Chapter 1: Border Town Tengchong

Tengchong, an ancient city with a long history.

A frontier town.

Jiang Anguo walked the streets; he felt the city was bustling because of the constant flow of people, yet it was also so quiet, especially at night.

Quiet to a terrifying degree.

Perhaps that wasn't frightening at all.

What it should be, the English spirit, he didn't know, was a city stained with blood, Jiang Anguo thought.

Eighty years ago this ancient city was occupied by the Japanese Army; the green hills are everywhere buried with loyal bones, and perhaps beneath the city lie warriors who gave their lives and blood for it.

He arrived at the Expeditionary Force Martyrs' Cemetery; that solemn, murderous atmosphere made Jiang Anguo shiver.

He wanted to pick up his phone, but felt it would disrespect the martyrs, so he slowly set it down.

A gust of wind passed, and he seemed to hear gunfire and artillery; Jiang Anguo shook his head, thinking it was an illusion, yet for some reason it felt as if what he heard was real.

The people who came here wore solemn expressions, and Jiang Anguo was no different; if he could, he truly wanted to kill more Japanese Devils on the battlefield.

But he didn't know if he had the courage to kill—no, to slay a beast; a single slash would be just like that.

He walked away slowly, looked up toward the distance, where the Expeditionary Force had set out back then.

Blood‑stained rivers and mountains.

It is both the starting point and the end.

Jiang Anguo wondered, if at that time he were with the Expeditionary Force, would he have taken Wild Man Mountain?

"Look, what is that," someone in the crowd shouted loudly, as if they'd discovered something.

Everyone looked up; in the distance was a speck of light, flying rapidly toward them.

It moved so fast there was no time to think.

The light struck Jiang Anguo, and his final thought was, why am I so unlucky, why is it me, what is this thing, and then his body fell backward.

"Young Master, wake up."

Jiang Anguo, half‑conscious, woke up; the one who called him awake was a young man, very young, with a tender‑looking face.

"Young Master"—what kind of address is that.

His mouth was dry. "Water."

"Got it, I'll fetch it for the Young Master right away!" The young man immediately turned to get water.

Jiang Anguo propped his body up with one hand; he felt his body was somewhat weak, he wasn't in Tengchong, so what place was this? The architecture was antiquated and elegant, with a whiff of wood.

Looking to the other side, a full set of military uniform hung there; he could tell it was a Nationalist Army uniform, and he considered himself a half‑military enthusiast; a pistol lay on the table.

He wasn't sure if it was real, but his mind already had an answer.

Soon he received the information of this body: the same name, Jiang Anguo, the same age, twenty‑five; he had been an ordinary person before, but now he was a Nationalist Army major, and also a major of the th Division.

The th Division, elite of the elite, the most direct line, fought bloody battles at Kunlun Pass, the Tonggu Campaign, and so on; those were truly one‑on‑one fights with the Japanese Army.

Wait, he had time‑traveled, Jiang Anguo thought at that moment.

He had traveled to World War II.

"Xiao Si, what year is it now?" Xiao Si, the young man who called him Young Master, whose full name is Qian Si, a native of Xuzhou, had followed his family to Changsha after the Battle of Xuzhou; unfortunately his family perished in Changsha, but he was lucky to reach Chongqing, and thereafter followed Jiang Anguo.

Qian Si was the fourth child in his family, thus called Xiao Si; he didn't look big, actually only sixteen.

Over time, they kept calling him Xiao Si repeatedly.

Long‑term malnutrition made him thin and small, a miserable child; surviving wasn't easy, but at least being by Jiang Anguo's side gave him something to eat.

"Young Master, it is the 31st year of the Republic," Xiao Si said.

He wondered which Gregorian year the 31st year of the Republic corresponded to, and Jiang Anguo quickly calculated in his mind.

"1942. So what month is it now?"

In early 1942, the Battle of Changsha had just ended. The Japanese had also attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and the United States had declared war on Japan, greatly easing the pressure on China's battlefields.

That same year a major event occurred: one hundred thousand Expeditionary Force troops were sent to Myanmar, and only forty‑to‑fifty thousand returned—a tragic loss.

"Young Master, it is February 25," Xiao Si said; because he stayed with Jiang Anguo, he knew some dates—if you aren't sharp, you wouldn't have the chance.

"Wait, the 25th—something must have happened, something must have occurred," Jiang Anguo strained to recall his memory, but couldn't.

On December 23, 1941, China and Britain signed the *Joint Defense of the Burma Road Agreement*.

On the 26th, China and Britain formed a military alliance, deciding that China would organize an Expeditionary Force to Burma to assist the British Army against Japan.

The Chinese Expeditionary Force reached the Yunnan–Myanmar border; Du Yuming's headquarters was stationed at Dali, and the vanguard unit, Dai Anlan's th Division, was stationed at Baoshan. Meanwhile, the British side observed Japanese movements and did not approve the Chinese Expeditionary Force's entry into Myanmar.

"What is that sound outside," Jiang Anguo asked again.

Xiao Si looked out the door and said, "Young Master, the main force has set out."

"The main force set out—where to?"

"Myanmar."

"Myanmar," Jiang Anguo repeated incredulously. Myanmar—where is this? He's not in Tengchong.

The noisy sounds outside were the main force's departure and the scene of civilians seeing off the Expeditionary Force.

One hundred thousand Expeditionary Force troops, all elite, including the Principal's Quinary Army, the elite unit, and the th Division, which was a reinforced division; at Kunlun Pass the th Division numbered twenty thousand.

Unfortunately, Kunlun Pass caused heavy losses for the th Division; the th Division was mechanized, yet deploying tanks in such treacherous terrain was merely sending equipment to die—tanks could not operate there, showing they had not learned Germany's tank expertise.

"Xiao Si, are we in Tengchong?"

Xiao Si thought the Young Master must have smashed his head, and replied, "Yes, Young Master, we are indeed in Tengchong. You haven't been here long; during a horseback ride you fell and hit your head, and have been lying for over a month."

Jiang Anguo understood; he might truly have time‑traveled.

With Xiao Si's help, he got up to the table; having not walked for over a month, his legs were somewhat useless, but Xiao Si supported him.

At the table, Jiang Anguo first picked up the gun—a cold‑feeling M1911, a classic pistol, though heavily worn and clearly not new.

Jiang Anguo had never served in the military; this was his first encounter with a real firearm at such close range.

This gun can kill people, and can also kill the devils.

The Magazine is set aside, and there is also a military officer's ID.