Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The wind finally picked up.

The wind carried the pungent smell of rust and sulfur, growing stronger with each gust, sticking to the back of the tongue and tasting bitter.

The initial probing was the same old routine—shells rained down every now and then, few in number, but ruthlessly targeted. They specifically chose newly built observation posts or vulnerable spots where trenches had just turned a corner. Telephone lines were snapped seven or eight times a day, and the soles of the signalmen's feet were burning hot from the rubble and scorched earth. The static in their headsets grew increasingly rampant, often turning into a piercing white electric noise at crucial moments when orders were being relayed—enemy electronic jamming vehicles must have already approached the front lines.

During the day, the American "iron birds" flew even lower, almost skimming the mountain ridges, their menacing plumes clearly visible beneath their wings. Their scouts grew increasingly arrogant, daring to peer into the positions through binoculars in broad daylight, occasionally firing a few sniper shots in provocation. He Yuzhu issued a strict order: no firing was permitted unless the enemy entered effective firing range. Ammunition had to be conserved, and firing positions couldn't be exposed. The soldiers could only lie prone behind firing ports, their bloodshot eyes fixed on the shifting shadows darting along the edge of the firing line, their teeth clenched tightly.

As night fell, things became even more turbulent. Small groups of enemy soldiers, like hyenas smelling blood, stealthily approached. Sometimes they moved in groups of three to five, quietly cutting through barbed wire and planting flares; other times, multiple groups created disturbances simultaneously, employing feints and real attacks. The nerves of the counter-infiltration units and the forward sentries were taut, and sporadic firefights broke out from time to time. Gunshots suddenly rang out, carrying far in the deathly silence of the night, only to be quickly swallowed by the deeper darkness, leaving only the acrid smell of gunpowder lingering in the cold wind.

He Yuzhu stood behind the observation slit in the regimental command post, clutching a teacup that had long since gone cold, gazing out at the hillside repeatedly ravaged by artillery fire, its original color now unrecognizable. He knew perfectly well: this wasn't the main course, but merely an appetizer, a boxer's pre-match jab. The enemy commander opposite him—a complete stranger, yet one who undoubtedly hated him to the core—division intelligence suggested might be a Brigadier General named Hammer, was using these methods to gauge his reaction speed, wear him down, and search for even the slightest flaw in the defensive line.

"That's about it." He put down his teacup and whispered to Old Geng, who was staring intently at the map beside him, "Hammer's patience is about to run out. The main attack will begin in the next day or two."

He used this last bit of time, like a stingy craftsman, to give the defenses a final touch-up. The command post and several key communication nodes were reinforced again and again with the last of the stockpiled steel bars and cement. Another layer of logs was added to support the key troop tunnels. He personally crawled into the low tunnels to inspect the ventilation shafts and drainage ditches, picked up a handful of soil and rubbed it between his fingers to feel the moisture, then turned to the engineering company commander and pointed out where still needed to be addressed.

Consciousness sinks into the system.

Points: 6,488,398.

Like a squirrel preparing for winter and counting its last reserves, he had to use every last bit of food wisely.

[Exchange: 500 kg of C4 plastic explosive (high stability, adjustable power), -40,000 points.]

[Exchange: 10,000 ultra-compressed high-energy nutrition blocks (for extreme environments, each block provides a single day's basic calories), -40,000 points.]

Total: -80,000 points.

Battlefield Points: 6,488,398 - 80,000 = 6,408,398 points.

Explosives were secretly stored in a pre-designated blasting chamber in the core tunnel—the "key" to either perish with the enemy or open a counterattack in the final moments. The dusty, brick-hard nutrient blocks were scattered and hidden in the deepest spare caves, protected from moisture and insects. This was the last ration for the "seeds" should supplies be completely cut off.

After making the arrangements, he convened a brief expanded meeting of the regimental party committee. The atmosphere in the bunker was as heavy as lead. Several battalion commanders had sunken eyes and unshaven beards, but their gazes were still piercingly bright.

"Enough with the small talk," He Yuzhu said, getting straight to the point. "The battle is about to hit us. Nobody can say for sure what scale it will be or how it will turn out. But there are a few things we need to keep in mind."

His gaze swept over everyone: "First, maintain communications. But we must also prepare for the worst. If all the telephone lines are cut, the radios are destroyed, or even the command post is taken—" He paused slightly, and the lamplight on the earthen wall flickered. "Each battalion, company, and platoon must be prepared to fight independently and hold out to the end. The principle is simple: utilize the tunnels, preserve ourselves, wear down the enemy, and seize every opportunity to counterattack! Don't count on reinforcements, at least not for the first few days. We are the nail driven into this place; even if the nail breaks, we will pierce the enemy's foot!"

"Second," he turned to Lao Geng and Political Commissar Zhao, "the non-combat personnel of the regiment headquarters—clerks, staff, and general service personnel—will be transferred to the rear in batches starting tonight. Lao Geng, you are in charge of making the arrangements. Be quick and discreet."

In the corner, a young clerk suddenly stood up, his eyes red-rimmed: "Commander! I won't leave! I can shoot too!"

He Yuzhu looked at him. There was no blame in his eyes, only a bottomless weariness and determination: "Your battlefield is not here. Going back alive, writing down what happened here, and telling those who come after you is far more important than adding another gun here."

The clerk's lips trembled, and finally he slumped down, his shoulders collapsing.

"Third," He Yuzhu's voice lowered even further, each word like a hammer blow into the ground, "I, He Weiguo, am right here in the regimental command post. The position is here, I am here. The position is gone—" He didn't finish, but everyone understood the unspoken meaning.

The bunker was deathly silent, save for the occasional crackling of the oil lamp's flame. A sense of tragic grandeur permeated the air, like a thick fog, but beneath it surged a resolute determination to fight to the death.

After the meeting, He Yuzhu remained alone. He took out Qin Huairu's notebook, stroking the already frayed cover with his fingertips, but didn't open it. He then took out Yushui's crumpled letter, reading it for a long time under the dim light before carefully putting it away. Finally, he checked the captured Colt pistol at his waist; it was fully loaded and the gun was cold to the touch.

In the dead of night, he stepped out of his bunker and stood under the cold night sky. The distant mountains were outlined like dark ink, and the starlight was dim and sparse. The surrounding area was deathly silent, yet he seemed to hear, dozens of miles away, countless steel behemoths slowly turning their cannons, thousands of soldiers checking their weapons, and countless eyes fixed on this mountain range that was about to be swallowed by blood and fire.

Just then, the long-absent system notification sounded in my mind, its tone more somber than ever before:

[A massive accumulation of battle energy has been detected, intensifying spacetime disturbances.]

[Warning: The host has been drawn into a critical historical juncture. The rate at which combat points are earned will be dynamically adjusted based on the scale and impact of the campaign, as well as the host's contribution.]

[Note: Extremely high risk comes with extremely high potential reward. Survival and victory are the only prerequisites for obtaining everything.]

He Yuzhu took a deep breath of the crisp air and slowly exhaled. He looked up at the dark sky—where a silent, roaring sea of ​​blood seemed to hang upside down.

The mountain rain has filled the building.