Chapter 167: Special Forces Unit, Capturing Watanabe Masao

"Pah!"

The sky over northern Burma had cleared only briefly, as if in spite, and in an instant a torrential downpour began again. The pea‑sized raindrops hammered down densely, striking the face with a stinging pain that made it hard to open the eyes.

In this terrible weather the entire pursuit force had to halt for a quick reorganization. Jiang Anguo stared at the mud‑filled ground, clenched his teeth, and decisively abandoned the seemingly efficient bicycle team. Trying to emulate Xia Shan Feng Wen's lightning bicycle raid would require Heaven's favor. In this season in northern Burma, attempting a bicycle assault was sheer self‑inflicted punishment.

The sludge in the mud was deep enough to swallow the ankles, and bicycle wheels sank in, slipping and capsizing at the slightest misstep.

Why abandon it so resolutely? Jiang Anguo knew inside himself it was a 'blood‑tear history'.

Just now he defied superstition and insisted on riding it himself. He didn't get far before the wheel slipped in a mud pit, sending both rider and bike into a solid dog‑chewed‑mud crash—an utterly miserable tumble.

With that lesson, Jiang Anguo's force of over a thousand men completely gave up the idea. He swiftly revised the plan, using the System Exchange's one hundred war horses to transport supplies. Though the horses moved slowly in the mud, they were far better than the human‑carried bicycles.

Heavy ammunition and supplies were shifted onto the horses, instantly lightening the warriors' loads so they no longer had to push cumbersome carts through the mire. Thus, despite the still‑difficult roads, the unit's overall advance finally picked up speed.

"South! Quickly! Set up the machine gun position to my south! Machine Gunner, aim and fire, suppress the enemy, fire!"

Rain poured down in sheets, mud splashing everywhere.

Jiang Fei's hoarse roar cut through the downpour with full force.

He wiped the blood‑ and rain‑streaked grime from his face, steadied the Mauser 98 rifle in both hands, and through the scope held his breath as his finger pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

A crisp gunshot ripped through the rain curtain.

A Japanese Army artilleryman far away, about to adjust a mortar's angle, jerked his head back sharply and collapsed into a mud pit like a kite with its line cut, silencing him forever.

A single shot struck the Little Devil's forehead.

As a Special Forces Unit Commander, Jiang Fei was fully entitled by organization to equip a submachine gun for close‑quarter firepower. Yet he was an exception; as a senior officer and also the commander of Special Forces Unit members, he fundamentally trusted the rifle's precision and lethality.

Especially in this chaotic night battle and downpour, a submachine gun would only waste ammunition; only precise bursts could harvest the most valuable targets.

"Sniper! Everyone, snap to attention, don't waste ammo, focus on the Little Devil's Machine Gunners and Artillery! Shoot any head that shows up!" Jiang Fei turned his head and shouted loudly at the soldiers beside him.

Jiang Fei knew clearly that the Little Devil's artillery and machine guns posed the greatest threat to his side, but fortunately his own forces were filled with Snipers who could eliminate those fire points instantly.

"Yes!" The Special Forces Unit members, though exhausted, glowed with murderous intent and roared in unison.

On one side of the position, a freshly set up MG42 General Machine Gun let out an angry roar.

Its distinctive, fabric‑tearing 'zzzz' sound, accompanied by the downpour, sounded especially terrifying.

The muzzle spat a half‑meter‑long tongue of fire, the metal belt feeding wildly into the chamber, dense bullets sweeping the ground like relentless scythes, carving fan‑shaped death zones.

The Japanese Army soldiers who clawed their way up from the mire fell in sheets like cut wheat, limbs and arms flailing in the mud, their fresh blood instantly washed pale by the rain.

Even so, the Japanese Army did not retreat a single step.

But there were so many Japanese Army troops, seemingly endless.

The Little Devils around them seemed to go mad, howling as they launched wave after wave of suicidal charges at Jiang Fei's makeshift position of just over fifty men.

Had Jiang Fei not reacted swiftly to seize a nearby rugged rise for defense, the Special Forces Unit would likely have been swallowed by the tide of Japanese Army and annihilated here.

On the other side of the battlefield, in a hollow not far from Jiang Fei's position,

Jin Gang Zong Si Lang's eyes were now completely blood‑shot.

He waved his command sword in the rain with a whooshing sound, his uniform soaked through, but he could not care less; his sole thought was to rescue the Regiment Commander!

"Baka! Charge! Anyone who dares step back I'll cut down! We must rescue the Regiment Commander!" Jin Gang Zong Si Lang roared hoarsely.

Suddenly he spotted several Japanese Army soldiers on one side setting up a mortar, apparently to lay covering fire on the stubborn high ground ahead.

Seeing this, Jin Gang Zong Si Lang charged like a maddened beast and kicked the freshly erected mortar tube away with a powerful blow.

"Baka yarou! No mortar! Bastard! Your conscience is terribly rotten!"

Jin Gang Zong Si Lang, furious beyond control, pointed at the bewildered mortar operator and shouted, "Do you want to bomb the Regiment Commander to death? Huh? Bastard!"

The mortar operator wore an innocent expression, trembling all over, at a loss for what to do.

"Throw the mortar away! Grab your gun, join the infantry charge! Even if you have to bite with your teeth, seize the Regiment Commander back! Move!" Jin Gang Zong Si Lang snarled.

"Hey!"

Several Japanese Army soldiers immediately set the mortar down, lifted their rifles, and howled as they joined the charging ranks.

However, it was all in vain.

They had barely emerged from cover when MG42 General Machine Gun 7.92mm rounds, waiting on the Expeditionary Force position, struck them.

The mortar operator who had just been berated had his abdomen instantly pierced by a large‑caliber bullet, leaving a fist‑sized blood hole as intestines mixed with rainwater spilled onto the ground.

He widened his eyes, never getting a chance to shout "Long live the Emperor," and gasped his final breath amid convulsions.

All this chaos traced back only a few hours.

Jiang Fei's Special Forces Unit, like ghosts, slipped into the Japanese Army's main camp—the temporary command post of Watanabe Masao. The Japanese Army, having suffered successive defeats, had lost most of its supplies and carried few tents. In the vast encampment, only a handful of slightly decent canvas tents remained.

Jiang Fei, guided by a hunter's instinct, instantly concluded that a big fish must be living inside.

Seizing that insight, Jiang Fei promptly decided, leading the Special Forces Unit members silently forward, while gesturing for the scattered squads around to converge quickly.

It was an extremely bold special‑operations plan.