The Little Demonic Cultivator in the Courtyard: Borrowing 100,000 Japanese Pirates to Heal

Today, the third batch of prisoners was brought out, twenty more than yesterday.

The number of Japanese troops around the square had more than doubled compared to yesterday, and six Type 96 machine guns were mounted on the rooftops, with their muzzles pointed at the center of the square from different angles.

Sasaki Maki did not personally attend the event. He sat in the temporary command post with a map of Beijing covered in red circles spread out in front of him.

He was fishing.

Yesterday I fished all afternoon and all night, and what I caught was three sentries being ambushed and nine soldiers killed in action.

The fish didn't take the bait and even bit it off.

But he refused to believe it and continued today.

The number of mobile sentries on the perimeter was increased to three per group every thirty meters, carrying Type 38 rifles and patrolling back and forth.

All the alleyways leading to the square were double-guarded, with sandbags piled up to waist height as bunkers, and machine gunners crouching behind them. Snipers were positioned on the rooftops around Caishikou.

There was more than one execution ground in Beijing. At the same time that the third batch of prisoners were brought to the square, gunshots suddenly rang out from a sentry post in the west of the city.

A young man selling vegetables from a cart suddenly pulled out a pistol from under his cart as he passed a checkpoint and fired three shots at the Japanese soldiers who were checking him.

The Japanese soldier was shot in the chest and died on the spot.

The young man fired a fourth shot, hitting another Japanese soldier in the shoulder, before being shot dead by the other Japanese soldiers.

He fell while his finger was still on the trigger, the bullet hitting the ground at his feet and sending sparks flying.

Half an hour later, gunshots rang out again at the entrance of an alley in the north of the city.

The man who made the move was a middle-aged man, wearing a patched-up gray cloth shirt, looking like an ordinary, unremarkable commoner.

He was stopped and questioned by two Japanese soldiers at the entrance of the alley. When he took out his good citizen certificate from his pocket, he suddenly pulled out a kitchen knife and slashed the neck of the Japanese soldier in front of him.

The blade was stuck in the cervical vertebrae and he couldn't pull it out, so he simply loosened the handle and pounced on the second Japanese soldier, grabbing him by the neck with both hands.

He pinched so hard that his fingernails dug into the Japanese soldier's flesh, and blood seeped from between his fingers, indistinguishable as to whether it was the Japanese soldier's or his own.

The Japanese soldier behind him stabbed him in the lower back with a bayonet. He groaned, but the grip on his hand tightened instead of loosening.

The second stab pierced his back, his body tensed up briefly, then slowly went limp.

His eyes were still open after he fell, and his hands were still in the position of choking him.

Less than half an hour later, a young woman in her early twenties from the south of the city took a grenade out of her basket at the entrance of the vegetable market, pulled the fuse, and threw it toward the Japanese patrol next to her.

The grenade exploded in the crowd, killing one Japanese soldier and wounding two puppet soldiers.

The girl herself was also hit in the neck by shrapnel, and blood flowed down from her collar, soaking the entire front of her floral shirt.

She leaned against the corner of the market wall, one hand covering the wound on her neck, the other clutching a second grenade. Several Japanese soldiers surrounded her, pointing bayonets at her. She smiled and pulled the pin on the second grenade.

With a loud bang, the three Japanese soldiers and she fell together into a pool of blood.

When the news reached the temporary command center, Sasaki Maki was reviewing a report on the progress of the courtyard administrator training.

He put down the report and tapped his fingers on the table.

His fingers were short and thick, with calluses all over his knuckles, and when he tapped them on the wooden table, they made a dull thud.

dong dong dong.

None of the officers standing nearby dared to speak first.

Sasaki Maki didn't get angry; he simply issued an order.

Hang these three corpses in the most conspicuous place in Caishikou Square so that everyone can see the consequences of resisting the Imperial Army.

So the bodies of that young man, that middle-aged man, and that girl were tied up by the ankles with hemp rope by the Japanese soldiers and hung upside down on the flagpole next to Caishikou Square.

The three bodies swayed slowly in the wind; the bloodstains had dried and turned into dark brown marks.

The girl's drooping fingernails were full of dark red bloodstains, the flesh embedded in the skin when she was strangling the Japanese soldier.

A wooden sign stood at the foot of the flagpole, with several large characters painted in white on it.

The fate of the resisters.

The passersby all walked by with their heads down, and some people secretly glanced up before quickly looking away.

Some people memorized those three faces and planned to tell their families to buy more incense sticks so they could secretly burn them after dark.

Some people didn't think about anything and just quickened their pace, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible, as if staying too long would get them involved.

Some people feel suffocated, but now is not the time to fight back. They can only bury their hatred in their hearts, remember what they should remember, and endure what they should endure.

But the anger remained, it persisted.

……

That evening, Xu Jiande returned home, ate dinner, and continued to refine demonic energy and blood energy.

Of course, they were also giving Bai Ling a massage.

Just then, Aunt Er came again, asking about Liu Haizhong. Xu Jiande then remembered and said, "I'm too busy, I'll go down and ask for you."

After that, I went to find Wang Xiaoyong.

When Xu Jiande arrived at Wang Xiaoyong's residence, it was already completely dark.

Wang Xiaoyong lived in a small courtyard two alleys east of Nanluoguxiang. It was a detached house with a notice posted on the door about receiving the Japanese soldier's good citizen certificate, and a sign for the family of a puppet army soldier was nailed to the door.

This sign was specifically for puppet soldiers like Wang Xiaoyong; it was nailed up very conspicuously, as if afraid others wouldn't see it.

Xu Jiande raised his hand and knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice more.

The door opened a crack, and Wang Xiaoyong, seeing that it was him, pulled the door open to let him in.

A kerosene lamp was lit in the room, its wick turned down low, casting a dim light. On the table lay a dish of peanuts and a half-empty bottle of liquor; the peanuts were barely touched, but most of the liquor had been drunk.

Wang Xiaoyong had a lot of social engagements while working in the puppet army, which helped him develop a high alcohol tolerance, but he was drinking tonight because he was in a bad mood.

It must be terrible. So many compatriots have died, and we still have to pretend to be happy.

This frustration cannot be expressed.

Of course, you can't get drunk. If you do, it'll be troublesome if you say the wrong thing.

Xu Jiande cut to the chase, asking, "Is the person in the bangs still alive?"

Wang Xiaoyong told him to sit down, closed the door tightly, and then lowered his voice to say, "Alive. He's being held in the temporary detention center behind the military police headquarters."

Xu Jiande then asked, "Can we get it out?"

Wang Xiaoyong shook his head, his voice filled with obvious helplessness: "The military police are not under my jurisdiction. As a puppet army captain, I can say a few words about supervising rice shops in the upper district, but I can't get involved in the affairs of the military police."

He paused, then added, "Moreover, things are tense right now. After a high-ranking Japanese officer was killed in a bombing, the military police are arresting people like crazy. Nobody dares to help anyone get ahead through connections at this time."

Xu Jiande nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He knew that what Wang Xiaoyong said was true.

An undercover agent, without any inside contacts within the military police, would only expose himself if he forced his way out.

The problem is, what if Liu Haizhong is dragged into the trap by the Japanese and used as bait, that is, what if he is pushed to places like Jiaochangkou and publicly executed?

Believe it or not, the possibility is quite high.

If he were really faced with this situation, Xu Jiande wouldn't know what to do; he would probably just give up.

In the courtyard, it's estimated that only Bai Ling would ask him to take such a huge risk to act; as for He Daqing, it depends on the situation.

After all, personal safety is the most important thing.

Wang Xiaoyong nodded, and the two chatted for a few more minutes.

Seeing that it was almost time, Xu Jiande got up to say goodbye, opened the door, and slipped into the night.

For some reason, Xu Jiande discovered that there was a huge resentment in the entire city of Beijing, and he could feel his body trembling with every breath he took.

And also the surge of energy and the enhancement of strength.