Chapter 276: Ghosts Over the Yangtze River

Just as the Japanese Army fleet fell into chaos, the surviving gunboats and transport ships were still futilely sweeping the sky with machine guns, the Ghost Second Squad's attack wave had just ended, and the Ghost Third Squad's aircraft, like avenging specters, silently reached the battlefield sky.

This time, they did not drop any bombs.

"Ghost Second Squad all, use the machine cannon, give them a splash of color!"

At the Captain's order, three P-38 fighters lowered their noses, and the 20mm cannons and four 12.7mm machine guns under the wings opened fire simultaneously!

Several scorching tongues of fire, like the Grim Reaper's whip, instantly tore through the rainy night, frantically strafing the panicked Japanese Army ships on the River Surface.

Where the bullet storm struck, steel hulls were splattered with sparks, wooden decks were torn into fragments. Most soldiers on a transport ship were still asleep when the sudden hail of shells jolted them awake. Officers shouted and fired, trying to mount an effective resistance, but it was all too late.

Many Little Devil soldiers hadn't even dressed properly, rushed out of the cabin with rifles, firing wildly at the sky, only to be instantly shredded into fragments by 20mm cannon shells.

Countless Little Devils, never seeing the enemy's face, died beneath the P-38's cannons. On the River Surface, wails, explosions, and the sound of metal tearing blended into a symphony of hell.

At that moment, William's Ghost Battalion finally arrived. Seeing the fleet below already crippled, he hesitated not a moment and immediately issued an attack order.

"Number Two, Number Three, abandon the gunboats, attack the enemy's transport ships," William shouted loudly over the radio.

His voice was slightly excited.

"Yes, Captain!"

The three P-38s William brought down like hawks from the heavens unleashed a devastating strike on the remaining targets. Bombs and cannons rained together, and another gunboat and transport ship were sent to the river bottom.

However, when William tallied the battlefield, he found that despite the striking results, the six fighters he had brought had exhausted their bomb load, and cannon ammunition was nearly gone.

On the River Surface, two gunboats and a transport ship, though damaged, still scrambled desperately downstream.

Their orders were to head to Yueyang; even if they could not cut off the retreat route at New Wall River, they needed to support Yueyang.

William gripped the control stick, his brows knit. This raid, though it heavily damaged the enemy, was insufficient to annihilate the fleet. If even one ship slipped through and reached Yueyang, the pressure on the th War Zone would be enormous.

He glanced at the fuel gauge, then at the few dark silhouettes drifting away.

In the P-38 cockpit, William looked through the canopy, overlooking the River Surface below, a human inferno. The firelight illuminated the Yangtze River, and many Little Devils were swimming on the surface, desperately trying to reach the shore.

The radio crackled with the Ghosts' excited shouts.

"Number Two aircraft reporting! Target transport ship hit! On fire! On fire!"

"Number Three aircraft sees a Devil jumping ship! Ha ha, like dumplings dropping!"

William ignored them, his gaze fixed on the radar screen at the few light dots separating and scrambling downstream.

He opened the encrypted channel, his voice cold as ice: "Ghost Second Squad, report ammunition status."

Chen Youping's voice came quickly, tinged with a breath and regret: "Battalion Commander, the Second Squad's bombs are exhausted, cannon ammo remaining under thirty percent."

Then Chen Youping added, "Captain, we must return to base."

William's heart sank.

Just as the P-38 formation was about to turn and fully leave the battlefield, William's eyes left the instrument panel, sweeping the ruined River Surface below one last time. He saw the surviving Japanese Army soldiers frantically paddling, trying to swim to shore or climb onto floating wreckage.

A thought, like a devil's whisper, flashed through his mind.

He abruptly reopened the public channel, and this time his voice was filled with unmasked ruthlessness:

"Ghost First Squad, Ghost Second Squad, empty your cannon ammo, we will beat the drowned dogs!"

The radio fell silent for a second, then erupted with suppressed excitement and frenzy.

"Understood, Captain!" Chen Youping's voice was the first to sound.

"Just waiting for your order!" another Pilot laughed.

William said no more, slammed the nose down, and the P-38 roared, diving again. In the sky, six P-38 "Lightning" fighters, like two crossing scythes, swooped from east and west onto the surviving Little Devils on the River Surface.

On the River Surface, 104th Regiment commander Hai Fu Sanqianxiong shivered coldly. His proud colonel's uniform was already soaked by the river, dragging him heavily. He paddled desperately, survival instinct overwhelming everything. Suddenly, he heard above the familiar, soul‑shattering engine roar again.

He looked up in terror, just in time to see those American fighters once more skim low in a death‑like swoop.

"No," Hai Fu Sanqianxiong roared angrily.

The speed in his hands quickened a few more beats; he wished he could sprout two more arms now. Fear, like an invisible hand, clamped his throat, silencing him.

But how could his speed ever outpace the steel wings?

William and Chen Youping almost simultaneously pressed the cannon trigger.

"Tadadadada—!"

The scorching hail of shells poured down again, but this time the targets were not ships but the countless heads on the River Surface. The 20mm shells hit the water, spouting towering columns, beneath which lay silent death. The 12.7mm bullets cut the surface like a reaper, carving bloody trails.

Two attack squadrons drew a coordinated arc in the sky, their fire forming a perfect Crossfire network over the River Surface. Whether the soldiers fled east or west, none could escape the death net woven of steel and flame.

For the Japanese Army on the River Surface, this was the most desperate moment. They had no cover, no means to fight back, their weapons sank with the ships to the Yangtze River bottom, leaving them in the icy water like targets awaiting slaughter.

Countless Little Devils, in their final moments, saw only the fire tongues slashing the rainy night, heard only the sharp scream of bullets tearing the air.

They will also remain in Huaxia, remain within the Yangtze River.

Perhaps even the fish will not eat these beasts' corpses.

"Understood," William replied briefly, then switched to the public channel, "Ghost Battalion all attention, we are returning! Repeat, we are returning!"

All fighters had emptied their cannons and were no longer combat‑capable.

"Received!"

"Finally we can go home!"

The pilots responded, but their tone clearly held a hint of lingering desire.