Chapter 80: Unifying the Nation in Action 1

The streets and alleys of Shangbu, Jinan have become a battlefield of bloodshed; the clashing of close‑quarters combat, the roar of guns and cannons, and the dying screams intertwine into a desperate symphony, while the smoke hangs like a heavy shroud, sealing the land airtight. The street fortifications built by the Japanese crumble under tank tracks, National Army soldiers charge over broken bricks and ruins, the dull thud of bayonets stabbing flesh rises and falls, and splattered blood beads bloom grim flowers on the charred walls.

A Renault tank rolls over the Japanese machine‑gun nest; the barbed wire and corpses tangled in its tracks grind with a teeth‑aching screech. The tank commander leans out to look, is suddenly hit by a cold‑chilled bullet, and his body crashes heavily to the ground, fresh blood instantly staining the blue‑gray stone slab beneath him. Infantry following him roar and surge forward, using grenades to blow up a sniper position hidden in the clock tower; brick and stone fragments mixed with flesh rain down from the air.

Li Yuxuan stands on the ruined gate tower, his combat boots sunk in a solidified pool of blood. He gazes at the sea of fire before him, his pupils flashing with a ferocity born of the flames. The Adjutant follows his line of sight; the once‑prosperous shops now remain only twisted steel frames, the marble columns of the bank have been perforated by shells into honeycomb‑shaped gaps, the spire of the Catholic church at the corner tilts as if about to fall, and the stained‑glass windows are shattered into glittering shards.

"It's been three hours already, still not taken?" his voice cuts through the gunfire, hoarse like metal grinding.

Huang Wei emerges from the thick smoke, the bloodstains on his uniform already blackened; he wipes the ash from his face and reveals a blood‑soaked forehead: "Report, Chairman, the core district of Shangbu, Jinan, has been cleared. Within the city a few Japanese units still cling stubbornly to the consulate and the bank's basement." He pauses, then adds, "Moreover, a small Japanese contingent has run out of ammunition and raised a white flag, Chairman, you see…"

Li Yuxuan follows the direction of his finger and sees a dozen Japanese soldiers crouched at a street corner, the white cloth they hold glaringly bright in the smoke. They keep their heads down, caps askew, the once‑imperious aura completely gone.

"I do not accept surrender." Li Yuxuan's voice is as cold as ice, each word bearing bone‑deep chill, "I have no right to accept surrender on behalf of the fallen soldiers and civilians of Jinan."

Huang Wei freezes, just about to argue "treating prisoners well is military regulation," but Li Yuxuan's resolute gaze pins him in place.

"Kill them outright." Li Yuxuan turns away, no longer looking at the prisoners, "If anything goes wrong, I'll bear it alone."

"Yes, Chairman!" Huang Wei snaps to attention, his salute arm trembling from the force. He understands now that any appeal to "military code" or "humanity" would be a desecration of Jinan's dead. Turning, he draws the sidearm at his waist, and a short crack of gunfire rings through the alleys, startling the crows perched under the eaves.

The command post of the Japanese Sixth Division is set in a bank's basement; the telephone lines have long been blown up, and the smoke pouring in through the ventilation chokes the eyes shut. Futian Yanzhu, the division commander, stands with his back to the doorway, staring at a battle map on the wall riddled with bullet holes, his sword‑hilt gripped white‑knuckled.

"Division commander, the National Army's main force opposite us is too fierce!" the chief of staff stumbles in, blood seeping through his uniform, "Their tanks charge like madmen, we can't stop them! The outer defensive line is breached all around; holding any longer means total annihilation!"

He pants heavily, his voice cracking with tears: "Better to withdraw now, fall back to Qingdao to regroup, and settle this score later!"

Futian Yanzhu falls silent for a moment; the basement is filled only with the drip of leaking water and distant, muffled explosions. He recalls the army's order before departure—"Intimidate the Chinese Army, safeguard the empire's interests in Shandong"—yet never imagined such a disaster. How could those Chinese troops armed with obsolete rifles suddenly become a well‑equipped tiger‑and‑wolf force? Though intelligence had arrived months ago, how were they trained so swiftly in just a few months?

"First, get out." He finally speaks, his voice tinged with unmistakable desperation, "Notify the remaining forces to break out toward Qingdao along the Jiaoji Railway."

"Yes!" the chief of staff looks as if granted a pardon, turns and rushes off.

"Wait." Futian Yanzhu calls him back, his gaze cold and fierce, "How many of us are left?"

The chief of staff hesitates, counts on his fingers: "The remnants of each regiment gathered, plus the directly attached units… roughly a few hundred men."

"Baka!" Futian Yanzhu slams a fist onto the map, "One division! The elite division I led, now reduced to only a few hundred?!" His chest heaves violently, contemptuous flames spitting from his eyes, "I'll remember this score! Li Yuxuan… Fifth Army…"

He rattles off the two names one syllable at a time, as if trying to chew them between his teeth.

The street fighting continues, the final resistance coming from the consulate's basement. National Army soldiers blast the entrance with explosives; amid the rolling smoke, figures in steel helmets pour in like fish. Gunfire, grenade blasts, Japanese curses and Chinese shouts intertwine, finally fading to silence.

As the smoke gradually lifts, the sunset's afterglow pierces the clouds and shines into Jinan city, coating the charred ruins with an eerie golden hue. Li Yuxuan walks the empty streets, the broken glass underfoot creaking "creak". The trenches beside the road are piled with corpses, both Japanese and National, their bodies twisted yet still holding combat postures.

Huang Wei follows behind, whispering his report: "Chairman, the remaining enemy has been cleared, we have annihilated over four thousand Japanese, the prisoners… have been dealt with per your orders. Our casualties are also heavy; the armored regiment lost seven tanks, three infantry regiments have been reduced by more than half."

Li Yuxuan says nothing, stopping before a collapsed dwelling. Amid the rubble, a dead mother still clutches her child; her fingers are deeply embedded in the brick fissure, as if trying to grasp the last thread of life.

He slowly closes his eyes, the wind of Jinan city carrying a metallic scent of blood across his cheek. This battle is finally over. Whatever the outcome, whatever the Chairman's wrath, he has upheld his Dao—blood debts must be repaid with blood.

In the distance, the Fifth Army's banner rises again on a broken wall; the flag, torn by artillery, flutters in the wind with a rustling sound, like a proclamation soaked in blood‑tears.