Courtyard House: Home Alone

The outer perimeter consists of two ring-shaped fortifications, with twelve Type 92 heavy machine guns hidden behind sandbag bunkers. Their crossfire is enough to cut any frontal assault into pieces.

Further in were barbed wire fences and charnel houses, with a guard tower every fifty meters, the beams of searchlights drawing stiff arcs in the night sky.

The very core of the building was the concrete tower (command post), with a flat roof and thick walls. Two Type 94 armored vehicles were parked at the entrance, their engines still running.

The man lying on the map, wearing a major general's uniform, must be the Japanese brigade commander, and the colonel standing next to him must be his chief of staff.

Alright, I'll start with you guys. With that thought, Lin Yifan teleported to Sato's side.

Before Sato and Yamamoto could react, two bullets pierced their heads, and blood bloomed on their foreheads.

The two bodies slumped down, and the major general's cap rolled to the edge of the map, stained with blood that had dripped from the corner of the table.

He reached out and put the blueprints on the table into his spatial storage. The blueprints detailed the locations of the Japanese outposts and supply points, which would be very useful for clearing out the Japanese strongholds around Beiping later.

Sato's military sword was still hanging at his waist, the gold thread on the tassel shimmering in the light. Lin Yifan casually untied it, weighed it in his hand—a Type 98 general's sword, something to take back for Brother Stone as a keepsake. He then removed the golden pheasant medal from Sato's chest and stored it in his spatial storage.

Footsteps suddenly came from outside the tent, and people were talking in hushed tones in Japanese. Lin Yifan flashed and was already in the shadows behind the curtain.

Two communications soldiers lifted the curtain and came in. When they saw the corpse on the ground, before they could even utter a cry of alarm, they were each struck on the back of the neck with a chop to the neck and collapsed limply.

Lin Yifan snapped their necks and then walked downstairs. The second floor was the telecommunications room, where three transceivers were humming.

There were twelve guards on the bottom floor. Except for the two at the entrance, the others were all dozing off in their chairs.

With a thought, Lin Yifan went to the communications room. At the same time, four bullets in the static warehouse were fired, entering the heads of three telegraph operators and a duty officer. At the same time, with a wave of his hand, he put the telegraph machine on the table into his space—these devices could be given to the Red Party.

He moved swiftly, like a falling leaf, towards the first floor. The two guards at the door were hunched over, stamping their feet, their breath forming a layer of frost on the edges of their helmets.

Lin Yifan walked through them, raising both hands simultaneously, his palms slicing into the carotid sinus, causing the two to slip and fall like puppets with broken strings.

The remaining ten guards were still dozing off, and Lin Yifan did not wake them. He locked onto the location of each person with his mental energy, and ten bullets shot out from the space, accurately penetrating the medulla oblongata, a vital point in the back of the neck.

There were no screams, no struggles, only the dull thud of the chair overturning and the slight tremor of the body hitting the ground.

He then went to the armored vehicles outside the door. There was a Japanese driver in each of the two armored vehicles, but both of them were snoring.

Lin Yifan opened the car door, reached out and snapped the driver's neck, then did the same to the other car. After dealing with the driver, he turned off the engine and stored the armored vehicle in his spatial storage.

At this point, there wasn't a single living Japanese soldier left in the Japanese brigade command post. Next up was the Japanese armory.

The Japanese brigade had turned the former airport's ammunition depot into their own armory and logistics warehouse. With a thought, Lin Yifan teleported towards the ammunition depot.

The ammunition depot is located in the southeast corner of the airport. The three concrete warehouses are arranged in a triangular shape, with their roofs covered with thick snow, which gleams coldly in the morning light.

He squatted in the middle of the warehouse, his mental power like invisible tentacles, enveloping the entire warehouse—boxes of rifle bullets were stacked into walls, Type 92 infantry shells were piled up into small mountains, and there were dozens of boxes of grenades and explosives. In one corner, there were even two Type 92 infantry guns, with the tarpaulin coverings still on.

"Good stuff." Lin Yifan licked his chapped lips. This equipment is enough to arm seven or eight thousand people. If it were left to the Japanese soldiers later, how many more lives would be lost?

"receive!"

With a thought, rows of ammunition boxes vanished like the receding tide. Thirty seconds later, the west warehouse was empty. He slipped out and emptied the other two warehouses in the same way, finally taking the two infantry guns inside as well.

A mental scan of the space revealed newly captured supplies categorized and stacked with previous spoils: over a thousand Type 38 rifles, sixty-two Type 98 light machine guns, twenty-four Type 92 heavy machine guns, over 1.2 million rounds of ammunition, as well as armored vehicles, trucks, radios, and more.

Lin Yifan glanced at his watch; less than thirty minutes had passed since he entered the airport. He gave a final scan to make sure he hadn't missed anything, then flashed to the edge of a field outside the airport.

Next up were the ordinary Japanese soldiers, whose primary target was the machine gun crew behind the sandbag fortifications.

With a thought, Lin Yifan caused the grenades that had been delayed for three seconds in the still warehouse to disappear one after another, and to appear at the feet, above the heads, or in the arms of the Japanese machine gun crews—his mental power guided each grenade to land in the most lethal position.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The explosions echoed around the airport, sandbag bunkers were overturned by the blast waves, and the barrels of heavy machine guns twisted and flew into the sky.

The Japanese soldiers didn't even have time to let out a complete scream before they were torn apart by fire and shrapnel. Lin Yifan didn't stop; grenades continued to fly out from the space, their explosions following closely behind.

Twelve Type 92 heavy machine guns, twelve firing points, were all reduced to ruins within five breaths.

The searchlight continued its futile sweeping, its beam filled with smoke and debris. Lin Yifan looked up at the sentry on the watchtower; the Japanese soldier was frantically shaking his phone, only to find the line had long been cut off.

A bullet shot out from the air, pierced the wooden planks of the guard tower, and bloomed into a flower of blood on his chest.

The remaining guard towers detected the anomaly, and their alarms blared, the piercing sound cutting through the darkness before dawn.

But that was all they could do—Lin Yifan's mental power had already locked onto the location of every guard post, and bullets, as if they had eyes, pierced through firing ports, observation windows, and door cracks, pinning the sentries inside to their posts one by one.

Behind the barbed wire and the palisades, Japanese soldiers finally poured out of the barracks, their uniforms unbuttoned, carrying Type 38 rifles and haphazardly searching for the enemy.

Lin Yifan sneered, took out the Type 92 heavy machine gun that he had just seized from the armory from his spatial storage, and set it up on the ruins of a destroyed guard tower.

"Da da da da da—"

A torrent of 7.7mm bullets swept across the open ground, cutting down the first wave of Japanese soldiers who charged out. The reinforcements fell to the ground in fear, unsure of which direction to retaliate—the enemy was clearly everywhere, yet it seemed as if they didn't exist anywhere at all.

After firing a barrage of bullets, Lin Yifan retracted the heavy machine gun into the space and appeared at another high vantage point.

Another burst of bullets swept down, and the Japanese soldiers finally collapsed. Some began to flee towards the barracks, some knelt on the ground and kowtowed wildly, and some climbed frantically onto the barbed wire, oblivious to the barbs catching their flesh.

"it's over."

Lin Yifan muttered to himself, using his mental energy to evenly scatter the more than 700 delayed grenades in the space above the camp, like a black hailstorm.