Chapter 314: Moji Shan, Yichang

Huang Long stopped behind a huge boulder, observed the unsuspecting figures through his binoculars, took a deep breath, lowered his voice, grabbed the field telephone carried by the messenger behind him, and issued the order.

"Sniper, eliminate the Little Devil guards."

The order was transmitted clearly over the communication channel, and immediately after.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

A few crisp gunshots rang out. Yet at that moment, on the front battlefield, thousands of cannons roared, countless machine guns snarled, and explosions deafened the ears; those solitary shots were like stones tossed into the sea, instantly swallowed by the massive torrent of noise. Nearby comrades could barely hear them.

But those few bullets were lethal.

Almost at the instant the shots fired, the Japanese guards who were still peeking jolted violently, as if their spines had been ripped out, collapsing limp. A bloodied hole appeared in their foreheads or throats; they couldn't even scream before they died, their fear of war snuffed out.

The flank sentry was cleared, and the path was open.

Huang Long no longer hesitated, leapt violently from behind the bunker, swung his large hand, and shouted sternly: "First company, machine gunners set up, provide fire cover! The rest, follow me!"

"Kill!"

With a roar, the warriors hidden in the grass surged forward like tigers descending a mountain.

Several MG42 machine guns quickly took advantageous positions, raking the remaining fire points on the Japanese flank with frantic fire, carving a safe gap for the charging comrades.

A single platoon already fields four machine guns, plus three from the battalion headquarters, making fifteen for the company, whose fire directly suppressed the Little Devil bunker on the west side.

The most dangerous target for Huang Long's company was this bunker; as long as the Japanese inside were suppressed, those Little Devils would be no problem.

The Japanese had not anticipated this move. When they heard the sudden burst of gunfire and battle cries from the side rear, they turned in terror, only to see snarling faces and bayonets flashing coldly rushing toward them.

"Baka! Flank! Flank has Chinese troops!"

The Japanese position instantly fell into chaos, but it was already too late.

Huang Long led from the front, his submachine gun spitting flames, reaping the frantic lives.

His company's warriors were like a sharp spear, thrusting hard into the Japanese soft underbelly, instantly tearing through their defenses.

Approaching the enemy bunker, the soldiers immediately took cover on both sides of the Little Devil bunker, a blind spot for shooting. The Type 92 heavy machine gun inside, still roaring wildly, could only mechanically spray fire toward the distance, unable to reach the threat just meters away.

The Little Devils inside didn't understand why the bullets aimed at them suddenly stopped.

The machine gunners originally covering them decisively ceased fire to avoid stray rounds harming allies. Immediately, these gun teams alternated cover, grabbed MG42s and surged forward, setting up barrels on the new position, hurling fierce fire at the Japanese infantry attempting to reinforce behind the bunker, completely isolating the lone outpost.

"Don't let those Little Devils peek! Suppress them!"

As the roar behind faded, a company of long Liu Mu and several warriors felt their way beneath the bunker's firing port. Liu Mu pressed against the cold, rough concrete wall, hearing the crisp clatter of the machine‑gun bolt inside, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.

He quickly fished a long‑handled hand grenade from his waist—a German‑made M24 grenade—its weight solid in his hand. Liu Mu bit off the fuze cap with his teeth, slipped the pull‑ring onto his little finger, and took a deep breath.

"Grenade!"

Liu Mu let out a low growl, but did not throw immediately. He held the pull‑ring, silently counting two seconds in his mind. Those brief two seconds ensured the grenade would land inside the bunker before delivering the deadliest blow.

Two seconds have passed!

Liu Mu snapped the pull‑ring open, his arm muscles bulging, and instead of a normal arcing toss, he thrust the grenade straight through the bunker's outward‑facing firing port with precision.

"Baka! What is that…"

The terrified Japanese shout from inside the bunker was cut off halfway by an earth‑shaking blast.

"Boom!!!"

The dense concrete bunker shuddered suddenly. Because the explosion occurred in a confined space, the shockwave had nowhere to vent, and the resulting roar was louder than a typical open‑air blast, echoing with a heart‑pounding, muffled thud.

The firing port spewed a burst of black smoke mixed with blood mist, dust and shredded flesh; the machine‑gun's frantic roar ceased abruptly.

The Little Devils' seemingly indestructible "turtle shell" instantly became an iron coffin that suffocated them.

From afar, the Independent Regiment commander Yao Quanyi, binoculars in hand, said excitedly, "Well done."

"Launch the all‑out assault, now!"

Huang Long's side advanced unusually smoothly, pushing toward the summit as if tearing down withering trees. Meanwhile, the Japanese, still distracted by frontal artillery, hadn't recovered from the sudden strike when worse news arrived.

On the east side of Moji Shan.

It was the third company deployed on the east side. While Huang Long launched his attack, they also mounted a fierce assault on the east‑side positions of Moji Shan.

The pincer from east and west, combined with Yao Quanyi's frontal fire suppression, caused the Japanese's once‑solid circular defense to collapse completely.

A standard attack would have one company leading, another maneuvering around, and the third held as reserve.

But Yao Quanyi didn't have that much time; when he decided to seize this Japanese hilltop, those Little Devils were doomed.

Xiaotian Yilang, company commander guarding Moji Shan, was covered in blood, his crisp yellow wool uniform now tattered. He stood alone before a blown‑up foxhole, his chest heaving violently.

All around, the familiar subordinates who had fervently shouted "Ban Zai" lay in pools of blood, replaced by countless Huaxia soldiers in gray uniforms.

They surged like a tide, bayonets glinting with chilling steel, the gray figures quickly filling every corner of Moji Shan's positions.

At the same time they surrounded Xiaotian Yilang.

At that moment, Xiaotian Yilang felt a bone‑deep chill.

He watched the troops pour out like divine soldiers from the south, and the last sliver of hope in his heart shattered. This was not a guerrilla unit nor a harassment force; it was the main force of the Chinese army—a well‑trained, ferociously armed elite.

Guerrilla units have long operated along both banks of the Yangtze River, harassing the Japanese; a major reason is to block their westward advance and to tie down forces that might move south to attack Changsha.

Xiaotian Yilang didn't even have time to send a final farewell telegram to the command on the opposite riverbank.

Moji Shan, the southern gateway of Yichang, has once again fallen into Huaxia's hands.