Courtyard House: Home Alone

Sun Dazhu's 40th gun fired again, this time collapsing the earthen embankment the Japanese soldiers were using for cover. Three Japanese soldiers screamed as they were exposed in the firelight and riddled with bullets by the crossfire.

Lin Yifan then put away his gun, letting his teammates fire the finishing blows—the youngest one, who looked about seventeen or eighteen, still had his hand trembling as he gripped the submachine gun, but he pulled the trigger tightly until the magazine was empty before he stopped in a daze.

"Reload, keep going!" Lin Yifan patted him on the shoulder, and the boy snapped out of his daze, frantically reaching for the magazine pouch on his chest.

The battle lasted eleven minutes. The last three Japanese soldiers tried to break through to the west, but were intercepted from above the mound by Sun Dazhu and his men. The 40mm guns fired horizontally at a distance of fifty meters, tearing the shadows of men and trees to shreds.

Lin Yifan walked to the burning truck and kicked a still convulsing corpse. The collar insignia on the uniform indicated that the person was a lieutenant.

"Take a headcount for casualties."

"Two minor injuries, both abrasions." Sun Dazhu ran over, his right hand, missing a finger, stained with someone else's blood. "Young master, we...we have zero casualties?"

Lin Yifan didn't answer. He looked eastward, and from the direction where Shi Tou and the others had left, he could faintly hear sporadic gunshots, muffled and short, like someone beating a broken drum in the distance.

He took out his pocket watch; it was 7:09. Less than forty minutes had passed since the first shot was fired outside Zhengyang Gate, and a gap had been torn in the Japanese blockade.

"Pile the Japanese corpses into the truck and burn them together. We'll wait for Chen Dashan and the others to clean up the rest." He turned and walked towards the ditch. "Withdraw in two minutes, then continue westward."

The team regrouped in the ditch, thirty-one men, breathing heavily but with bright eyes. The young member was no longer trembling and was helping his comrades tie up captured Type 38 rifles, his movements clumsy but earnest.

"Let's go, there are still a few checkpoints ahead." He leaped onto the edge of the ditch, his figure outlined in a pale blue by the dawn's first light. "Before daybreak, I want to turn this area from Fengtai to Huangcun into a no-go zone for the Japanese."

Meanwhile, at Nanyuan Airport, inside the Japanese brigade command post, Major General Kenji Sato, the brigade commander, was staring at the red flag representing the Fengtai outpost on the sand table. His fingertips traced the railway line "Nanyuan-Fengtai-Huangcun" with a pencil, leaving behind anxious ink marks.

"Brigade Commander," Chief of Staff Colonel Yamamoto strode into the tent, his boots clicking rapidly on the concrete floor, "the Fengtai Third Outpost has lost contact. The last communication mentioned 'attack by unidentified armed forces,' at 6:40."

Sato didn't look up; his pencil hovered over a point between Fengtai and Huangcun: "Unidentified armed forces?"

"The call was cut off before I could even finish two sentences..." Yamamoto paused, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The command center suddenly fell silent. The hissing sound of the heating pipes was particularly jarring. Kenji Sato slowly straightened up and placed his pencil horizontally on the edge of the sand table.

He is 52 years old this year. He graduated from the Army Officer School at the end of the Meiji period and fought in Korea, Manchuria and North China for 25 years.

"The 'Ghost'! It must be the 'Ghost' returning. No other Chinese unit could possibly have the capability to eliminate Imperial Army soldiers protected by pillboxes in such a short time." His voice was calm, as if he were stating the weather.

"Immediately report to the Tianjin Garrison Command that we have been attacked by 'Ghost' and request tactical guidance."

"Yes, sir!" Yamamoto replied, bowing his head. "Brigadier General, what about... the request for reinforcements from the outpost below?"

"Yamamoto-kun, haven't you heard of 'Ghost's' methods? No one is to act rashly until we receive a reply from headquarters. Furthermore, immediately strengthen airport security; we absolutely cannot allow 'Ghost' to infiltrate the airport."

"Hi!" Yamamoto straightened his back and turned to leave.

"Wait." Sato's voice came from behind, low and slow. "Get the troop deployment map from Fengtai to Huangcun. Also, have the communications officer call all the sentry posts every thirty minutes—in plain text."

Yamamoto paused for a moment, then asked, "Open code?"

"If they were still alive, they would understand what this means."

Sato finally turned around, the light casting heavy shadows in his deep-set eyes. "If he dies..." He didn't finish his sentence, but simply tapped the edge of the sand table lightly with his index finger.

After Yamamoto left in a hurry, Sato stood alone in front of the sand table. He stretched out his right hand, his five fingers spread and hovering above Fengtai, as if trying to grasp something, then slowly clenched it into a fist.

Meanwhile, Lin Yifan had already led his men to take down two more Japanese strongholds. He glanced at his watch and said to Sun Dazhu, who was cleaning up the battlefield, "Dazhu, the Japanese haven't sent any reinforcements yet. They're probably scared. You take your men and continue clearing the area."

I'm going to Nanyuan Airport to see if I can take down the Japanese brigade command post.

Sun Dazhu was using his bayonet to pry open the seal on an ammunition box when he heard this and suddenly looked up: "Young master, are you alone?"

"More people actually make you more noticeable."

Lin Yifan holstered his Mauser pistol and pulled a woolen overcoat from a captured Japanese backpack—it belonged to the lieutenant from earlier. The bloodstains had been wiped away by snow, leaving only faint brown marks. "I'll sneak in and take a look. If I can take action, I will; if not, I'll at least find out the deployment."

He draped his coat over his shoulders and then grabbed a steel helmet and put it on his head.

"Three hours later," Lin Yifan held up three fingers, "whether it works out or not, I will come to find you."

"You'll definitely come," Sun Dazhu interrupted him, his missing right hand clenched into a fist. "I'll take men and clear this entire area clean, waiting for your return."

Lin Yifan smiled and said nothing more. He turned and walked towards the burning wreckage of the truck. The flames lengthened and shortened his shadow, like a sword being sheathed.

He disappeared around the bend in the ditch, the hem of his wool coat fluttering one last time before being swallowed by the darkness.

Sun Dazhu watched him leave until even the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, then turned to the others: "Groups three and four, continue west with me! Group ten, divide up the captured machine gun ammunition and what you need; leave the rest for Dashan and the others to handle!"

Lin Yifan used his lightness skill to quickly run towards Nanyuan Airport. In less than twenty minutes, he arrived at the airport's perimeter. He was quite familiar with Nanyuan Airport.

Lin Yifan stopped 300 meters outside the airport and released his spiritual power to check the airport's security situation.

The area around the airport was heavily guarded, with sentries every few steps, and the dark muzzles of light and heavy machine guns were all pointed outside the airport.

It seems the Japanese have increased their vigilance, but this is nothing to Lin Yifan, who has a cheat code.

It just takes a little more effort.

He lay prone behind a frozen ridge, his mental energy spreading out like spider silk, taking in the entire airport's defenses.