Courtyard House: Home Alone

"Fire the rebound!" Lin Yifan shouted.

Sun Dazhu had already risen from his knees, and the second rocket roared out. This time it struck the ground floor of the pillbox squarely. Amidst the deafening crash of collapsing bricks and stones, the entire three-story building, like a skeletonized beast, slowly tilted westward. The searchlight beams swept wildly before extinguishing in the billowing smoke and dust.

"Rush!"

Six groups leaped from their hiding places simultaneously. Lin Yifan rushed to the front, switching back to his Mauser pistol from his Type 38 rifle, and fired three shots, pinning a struggling figure to the ground in the ruins of the pillbox.

Sun Dazhu led the tenth group through the gap, the sound of short bursts of submachine guns echoing between the bricks and stones, like a dull saw cutting through rotten wood.

"Two more on the left!" Stone's roar came from the sandbag position.

Lin Yifan spun around and lunged to his left, just in time to see a Japanese officer in a woolen overcoat peeking out of an underground passage, his saber still hanging at his waist. He raised his hand and fired a shot; the bullet grazed the edge of the officer's helmet, startling the Japanese soldier into retreating.

"40 fires! Seal off the secret passage!"

The third group of gunners responded immediately, and the rockets were fired horizontally from thirty meters away. A muffled explosion like thunder came from the dark passage, and the shockwave blew half of the iron door into the night sky.

"Young master! Over here!" Sun Dazhu shouted from the ruins of the pillbox, his voice filled with barely suppressed excitement, "Caught one alive!"

Lin Yifan climbed up the broken bricks and saw a Japanese soldier, who looked like a major, trapped under a collapsed beam. His right leg was twisted at an odd angle, and he was still cursing in broken Chinese. Sun Dazhu used the barrel of his submachine gun to deflect the soldier's knife and pulled a blood-stained notebook from his pocket.

"Telegram code." Lin Yifan glanced at it and stuffed it into his pocket. "Take it away and have the old man's men interrogate it."

He turned to the group who were taking stock of their spoils. In three minutes, they had found a pillbox, two fortifications, seventeen Japanese soldiers, eight rifles, two Type 91 light machine guns, and a full box of grenades.

Other supplies included over 200 kilograms of rice, over 100 kilograms of flour, half a pig, and some Chinese cabbage—this was the list of spoils from the first battle.

"Machine gun team, set up in place and block the roads on both the north and south sides." His voice remained calm, as if it had just been a drill. "The rest of you, provide backup fire, conduct another search, and withdraw in three minutes."

Stone ran over from the sandbag position, his face covered in cigarette ash, but his eyes shone with an alarming light: "Young man, there are lights to the west, looks like a truck!"

Lin Yifan climbed onto the remaining base of the pillbox and, sure enough, saw several car lights flickering on and off on the dirt road two miles away. He took out his pocket watch; it was 6:47—less than eight minutes had passed since the gunshots rang out, and the Japanese reaction was much faster than expected.

"It's a patrol team."

He jumped off the base. "Sun Dazhu, you take Groups 3 and 4 and come with me to meet them. Brother Shi, you take your men and clean up this place first, then head east, just like we did before, and push all the way through."

However, if you find there are too many Japanese soldiers, don't try to fight them head-on. Your safety is the most important thing.

Stone nodded heavily, lowered his body again, and waved behind him. The men in the machine gun team immediately spread out, setting up their Czech-made and Type 91 machine guns on higher ground in the ruins, aiming the muzzles at the dirt road to the west.

"The rest of you, inspect the targets and stand by!"

After shouting at the top of his lungs, he crouched down and darted in front of Lin Yifan: "Young master, I'll go with you!"

"You stay here." Lin Yifan had already slung his Type 38 rifle over his shoulder, and replaced the magazine in his Mauser pistol. "There are three more checkpoints to the east; they must be taken down before dawn. You know the route; lead the main force and continue pushing."

Shi Tou wanted to argue, but Sun Dazhu had already led the men from Groups 3 and 4, along with his own Group 10, to surround them. Thirty men, three 40mm rifles, fifteen submachine guns, and six light machine guns—this was a setup specifically for taking on tough opponents.

"Let's go!" Lin Yifan waved his hand, and the thirty-one figures disappeared into the darkness of the wilderness.

Instead of taking the dirt road, they circled south along the irrigation ditch in a wide arc. The ice shards in the ditch were crushed by the soles of their boots, making a soft, crisp sound, which was quickly swallowed up by the howling north wind.

Lin Yifan was in second place, ahead of him was the scout sent by Sun Dazhu, a young man from a hunter's background.

"Young master," the scout suddenly stopped and lay prone on the edge of the ditch, "the headlights are off."

Lin Yifan climbed up and saw that the lights from before had gone out, leaving only the hum of the engine idling in the open field.

He enveloped the area with his mental energy and discovered that the Japanese soldiers had parked their truck at the edge of the woods. The Japanese soldiers above were jumping down; there were fewer than forty of them, likely a small Japanese squad.

"Let's go, let's meet them." After saying that, Lin Yifan led the way and ran towards the Japanese soldiers.

He had countless ways to wipe out the Japanese soldiers, but considering the need to train his troops, he chose the simplest yet most solid method.

"Spread out, form a fan shape to surround them." He lowered his voice, his hand tracing a simple arc in the darkness. "Sun Dazhu, you take group ten and occupy the left mound. Set up the 40mm gun at the high point and wait for my signal. Groups three and four, follow me and head-on. Firing your submachine guns only when they are within grenade range."

The crowd dispersed silently, like a pair of iron pincers slowly opening. Lin Yifan led the twenty men forward, following the ditch, the sound of their boots crushing the ice shards shattered by the north wind.

Two hundred meters, one hundred and fifty meters, one hundred meters—he could hear the Japanese soldiers talking in hushed tones, smell the mixture of gasoline and leather, and even recognize that the sergeant who was cursing under his breath was speaking in the Kansai dialect.

"Grenades ready." He turned and saw twenty arms raised simultaneously, the fuses of the wooden-handled grenades gleaming a waxy yellow in the moonlight. "Target, left flank of the convoy, three, two, one—"

"cast!"

Twenty grenades traced neat arcs, like a flock of crows suddenly awakened, swooping towards the edge of the woods. The flashes of the explosions tore the night to shreds, and Lin Yifan saw a Japanese soldier bending over to unbuckle his belt. The blast wave threw him to the side of a truck tire, his intestines spilling out of his ripped uniform, steaming on the snow.

"beat!"

The submachine guns roared simultaneously, their spent cartridges bouncing like beads on the ice. Lin Yifan didn't fire. He knelt on the edge of the ditch, his mental energy spreading out like a tide—on the mound to his left, Sun Dazhu's 40mm gun had already locked onto the Type 94 truck, the muzzle slightly adjusted, like a viper raising its head.

"boom!"

The rocket hit the fuel tank, sending a fireball soaring into the air and illuminating the surrounding area for hundreds of meters as if it were daytime. The surviving Japanese soldiers finally snapped out of their confusion, shouting for them to lie down. Their Type 38 rifles fired sporadically, mostly hitting the frozen ground at the edge of the ditch, kicking up clouds of grayish-white dust.

"Three groups on the left flank, four groups on the right flank, push forward!" Lin Yifan leaped out of the ditch, firing his Mauser pistol repeatedly, pinning a Japanese machine gunner who was about to set up his light machine gun to a tree trunk.

He deliberately controlled the firing rhythm, leaving a gap for his teammates behind him to observe with each shot—look, that Japanese soldier is about to throw a grenade, shoot his arm first;

The sergeant is calling for assembly; give priority to those. There are two hiding behind the truck wreckage; don't rush in, wait for them to peek out.