Courtyard House: Home Alone

He looked up and saw a Japanese soldier wearing a yellow woolen uniform and major's epaulettes glaring at him with red eyes. The military knife in his hand was still trembling slightly, obviously because he had used all his strength in that attack.

"Baka! Which unit are you from?!"

The Japanese platoon leader roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he howled, his face contorted with rage, "How dare you ambush the Imperial Army! I'll tear you to pieces!"

He seemed completely oblivious to the difference in Lin Yifan's hazmat suit, nor did he ponder why the other could move freely amidst the pervasive toxic fumes. At this moment, all that remained in his mind was the rage of being offended and the obsession with killing the enemy before him.

What he didn't know was that Lin Yifan was also terrified at that moment, he had been careless! He almost capsized in the gutter.

The intense battles he had just fought had kept him highly focused. After clearing out most of the enemies, he subconsciously relaxed a little. He hadn't expected that there would be a survivor hidden in this temporary assembly point, and that the survivor was an officer.

The Japanese major was clearly hiding in some concealed corner, only launching a sudden attack when Lin Yifan approached, catching him completely off guard. If that Japanese soldier had a gun, Lin Yifan didn't even want to think about what might have happened.

Lin Yifan's eyes narrowed. Although the knife hadn't hurt him, the opponent's speed and strength far exceeded those of ordinary Japanese soldiers, clearly indicating that he was a skilled fighter.

He no longer acted as casually as he did when dealing with other Japanese soldiers. Instead, he raised his mental strength to the extreme and focused intently on the Japanese major in front of him.

"Baka yarou! Answer my question!" The Japanese major was even more furious when he saw that Lin Yifan didn't speak and just stared at him coldly. He swung his saber again, bringing a gust of wind with him.

This strike was powerful and heavy, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistling sound, clearly demonstrating the use of his most powerful technique.

Lin Yifan lightly tapped his foot, his body drifting to the side like a willow catkin, narrowly avoiding the powerful blow. The military knife struck the ground with a "thud," embedding itself three-tenths of an inch into the earth, demonstrating its immense force.

"Yours is not from the Imperial Army!"

The Japanese major drew his sword, watching Lin Yifan's graceful movements. He finally realized something was wrong. A flicker of suspicion crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by madness. "You're Chinese! A disguised Chinese!"

He roared and charged again, his military knife flashing with power, each move aimed straight for Lin Yifan's vitals. Lin Yifan stopped dodging; he decided to finish the fight quickly.

With a slight sway, he instantly appeared to the side and behind the Japanese major.

The Japanese major only saw a blur before his eyes, and his target vanished. Terrified, he hurriedly turned to defend himself. But it was too late; Lin Yifan's hand had already swiftly pressed down on his back.

With a muffled thud, Lin Yifan's palm, imbued with the inner strength of a grandmaster, landed solidly on the back of the Japanese major. The Japanese major was struck as if by a heavy hammer; his body flew forward violently, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and crashed heavily to the ground. His military knife also flew out of his hand and slid a long distance across the ground.

He struggled to get up, but Lin Yifan's palm strike had shattered his internal organs. Every movement he made caused excruciating pain in his internal organs, and he could only convulse in vain, his eyes filled with fear and resentment, before he quickly lost his breath.

Lin Yifan clapped his hands, glanced at the corpse on the ground, and his eyes regained their previous coldness. The little incident just now had completely sobered him up; on the battlefield, one could never let one's guard down.

He released his mental energy again, carefully scanning the surroundings. After confirming that there were no more survivors, he turned and walked towards the heavy weapons and vehicles.

By the time he had cleaned up the battlefield, it was already nine o'clock in the morning. He dared not delay any longer, turned around and used his lightness skill again to speed towards Tanggu Wharf.

There, there is still a complete 1st Regiment. Although it is impossible to completely wipe them out, at least they should be rendered incapable of fighting.

When he was about three kilometers away from the dock, he suddenly spotted a group of more than 500 Japanese soldiers who had fled the country and were resting by the edge of a grove of trees to his right.

It's unrealistic to expect him to chase after the Japanese soldiers who escaped, but there's no reason to let them go if they encounter them on the road.

So he quietly moved closer to the group of Japanese soldiers. Just when the Japanese soldiers thought they had escaped death, the chilling sound of bullets whistling and grenades exploding rang out again around them.

Lin Yifan moved through the fleeing soldiers like a ghost, his mental energy precisely locking onto each target. Bullets seemed to have eyes, silently firing from his still warehouse, accurately piercing the Japanese soldiers' foreheads and chests.

Each dull thud as someone falls to the ground signifies the end of a sinful life.

When he encountered three or five panicked Japanese soldiers gathered together, he would silently place a delayed-action grenade at their feet with a thought.

The hissing sound of the fuse was inconspicuous in the chaos, but the explosions that followed were like the drumbeats of death, each one accompanied by flying flesh and blood and agonizing screams.

These routed soldiers, already terrified by the poison gas and massacre of the previous night, were now like frightened birds.

They simply couldn't understand why death would come so suddenly and without warning.

One by one, his comrades fell, either shot by invisible bullets or blown to pieces by sudden grenades.

Fear spread like a plague, and they didn't even have time to put up any effective resistance. They just scattered and ran away, pushing and trampling each other, and the group completely collapsed.

Lin Yifan's eyes remained icy, and his "Slaughter" continued unabated. He would occasionally teleport to the front of the group, cutting off their path and creating a death zone with a barrage of bullets and grenades.

At other times, they would appear on the flanks of the column to accurately snipe Japanese soldiers who tried to break away from the main force and escape alone.

He was like a master hunter, manipulating his prey at will and enjoying the thrill of revenge.

A Japanese sergeant tried to organize resistance, brandishing his sword and shouting at the top of his lungs, trying to rally the soldiers around him.

However, before he could finish speaking, a bullet pierced his throat, blood gushed out, and he fell to the ground with wide eyes, filled with resentment and fear.

His fall completely destroyed the last shred of possibility for the fleeing soldiers to regroup.

Bullets whistled, grenades roared, and screams, cries, and desperate curses mingled together, echoing across the desolate fields at dawn.

The routed army of over five hundred men fell in droves like wheat cut by a sickle under Lin Yifan's relentless onslaught.

Limbs, guns, and ammunition were scattered everywhere, and blood stained the ground, emitting a strong, pungent stench.