Chapter 317: There Is Only One Tactic: Advance and Follow

Moji Shan.

Jiang Anguo and Yao Quanyi are conducting a wargame, trying to make this landing operation as perfect as possible.

The two squat on the ground, playing with mud!

Their tools are simple: just two lines drawn to indicate the banks of the Yangtze River, and of course they also wrote Moji Shan and Yichang dock on the soil.

Yao Quanyi and Jiang Xingxue repeatedly urge Jiang Anguo to fall back, saying the Japanese Army in Yichang is far too close; if the Little Devil notices something amiss here and fires shells toward Moji Shan, there will be no chance to escape.

But Jiang Anguo rejected them all!

Jiang Anguo picks up a bullet and says, "This ship will land from this position."

At present Jiang Anguo has five landing craft, while supplies are still being moved in Yidu to the 150th Division north of the River.

"Commander, five landing craft are too few. I hope we can get two battalions ashore at once, to seize Yichang dock quickly," Yao Quanyi voiced his concern.

Jiang Anguo nodded; though he did not want to say it, he knew sacrifice was inevitable. "Yao Quanyi, I'll handle the ships. In the first wave of the landing I'll get your second and rd Battalions across together."

Jiang Anguo looked at his current manpower and realized only sacrifice could free up slots to assign transport ships for Yao Quanyi.

Yidu, the landing point on the north bank of the Yangtze River, Baiyang Town, up to present Moji Shan.

Jiang Anguo's Independent Regiment has been constantly sacrificing men while also replenishing its forces.

Howling Pavilion.

The road to Howling Pavilion is rough and uneven.

Mi Long leads his troops, rapidly advancing along the road toward the objective. After capturing Wang Family Gorge, the terrain opens up.

Mi Long carries an MG42 on his shoulder, still holding a tasteless grass stick in his mouth, squinting as he surveys the surrounding terrain.

In the sky, a few deep booms roll in from afar. Mi Long looks up to see three P‑38 "Lightning" fighters spreading their distinctive twin tails, circling at low altitude.

Their streamlined fuselages glint coldly in the sun; this is their own air force, and with these big birds overhead the route is much easier.

Mi Long feels much more reassured.

Earlier the Northeast Army had tanks and aircraft, and he never knew how the Little Devil drove them out of the Northeast.

And at the Howling Pavilion defensive line a few kilometers ahead, the Japanese Army's 104th Regiment commander Sen Xie Kangyan stands at the command post window, his face so grim it seems it could drip water.

Just ten minutes earlier, a death order from the Yichang Division sat on his desk: "Hold Howling Pavilion to the last, retreat not a step." The order ended with a special line: "When necessary, special smoke may be employed."

Sen Xie Kangyan's fingers gripping his sword turn white.

Special smoke is the Japanese Army's last trump card, i. e., a Poison Gas Shell.

The Japanese have used this many times, and they also employed it in the recent Zhejiang‑Jiangxi operations, but Jiang Anguo's hastily prepared Ghost Battalion gave them a surprise that frightened them, causing the Japanese near Zhejiang‑Jiangxi to dare not use special smoke and, fearing retaliation from the Huaxia Army, they withdrew from their original defensive zone, relinquishing the captured area again.

At this moment, as the marching column moves, Mi Long lifts his hand and the troops behind him halt instantly.

"Luo Dashan."

Mi Long has not finished speaking when the man as massive as an iron tower, Luo Dashan, reflexively stops in his tracks.

The suppression of the bloodline.

"Arrive!"

Luo Dashan lets out a roar, his body stiffens upright, his legs snap together with a crisp "pop," the movement so precise it seems three points more exact than even seeing Master Xu Guozhang.

That simple‑hearted yet fearful vigor makes the surrounding Sichuan soldiers want to laugh.

"What do you mean 'arrive'? Quiet!"

Mi Long rolls his eyes, reaches out and with a "snap" slams down on Luo Dashan's massive hand that was about to rise to his brow, forcefully pinning it.

Mi Long glares, lowers his voice and snarls, "You scrawny calf! You're a battalion commander, I'm a company commander, understand? I'm the company commander now; what kind of respect does a battalion commander owe me? Don't you worry about breaking my little frame!"

"Yes, Company Commander."

Luo Dashan tucks his chin in and dutifully replies. Even though Mi Long's curses are harsh, Luo Dashan dares not retort. In the past, with his hot temper, even the Heavenly King himself might have been punched down by him.

But now Luo Dashan truly has no temper. It's not because he's cultivated; it's simply because he can't beat Mi Long. He really can't, as if Mi Long has had him in his grip all his life.

At the same time, Te also admits that the attack on Wang Family Gorge was his mistake, causing unnecessary casualties, and he's been much more honest in front of Mi Long.

Luo Dashan still feels guilty to this day!

Seeing Luo Dashan's meek, submissive bear‑like demeanor, Mi Long slaps his forehead, a look of helplessness on his face. Reasoning with this guy is like playing a lute to a cow—there's nothing to say, absolutely nothing.

Mi Long inhales deeply, puts away his goofy grin, his gaze sharpens, and he points to the forest‑covered hillside on the right.

"Ahead is Cloud Pool," Mi Long's tone turns serious. "According to the fighter intel, that jungle hides faint Japanese positions. Those Little Devils aren't so generous as to let us stride into Howling Pavilion; it's a hard nut."

Cloud Pool is small, just a village with a few dozen scattered households.

He pauses, turns to Luo Dashan, a sly glint in his eye: "Luo Dashan, you battalion commander, don't idle. Take your two companies and swing around through the forest on the right. Move lightly, don't trample the woods like a bear. We'll draw fire from the front while you flank, and together we'll encircle the Little Devils like dumplings!"

Mi Long has studied military theory for a few days and isn't clueless; he knows he can't send all troops out—he still needs his own company and the forces Luo Dashan leaves behind for the frontal assault.

When Luo Dashan hears about fighting and 'wrapping dumplings,' his small eyes light up. He nods vigorously, that simple vigor returning: "Alright, Company Commander! Watch me, I'll lead men from the rear and slash the Little Devils in the backside!"

"Go, don't embarrass me," Mi Long waves his hand.

Luo Dashan chuckles, turns and waves to the two companies behind him, his massive frame slipping deftly into the dense forest on the right.

Mi Long thinks to himself: "Hehe, when I become a battalion commander, I can't stay such a bear!"