentially Van Gogh, who flew a large plane to transport eggs.

He was eating a taco, also known as a Moët & Chandon taco, right now.

There's no way around it! Chinese restaurants in North America are not only expensive, but the food is also incredibly bad.

Many of these restaurants weren't even run by proper Chinese people, and the food was neither sweet nor salty enough to make Van Gogh want to throw the plate away every time he ate there.

Instead of wasting that money, I'd rather eat Lao Mo's wraps; at least they taste alright.

While he was eating and drinking heartily, his phone suddenly rang. After the call was made, a voice in Cantonese came through: "Make preparations today, there's an operation tonight!"

His first response was, "Received! Will arrive on time."

After such a brief exchange, Van Gogh hung up the phone. Before he could even get back to eating, a voice beside him asked in Cantonese:

"Are you guys working again tonight?"

"Hey!" Van Gogh answered instinctively, then turned his head to look in the direction of the voice, only to find that the owner of the voice was a muscular middle-aged black man.

Although the other person was dressed casually, their distinctive large belly and indescribable aura made them stand out.

Van Gogh immediately had a gut feeling that the other party was a border police officer.

Given that he currently lacks legal entry documents and has leverage over his profession, he will not have a good ending if he falls into the hands of these border officers.

Upon realizing this, Van Gogh immediately had a great jolt.

Having experienced too many wars during his time travels, his conditioned reflex was to draw his gun and kill the other party; then he would simply run to Mexico and hide for a while before making any further moves.

Unexpectedly, the other party was prepared and pressed a Glock pistol against his head first.

Then, with a smug look on his face, the other person said to Van Gogh, "You wouldn't believe it, would you? There's a black guy in the border region between California and Mexico who speaks Cantonese so fluently."

"I can't help it, I lived in Hong Kong for seven years, and I speak fluent Cantonese."

The next second, several people nearby immediately drew their guns and pointed them at the middle-aged black man; their fierceness was undiminished.

These people were all from Van Gogh's hometown, or perhaps they were his accomplices in preventing his rivals from betraying him.

You heard right! Now, even when Van Gogh is smuggling eggs to Uncle Sam's house, he has to be careful not to get double-crossed and have his eggs stolen.

The key reason is that the profits involved are enough to make people take risks.

At its most profitable, a dozen eggs cost only $2 when purchased from Lao Mo, but after being smuggled to Uncle Shan's house, they could easily sell for $13 on the black market, a profit of over 600%.

Even though the profit margin is lower now, the profit from one shipment still exceeds $2.5, which is no less than that from shipping flour.

However, compared to flour, eggs are much easier to sell; and the punishment for being caught by the police is also much less severe.

So it's not surprising that people are fighting over eggs; after all, everyone knows this is a magical land.

Not long after Van Gogh arrived in North America, he even heard that some gangsters had started fighting over eggs.

Seeing his partner pull out a gun, Van Gogh felt more confident.

He asked the middle-aged black man provocatively, "So, you must be a border police officer who speaks Cantonese. What do you want to do? Arrest us all?"

"Good eye! I am indeed a border police officer!"

Even with several guns pointed at him, the black man looked completely fearless and slowly opened his jacket to reveal the police badge hidden inside.

Then, after giving the crowd a disdainful look, he solemnly began to speak:

"I'm here today to formally inform you that, starting today, for every ship of eggs you bring, I and the people behind me will each receive ten thousand US dollars. Otherwise, you'll be in big trouble."

“You just ask for ten thousand dollars a ship, why don’t you just rob us?” Van Gogh cursed.

Faced with such a barrage of insults, the middle-aged black man calmly replied, "The reason we don't rob is because robbing isn't as fast or reliable as this."

Gentlemen, give me a straight answer: are you going to give it to me or not?

"If I give it to you, everything will be fine from now on. If you don't, I guarantee things will get very bad starting tonight."

"Go to hell, I'd rather throw you into the sea and make a splash than let you get away with this," Van Gogh replied.

"Alright! I wish you all the best for tonight's operation." The middle-aged black man left with these words before putting away his gun, thus preventing an agreement from being reached between the two sides.

Van Gogh and the others subsequently lost their appetite.

After getting into a used Ford pickup truck, the group hurriedly left the Mexican restaurant.

After getting into the car and driving down a street, Van Gogh still made a phone call to the leader of their group, his third cousin.

After the call connected, he quietly explained everything that had just happened to his third cousin.

Don't be fooled by his tough and uncompromising demeanor in front of the middle-aged black man, who seemed like a brute ready to kill him at the drop of a hat.

This is simply because in this wretched place, there's no such thing as gentleness or humility; on the contrary, it's this kind of person who's always ready to fight that's more likely to survive.

Otherwise, they would be devoured in no time, leaving not even bones behind.

Everything before was just a show of force created by Van Gogh.

The phone call lasted three or four minutes. Before hanging up, the third cousin suggested, "Afan, how about we call off tonight's operation?"

Let's rest for a few days and see what the wind blows.

Faced with such a suggestion, Van Gogh's face immediately showed helplessness.

Because he learned more information from his third cousin over the phone, such as that the middle-aged black man was indeed a border police officer.

Moreover, he and the people behind him are a bunch of utterly rotten bastards.

How rotten is it? Mexicans bring in smuggled drugs, guns, and ammunition—these crazy things—and they basically don't care.

The only things that attract more attention are various powerful explosives and illegal immigrants.

The former explosives are used because if something goes wrong with them, it often involves... well, you know. If something serious happens, it's so big that it could cause a huge uproar, and they'll be in trouble.

The latter, illegal immigration, is a project that the current president is cracking down on, giving them a hard task.

For the reasons mentioned above, it's really not strange or incomprehensible that these border officers would come to them demanding protection money.

This also means that the middle-aged black man's parting words, "I wish you all the best in your operation tonight," were not just empty threats.

Their actions tonight could really cause trouble.

Regarding my third cousin's suggestion that I should take a few days off.

Van Gogh instinctively wanted to agree, but considering that each shipment was usually delivered a few days in advance, he made a deal with the distributor in Uncle Sam's country.

Failure to deliver on time could have a huge impact on future cooperation, causing problems for these hard-won distributors.

Finally, Van Gogh gritted his teeth and said:
"Afraid of choking to death? Does that mean we won't eat from now on?"
Tonight I'll make a scouting trip for the brothers first. Even if something happens, I'm not afraid. The foreign devils who can catch me at sea haven't been born yet..."

******
That night, a little after midnight.

Under a sky full of stars, Van Gogh drove a modified large plane carrying 8 tons of eggs and two fellow countrymen who were traveling with him into the California waters, which belonged to Uncle Sam.

Based on Van Gogh's experience of having traveled this sea route multiple times during this period, he knew that the secret delivery point could be reached in less than an hour's voyage.

Because I was worried about something going wrong, my nerves, which had been on edge all night, relaxed considerably.

Just then, a fellow villager's voice rang out in alarm: "Van Gogh, Van Gogh, something's happened! There's Uncle Sam's water patrol officer on the left!"

"Damn it! So many ships! We're doomed today. Maybe we should surrender."

Upon hearing this, Van Gogh picked up a night-vision telescope and looked to the left.

It turned out that it wasn't the Coast Guard officers there, but rather the Coast Guard; because he saw three 45-foot medium reaction boats (RB-M) and one 47-foot motorized rescue boat (MLB). These are some of the Coast Guard's signature pieces of equipment.

The 45-foot medium reaction boat (RB-M) is quite capable, able to reach speeds of 42 knots in waves up to 3.6 meters high.

In addition to the four crew members, there are usually more than a dozen coast guard members on board.

The main weapons were an M240 light machine gun mounted on weapon mounts on the fore and aft decks, or some small-caliber grenade launchers.

However, such firepower is still an extremely deadly threat to their modified large aircraft.

This is the fundamental reason why the two villagers were so terrified, and even shouted that they wanted to surrender.

But after putting down the telescope, Van Gogh showed no fear or panic on his face.

If I had to pinpoint anything, it would be that his eyes suddenly lit up, his face radiating an indescribable excitement, giving the impression of:

It's like a man who was living a muddled life suddenly being given a new life.

"Surrender? Surrender my foot! Our Huang family has never had the habit of surrendering to foreign devils since the time of Daqing. You two, sit tight and hold on, we're about to take off."

After taking a deep breath, Van Gogh roared like this.

Then he tapped on the phone he used for navigation in front of him, and a distinctive DJ sound started playing:

"In the light rain, amidst the sound of the zither, tears keep the beat."

The person is gone, the building is empty, there's no point in crying anymore.

Perhaps people in other places have never even heard of this Cantonese song.

But for the men of Fangchenggang in Guangxi Province, especially those who drive large planes to transport pork trotters, this is their exclusive battle song.

Listening to these songs, Van Gogh felt as if he had returned to the days when he used to pull pig's feet.

Quite coincidentally, at that moment a small drone rapidly approached from the sky and flew directly overhead.

A loud warning sound rang out, and surprisingly, the owner was a clear female voice:

"Attention! This is Uncle Sam's Coast Guard. We order you to stop immediately for inspection, or we will open fire."

Faced with such a warning, Van Gogh did not stop, but instead roared out a question:
"Hey! Honey, can I know your name?"

Somewhat surprisingly, the other person actually answered the question, their tone crisp and clear, yet the content was remarkably authoritative and solemn, quite intimidating indeed:

"Linda, this is Sergeant First Class Linda. This is your final warning: stop the ship immediately for inspection. Do not resist in any way..."

It's a pity that such a warning had no effect on Van Gogh, and he didn't even finish saying it.

Because the moment she uttered her name, Van Gogh raised his middle finger and yelled:

"Linda, Fuck you, Linda~"

Then, he quickly pulled out an M1911 pistol from his waist, which was the one he was most comfortable using, and casually fired a shot at the top of his head.

The weather is nice tonight, and the waves at sea are not big.

However, the flying drone, once it was in motion, still undulated violently on the sea surface; and it was precisely during these undulations that Van Gogh managed to shoot down the drone overhead, demonstrating his astonishing marksmanship.

This scene infuriated the commander of tonight's operation.

Amidst his loud curses and commands, four speedboats sped towards them like arrows at top speed, seemingly poised to encircle them from different directions.

Even the light machine guns and small-caliber grenade launchers on board were already aimed at the large plane piloted by Van Gogh.

A hail of bullets flew overhead, and water sprayed from exploding grenades onto them, clearly indicating that the attack was intended to kill them.

Under such circumstances, the two fellow villagers turned deathly pale instantly.

But Van Gogh became increasingly excited, feeling as if he had returned to the long-lost battlefield of the War of Resistance against Japan, with every cell in his body cheering loudly.

With this excitement, Van Gogh floored the accelerator to its maximum.

Immediately, all eight Yamaha 250 engines on the large aircraft began to run at full speed, roaring like wild beasts.

In a very short time, the speed of the large aircraft, which was originally flying at 30 knots, suddenly increased to over 50 knots.

For a moment, to the other Coast Guard members, it looked as if the large aircraft had suddenly taken to the air, skimming the surface of the sea.

It was like a nimble petrel, weaving nimbly through the undulating waves, their encirclements, and even machine gun bullets and small grenades.

Until they got further and further away, and finally completely shook them off...

Around 4 a.m., Van Gogh and two fellow villagers drove around in their pickup truck for a while before finally returning to their old hideout, an old neighborhood.

After getting off the bus, Van Gogh saw a Chinese man in his thirties and immediately greeted him, "Third Brother, we're back!"

"It's good that you're back!" said his cousin, nicknamed "Three Yellow Chicken," to Van Gogh.
"I've heard about what happened today. The brothers were able to escape alive thanks to your skills. You've worked hard. Eat something and get some rest."

You don't need to worry about those border police officers.

I've contacted someone in charge, and I'll talk to them tomorrow. We'll definitely still have to pay protection money, but $2000 per boat will be enough as a token gesture; we don't need to pay as much as $10,000.

Otherwise, if they're so capable, they should continue like this and see if they can catch anyone despite such a grand display. Wouldn't they be ashamed of themselves?

According to my third cousin, Van Gogh used his skills and courage tonight to demonstrate his strength to those vampires, which gave him the confidence to negotiate a lower price.

Although Van Gogh was still quite dissatisfied with the $2000 protection fee that each boat had to pay, he was still quite unhappy about it.

But knowing that this was the best possible outcome in a foreign land thousands of miles away from home, he could only suppress his temper.

After that, I ate three packs of White Elephant Coriander Instant Noodles, each priced at $18.47 on the Weee platform, along with six fried eggs, which barely filled my stomach.

Perhaps today's experience has made me a little too excited.

After lying in bed, Van Gogh found that he couldn't fall asleep at all; so he simply took out his phone and told the group about everything that had happened to him that day.

His original idea was to show off his impressive skills today.

This is similar to the situation a while ago, when the police officer in the team was showing off his merits and awards and dating a female police officer.

Because of the time difference, it's currently rush hour in China, so everyone can see it immediately.

However, things didn't go as he expected.

After everyone had been discussing it for a while, Huang Yizhi, nicknamed "Second Fatty," suddenly spoke up and complained, "It's just transporting eggs, is it really necessary to go to such lengths?"

As the saying goes, "the speaker may not mean anything by it, but the listener may take it to heart," and Van Gogh was instantly silenced.

A thought silently arose in his mind: "Yes! I've lived all these years, not to risk my life to transport eggs for those foreign devils."

Why shouldn't a man carry a Wu hook and conquer fourteen prefectures beyond the passes? Even if I die somewhere, I want to die in a more meaningful place.

For example, fighting the Japanese devils to the bitter end.

Having thought of this, Van Gogh could no longer lie in bed, got up and went straight to a garage.

After opening the door, a world entirely composed of firearms and small arms from World War II immediately appeared before his eyes.

Just like on the mainland, the bosses in the smuggling ring here treat the pilots quite well.

Each job was paid per trip, with a payment of $2,500 per trip. Van Gogh, being one of their own and having good skills, always received 20% more money than others.

Van Gogh used most of these earnings to buy these guns and equipment.

Because he had never forgotten that era of great suffering and hardship, and the struggling ancestors and compatriots; he had always been thinking about what he should do after rejoining the time travel.

The premise is that he can actually participate in the next and subsequent time travels...

(End of this chapter)