Chapter 168: The Last Bullet for Watanabe Masao

The night was the best cover, and the sudden downpour helped enormously.

The icy rain muffled the Special Forces Unit members' marching steps and greatly reduced the Japanese Army sentries' visual and auditory range.

The Special Forces Unit members had swapped their uniforms for deep‑green camouflage suited to the rainforest, their faces smeared with oil paint and mud.

In the dark night and heavy rain, they blended perfectly into the surroundings.

The Japanese Army defending this area, hand‑picked by Watanabe Masao from the elite, lived up to expectations. Even in such harsh weather and terrain, they remained highly alert, and their sentry positions were meticulously arranged.

Alas, the Special Forces Unit's camouflage and stealth were simply too masterful.

Jiang Fei slipped past the outer blind spots like a ghost, his movements clean and swift as he silently eliminated a Japanese Army sentry.

A flash of cold light; the sentry didn't even have time to hum before his throat was cut, his limp body falling into the mud. The whole thing flowed like water, startling no one.

At the same time they saw the old Little Devil lying on the stretcher, Watanabe Masao.

They hadn't expected the old Little Devil to still be alive.

Within Jiang Anguo's system, no 20,000‑point alert had come through, because the enemy division commander's value was 20,000.

Jiang Fei immediately ordered two soldiers to carry Watanabe Masao, and casually gathered any documents inside the tent, taking them along regardless of value.

However, just as Jiang Fei's group was making their getaway, an accident occurred.

A night‑patrol squad of the Japanese Army happened to pass by, and the two sides collided head‑on on the muddy small road. At that moment, Watanabe Masao lay on the stretcher, being carried by several strong guards, ready to be moved with the command.

The appearance of this Japanese patrol instantly sparked a melee; the two sides opened fire almost instantly.

When the gunfire erupted, the previously silent camp blew up in an instant.

Jiang Fei, helpless, saw his original "stealth kill" turn into a "shoot‑and‑retreat" in an instant.

He had intended to withdraw quickly with the captured target, since the main force was waiting behind. But the Japanese surged forward as if mad, caring little for casualties, pouring in to retake Watanabe Masao from the stretcher.

That was only natural.

Watanabe Masao was the core of the 56th Division, the soul of that unit. If Jiang Anguo captured him, the 56th Division would lose more than just its commander; the unit's designation would likely be erased from the Japanese Army's order of battle—a disgrace of monumental shame for the entire division.

When the fighting began, the Japanese Army even tried to use mortars for fire support.

But after only a few shells whistled down near Jiang Fei's position, Jin Gang Zong Si Lang forcefully called a halt.

Jiang Fei surveyed the situation from his position and immediately grasped the enemy's intent: the Little Devils feared harming Watanabe Masao and dared not employ heavy weapons.

While this eased the Special Forces Unit's casualty pressure, it also meant the Japanese would launch an even crazier human wave assault.

"Yan Zicheng! The radio? Isn't the radio fixed yet?!"

Jiang Fei, while swapping magazines, shouted at the communicator crouched in the trench corner, his anxiety burning. If they couldn't contact the rear, the fifty‑plus men would truly be left to die here.

Yan Zicheng, his hands slick with oil and rain, desperately dismantled the radio's components. Hearing the Company Commander's shout, he cried out, "Company Commander... it's impossible! Water flooded the radio, the circuit boards are burnt, we can't contact the Commander!"

After speaking, Yan Zicheng plopped into the mud, dropped the radio in despair, drew his pistol, and prepared to fight the Little Devils to the death.

Seeing the communicator's resigned demeanor, Jiang Fei lunged forward, seized Yan Zicheng by the collar, and hauled him up forcefully.

"Yan Zicheng! Listen to me!" Jiang Fei's eyes reddened as he stared at the communicator. "I'm giving you one final order! Until we're all dead, you must not die! Moreover, no matter what happens, you must bring that old Little Devil Watanabe Masao back to the Commander. If it truly becomes impossible, the last bullet must be saved for that old Little Devil! Understand?!"

Yan Zicheng froze for a moment, then, seeing the Company Commander's resolute gaze, nodded vigorously, "Yes, Company Commander! I understand!"

After speaking, Yan Zicheng turned and rushed into the trench's depths, where a few soldiers guarded prisoners, the most important of which was the pale, tightly bound Watanabe Masao.

Yan Zicheng pressed the barrel of his gun to Watanabe Masao's head, a murderous glint in his eyes.

Jiang Fei drew a deep breath and returned to his firing position.

He knew that, tactically, this Special Forces operation was a failure; they hadn't slipped away unnoticed but had instead been caught in a heavy encirclement.

Yet it was also a huge success, at least they had captured Watanabe Masao.

At the very least, from today onward, regardless of the outcome, that old thief Watanabe Masao would never leave this land.

Even if he dies, he'll drag a division commander as a shield. This was Jiang Fei's final command, his last trump card.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Just as the Japanese launched a fiercer wave of assault, three dazzling illumination flares shot into the sky, tearing the black rain‑soaked night.

The Special Forces Unit members gave their all to launch signal flares into the heights. It wasn't just to briefly illuminate the tide of Japanese soldiers and expose their positions; more importantly, it was a distress signal for the main force behind them. The brilliant light flickered in the downpour, weak yet glaring in the pitch‑black jungle.

On a distant jungle path, the thirty‑person supply detachment had already halted.

Platoon Leader Li Defa looked up, watching the illumination flares blossom in the distant sky and hearing the faint, muffled gun and artillery reports.

The heavy rain muffled the gunfire and artillery, but the sense of direction was unmistakable—that was the spot where Special Forces Unit Jiang Fei, the Company Commander, and his men were!

The situation's wrong!

Li Defa's complexion shifted, and he immediately issued an emergency order: "Everyone! Move fast! Dump all loads! Throw away the food, keep only weapons and ammo! Lighten the horses! Everyone run forward, support Company Commander Jiang Fei!"

At this life‑or‑death moment, the hundreds of kilograms of food mattered not; whether edible or not was irrelevant. Li Defa's goal was to shed every unnecessary burden and increase marching speed. He needed to reach the battlefield immediately— even a minute early might save his comrades' lives.

"Messenger! Bring the radio over, power it up for the Regiment Commander immediately! Tell the Regiment Commander Jiang Fei's unit has met heavy enemy, request rapid support! Now!"

"Yes!" The Messenger, shouldering the heavy radio, ran with the troops while beginning to transmit.

At this moment, Li Defa's support unit was only half a day's march from Jiang Fei's battlefield. Jiang Anguo's main force was further back, but the straight‑line distance wasn't great—about seventeen or eighteen kilometers.

Yet those seventeen or eighteen kilometers, in this damned northern Myanmar rainforest, in the treacherous mud that sucked at every step, became a heavenly trench.

The main army would need a full day, perhaps longer, to cross this.

Time is life.

The downpour still raged, as if trying to wash away all the sin and blood from this land, but tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.