Chapter 37: Head‑On Assault

At the entrance of Xiafei Road, the First Battalion is hurriedly setting up defenses.

Feng An stands on the top floor of a Western‑style mansion at the intersection, observing the distant terrain through a German‑made Zeiss telescope. Twenty years of military service and the strict training of the Prussian Military Academy give him a unique insight into tactical deployment.

"First Company," he orders the nearby communications soldier, "disperse and deploy within the buildings on both sides of the intersection. Each machine‑gun fire point must be able to create intersecting fire blockade."

"Second Company set up a reserve unit one block behind. If the Japanese break through the first line of defense, give me a flank attack."

"Third Company," he points to several key positions, "deploy snipers on these high grounds. Keep an eye on their officers for me."

"Heavy Weapons Company," Feng An's eyes flash with a cold light, "split the 81 mm mortar into two fire groups. Remember the positions; once the Japanese mass, give me a signal immediately!"

The orders are quickly transmitted through a German‑style military radio and the communications soldiers.

Inside the buildings on both sides of the street, soldiers are nervously arranging fire points. Each squad is equipped with an MG42 machine gun set up at carefully chosen spots, and the intersecting fire can fully cover the entire street.

The snipers, carrying precisely calibrated Mauser 98K rifles, slip silently into the high grounds. These marksmen, who on the Eastern Front made the Russian army tremble, will soon give the Japanese officers a taste of trouble.

The mortar crews of the Heavy Weapons Company are calculating firing data. These veterans, who amassed rich experience in the Battle of Verdun, are masters of mortar usage.

"Sir," the communications staff officer runs up to report, "all companies' deployments are in place."

Feng An nods: "Tell the brothers, this time we'll let the Japanese see what a real army is!"

A growing crowd of onlookers gathers on the street. These suddenly appearing soldiers, with fine equipment and strict discipline, look nothing like ordinary police or security guards.

"Where did these soldiers come from?" someone mutters.

"Look at this gear; they don't seem to be a local unit!"

"Those pitch‑black barrels are terrifying to look at!"

"Are we about to go to war?"

The chatter rises and falls, but the soldiers ignore it, continuing their orderly fortifications. The German Imperial military bearing they exude makes the onlookers instinctively keep their distance.

"Everyone disperse!" several soldiers begin clearing the crowd, "combat is about to break out here!"

Only then do the people panic and scatter, though many still hide in nearby alleys, hoping to see what happens next.

Feng An lifts the telescope again, watching the distant activity. As a veteran who fought at the Somme, Verdun and other great battles, he is confident about the upcoming fight.

"Come on," he says coldly, "let these Japanese taste the might of the German Empire's army!"

The street is hushed with lethal tension. The First Battalion's soldiers stand ready, waiting for the enemy to walk into the trap.

These elite troops, inheriting Prussian military tradition, are about to demonstrate with action to the Japanese what true military competence is!

The military police formation is advancing toward Xiafei Road.

Shan Ben Zhong sits in the command vehicle, watching the orderly troops, feeling a surge of superiority.

A thousand well‑trained military police, all wielding the Model‑30 rifle, plus machine‑gun fire, are more than enough to handle a tiny Fourth Bureau.

"Chinese," he sneers to himself, "arrogant and pitiful wretches."

He recalls the news of the Health Union Association headquarters being seized yesterday, a flash of anger in his eyes. These yellow‑skinned pigs dare to meddle with the business under the Great Dongya Empire's protection—truly clueless about death!

"Now," Shan Ben Zhong narrows his eyes, "I'll make you know right away what a self‑inflicted doom is!"

"Lieutenant Colonel," a officer runs up to report, "Xiafei Road lies ahead."

"Very good," Shan Ben Zhong straightens his uniform, "let the troops form up; I want to see what expression Lin Yu will have when he sees us!"

The military police begin to deploy on the street. Three squads advance in a fan formation, with machine‑gun teams guarding the flanks.

"Hmph," Shan Ben Zhong looks at the standard attack formation, more smug, "and these police think they can match the Empire's regular army?"

He is already picturing Lin Yu kneeling and begging for mercy.

But at that moment, a military police runs up to report: "Lieutenant Colonel! A large number of armed personnel have been spotted ahead!"

"What?" Shan Ben Zhong is startled, then sneers, "Probably just a security team? No need to worry, keep moving forward!"

He has no idea what kind of strike awaits him.

"The enemy is within range," Feng An puts down the telescope, "450 meters away, right in the mortar's optimal strike zone."

"Relay my order: first volley, target the enemy's central column!"

Six 81 mm mortars fire simultaneously. The shells trace a graceful arc, plunging straight into the densely packed military police formation.

"Boom!"

The first shell hits a ten‑person squad. The blast shreds five military police on the spot, the shrapnel flies, and another seven or eight nearby are turned into a sieve. Blood and limbs instantly stain the street within a ten‑meter radius.

"Boom! Boom!"

The second and third shells explode in the ranks in succession. An ammunition‑laden truck is overturned, immediately detonating in a blaze that shoots skyward. Over a dozen crates of shells are lifted by the blast wave, sweeping the nearby military police like a deadly metal storm.

"Baka! Scatter! Scatter quickly!" Shan Ben Zhong shouts hoarsely.

But the second volley of mortar fire is already roaring in. This time it's a blanket barrage; six shells land almost simultaneously. The overlapping shockwaves turn the entire street into a living hell.

"Bang!"

A crisp gunshot rings out. The aide beside Shan Ben Zhong has a spray of blood blossom on his forehead and falls straight down. It's a sniper's masterpiece; a 7.92 mm steel‑core bullet from 300 meters pierces his steel helmet.

"Tap tap tap!"

The MG42 machine gun's terrifying roar erupts. At an astonishing 1,200 rounds per minute, the bullets form an impenetrable fire net, sending flesh and blood flying through the street as screams echo.

"Dammit!" Shan Ben Zhong looks at the fallen soldiers, his face ashen, "What on earth are these people?!"

In just a few minutes, the military police lose nearly a hundred men. The proud Model‑30 rifles, under the German weaponry's fire, appear feeble and powerless.

"Retreat! Immediate retreat!" Shan Ben Zhong grits his teeth and orders, "First pull back out of range!"

But his command is quickly cut off by a fresh salvo of mortars. The shells roar down, blowing the retreating formation to pieces.

The battle has only just begun, yet the Japanese military police have already tasted what true firepower is!