You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

After more than two hours of bloody fighting, the Japanese army's core flank position was finally completely breached.

The last two hundred or so Japanese soldiers were pinned down in a small depression of less than half a square kilometer by the Hunter tanks and the ferocious infantry.

They were completely isolated from the main position of the Kunisaki Detachment, becoming trapped like turtles in a jar.

Gunfire continued to erupt ahead as Zhao Dashan personally led his assault troops in a final, ruthless sweep of the remaining enemy forces.

Lin Feng, accompanied by several guards, leisurely arrived at the Japanese position that had just been captured.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, the pungent stench of blood, and the nauseating stench of burnt entrails.

The engineers, armed with mine detectors and bayonets, had already conducted a preliminary inspection of the position, eliminating the dangers of booby traps and unexploded ordnance.

"Bang! Bang!"

Not far away, two soldiers responsible for cleaning up the battlefield fired two more shots at a Japanese soldier's corpse that looked relatively intact.

The corpse twitched violently, gushing fresh blood, and was completely dead.

Feigning death to launch a sneak attack was a favorite pastime of the Japanese soldiers before they were on their deathbed.

But the soldiers of the 1st Honor Brigade had long been trained by Lin Feng to have muscle memory.

Whether you're dead or not, I'll shoot you twice in the head and chest first.

Lin Feng ignored this scene.

He trudged along, his feet sinking into the muddy trenches soaked in blood.

The military boots made a sticky "smack, smack" sound as they stepped into the bloody mud.

The bodies of dead Japanese soldiers were everywhere.

Some were blown to pieces by heavy artillery, some were riddled with holes by machine gun fire, and some had half their heads split open by entrenching tools in hand-to-hand combat.

The khaki military uniforms were stained dark red with blood, and severed limbs and colorful intestines hung from the blown-up logs.

If Lin Feng, who had just transmigrated a few months ago, had seen this hellish scene, he probably would have vomited up his dinner from the night before.

But now, after the bloodshed of the Battle of Shanghai and countless life-or-death battles, we have survived.

His nerves had long been tempered to be as hard as steel.

He had become accustomed to such chaotic scenes, and his heart was no longer disturbed.

"Wow, it's a big fish."

Lin Feng stopped and his gaze fell on a corpse at the corner of the trench.

The Japanese soldier died quickly, struck in the chest by three short bursts from an StG44 assault rifle, leaving a large, bowl-sized hole in his heart.

Lin Feng crouched down and used his gloved hand to adjust the corpse's collar.

The collar insignia features a red background representing the rank of captain, a gold bar, and three five-pointed stars.

Then look at the mountain-shaped branch insignia he wears on his right chest.

It's not red that represents infantry, but yellow that represents artillery.

"How did an artillery captain die in an infantry trench?"

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow, then suddenly realized:

"I guess after the heavy artillery battalion was wiped out, the artillery officers who survived were used as infantry to fill the trenches by Kunisaki Noboru."

This shows that Kunisaki Noboru's forces are truly stretched thin.

Lin Feng's gaze shifted downwards, and he saw a pair of binoculars hanging around the captain's neck.

The lens barrel is made of brass and covered with black non-slip rubber, giving it a very fine appearance.

Lin Feng ruthlessly pulled it off the corpse's neck.

He wiped the blood and dirt off the lenses with a handkerchief and then raised the binoculars to take a look.

The field of vision was extremely clear, and the light transmittance was extremely high, even brighter than the Hans-made binoculars he was currently using.

He flipped the scope over and saw a line of brand logo stamped below the eyepiece:

"Nippon Kogaku"

"Wow, it's a brand name product, a Nikon!"

Lin Feng was amused.

The camera giant that would later sweep the world was not called Nikon at that time.

Instead, it is a military-industrial company called Nippon Kogaku.

This company specializes in manufacturing precision optical instruments such as binoculars, periscopes, and aerial sights for the Japanese army.

Its core technology comes from a technology license from the renowned Hans Zeiss company.

"Good stuff, it's mine now."

Lin Feng hung the Nikon binoculars around his neck with satisfaction.

Then, his gaze fell on the military knife hanging at the captain's waist.

Japanese officers, even artillerymen, liked to carry this thing around to show off.

Lin Feng reached out and unfastened the belt, gripped the hilt, and pulled hard.

"Clang—"

A section of the gleaming blade sprang out.

Lin Feng carefully examined the texture of the blade and the curvature of the edge, then curled his lip, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes.

This is a typical Type 94 officer's saber, mass-produced in an arsenal.

Lin Feng is now a man of great knowledge and experience.

Countless Japanese officers died at his hands, including several colonels who were regimental commanders.

The military knives he had seized were naturally piled up like mountains.

Among them are many well-crafted Type 94 field officer swords, and even a few family heirloom samurai swords, hand-forged by renowned masters and passed down for hundreds of years, which were carried by high-ranking Japanese officers from samurai families.

Compared to those exquisite pieces that can cut hair in an instant and have beautiful blade patterns.

The mass-produced Type 94 officer's saber in front of me seems far inferior.

"It's not quite right. It's basically just a sharpened steel bar; it's too dull to even cut a watermelon with."

Lin Feng shook his head and casually tossed the military knife behind him.

"Pillar, keep it."

"Alright, Commander!"

The guard behind him caught the military knife steadily.

At this moment, Zhu Zi was already carrying a bundle of Japanese military knives tied together with backpack straps, more than a dozen of them, looking just like a street vendor selling umbrellas.

"Commander, you don't even want this broken knife? What are we going to do with it?" Zhu Zi asked honestly.

"You don't know anything."

Lin Feng said without turning his head:

"Although this thing is just scrap metal, if we take it back and melt it down, it will at least be good steel."

Besides, after the war, we can use these swords to trade for grain and silver dollars with those unsophisticated local warlords; they'll be fighting over them.

As Lin Feng spoke, he stood up.

His toe accidentally kicked the pistol that the captain's corpse was tightly clutching in his right hand.

It was a uniquely shaped pistol with a slender barrel and a rounded grip.

It is the famous Nambu Type 14 pistol, commonly known as the "Turtle Box".

Upon seeing the gun, Lin Feng had no interest in even bending down to pick it up; he simply kicked it into the muddy puddle next to him.

The Type 14 pistol from the South was notoriously ineffective in the history of the War of Resistance against Japan.

The firing pin is prone to breaking, the magazine is prone to falling out, and its penetration power is extremely poor; it can't even penetrate a thick cotton-padded coat.

The most fatal flaw was the high risk of accidental discharge. Many Japanese officers did not die on the battlefield, but rather from their own accidentally discharged sidearms.

There were even rumors that a defeated Japanese officer tried to use it to commit suicide, but the trigger jammed after several pulls, making suicide difficult.

Lin Feng naturally didn't even bother to glance at it.

"Commander!"

Just then, Zhao Dashan, covered in gunpowder smoke, strode over from the front.

His face was covered in soot, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Commander, the more than two hundred Japanese soldiers in the depression have all been wiped out."

Not a single survivor was left.

Zhao Dashan saluted excitedly and reported loudly to his superior:

"Now, the outer perimeter of the Kunisaki Detachment has been completely eliminated by us."

Kunisaki Noboru and the remaining main force of the Japanese army have been completely compressed into the core position on the banks of the Huangtian Port River.

When will we launch our final offensive and take down this last tough nut?

Upon hearing this, Lin Feng raised the Nikon binoculars he had just seized from his chest and looked at the distant riverbank shrouded in smoke.

That is Kunisaki Noboru's final grave.

"No rush."

Lin Feng put down his binoculars:

"Even a cornered beast will fight back. If we push too hard now, the Japanese will launch a desperate counterattack, and our casualties will increase."

Relay my orders.

All units ceased their offensive and consolidated the encirclement on the spot.

Set all the heavy artillery, rocket launchers, and naval guns on the river to aim at the enemy's core positions.

I'll use the cannonballs to make a pot of nourishing soup for Kunisaki Noboru first.

"Once we've fried their bones until they're crispy, then we'll go up and collect the bodies!"