Spy game? Stop guessing, I really am an undercover agent!

Chapter 134 The Sinking Ship Plan
Chen Yang lowered his head and said, "Lord Sato, I don't believe you can't see it."

“Our original mission was to transport supplies and medicines, but now it has suddenly become special steel.”

"Does the Navy think we're after their medicines?"

Sato Fumio's lips twitched involuntarily: "Section Chief Chen, don't say things that are detrimental to unity."

"The Navy may have its own considerations, but I'd like to know if you can complete the transport mission on time."

Chen Yang looked up and said, "Although it's a bit difficult, I believe we can solve it."

Sato Fumio nodded slightly and said, "That's good. Just focus on doing your job well and don't worry about anything else."

"Hello." Chen Yang bowed slightly, then turned and left the office.

As the office door closed, Sato Fumita's face slowly darkened, and he slammed his fist on the desk.

The Navy suddenly changed the transportation plan, replacing the medicine with special steel. Sato Fumiyasu felt that there must be something wrong with it.

It seems that he only mentioned his desire to procure the medicine to Kenjiro Oshima.
Damn it, is there a ghost in the house?

After a moment of contemplation, Fumita Sato picked up the phone on the table: "Abe-kun, this is Fumita Sato."

"Lord Sato, what are your orders?"

"Let Colonel Kominami of the Special Service Section investigate one person: Kenjiro Oshima, the Minister of Transport of the South."

“We need to thoroughly investigate his entire resume and background check information. I suspect this person may have private dealings with the Navy.”

Furnished apartment in the former French Concession of Shanghai.

As night fell, Song Yilin finished her makeup and was about to head to work at the White Rose Cafe when suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Song, Miss Song." A somewhat broken Chinese voice came from outside the door.

Song Yilin walked to the door and looked out through the peephole. A thought struck her: the person who came in was a waiter from the White Russian bakery downstairs.

"Mr. Ottorev, what can I do for you?" Song Yilin asked the visitor as she opened the door.

"Ms. Song, I thought you went to work. Someone just called the bakery and ordered a jam bread for you."

Ottorev handed the bag to Song Yilin with a smile and joked, "Miss Song, this must have been done by one of your suitors."

Song Yilin didn't argue, but simply took the bread and smiled, saying, "Thank you."

"No need, please enjoy your meal."

Song Yilin closed the door, opened the bag, and inside was a baked bread with strawberry jam.

Song Yilin frowned, quickly washed off her makeup, put on a small mustache in front of the mirror, then drew her eyebrows thicker, applied a special solution to her face, changed into black overalls, and put on a beret.

At that moment, the image of a middle-aged repairman appeared in the mirror.

Song Yilin pursed her lips, pulled a repairman's bag from under the bed, put it on, opened the door, and went out.

No. 19, Luojiawan, Shancheng, Military Intelligence Bureau.

Zheng Yaoquan knocked on the door of the third-floor office. "Chief, this is intelligence from Sakura in Shanghai."

"The Japanese navy will transport a batch of sulfanilamide powder and supplies to the front line in Wuhan."

"Mount Fuji obtained the other party's flight route map, but did not have a specific list of escort personnel."

"Two tons?" Boss Dai was somewhat surprised when he saw the number of sulfanilamide powder in the intelligence report.

I don't know if I was surprised by the number or by how easily Mount Fuji could obtain the other party's flight path map.

After reviewing the intelligence report twice, Boss Dai said in a deep voice, "Send Lin Zhao to the front lines in Wuhan and find a way to blow up this ship."

July, 1938, Wuhan.
This is the political, economic, and trade center of China, and has always been known as the thoroughfare connecting nine provinces.

The scorching sun during the day baked the bluestone pavement until it sizzled and steamed, and the scalding heat seeped out from the cracks in the walls and the gaps in the tiles, clogging people's mouths and noses.

Even after nightfall, the heat did not subside at all; instead, it was mixed with the heavy moisture rising from the Yangtze River, making it difficult for people to breathe.

On the edge of the French Concession in Hankou, there is an inconspicuous Western-style building with a cellar.

There are no windows here, only a lamp covered with a heavy green cloth hanging overhead, its light forcibly suppressed into a dim mass, barely illuminating the long oak table in the center covered with a military map of the three towns of Wuhan and the surrounding area.

On the map, the thick red arrows representing the Japanese army's offensive directions resemble several ferocious blood pythons, tightly coiling towards the blue core area representing Wuhan from the north, east, and south.

The small flags representing the National Army's defenses and reserves were densely packed, but many had been pierced and surrounded by blood-red arrows.

The air was filled with a strong smell of tobacco, the musty smell of old paper, and a hint of sweat.

Four men sat around a table, their faces blurred and stern in the dim green light. Leading them was "Mountain Sparrow," the head of the Military Intelligence Bureau's Wuhan district—a middle-aged man in his forties with a lean face and sharp, hawk-like eyes.

The Military Intelligence Bureau (MIB) began operations in March. After several months of restructuring, the entire MIB intelligence agency in China was divided into three tiers and six levels: districts, stations, and groups.

The first tier is the district, which is divided into large districts and small districts. Large districts are like the North China region, the South China region, and so on.
The "community" refers to intelligence agencies centered around provincial capitals like Wuhan and Taiyuan.

The second tier consists of stations, such as Shanghai Station and Jinling Station, which are considered large stations, while Anqing Station and Jiujiang Station are considered small stations.

The third tier consists of groups, such as the Fengtian group in Northeast China and small groups in some small cities in South China.

Since the Military Intelligence Bureau was newly established, district-level intelligence groups were generally led by colonel-level agents, while stations were led by lieutenant colonel-level agents, and small groups were led by majors or captains.

The titmouse held a half-smoked Hademen cigarette between its fingers, the ash piled up long and ready to fall at any moment.

He slammed his cigarette butt heavily onto a small dot on the map, on the banks of the Yangtze River, called "Ge Dian." Amidst the swirling smoke, his voice was low and hoarse.

"The Japanese are determined to strangle Wuhan this time!"

"In Jiangbei, the 6th Division is advancing westward along the northern foothills of the Dabie Mountains like mad dogs, while the 13th Division is pressing down from Hefei, heading straight for Huangchuan and Xinyang. This is to cut off the Pinghan Railway!"

"Jiangnan is even worse. Those water devils from the Botian Detachment are like a boning knife, stabbing at Commander Xue's bones along the south bank of the Yangtze!"

"Anqing, Madang, Hukou... one fortress after another has fallen!"

"Now, the tip of this knife is almost touching Tianjia Town and Fuchikou. If these two fortresses are to fall again..."

The titmouse stubbed out his cigarette hard on the three small characters "Tianjia Town," instantly burning a black hole in the map and releasing a pungent, burnt smell.

Sitting to the right of "Tiger" is "Anvil," the leader of the demolition team.

This was a short, stocky man with bulging arm muscles, large knuckles, and calluses.

He braced his hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward, almost pressing his face against the map.

He spoke in a deep, muffled voice, which echoed in the sealed basement, carrying a raw, destructive intent: "District Chief, can we really keep up with the losses if the brothers on the front lines risk their lives?"

"Those Japanese ships, see them?" He slapped his large, fan-like hand on the map, slapping it down on the winding waterways of the Yangtze River. "Most of their soldiers, artillery, ammunition, and provisions are transported upstream from the lower reaches of the Yangtze in these iron-hulled ships."

"We're fighting to the death on land, while they're comfortably feeding and killing each other on the water. That won't do."

"Iron Anvil" suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes flashing with a fierce light. "Give me men, give me explosives, I'll personally lead the team, and choose 'Wildcat Rock' twenty miles downstream from Tianjia Town."

“I know that place. The waterway is narrow, the current is rapid, and there are as many hidden reefs as dog teeth on the riverbed. We’ll sink a few of their troop transport ships and ammunition ships and block the river.”

"In less than five days, the Japanese soldiers at the front will run out of ammunition, which will at least hold them off for ten days to half a month, and give Commander Xue a breather!"

The titmouse looked solemn and remained silent for a long time before letting out a long sigh.

How could he not know that Iron Anvil was prepared to sacrifice his own life to buy the troops some time to catch their breath?

With the nation reduced to this state, all these people could do was bravely face death.
"Blow up the ship? Brother 'Anvil,' your courage is commendable, but this plan is a bit too, too, too crude." The action team leader, Peregrine, shook his head and scoffed, "Do you think the Japanese navy on the river is just for show? That their gunboats and patrols are blind?"

"Wildcat Isle, you've barely scouted the place before a traitor's secret report is delivered to the Special Higher School's desk."

"Your men haven't even reached the riverbank yet, and they've probably already fallen into the Japanese ambush."

"At that time, people will be thrown in, and not a single hair on the ship will be blown up. Instead, it will be a great gift to the Japanese. A few living KMT demolition experts will be just the right thing to pry open their mouths."

"Iron Anvil's" face instantly turned a deep liver color, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and veins bulged on his forehead: "You son of a bitch..."

"Alright!" the mountain sparrow said in a low voice, which was not loud but carried an undeniable authority, like a block of ice smashed into boiling water, instantly suppressing the anger of the two.

“We’re all brothers, who are you arguing for? Iron Anvil, I know you’re a tough guy, and you’re not afraid of death.”

“It’s not just you guys, none of you here are afraid of death. If the Party and the State really need us to take explosives and perish together with the enemy, I, Shan Que, will definitely be the first to rush forward with explosives.”

"However, if the sacrifice is meaningless, then we must consider it carefully."

"Someone's coming." Before the titmouse finished speaking, a low voice came from the shadows on the left. It was the voice of Bat, the intelligence team leader.

Everyone's expression changed slightly. Titmouse immediately took out her weapon, made a gesture to disperse, and tiptoed to hide by the wall, while the action team leader, Peregrine Falcon, hid on the other side.

The demolition team leader, Anvil, and the intelligence team leader, Bat, were hiding behind the table.

The sound grew closer, and a man's figure appeared at the cellar entrance. He was rather thin and wore an old, faded long gown.

"Don't move." The titmouse and the peregrine falcon simultaneously pointed their guns at each other's heads.

"Clap clap." The newcomer took a half step back, and with an unknown movement in his hand, the titmouse's gun was disarmed in an instant, and the muzzle was pressed directly against the head of the peregrine falcon beside him.

In an instant, the aliens shifted between offense and defense.
The titmouse's expression changed drastically. Before he could react, the newcomer chuckled, "Tigermouse, it's been over a year, and your close-quarters combat skills haven't improved much."

(End of this chapter)