Chapter 315: Moji Shan, Camouflage

Idiot!!!

Xiaotian Yilang let out a desperate, beast‑like roar, a struggle on the brink of collapse. He suddenly drew the command saber, both hands gripping the hilt tightly, the blade trembling as it aimed at the oncoming gray wave ahead.

The poison of Bushido Spirit had already seeped into his marrow, and the zeal of militarism made him unable to accept the humiliation of defeat and capture. In his twisted perception, since the defeat was inevitable, the only redemption was the so‑called "samurai duel".

"Chinese officer! Come out!" Xiaotian Yilang shouted hoarsely, his eyes blood‑shot, "I will duel your superior in a warrior's contest! Come on! Use your sword and cut off my head!"

This medieval‑style absurd shout sounded especially harsh on the still‑smoking battlefield. The surrounding soldiers wore expressionless faces, only the gun muzzles pointed at him coldly.

While Xiaotian Yilang was still searching for the imagined "opponent", preparing for a tragic final charge, a figure cut through the smoke and strode to the front of the position.

It was Second Battalion Commander Huang Long.

He was covered in dust, the MP40 Submachine Gun in his hand still steaming. He looked at the Japanese Company Captain before him, brandishing a military saber and shouting like a leaping clown.

In his eyes, this Little Devil (Japanese soldier) was somewhat comical, like a clown. This Sino‑Japanese war had no Bushido, no warrior duel, only invaders and the invaded, only the dead and the living.

Facing Xiaotian Yilang's death‑defying yet absurd challenge, Huang Long said nothing, and did not draw his blade.

He simply raised his MP40 calmly, the black muzzle locking directly onto Xiaotian Yilang's chest.

"Don't come back to China in your next life."

Huang Long pulled the trigger.

Da da da!

The rapid, crisp gunfire of the MP40 rang out instantly.

Dozens of 9 mm bullets pierced Xiaotian Yilang's body at point‑blank range without obstruction.

The command saber in Xiaotian Yilang's clenched hands fell to the ground with a "clang", emitting a mournful, sharp sound.

His body seemed to have all strength drained; he collapsed uncontrollably, softening forward, and knelt heavily before Huang Long and the group of Huaxia soldiers wielding steel rifles.

Even after he completely breathed his last, his wide‑open eyes remained round, as if unable to believe that the "honorable duel" he had hoped for ended so abruptly, so… unfair.

With Xiaotian Yilang's fall, the last spark of resistance on the position was snuffed out.

The whole position fell silent, save for the distant roar of the Yangtze River against the banks and a P38 fighter that had just completed a reconnaissance sortie from Yichang, swooping over the river with its wings flapping left and right in salute!

The battle on Moji Shan was over.

The battlefield's smoke had not fully cleared, but the murderous atmosphere in the air had already turned sour.

Huang Long did not, like the others, linger in the joy of having just seized the position; he spun around, took a few strides to the kneeling corpse of Xiaotian Yilang.

He deftly removed the Japanese officer's coat, still intact though stained with blood, tossed it to the nearby communications officer, and shouted, "Quick! Don't stand there, everyone, move! Strip the Little Devil's (Japanese soldier) corpse of its clothes and put them on!"

The soldiers hesitated a moment, not yet understanding what the camp commander was selling, but they dared not disobey their superior's order, so they sprang into action. They rushed toward the Japanese corpse on the ground, quickly stripped the yellow woolen uniform and steel helmet, and slipped them over their own gray uniforms.

"Machine Gunner, Grenade Launcher! Bring me the Little Devil's Grenade Launcher!" Huang Long, while fastening the newly‑adjusted disciplinary clasp, pointed at the scattered Japanese weapons on the position, "Fire toward the open ground! Quick! Move fast!"

Several strong soldiers lifted the Type‑89 Grenade Launcher, skillfully loading ammunition. With a few crisp "tong, tong" sounds, several grenades sliced through the sky and exploded in the open area in front of the position.

Boom—boom—!

This familiar, uniquely Japanese "Grenade Launcher" sound rang again on Moji Shan.

"Everyone, jump up on the riverbank and wave your hands!" Huang Long's eyes bulged like copper bells, his voice hoarse as he commanded, "Make the Little Devil on the opposite bank see clearly that this is still their territory!"

Dozens of soldiers now clad in Japanese uniforms stood on the cliff edge, wildly waving toward the opposite bank of the Yangtze River.

They made strange noises with their mouths; after all, the Japanese on the opposite bank could not hear them clearly.

All of this was the "deception troop" plan that Regiment Commander Yao Quanyi had specifically instructed before the battle.

Moji Shan's position was too crucial; if the Japanese on the opposite bank discovered the change of hands, they would immediately bring heavy artillery fire and even Navy support.

Only camouflage could buy the precious time.

Jiang Anguo hoped to lure the Japanese from Yichang to Xiao Ting, then let Xiao Ting draw all the Xiangxi Japanese's attention, and finally he would lead his troops in a decisive strike to seize Yichang.

At the same time the "grand play" unfolded on Moji Shan, on the north bank of the Yangtze River, the commander of the 65th Regiment, Zuojiu Jian Weiren, was standing before a high‑power telescope.

Just minutes earlier, his heart had been in his throat. The fierce gunfire from Moji Shan made him restless; it was the shield of his defensive flank, and if it fell, the consequences would be unimaginable.

At this moment, through the lens he saw the hazy smoke over the summit of Moji Shan. Though faces were indistinct, he clearly saw that most of the moving silhouettes wore yellow uniforms—the emblem of the Imperial Japanese Army.

Immediately after, he heard that familiar Grenade Launcher firing sound again.

Zuojiu Jian Weiren's tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and he exhaled a long breath of foul air.

"Yo‑si! Looks like it's just an intense raid." Zuojiu Jian Weiren set down the telescope, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and a contemptuous smile spread across his face, "The Chinese troops in the south are fierce, but to capture the Imperial Japanese's fortified Moji Shan position is nothing but a fool's dream."

However, as a battle‑hardened commander, Zuojiu Jian Weiren's doubts were not fully dispelled. The fight was so fierce, yet there was no movement? He frowned, turned to the communications officer and said, "Send a telegram to the Moji Shan defenders, inquire about the situation. Make sure to confirm the commander's identity."

Hai!

The communications officer immediately got to work. At this time on the Moji Shan position, Huang Long was sweating profusely, guarding the captured Japanese radio beside it.

The radio emitted a ticking inquiry. Huang Long took a deep breath, looked at the captured Japanese radio operator beside him; under the threat of the gun barrel, the operator trembled, and, following Huang Long's dictation, sent back a telegram:

"Moji Shan is being harassed by a small Chinese unit, has been repelled, the position is still held, our casualties are being tallied…"