Bright Sword: Flesh and Blood Military Industrial Base

On the other side, the Eighth Company had been trekking along the rugged mountain path for almost another day. Everyone was exhausted, but the longing to go home and the desire for white steamed buns were like two invisible whips, lashing their legs forward.

Finally, as the sun began to set and dusk was about to fall, the familiar outline of Changning Village and the wisps of smoke rising from its chimneys came into view in the valley ahead.

"We're home! We can see the village!"

Someone shouted first, and the previously subdued ranks instantly came alive. The soldiers straightened their backs, and the villagers quickened their pace.

The village entrance was already a sea of ​​black.

Zhou Dachui, who was recently elected as the village chief by the villagers, stood at the front of the crowd, leaning on his jujube wood cane, which was worn smooth and shiny.

Behind him stood almost the entire village, young and old, women and children, all craning their necks in anticipation, their faces filled with expectation and worry.

Upon seeing the group in the distance, Zhou Dachui's wrinkled face immediately broke into a smile. He raised his hand shakily and waved it vigorously: "Let's get this going! Welcome our heroes home!"

"Dong dong qiang! Dong dong qiang!"

The deafening sound of gongs and drums instantly echoed through the valley. Several children were energetically banging on the utensils they had brought out from the old house. Although their playing was out of tune, it was full of the most genuine enthusiasm.

"They're back! They're all back!"

"Look! So many carts! So much grain!"

"My God, what a resounding victory!"

The crowd erupted in excitement and surged forward.

The women searched for their husbands or sons, while the children screamed and squeezed through the gaps in the crowd, trying to touch the captured guns and look at the grain sacks on the trucks.

Yang Zheng strode towards Zhou Dachui, grasping the old man's trembling hands with excitement: "Grandpa Zhou, thank you and everyone for waiting so long!"

"Well waited for! It was worth it!"

Zhou Dachui's eyes welled up with tears, and his voice choked with emotion, "Seeing you all return safely, and bringing back so much... so much life-saving food, makes my heart sweeter than honey! Quick, hurry into the village! Several large pots of hot water are already boiled!"

Surrounded by villagers, the procession marched into Changning Village. The threshing ground in the center of the village once again became a temporary gathering place.

Yang Zheng quickly ordered: "Chen Xiaoquan, take men to inventory and store the captured weapons and ammunition, and assign double guards! Zhao Dahu, organize the soldiers to unload the trucks, and transport the grain to the barracks warehouse, taking care to prevent moisture and rodents!"

"Yes!" The two accepted the order and left.

He then looked at Wang Erniu, the cook who was so busy he barely had time to breathe, and shouted, "Wang Erniu! Don't be stingy, bring out the flour we brought back!"

Tonight, we'll steam big steamed buns! Plenty! Let all the comrades in the company, the villagers who came to help, and everyone in the village, young and old, have a meal of white flour!

"Alright! Company Commander, just you wait and see!" Wang Erniu's voice was loud and clear. He led several cooks, carrying heavy sacks of white flour, and ran happily toward the makeshift stove.

Yang Zheng then turned to Zhou Shunzi and the other young men who were eagerly watching him and said loudly, "This time, the special train to fight the Japanese was made possible thanks to the hard work of the villagers in transporting it!"

I, Yang Zheng, keep my word. Every villager who went to help will receive ten catties of grain as a token of our gratitude from the Eighth Route Army!

Ten jin of grain!

In a time when a pound of grain could save a life, this is not just a small token of gratitude, but an immense act of kindness!

Zhou Shunzi and the other young men were stunned for a moment, then burst into wild cheers!

"Ten jin! Company Commander Yang... this... this is too much!" Zhou Shunzi was so excited that he couldn't speak coherently.

"Not much!" Yang Zheng said firmly. "Without the support of our fellow villagers, our Eighth Route Army is like a rootless duckweed, unable to win any battles! You should take this grain! Village Chief Zhou, please register it so it can be distributed later!"

Tears streamed down Zhou Dachui's face as he nodded repeatedly, "It's my duty, it's my duty! Company Commander Yang, you're a living saint!"

Soon, several extra-large iron pots were set up in the threshing ground, with firewood crackling and steam rising from the stove.

Wang Erniu led his men, kneading the dough, steaming it, and working quickly and efficiently.

The unique, enticing aroma of wheat flour wafted through the steam, filling everyone's nostrils and making their stomachs rumble with hunger.

The children lingered around the stove, sniffing the air. The adults couldn't help but look around frequently, their faces beaming with New Year's-like smiles.

Zhao Dahu moved closer to Luo Dashan and took a deep sniff: "Fragrant! It smells fucking good! Old Luo, can you smell it? This is what a human life should be like!"

Luo Dashan nodded in deep agreement, but his gaze fell on the grain being unloaded from the trucks. He sighed, "It smells good... but the thought of all that was burned... it still feels like a knife twisting in my heart. How many white steamed buns that would have made..."

Zhao Dahu's excitement faded somewhat. He patted Luo Dashan on the shoulder and said, "The company commander is right. Remember this feeling. From now on, we'll fight the Japanese even harder and wipe out their granaries! We won't leave them a single grain of rice!"

As night fell completely, the first batch of large steamed buns was ready!

The deafening drums and gongs sounded again, but this time it was for celebration.

One by one, the plump, snow-white steamed buns, each as big as a fist, were distributed to the soldiers and villagers.

Some people couldn't wait to take a bite, scalding it and gasping for breath, but unwilling to spit it out, mumbling, "Delicious! So delicious!"

On the threshing floor, a bonfire was lit, illuminating satisfied smiling faces.

The soldiers and villagers sat together, eating long-missed white flour steamed buns and drinking hot noodle soup with pickled vegetables and dumplings.

Laughter and cheerful voices dispelled the chill in the mountains.

Zhou Shunzi, holding a steamed bun in each hand, his cheeks bulging from biting into it, boasted to the railway detachment soldiers beside him:

"You didn't see it, that train was incredibly long! The grain inside was piled up like a mountain! We tried our best to move it, but we still couldn't finish... In the end, Company Commander Yang had no choice but to order it burned!"

He paused, a complex expression of heartache and relief crossing his face: "That fire, it turned half the sky red! The smell of burning grain..."

Sigh, it smells so good, yet it breaks my heart. But Company Commander Yang said, "We can't let the Japanese have it! If we can't have it, the Japanese can't have it either!"

The children who hadn't gone were stunned, filled with a mixture of envy and regret: "Brother Shunzi, you guys are amazing! It hurts to see it burned, but thinking about how the Japanese can't eat it makes us happy!"

The scene was lively and heartwarming, with soldiers and civilians united as one, enjoying each other's company.

The aroma of grain, the smoke from firewood, and the laughter of people intertwine to create the most moving melody in Changning Village tonight.

However, amidst this sea of ​​joy, Yang Zheng's heart remained constantly on edge.

He hurriedly ate two steamed buns and drank a bowl of noodle soup, then quietly left the noisy threshing ground and returned to the somewhat simple company headquarters in the center of the village.

The side building, a first-class military barracks building, stands quietly.

Yang Zheng stood among them, summoned the system interface, and glanced at the enticing resource figures:

Soul Points: 3090

Flesh and blood resources: 46361

This hijacking and burning of grain was a huge commotion. Tian An-yin wasn't stupid; having suffered such heavy losses repeatedly, the Japanese in Xiyang would definitely not let it go.

Next time, it probably won't be as simple as just a company and a battalion of puppet troops. It could very well be a full-scale attack, possibly even attracting the attention of higher-ups and more elite troops.

Retaliation will surely come, and it will be as fierce and swift as a storm.