Chapter 123: End

February 11, lunar calendar's sixth day of the first month, the Japanese third major offensive began under the cover of aircraft and heavy artillery. This time, the flames of war ignited along the Zhabei–Yunzaobang line. Bombers swarmed the sky over Modu like locusts, their bombs turning whole blocks into seas of fire.

"Take cover! Air raid!"

The defending soldiers looked up at those death‑dealing silhouettes marked with sunrise symbols, their eyes full of anger and helplessness. Suddenly, a familiar engine roar came from the west—Huaxia Air Force fighter formations broke through the clouds, diving straight at the Japanese bomber swarm.

"It's our aircraft!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the positions. Twenty‑six‑year‑old Air Force Deputy Squadron Leader Huang Yuquan, piloting a Huakou II fighter far outclassed by the enemy's planes, boldly flew toward the Japanese Type 89 Carrier Attack Aircraft. In the aerial battle, his plane darted like a nimble swiftlet amid a hail of gunfire.

"Bang!"

A fireball blossomed in the sky—Huang Yuquan's fighter was hit, yet he still shot down an enemy aircraft before crashing. The young pilot's sacrifice brought tears to every defender on the ground. His blood was spilled upon the land that gave him life, becoming the most tragic offering of the New Year's Eve.

At the most critical moment of the battle, on the Southern Direction railway, trains of military vehicles raced day and night toward Modu. In the leading carriage sat the self‑volunteered Li Yuxuan. He stared out at the rushing fields, clutching the troop‑movement order specially approved by the Chairman.

"Faster! The brothers at the front are bleeding!"

The Fifth Army's Vanguard Unit arrived at Modu on the night of February 14. When these well‑equipped, high‑morale fresh troops entered the positions, the soldiers of the hard‑fought th Route Army were moved to tears.

"Commander Li, you finally made it!" Jiang Guangnai gripped Li Yuxuan's hand tightly, his rugged voice a little hoarse.

"General Jiang, the entire Fifth Army wishes to live and die together with the th Route Army!"

The two hands clasped together conveyed an oath needing no words. Li Yuxuan immediately ordered the Fifth Army's artillery to occupy the pre‑set positions; the addition of the German‑made Krupp Mountain Gun finally gave the defenders firepower to match the Japanese.

When the Fifth Army's soldiers trudged along the mud‑soaked road to the front, the th Route Army's troops surged with excitement. The arrival of reinforcements was like adding coal to a fire in snow, bringing fresh manpower as well as ammunition and supplies. The two strong forces quickly completed tactical coordination; the th Route Army held the Zhabei–Jiangwan line, while the Fifth Army fortified Yunzaobang and Miaohang, forming a cornered stance to jointly repel the Japanese advance. The warriors exchanged positions, shared combat experience, and Cantonese, Jiangzhe dialect, and northern speech intertwined, yet all bore the same oath: "Live and die with Modu!"

In the days that followed, the Songhu Battlefield turned into a true meat grinder. Every step the Japanese advanced cost a heavy price. At the Jiangwan position, the Fifth Army's th Division clashed with the Japanese in a protracted tug‑of‑war. The position fell by day and was retaken by night, changing hands eleven times.

On February 20, the Japanese launched their fiercest offensive since the war began. Hundreds of heavy guns carpet‑bombed the defenders' lines, followed by tank formations surging like a tide. At the Bazi Bridge position, the entire 524th Regiment's st Battalion fought to the last man, none surviving.

Li Yuxuan personally went to the front, commanding amid a hail of bullets. Within a single day, his command post was shattered by artillery three times, yet he never retreated a step.

When night fell, the waters of Yunzaobang were already stained red. Corpses of fallen soldiers littered the position, yet the line still stood firm. Li Yuxuan made a night‑long patrol of the forward positions; looking at the mostly twenty‑year‑old faces, his heart bled.

"Commander, how much longer can we hold?" a smoke‑smudged battalion leader asked softly.

"Until the last soldier falls," Li Yuxuan replied decisively, "Behind us are forty‑million fellow countrymen; we have no retreat."

Seven days and seven nights of fierce fighting turned the Yunzaobang line into the Japanese's nightmare. The defenders, with flesh and blood, repelled the enemy's repeated mad assaults. Whenever night fell, Shanghai citizens organized transport teams, braving artillery to deliver food and ammunition to the front.

When the early‑March cease‑fire agreement was finally signed, Modu was already a landscape of ruin. Yet over the wreckage, battle flags still fluttered in the spring wind. Although the Songhu Resistance ended with the Huaxia Army's withdrawal, it announced to the world: the Huaxia Nation would not bow to any foreign invasion.

The Songhu Resistance lasted a full thirty‑three days. In those thirty‑three days, Huaxia soldiers built an insurmountable barrier with their very flesh. They proved to the world that the Chinese nation is not a lamb to be slaughtered at will.

After the war, Modu's citizens spontaneously took to the streets to see off the fallen soldiers. On the scarred streets, people wept silently, yet hope's light gleamed in their eyes.

Li Yuxuan stood on the ruins of Wusong Fort, gazing out over the Huangpu Jiang. The river still rushed endlessly, as if recounting the land's tragedy and indomitable spirit. He knew this war was only the beginning; greater trials lay ahead.

Li Yuxuan wrote in his diary that, although the Songhu Resistance ultimately ended with Chinese concessions, it awakened the entire Chinese nation's anti‑Japanese consciousness.

Not only did the various military factions achieve coordinated operations for the first time, but ordinary civilians also supported the front with unprecedented enthusiasm. Merchants donated money and goods, students formed volunteer corps, women set up medical teams… the whole nation united amid the flames.

As a newspaper of the time wrote: "The cannons of Songhu awakened forty‑million fellow countrymen. The soldiers' blood irrigated the hope of national rejuvenation."