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

More than 10.4 million points.

These seven words weighed heavily on He Yuzhu's mind like a mountain. The difference between seven million and ten million wasn't just a matter of numbers, but a matter of life and death, time, and endless torment. He tried to forget that insane thought, but the moment he closed his eyes, the ashen face of Company Commander Lei lying beside the shell crater, Li Xiaotian's unfinished letter home, and the burning, thirsty eyes deep in the tunnels—all remained vivid in his mind.

Gaining points through conventional attrition warfare is too slow. A defensive battle that wipes out half a battalion only yields a few hundred thousand points. To reach the three million-point gap, probably very few men in that regiment will be left alive.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to take the initiative and hunt down high-value targets that could yield a large number of points.

The opportunity came faster and was hotter than expected.

The division headquarters forwarded a top-secret intelligence report: Due to slow progress at the front, a US regiment commanding the frontal assault on Shangganling has moved its command post to a valley codenamed "Wild Boar Ridge," less than five kilometers from the front line. The valley is sheltered from the wind and contains semi-underground fortifications left by the South Korean army, which is conducive to forward command.

Almost simultaneously, Wu Dayong's most elite reconnaissance team risked their lives to circle behind enemy lines and, using captured binoculars, spotted the heavy artillery formation—dozens of large-caliber howitzers and cannons concealed under camouflage netting and felled trees, all pointing towards Shangganling. Although the coordinates could only be estimated, the location was roughly correct.

One is the enemy's "brain," and the other is the enemy's "fist."

He Yuzhu stared at the two newly marked points on the map, a cold flame gradually igniting in his eyes. He licked his chapped lips, the taste of blood making him even more alert.

"Done," he muttered to himself.

He didn't discuss it in detail with Lao Geng and Political Commissar Zhao, only saying that the division headquarters had a secret mission and he needed to lead a small team. Lao Geng turned pale and tried to dissuade him, but He Yuzhu stopped him with a glance. Political Commissar Zhao opened his mouth, but finally only said, "Be very careful, the whole regiment is waiting for you to come back."

He Yuzhu selected six steady and experienced veterans from the reconnaissance company, and transferred a silent and fearless observer nicknamed "Stone" from the division's artillery observation group. Including himself, there were nine people in total, fully equipped, almost like a reinforced platoon.

Infiltrating and annihilating the enemy, and directing artillery fire, the existing rifles, grenades, and rudimentary artillery scopes are far from sufficient.

Consciousness sinks into the system. Points: 7,138,398.

[Exchange: Barrett M82A1 anti-materiel sniper rifle (with night vision scope, system aged) x1, 50 rounds of 12.7mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds, -50,000 points.]

[Redeem: AN/PEQ-15 Laser Target Designator/Range Finder (Simplified Civilian Version) x 1, -30,000 points.]

[Redeem: Low-light night vision goggles (monocular, early model appearance) x 5, -25,000 points.]

[Exchange: 20 high-explosive anti-personnel grenades (miniaturized, high fragmentation), -5,000 points.]

Total expenditure: -110,000 points.

Battlefield Points: 7,138,398 - 110,000 = 7,028,398 points.

Their points dropped again, and He Yuzhu's heart skipped a beat. But you can't catch a wolf without risking your resources. This batch of equipment was disguised as "specially approved experimental reconnaissance equipment from the division headquarters" and stuffed into the squad's pack.

They set off in the dead of night, when the clouds were thick and the moon was nowhere to be seen. The cold wind was like a knife, stinging their faces. The nine men, clad in camouflage nets and smeared with black mud, resembled nine ghostly figures blending into the night, silently slipping out of their own positions and infiltrating the no-man's land, ravaged by artillery fire and riddled with dead bodies.

The route was forged by scouts risking their lives, marked with coded signals only they could recognize. They bypassed minefields, avoided sentries and patrols, crawling forward through the cold mud and gravel. He Yuzhu led the way, the cold, heavy Barrett rifle pressing against his back like a weight of fate. He mentally rehearsed every mark on the map, his heartbeat surprisingly steady—fear was useless at this moment, only complete focus mattered.

Before dawn, they arrived at their designated ambush point: a crevice overlooking the "Wild Boar Ridge" valley and the distant artillery area. The nine men squeezed into it, making it difficult to turn around. They could only take turns resting, nibbling on a few bites of compressed biscuits and sipping a little water.

During the day, they were as still as rocks. He Yuzhu used a laser rangefinder, combined with the artillery telescope and the descriptions from the scouts, to meticulously correct the coordinates of the heavy artillery group. The place was heavily guarded and well-camouflaged, but there were still clues: the dust raised by vehicles entering and leaving, the occasional figure, and the imperceptible angle of the gun muzzles. He held a pencil stub in his mouth and marked on the waterproof map, the numbers accurate to the last digit.

Target one, locked in.

What followed was a long wait. Waiting until darkness fell, waiting for the enemy to be most relaxed.

The operation began at midnight on the second day. He Yuzhu left Shi Tou and two scouts to monitor the artillery and prepare to guide the artillery fire, while he led the remaining five men like a pack of wolves, sneaking into the hidden valley of "Wild Boar Ridge".

The command post was less guarded than expected. The days-long stalemate had dulled the vigilance of the officers in the rear. Two sentries were dozing off by the entrance to the bunker and were silently taken out by a scout with a dagger.

He Yuzhu gave a hand signal, and the five men slipped into the semi-underground bunker like ghosts. Inside, the room was dimly lit, several American officers were arguing over a map, a radio crackled, and the air was thick with the smells of coffee and tobacco. No one expected death to arrive in this way at this moment.

Just as He Yuzhu was about to give the order, he caught a glimpse of the side room curtain twitching slightly—there was another person! He swerved his gun, the bullet grazing the curtain and disappearing into the darkness, followed by a muffled groan. A near miss.

"Fire!" he growled as he charged into the main room, his submachine gun spitting out short bursts of fire. The rest of the team fired in unison, grenades rolling into corners. The cramped space was instantly filled with gunfire, explosions, and screams. The battle was sudden, and ended even faster. In less than a minute, the bunker was filled only with smoke, blood, and strewn corpses.

He Yuzhu quickly scanned the area, his gaze locking onto the colonel's corpse, which bore an eagle insignia and a star on his shoulder. He stepped forward, pulled out the leather briefcase, tore off the identification tag, and casually smashed the key components of the radio.

"Retreat! Go back the way we came!" he shouted, leading the charge.

Almost simultaneously, our artillery roared in the distance as promised—Shi Tou and the others had sent back the final coordinates. The sharp whistling of shells pierced the night sky, and a muffled, continuous, violent tremor came from the direction of the heavy artillery group. Firelight illuminated the sky, and the deafening explosions of ammunition could be faintly heard.

Without looking back, He Yuzhu led his team, taking advantage of the enemy's disarray caused by the surprise attack from the rear and their inability to organize an effective pursuit, and fled back along the most treacherous yet most unexpected route. The alarms, gunfire, and chaotic shouts behind them gradually faded into the distance.

As they scrambled back to their own lines, wounded and stumbling, the sky was already beginning to lighten. He Yuzhu collapsed into the trench, gasping for breath, his lungs feeling like they were about to burst. He pulled a blood-stained leather briefcase from his pocket—a stray bullet had grazed his left arm during the retreat, the blood staining a corner of the map—and tossed it to Old Geng, who was approaching, hissing, "Quick... to the division headquarters..."

Then I plunged into a darkness that felt like I was going to collapse.

He didn't know how long it had been—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours—before he was jolted awake by a series of cold, piercing notifications in his mind:

[Successfully infiltrated behind enemy lines, destroyed the enemy's corps-level command center, and killed the colonel and his staff.]

[Successfully guided artillery fire, destroying/severely damaging enemy heavy artillery (12 large-caliber howitzers, 8 cannons, and several ammunition stockpiles).]

[Gain battlefield points by destroying and eliminating high-value targets and senior officers: +2,800,000 (dynamic efficiency bonus in effect).]

Battlefield Points: 7,028,398 + 2,800,000 = 9,828,398 points.

Nine million eight hundred and twenty thousand!

We're only 680,000 short of that crazy goal!

He Yuzhu suddenly opened his eyes, his heart pounding, not from lingering fear, but from an almost dizzying shock, a mix of hope and terror. He nearly touched the edge of the door.

But where should we get the last 680,000? Do we really need to carry out another desperate infiltration?

He propped himself up, his body aching, and saw Old Geng and Political Commissar Zhao standing around him, their faces showing worry and barely concealed excitement. In the distance, the sound of artillery fire from the direction of Shangganling had lessened, but the smoke of battle remained thick.

The last step is often the hardest. Hope is within reach, but the shadows are also the deepest.