When they arrived at the courtyard house and the celestial bridal chamber, they discovered it was a

Zhou Zheng'an thought for a moment, then said, "Comrades, let's clean up the battlefield first and gather up the weapons and ammunition outside."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

The soldiers responded to the call and, using the faint starlight, scattered across the battlefield.

In the darkness, only the clanging of metal and a low shout could be heard: "Squad leader, there's a heavy machine gun here!"

"Company commander, I found a box of carbine magazines!"

Zhou Zheng'an personally bent down, picked up a semi-automatic rifle from beside an American soldier, and stuffed the scattered bullets into it one by one.

"Hurry up, everyone, stop dawdling!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority: "There might still be enemy patrols down the mountain. We must leave this hellhole before dawn."

Half an hour later, the soldiers, carrying bulging ammunition pouches, followed Zhou Zheng'an and began to retreat down the mountain.

From the shadows at the foot of the mountain, the faint sound of metal tracks crushing gravel could be heard—it was an American tank.

Zhou Zheng'an signaled everyone to lie low and make their way forward under the cover of the bushes.

Sure enough, after turning past a patch of jagged rocks, three tanks were parked in an open area at the foot of the mountain, surrounded by a company of American soldiers. They were surrounding the tanks with infantry, setting up searchlights and makeshift lights, the lights piercing the night and illuminating the position quite brightly.

"Commander, what should we do?" The communications officer, Xiao Dong, squatted down next to Zhou Zheng'an, his voice extremely low, his palms covered in cold sweat.

Zhou Zheng'an licked his chapped lips, his eyes sharp and cold, and said, "Listen to my orders. Have the sharpshooters take out the spotlights and streetlights. I'll throw grenades to disrupt their formation. You guys use heavy machine guns to suppress the fire. Don't linger, charge and run!"

Soon, the sharpshooters were ready, and three minutes later, the eagle's searchlights and spotlights were destroyed.

Zhou Zheng'an then swung his right arm sharply.

A grenade pierced the darkness, landing precisely beneath a streetlamp bracket, shattering the tank's tracks with a deafening roar. Immediately afterward, a second and third grenade followed in quick succession; the distance of over two hundred meters seemed nonexistent in his hands, each striking precisely beside the tank tracks and the camp behind it.

Amid the explosions, the US positions instantly descended into chaos.

As the searchlights went out and the streetlights shattered, the soldiers screamed and fired wildly in the darkness.

Taking advantage of the situation, Zhou Zheng'an grabbed a heavy machine gun he had picked up, stood up, and unleashed a furious barrage of fire at the enemy ranks. Flames spitted out in front of him, weaving a dense curtain of bullets that pinned down the enemies who tried to raise their heads to retaliate.

"Charge!" Zhou Zheng'an roared and led the way, running forward at breakneck speed.

Soldiers followed closely behind with their guns at the ready. The sounds of heavy machine gun fire and rifle bursts mingled together, forcing the enemy to cower behind the tanks, too afraid to show their faces.

In just a few minutes, the team had broken through the enemy lines. Zhou Zheng'an shouted without turning his head, "Don't stop, keep running!"

They ran frantically, not daring to stop for even a moment.

The gunshots behind them gradually faded into the distance, disappearing completely into the night. Only then did Zhou Zheng'an signal everyone to slow down. He took out his pocket watch and glanced at it; it was exactly two in the morning.

"Take a break and have some water." Zhou Zheng'an unscrewed the water bottle at his waist, took two sips, and handed it to the deputy company commander next to him who had injured his arm. "There are still twenty kilometers to go. We must reach Wusheng Mountain before dawn."

Three hours later, as dawn broke on the horizon, the group finally arrived at the foot of Wusheng Mountain.

Zhou Zheng'an took out a map and spread it on a relatively flat stone. Although everyone could not see it clearly, they pointed to the center with their fingers: "This is Hill No. 1, the very center of the seven hills, the highest in altitude, and the place we need to defend."

The soldiers looked in the direction he was pointing, and Mount Wusheng stretched out before them, extending for three or four kilometers. At the foot of the mountain, lights formed a ribbon across the plains, marking the outer defensive line of the United States.

In the light, one could vaguely see moving figures and the reflection of tank tracks, indicating that the enemy's defenses were tight.

For the US military, on one hand, it needs to continue its attack on the Chinese People's Volunteer Army (PVA) defenders on Wusheng Mountain in an attempt to capture the high ground; on the other hand, it needs to prevent PVA reinforcements from arriving.

Moreover, during this period, these garrison troops were extremely vigilant, as the Chinese People's Volunteer Army would occasionally launch surprise attacks in the middle of the night, break through their defenses, and reach various high grounds.

In fact, a battle had just ended here two hours earlier, with approximately three hundred Chinese People's Volunteer Army soldiers successfully breaking through the defensive line. Of course, more than three hundred Chinese People's Volunteer Army soldiers also sacrificed their lives here.

"Commander, the enemy's defenses are quite tight," Company Commander Yao Junqiang said with a frown.

As dawn approached, Zhou Zheng'an frowned, pondered for a moment, and then decisively said, "We have no choice but to charge head-on. However, it doesn't seem suitable to attack from the very center. We'll attack from the far left; that's where Hill Seven is."

This was a temporary change in tactics, and Zhou Zheng'an made a decisive move to quickly formulate a new battle plan.

At this point, Zhou Zheng'an put away the map, dusted himself off, and ordered, "Adjust tactics immediately. Sharpshooters, prepare. We'll move out in three minutes!"

The sixteen sharpshooters quickly dispersed and found concealed firing positions.

Zhou Zheng'an grabbed the grenades and lined them up at his feet. He whispered, "Wait for my signal. First, smash the searchlights and spotlights; they'll be blind in the dark."

Three minutes later, Zhou Zheng'an suddenly waved his hand.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Sixteen gunshots rang out simultaneously, and the two searchlights exploded, their blinding light instantly extinguished.

Immediately afterwards, three high-powered lights were also hit by bullets, and fragments of the lampshades flew everywhere.

The American camp was suddenly plunged into darkness, with only the muzzle flashes of rifle fire in the distance remaining.

Zhou Zheng'an seized the opportunity, his arm swinging rapidly like a robotic arm, sending grenades flying one after another towards the center of the camp. The distance of over two hundred meters was nothing to him; each grenade landed precisely in the enemy ranks, the explosions echoing one after another.

"Charge!" Zhou Zheng'an roared and charged forward first.

The soldiers, guns in hand, fired as they ran up the mountain.

Bullets flew wildly in the darkness, and soldiers would occasionally groan and fall to the ground, but no one stopped.

In the darkness, people from both sides fell from time to time, their screams and the sounds of gunfire mingling together.

In the darkness of night, everyone can only rely on their instincts to fire, and whether or not they are hit often depends on luck.

"Watch your step!" Zhou Zheng'an shouted, nearly stepping into a crater himself.

The crater still bore the charred marks left by the burning napalm, and a pungent odor wafted out.

Six minutes later, the team broke through the American camp.

This was the enemy's last line of defense. The gunfire behind them gradually subsided. Zhou Zheng'an glanced back and saw that several familiar figures were missing.

He gritted his teeth, didn't dare to stop for long, and continued rushing up the mountain.

The battle lasted less than ten minutes, and the team lost more than twenty men.

Of the 280 people Zhou Zheng'an brought, only 102 remain.

This casualty rate seems alarming, but compared to other units, it is a remarkable achievement.

Twenty-five minutes later, the group finally reached a position 500 meters from the trench line on Hill 7.