Chapter 281: Seizing the Western City Gate

If Jiang Anguo were there, he would be very pleased; it turns out that Mi Long is not only reckless in appearance but actually very meticulous.

Just like Zhang Fei!

Otherwise he wouldn't be so at ease among the Chanda's routed troops.

Tap tap tap—!

Several silver streams of fire ripped through the smoke, lashing toward Yidu's city wall like a poisonous snake spitting its fang. The MG42 Machine Gun roared, unleashing a deadly rain of thousands of rounds per minute; bricks and stones shattered, the wall bastions cracked, and the defending Japanese Army, barely peeking out, were swept away in a spray of flesh.

Mi Long is the most distinctive among all officers; he favors this German-made killing machine, and the MG42 Machine Gun in Mi Long's hands becomes a nightmare for the Little Devil.

Dong! Dong!

Two mortar shells slammed into the base of the city wall, raising clouds of dust, but failed to move the main gate.

"Range insufficient!" the Artillery Squad Leader wiped the ash from his face, shouted urgently, "Raise the angle, prepare to load, fire!"

Boom!

The third shell whistled out, striking precisely the watchtower above the gate; wooden beams snapped, debris rained down, and the entire wall shivered.

At the same time, a hundred meters away behind a broken wall, sniper Lao Zhou held his breath, his right eye glued to the scope. The crosshair drifted slowly across the tower—a Japanese Army officer, wearing a saber and brandishing it while shouting, came into view.

"Squad Leader? Perfect."

He lifted the corner of his mouth slightly and lightly pressed the trigger with his index finger.

Bang!

The gunshot was crisp and cold. The Little Devil officer's brow burst open with a scarlet blood flower, his body froze for a moment, then collapsed from the wall like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Target eliminated," Lao Zhou whispered, swiftly pulling the bolt, and the next bullet was already quietly chambered.

Below the city, Mi Long hoisted the MG42 and charged forward, his roar shaking the heavens: "Well done! Demolition team, move out! Brothers, Machine Gunners, keep firing! Give the Little Devils no chance to breathe!"

The Little Devils on the tower, even though their Squad Leader was dead, were still contemplating a counterattack, but Mi Long gave them no chance at all; whenever a Little Devil showed its head, at least four or five sniper rifles aimed at its skull.

The demolition team, amid the gunfire on their side, rushed to Yidu's gate and bound the pre‑prepared high‑explosive charge to the gate.

He nodded toward Mi Long's position.

"Blast the gate for me!" Mi Long roared loudly.

The demolition soldiers grabbed the fuse, stepped back quickly while laying the fuse, and withdrew to a safe distance.

"Ignite!"

Squeak!

The fuse ignited, and the sound of burning rang out.

Boom!

A deafening blast echoed; the Little Devils on the gate felt the wall about to crumble, and for a moment they didn't know what was happening.

Charred splintered wood and twisted iron sheets littered the ground, and thick smoke billowed out of the doorway.

Mi Long's killing intent surged; shouldering the MG42, he swung his massive hand and roared like thunder: "First line, follow me up!"

He knew perfectly well that if he didn't seize the momentum now and charge, the Little Devils would block the gate again, forcing his side to fill the breach with lives. The window was fleeting; it had to be fast, precise, and ruthless!

He leapt a stride into the smoke‑filled doorway, and indeed, two "yellow‑skinned monkeys" were huddled in the corner behind the door, holding a large 38‑caliber rifle, the barrel trembling as they aimed at the entrance, their faces full of terror and despair.

"Tap tap tap—!"

The MG42 roared, spitting fire. Bullets swept across like a scythe; the two Japanese soldiers didn't even have time to scream before being turned into a sieve, blood splattering the blue bricks.

"First line, both left and right, follow me onto the tower! Second line, hold the gate, not a single Little Devil may approach!" Mi Long shouted as he climbed the ruined stone steps, with over twenty brothers behind him like tigers unleashed, charging toward the tower.

"Yes!"

The roar shook the heavens.

The battle erupted so quickly that the Japanese on the tower couldn't react. Some were still reaching for ammunition beside the ammo box, others just peeked from cover when a hail of incoming fire knocked them backward.

A Little Devil machine gunner scrambled to turn and mount his gun, but was blown up on the spot by a hand grenade tossed by the first line, his flesh and wood chips soaring into the air.

Before Regiment Commander Yao Quanyi of the 448th Regiment set out from Changde, he specifically supplied Jiang Anguo with hand grenades, three per person.

The usefulness of hand grenades becomes evident in siege warfare.

Mi Long kicked open the broken door of the watchtower, the MG42 swept a circle, clearing the remaining foes. He gasped, wiped the blood and ash from his face, and shouted down: "Gate taken! Signalman, quickly inform the Battalion Commander that Yidu's western gate has been captured!"

Mi Long saw the Little Devils stationed in the southern city, staring at him with predatory eyes.

Mi Long grinned, "Nice, I haven't killed enough yet, Little Devils, let me show you how grand I am!"

"Quick, seize the Little Devils' position; I'm going to make the Little Devils have a good drink." Not foolish, there were no cover on the tower; the two units fired simultaneously, so it was a contest of whose firepower was stronger, whose was fiercer.

Mi Long had only a company's worth of troops, while the Little Devils in Yidu's southern city, just on the tower alone, still had over three hundred soldiers.

In Yidu's southern city, within the Japanese Army's temporary command post, the air was as heavy as iron.

Battalion Commander Sasaki stood before the map, his complexion as dark as ink. The casualty report spread on the table showed rising numbers, a squadron reduced by more than half, two machine‑gun positions out of contact, and the signalman repeatedly reported: "The fire support point on the eastern wall is suppressed!"

Meanwhile, the firepower of the "Chinese army" opposite had never waned since the battle began.

Artillery roared continuously, P‑38s swept the sky repeatedly, ground infantry coordinated tightly, and the offensive surged like tide after tide, leaving no room to breathe.

"This... isn't a local militia," Sasaki muttered through clenched teeth, "it's a regular army main force!"

Sasaki still couldn't figure out which Chinese army this opposing unit belonged to, whose combat power was so formidable; the only forces he recalled being somewhat troublesome on the Huaxia Battlefield were the remnants beneath Jinling City, which had long vanished under the absolute superiority of the Great Japan Imperial.

Now this sense of despair rose in Sasaki's mind.

At that moment, a messenger covered in blood staggered in: "Battalion Commander! The western city... the western city has fallen! A Chinese assault team burst through the blown‑up gate and has taken the tower! The defending squad... all annihilated!"

"What?!" Sasaki suddenly gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles whitening.

With the western city breached, the whole of Yidu was besieged on all sides. The news spread quickly among the remaining Japanese, and it was all bad news.

"The west gate is lost!" "The Chinese army has entered the city!"

The soldiers who had been holding on desperately saw their eyes start to waver; some slipped back quietly, others lowered their heads to check ammunition, and no one shouted "Long live the Emperor!"

Morale, like a kite with its line cut, suddenly fell to the ground.

Sasaki stared at the rolling black smoke outside the window, his heart a frozen chill:

"Yidu… we can't hold it."

Sasaki turned his head and glanced at the western city, where smoke rose.

He seemed to see the local Commander smiling at him, and that smile was truly terrifying.

He didn't understand!