Chapter 164: Meng Fanle! Stay Away From Me!

"Commander, this matter feels odd; I'll go check the situation first," Meng Fanle said, standing aside with a slight frown.

He knows well that the more abnormal something is on the battlefield, the more likely a deadly trap lies behind it.

Jiang Anguo snapped back to his senses, glanced at this now fully competent officer, and nodded, "Go. Be careful."

These days Meng Fanle's standing in the camp has changed dramatically. He follows Jiang Anguo all day, and there is hardly anyone or anything in the camp that this kid doesn't know about.

The small town at this moment is filled with a thick smell of gunpowder and another nauseating stench of rot.

Emaciated Japanese Army corpses were hauled out of the dim, damp houses by Expeditionary Force soldiers.

Those bodies were as light as dry firewood, as if a little pressure would snap them.

Even the Japanese wounded whose chests still rose and fell with a breath were ruthlessly tossed onto the roadside clearing as if trash.

The search operation was carried out with extreme severity.

Expeditionary Force soldiers first stripped the Japanese of all rifles, pistols and hand grenades, piling them into a small mound. Then any spot with suspicious traces—such as floor cracks or corner hidden compartments—was not spared, even being prodded a few more times with bayonets.

Occasional gunfire crackled from time to time, "Bang, bang."

It was the soldiers executing those Japanese wounded who had surrendered yet still harbored hatred.

From those unhesitant gunshots one could clearly feel how deep the Expeditionary Force soldiers' hatred ran toward the Little Devil (Japanese soldier) who had committed monstrous crimes on the Myanmar battlefield.

This is just as Jiang Anguo once said: Little Devil (Japanese soldier) should go to hell, not live to waste food.

As for such uncontrolled "friendly fire" on the battlefield, Jiang Anguo gave no reaction to stop it, nor issued any punitive orders.

He tacitly allowed this flame of revenge to burn in the soldiers' hearts.

Only when the surviving Japanese were few and completely unable to resist did Jiang Anguo order a ceasefire.

It wasn't because he suddenly felt mercy, but a tactical consideration. He feared that if the Japanese captured hostages later they would use them as leverage, so he needed to retain some prisoners as bargaining chips.

However, these Little Devils (Japanese soldiers) with so little breath left were unlikely to survive. If any did, Jiang Anguo would still think of making them build roads, dig mines, and if they couldn't be killed, he'd work them to death!

Yet, just as he was about to step forward and interrogate the prisoners, the most unexpected thing occurred.

While he was thinking, a tent flap lifted, and Meng Fanle came in carrying a heavy object.

Jiang Anguo stared, and his complexion changed instantly; instinctively he leapt ten meters backward, tearing down the tent they had just erected, and feeling the distance still insufficient, he retreated even farther.

"Meng Fanle! Stay away from me!" Jiang Anguo pointed at the object, his voice rising a few pitches, "What the hell are you holding?"

In fact he had already seen it: it was a shell, but the deadly part was the stark white skull painted on its body.

This thing has no mercy; if it detonates, everyone is done for.

Regardless, Meng Fanle shouldn't have brazenly rushed toward the command core clutching an enemy shell.

Even the daredevil Jiang Anguo, and sometimes Jiang Anguo isn't that bold—

Usually he only sits on an ammo box to eat, a treated, sturdy ammo box, and would never dare sit on a shell that could explode at any moment.

This isn't a heifer riding a plane!

Going to the heavens?

"Meng Fanle, do you know what this is? It's a Little Devil's poison gas shell, hurry and give it to me!" Jiang Anguo roared.

The Guard Company soldiers beside Jiang Anguo pointed their submachine guns at Meng Fanle.

As long as Meng Fanle makes any strange move, he'll become a hedgehog.

In their eyes, protecting the commander's safety is paramount.

Meng Fanle seemed to realize his mistake, clutching the shell carefully, and said, "Commander, this Little Devil confessed that this is a special Japanese ammunition, a poison gas shell. They said there's an order on it to fire at us when needed."

Jiang Anguo stared at the skull, his eye twitching, then suppressed the alarm in his heart and said in a low voice, "Alright, I understand. Take this bomb back and store it in the designated seized‑supplies area; don't let it bump or scrape. Remember, next time don't bring anything to me; this is a life‑threatening thing!"

"Got it." Meng Fanle breathed a sigh of relief, replied, and carried the potentially lethal shell out, moving even more nimbly than when he came in.

After they left, Jiang Anguo finally exhaled and sat back at the marching table.

"This Meng Fanle is scarier than Lin Yi," Jiang Anguo quipped.

Lin Yi at most only has bad news in his mouth, but Meng Fanle, from the moment he appears, seems to want his life.

Jiang Anguo does cherish his life!

As for poison gas shells, Jiang Anguo actually knows something about them.

So when he equipped the troops, he already took this into account, deliberately issuing a gas mask to every soldier.

Fortunately, the Japanese's industrial level is limited; the poison gas shells they currently field can still be defended against with the existing gas masks.

But if they switched to mustard gas or the persistent agents, or the nerve gases later developed by Germany, that would be a serious problem.

Clearly, the Japanese originally intended to use poison gas shells to turn the tide when the battle became extremely difficult.

However, despite their elaborate plans, before they could launch into the Lashu core area, Lashu's artillery bombarded the frontline command, crippling the command system, and the poison gas shells never got a chance to be used.

That can be considered a blessing.

If the Japanese truly dared to drop poison gas shells in a densely populated area like Lashu or during an assault, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Thinking of this, Jiang Anguo's gaze hardened.

He had known from the start that the system's marketplace sold poison gas shells in many varieties and great power, but he never bought any; it was his final mental safeguard, refusing to become a beast like the Japanese.

However, regarding the Japanese, his mind had already reached a decision.

For such beasts that have lost even basic humanity, no mercy is needed.

He stared at the map, his fingers lightly tapping the table, his gaze growing ever more fierce.

If the battle reached its final stage and the Japanese still stubbornly resisted, he even considered whether to drop a few white phosphorus shells onto their heads.

After all, to deal with demons, sometimes one must use methods scarier than the demons themselves.