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

The second soldier had just turned around when Xu Jiande's knife slashed down on his shoulder, breaking his collarbone and causing him to kneel down.

The third soldier was so startled that he ran forward, but Xu Jiande caught up with him in two steps and stabbed him in the back, the knife protruding through his chest.

The fourth soldier had already taken out his gun, but Xu Jiande kicked it away, touched the tip of his knife to the soldier's Adam's apple, and then pulled it out, as fast as a dragonfly skimming the water.

Almost instantly, all four soldiers fell.

The two officers stood frozen at the end of the alley. The lieutenant reached for his pistol, but just as his hand touched the holster, Xu Jiande stepped onto the broken wall beside him, used the momentum to leap up, and slammed his knee into the lieutenant's chest, slamming him against the wall.

The lieutenant's head hit the wall brick with a thud, and he rolled his eyes and passed out.

The lieutenant had already drawn his sword and was running out of the alley while shouting.

Xu Jiande chased after him at a leisurely pace, and only when he reached the alley entrance did he reach out from behind, grab the back of his collar, and throw him to the ground.

The lieutenant's knife flew from his hand, striking the curb with a sharp clang. Xu Jiande didn't give him a chance to scream; he bent down and slit the lieutenant's throat.

He disposed of the unconscious lieutenant, searched the six men, collected their guns and grenades, wiped the knife clean, and walked south along the alley.

This time, Xu Jiande's actions were not just about killing people, but also about intimidation.

So, next to these Japanese soldiers, he wrote a line of words, the gist of which was that countless wronged souls of the Great Xia had returned to seek revenge.

That evening, he went to the east of the city again.

Continuous killing.

There were seven outposts of the Japanese troops in the eastern part of the city, arranged along a bow-shaped street.

Xu Jiande didn't move a single one.

He scattered some rusty nails he found in the ruins at the few alley entrances on the street, and then lay prone on the roof near the sentry post, waiting for them to change shifts.

During the changing of the guard, the Japanese soldiers walked even more quietly than usual.

Xu Jiande could see clearly from the rooftop until they entered the nailed area.

Then one of the Japanese soldiers suddenly screamed in pain. The remaining Japanese soldiers were shocked and rushed over, but unexpectedly, they also felt a pain in the soles of their feet.

Then came screams of agony.

The Japanese soldiers panicked and opened fire in the chaos.

Of course, they couldn't hit anyone. But more Japanese soldiers rushed out, looking around and firing in all directions.

I still can't hit it.

At this moment, Xu Jiande, who was standing on the roof, began to throw grenades wildly.

He threw out six grenades in one go, and they seemed to have eyes as they fell into the Japanese soldiers' ranks, causing screams and howls of terror to erupt below.

Flames erupted one after another, and the Japanese soldiers behind the broken wall were blown to pieces, some falling silent before they could even scream.

More than fifty Japanese soldiers were all lying down in the blink of an eye.

The main problem here is that the Japanese soldiers gathered at the entrance and were wiped out in one fell swoop.

It was also because Jingzhou had been without resistance for a long time, and the Japanese had become careless.

Xu Jiande still felt some regret. The blood essence of the Japanese soldiers killed by firearms was too little for him to absorb; it was like spilled wine, smelling good but actually only a few sips could be consumed.

He decided to take the knife and kill a few more.

So he jumped off the roof, stepping on the broken bricks and bloodstains on the ground, and killed the Japanese soldiers who were not quite dead yet, one by one.

The bayonet was aimed at his throat and heart. With each stroke, blood gushed out, the warm scent of blood seeping into his body through the hilt of the blade.

He squatted among the pile of corpses and stabbed them ten more times before straightening up, finally feeling a sense of relief.

And so, Xu Jiande continued his rampage, killing his way through the enemy ranks.

Like a wolf roaming at night, it wandered back and forth between ruins and broken alleys, sneaking up on small groups of Japanese soldiers with knives and using grenades on larger groups.

He cleared out the streets one by one, from the east to the south and west of the city.

When the knife got dull, they would rub it against a Japanese soldier's uniform and then switch to a Japanese bayonet.

When he ran out of grenades, he'd loot them from the corpses. He killed more and more, and became more and more adept at it.

What's this called? No guns, no cannons, the enemy made them for us.

Later on, Xu Jiande hardly needed to think; the sound of leather boots would trigger his movements.

That night, the last time they found the Japanese army's supply depot in the north of the city was when they finally located it.

The warehouse was built in a row of red brick houses not far from the river, surrounded by barbed wire, with two trucks parked at the entrance.

Xu Jiande crept to the west wall of the warehouse, climbed over, and casually killed two patrolmen.

He didn't go into the warehouse. Instead, he took off the last few grenades he had on him, stuffed them among a pile of ammunition boxes at the warehouse entrance, pulled the fuse, and ran away.

One, two, then a series of explosions followed, the ammunition boxes exploding, the flames turning half the sky on the north bank red.

Flames shot up several dozen feet high, thick smoke billowed, and reflected on the Qinhuai River, looking as if someone had poured a ladle of blood from the sky, which then burned upside down in the river.

It looks like fireworks, and these fireworks are really beautiful at dawn.

Meanwhile, the roofs of those red brick houses were blown off as if they were made of paper, and the windows and doors flew far away.

More than 30 Japanese soldiers were killed in the bombing. Some of them were still on fire. They didn't run more than a few steps before collapsing into the mud and never got up again.

This series of events completely threw the Japanese troops in Jingzhou into chaos.

They began to increase sentry posts, increase guards, and set up roadblocks in various places.

Even during the day, no idlers were allowed to approach the North City Wharf. The puppet troops were taken to guard the wall, while the Japanese soldiers themselves huddled inside the building, rarely showing their faces.

The patrol team grew from three to five, then to seven. Their flashlights illuminated the street, and the slightest movement was met with the clanging of gun bolts being cocked.

At night, Japanese soldiers scattered white ash outside their barracks, saying it could help identify ghost footprints.

Some outposts even hung up Bagua mirrors stolen from nearby villagers. The mirrors were filthy, and when the wind blew, they swayed back and forth in the moonlight.

The officers forbade the soldiers from mentioning the word "ghost," threatening punishment for anyone who did. But the more they forbade it, the more the fear spread like water.

There weren't many living people in Jingzhou City, but news traveled faster than the living could run.

Within a few days, even those hiding in the cellars south of the city knew that a ruthless man who killed Japanese soldiers had come to the city; even the Japanese soldiers themselves said he was a ghost.

Some people were frightened by what they heard, some shed tears, and some even wiped the broken incense burner that had been kept in their homes for who knows how many years, lit an incense stick, and bowed towards the dark night sky.

He muttered to himself, "Thank God, someone has come to take them away."

For the people of Jingzhou, this is the most basic expectation.

……

At this point, the Japanese finally realized what was happening and started using armored vehicles and even tanks to spread propaganda through loudspeakers.

Many notices were also posted, the gist of which was that if this unknown resistance fighter dared to kill Imperial Army soldiers again, they would retaliate and kill the residents of Jingzhou.

"If anyone dares to kill even one more Imperial soldier, a hundred civilians of Jingzhou will be killed in retaliation. Do not say you were not warned!"

This is naturally a game for cowards.

However, Xu Jiande was no longer soft-hearted at this point, and naturally he could not agree.

Indeed, he is experienced in this area.

Back in Beijing, he had played the coward game with these beasts. The Japanese used the same tactic back then: kill people, post notices, kill more people, post more notices.

What was the result? In the end, the Japanese soldiers stayed in their camp and didn't even dare to send out sentries.

The game isn't about who shouts the loudest; it's about who backs down first.

Sassa Maki didn't understand this principle, and neither would the Japanese soldiers in Kyoto.

Xu Jiande not only didn't stop, but he killed even faster.