Chapter 263: The True Demon Shi Jing Si Lang

Third War Zone commander Gu Zhuting was frazzled over the battle situation toward Quzhou, when unexpectedly a squadron of his own air force fell from the sky, bringing the urgently needed ammunition.

"Yes! Absolutely usable!" Gu Zhuting's voice immediately became excited, "The runway is cleared; I'll dispatch people to guide your landing at once! Great, you're a timely help!"

With the affirmative reply, a weight lifted from William's heart. He then said, "Sir, just now over Jinhua, one of our fighters was shot down; the pilot bailed out and landed in the mountainous area southwest of Jinhua. Please dispatch ground troops to conduct a rapid search and rescue!"

"Understood!" Gu Zhuting replied without hesitation, "I'll immediately order local forces and guerrillas to conduct a full rescue! Rest assured, as long as there is a sliver of hope, we will never give up!"

"Thank you, sir," William ended the call.

William glanced at the still massive C-47 formation behind him; they were about to land at Quzhou, completing the crucial step of the mission.

C-47 transport planes began landing one by one at Quzhou Airport.

However, the landing transports kept their engines running, and the crew, after touching down, immediately shouted to nearby soldiers, "A few of you, push our aircraft away."

"Idiot, you're courting death, go around the back," the crew scolded a few times when someone tried to walk in front of the propeller.

After confirming safety, the crew said, "Quick, have people unload all this supplies."

Yet even so, the entire landing, unloading, and takeoff took more than an hour.

That was because the crew kept urging; otherwise the cargo handling would have been chaotic, and the area around the airport was piled with supplies offloaded from the C-47s.

As the transport planes took off again one after another, Gu Zhuting even felt it was somewhat surreal.

William's Ghost Battalion, due to fuel issues, had already flown toward Changde half an hour earlier.

The urgent telegram about the front line of the 61st Brigade being hit by a Poison Gas Shell pierced Shi Jing Si Lang's nerves like a needle.

He did not panic; instead, a strange, hymn‑like exhilaration rose within him.

He almost instantly tossed the petri dish from his hands, ordered a vehicle ready, and rushed personally to the battlefield kissed by death.

When the Jeep jolted to a halt, a hellish tableau unfolded before him. His eyes showed no ripple, only an indescribable, hunter‑like excitement.

At the front of the Jinhua positions, dead silence replaced the roar of guns and artillery.

The air was thick with a bizarre scent of bitter almond, rotting sweet musk and ozone—the unique "fragrance" of chemical weapons.

Masses of Japanese Army corpses lay twisted on the scorched earth, as if invisible threads had cruelly pulled and torn them in their final moments.

Shi Jing Si Lang stepped out of the vehicle, clad in an airtight hazmat suit, like a visitor from another dimension, treading into this "garden" of his compatriots' bones.

His steps were steady, even leisurely; his boots occasionally struck solidified clots of blood or broken rifles, emitting a dull, teeth‑aching thud.

His face showed no revulsion, only a child‑like delight at a new toy. He crouched, gloved fingers turning over each corpse one by one.

He examined the blisters rotting on the dead's skin, checked their lips turned purple from asphyxiation, even pried open mouths to inspect throat mucosa damage. Every painful detail was, to him, valuable data—a perfect experimental report.

"Evil overflowing" seemed so pale and feeble before him.

He had already transcended human morality, worse than a beast.

His gaze finally settled on an especially conspicuous corpse. Though the officer's uniform was caked with mud and blood, its rank remained evident. Shi Jing Si Lang stepped over, flicking the body onto its back with his toe.

It was Major General Ye Fu Changde, the 61st Brigade infantry commander who had just been roaring at the command map, demanding the capture of Jinhua.

The once‑imperious general now lay face‑up, his death grim. His hands clawed his own face; all ten fingernails were broken and blood‑stained. His eye sockets had become deep, bone‑visible cavities, the eyeballs ripped out—whether from pre‑death agony or final despair, it was unclear.

Shi Jing Si Lang slowly crouched, leaning close to the hollow, bleeding eye sockets, as if speaking to an old friend. He murmured, his voice muffled by the hazmat mask, low and cold:

"This is German mustard gas… high concentration, superb craftsmanship. Interesting, truly interesting."

Hangzhou, 13th Army Headquarters.

The air was scented with cigar smoke and map ink, yet both were overwhelmed by a tension dubbed "shock." In Lieutenant General Ze Tian Mao's office, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed it could drip water.

Shi Jing Si Lang had just shed the death‑stained hazmat suit for a crisp uniform. He stood before Ze Tian Mao's massive operational map, his voice steady and unruffled, as if reporting a routine exercise.

"... Major General Ye Fu's 61st Brigade core command system has been completely annihilated. The lethal cause was a composite toxin of mustard gas mixed with Lewis agent."

"Nani?!"

The cigar in Ze Tian Mao's hand "pop"ed onto the map, scorching a blackened mark. He sprang up, the chair behind him toppling over. The battle‑hardened commander's face showed, for the first time, a mix of anger, fear and disbelief.

"Shi Jing Si Lang, you mean… the Chinese?" Ze Tian Mao's voice was hoarse with agitation, "How could they possess such a grade of poison gas shell! Those clumsy hillbillies can't even build a proper 38‑mm gun!"

Shi Jing Si Lang slowly shook his head, lifted the chair, and leisurely crushed the cigar on the floor with his toe, the motion elegant yet cruel.

"Commander, you're mistaken. Our opponent is no longer those 'hillbillies.'" He lifted his gaze, the lenses sharp as knives, "This batch of poison gas is superbly crafted, ultra‑pure; its dispersion speed and lethality far exceed any 'red tube' or 'green tube' we currently field. From exposure to death, victims die in under an hour on average, per my observations. This is not Chinese technology."

Ze Tian Mao's breathing grew heavy as he stared fixedly at Shi Jing Si Lang, "So you mean…"

"We can only ask our allies—the Germans."

Shi Jing Si Lang's mouth curled into a cold smile, "Perhaps they sold us a defective batch. Or perhaps someone behind the scenes is playing a game we can't comprehend."

He paused, then added, "Moreover, witnesses at the attack site reported seeing a fighter accompanying the poison gas shell, a model unknown to any Allied or Chinese aircraft we know of."

Those words struck like a hammer, shattering Ze Tian Mao's lingering hope.

American fighter planes, German‑made poison gas, the completely annihilated elite brigade… these clues together point to a chilling possibility: a mysterious third‑party force with top‑tier technology and equipment has already entered the war.

"Baka!" Ze Tian Mao growled, punching the map so that the Jinhua marker sank slightly. "Are we just going to leave it at that? The vengeance for Major General Ye Fu…"

"Commander," Shi Jing Si Lang interrupted, his tone chillingly calm, "Until we identify who the enemy is and where they come from, any rash offensive will only send more soldiers to their deaths, merely to accompany Major General Ye Fu's burial. What we need now is intelligence; if the enemy still holds poison gas shells to hurl at the brave troops of Imperial Japan, the consequences are unimaginable!"

Ze Tian Mao sank into his seat, staring at the red dot on the map representing Jinhua, now resembling a massive vortex ready to swallow everything. He knew Shi Jing Si Lang was right. Facing an unknown foe capable of erasing a brigade in an instant, he understood the horror of poison gas shells; an attack now would be unwise.

He inhaled deeply, as if expending all his strength, and ordered his adjutant, "Open a line to headquarters; I will report directly to the Chief of Staff!"