Chapter 261: P‑38 Drops the

Japanese Army artillery squad soldiers looked up at the sky; that whistling P-38 "Lightning" made their souls fly away. They had already closed their eyes, waiting for machine‑gun bullets or bombs to tear them to pieces.

However, death did not come.

The black fighter crossed over their heads like a vengeful lightning, flying toward the rear where the Japanese 61st Brigade's main force was gathering for a new attack.

"Take cover! Take cover!"

The brigade commander of the 61st Brigade, Major General Ye Fuchangde, looked at the incoming aircraft and let out a terrified scream. He thought a Chinese Army aircraft had discovered their assembly point and was coming to bomb.

The 61st Brigade was preparing to wait for the opposing Chinese Army positions to collapse, then take them in one swift push.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The "Ghost 18" in the sky did not dive; it merely fluttered its wings over the 61st Brigade's assembly area. Dozens of small bombs fell from under the wings, like a black iron rain, silently descending.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The explosions were not fierce, more like a series of dull drumbeats.

But the bombs' power lay not in the blast itself, but in the instant release of a yellow gas richer than that at the 79th Division's position earlier.

An extremely ominous premonition struck Ye Fuchangde like an electric current.

"This can't be… it can't be!"

Ye Fuchangde's words were left unfinished, his mouth hanging as he was stunned by everything happening before his eyes.

Everything happened too fast, too suddenly.

The Japanese Army's main force was making its final preparations before the charge; the soldiers packed tightly together, having made no anti‑poison preparations at all.

Even the artillery squad that had just fired the poison‑gas shells thought the threat had passed and had just taken off their gas masks.

Even if they put the masks back on now, it would be useless.

Because this was mustard gas, the "Devil's Tears".

It is a hundred times more lethal than the irritant gas the Little Devil had used; it needs no inhalation—mere skin contact corrodes and penetrates, bringing hellish torment.

In an instant, the gas drifted with the breeze, forming an ever‑expanding death zone.

"Ah—!"

The first scream sounded like a signal.

Immediately, hundreds to thousands of wails merged into the most terrifying symphony on earth.

More and more Japanese soldiers fell to the ground; unlike the 79th Division soldiers who merely suffocated, they frantically clawed at their own skin, faces, and all exposed parts with their nails.

Their skin began to blister, rot, and ooze pus at a visible speed, as if drenched in concentrated sulfuric acid.

Major General Ye Fuchangde was not spared; he felt his face and hands as if scorched by raging fire, the excruciating pain stripping him of all dignity, forcing him to roll on the ground like a beast, emitting a hoarse, inhuman wail.

The entire Japanese Army position instantly became a huge, living purgatory.

This scene was seen clearly through a telescope by Lieutenant General Nei Tian Xiaoxing, commander of the Japanese 70th Division, from afar. When he saw the characteristic yellow smoke and his soldiers' grotesquely tragic deaths, a chill shot from his feet straight up to his crown.

Chinese forces… they actually also have poison‑gas shells! And theirs are even more toxic!

He dared not think further. He feared this airborne ghost unit might drop more, even more terrifying bombs. If they have mustard gas, might they also have phosgene? Or even worse biochemical weapons?

Fear instantly overwhelmed all orders and the Bushido Spirit.

"Retreat! Order all units to withdraw immediately! Away from that death zone!" The commander of the 13th Army shouted into the microphone, almost incoherently.

The order was transmitted rapidly.

The attacking Japanese units, like chickens with their throats grasped, instantly abandoned the assault, fleeing backward without looking back.

An entire regiment, including support troops, over five thousand men, about three to four thousand were infected by the mustard gas; many soldiers instantly lost clear vision.

More skin had already rotted.

Clearly, rescuing these soldiers would be extremely difficult!

The units of the 86th Army facing Jinhu and Lanxi were preparing to fight the Japanese to the death, but were astonished to find that the ferocious, tide‑like Japanese onslaught suddenly vanished from sight like receding tide.

On the battlefield, only a wreckage and a faint, lingering yellow smoke remained in the air.

The 86th Army, its commander Mo Yushuo, also saw the earlier air battle from the rear, yet the front line remained tight, constantly calling for reinforcement.

Suddenly, all forward positions began to report, "The Little Devil has retreated."

It was as if the whole battlefield fell silent at once.

No one knew what had happened, but they knew they had won. Won so quickly, so… strange.

The officers and soldiers of the 79th Division looked at each other, bewildered, not understanding what had occurred.

Yet watching warplanes streak across the sky, seeing the blue‑sky flags beneath them, they all shouted loudly.

William gave a cool salute, his wings flickering left and right.

High above, William stared coldly at the human purgatory created by mustard gas below, expressionless. The flame of revenge had burned out; only a cold, steel will remained.

He pulled the nose up, and the P-38 "Lightning" climbed again, rejoining the reassembled formation.

"Operation 'Bottle', Fourth Squad, execute the air‑drop order!" William's voice rang over the channel, returning to its usual steadiness, "C-47 formation, descend, prepare to drop!"

The Bottle Squadron is organized into four squads, each squad with five transport planes.

His command was clear and decisive, as if the earlier bloody revenge had been merely an inconsequential interlude.

The first batch of five C-47 transport planes broke from the main formation, escorted by several P-38 Lightning fighters, and began to slowly descend. Their target was the area west of the Lanxi–Jinhu line.

There, the 86th Army of the Chinese Army firmly held the territory.

The 86th Army ground troops had just recovered from the shock of the Japanese sudden retreat.

They watched the front cautiously, not understanding why the enemy abandoned so easily.

At that moment, a familiar engine roar sounded again from the horizon.

They looked up and saw a massive convoy of transport planes appear in the sky. This time, the convoy did not fly away but circled over their positions.

"It's our plane! Our plane is here to air‑drop!" a soldier was the first to recognize the distinctive C-47 fuselage; he jumped up excitedly, waving his rifle.

"Supplies! Supplies have arrived!"

The entire position boiled over in an instant!

The soldiers cheered, leapt, and tossed their hats into the air.

They had just endured a near‑death blood battle and witnessed the Japanese Army's despicable use of poison gas; at this moment, the support from the sky was undoubtedly a heavenly rain.