Chapter 331: Seizing Huyashan

In the smoke‑filled trench, the Platoon Leader of the Third Platoon, Xiahou Ping, burst in like a killing god; his aura of killing hadn't faded when he already seized a Japanese Army officer who was about to commit suicide.

The grab wasn't a problem; it actually netted a big fish—a Lieutenant Colonel Da Ye Xiu, the battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion, 104th Regiment of the Japanese Army. The unlucky guy hadn't even had time to thrust his knife into his own belly when a few broad‑shouldered Chinese soldiers pinned him in the mud, like a chicken soaked in water awaiting slaughter.

"Move! Don't kill him, he's a big Japanese officer!" Xiahou Ping said with a smug grin, personally escorting the mud‑splattered Da Ye Xiu, stepping unevenly as he went to find Mi Long for credit.

At that moment, Mi Long had indeed already led a charge into the streets of Xiaoting City. This millennial ancient city, which had been lost in the Zao‑Yi battle, now once again fell into the hands of the Huaxia Army amid gunfire and shouts. Seeing the blue‑sky white‑sun flags re‑hoisted on the shattered walls, Mi Long's heroic spirit surged.

"Company Commander! Company Commander!" Xiahou Ping shouted from afar, charging forward while escorting Da Ye Xiu, "Look, we caught a big fish of the Japanese!"

Mi Long was swapping the barrel of the MG42 General Machine Gun; at such a high rate of fire, the barrel must be replaced promptly.

Upon hearing that, Mi Long narrowed his eyes, strode over like a comet, stared at the mud‑caked Lieutenant Colonel Da Ye Xiu for a while, then, disappointed, clicked his tongue: "Big fish? How big a fish? Is he a regiment commander of the Little Devil?"

Xiahou Ping shook his head and explained, "No, Company Commander. The regiment commander of the 104th Regiment seems to be the one we saw on that transport ship on the Yangtze River earlier."

Mi Long heard that, and his excited face collapsed instantly; he let out a long sigh and spat harshly, "Pah! You weakling! Looks like the command sword this time isn't meant for me either. That regiment commander of the 104th Regiment has probably already been feeding turtles in the Yangtze River!"

Earlier, the air force had bombed a Japanese transport ship at night, a matter that Regiment Commander Jiang Anguo had specifically mentioned at the pre‑battle meeting, saying the blast was devastating. Mi Long had then set his sights on that regiment commander's command sword, never expecting it to become fish food now.

"Damn, missed again."

Mi Long muttered a curse, glanced at the dejected Da Ye Xiu, and, too lazy to waste words on the useless man, waved his hand: "Fine, consider it a lucky omen. Send two men to keep this Little Devil under strict watch—don't let him run, don't let him die, we'll have to interrogate him later!"

Having finished, Mi Long's eyes turned again to the distance, where a more important battle awaited.

"Platoon Two, give all your excess ammunition and mortar shells to Platoon Three."

"Yes."

The soldiers of Platoon Two quickly handed over their personal ammunition, Machine Gun Bullets, and the mortar Ammo Box to the soldiers of Platoon Three.

"Platoon Three! Machine Gun Squad! Don't rest a damn thing, follow me!"

Mi Long waved his hand and shouted loudly, his voice brimming with a blood‑pumping vigor.

"Yes!"

The soldiers had just finished a wave of charge, barely catching their breath, when they saw the Company Commander charge again; without a word, they lifted their rifles and followed.

These troops had already been corrupted—or rather, wild‑ed—by Mi Long; fighting alongside the Company Commander was pure fun!

At that moment, Luo Dashan arrived hurriedly from behind with his men. He had just entered Xiaoting, still covered in smoke, when he saw Mi Long leading his main force to charge out of the city again; stunned, he shouted loudly, "Mi Long! Where are you going? The battle's over, where do you still want to charge?"

By now, Xiaoting had already fallen into the hands of the Huaxia Army.

"Luo Dashan!" Mi Long kept moving without stopping, shouting without turning his head, "Your battalion is to stay in the city, clear the remaining Japanese forces around Xiaoting, sweep the battlefield! I'm taking men to block Huyashan!"

Having said that, Mi Long surged forward like an inexhaustible brute ox, leading his howling brothers toward Huyashan, as if he possessed endless strength.

"…Yes."

Luo Dashan stood there in a daze, instinctively standing at attention with his chest out, replying with a single word, as obedient as a fresh recruit.

When Mi Long was out of sight, he finally realized that he was a respectable battalion commander, his rank far higher than Mi Long's, yet in that instant, the raw force of the shout had made him forget to retort.

Is this what they call blood‑line suppression? Luo Dashan chuckled wryly, shook his head, and watched Mi Long's retreating back; admiration flickered in his eyes. This kid fights as if he has no regard for his life, truly a man, a real man!

One must admit, in the chessboard of this campaign, Huyashan is of paramount importance.

Mi Long's move was wilder and faster than anyone's.

Without any orders from superiors, this Northeastern Chinese, guided by a hunter's instinct, reacted faster than the rear headquarters and even Division Commander Xu Guozhang of the 150th Division.

He didn't have a complex strategic map in his head, but he clearly remembered Regiment Commander Jiang Anguo and Xu Guozhang repeatedly mentioning a name before the battle: Huyashan.

It was the throat through which Xiaoting entered Yichang, a vital chokepoint that had to be sealed.

Huyashan, with its steep terrain and jagged rocks, when viewed from above, makes the surrounding mountain range resemble a sharp tiger's tooth, hence its name. An ancient path runs here, the narrow passage the Japanese Army must use to reinforce Xiaoting.

Because the fight at Xiaoting ended so quickly and decisively, the Japanese Independent Mixed 17th Brigade rushing in from Yichang didn't even have time to see Xiaoting's city walls before Mi Long, like an iron wall, blocked them solidly at the mouth of Huyashan.

In terms of speed, Mi Long's legs were clearly faster than the brain of Nanshan Xiuji of the Independent Mixed 17th Brigade.

This blockade completely trapped an entire brigade of Japanese soldiers in that narrow Xiaoting ancient path. With a sheer cliff ahead and pursuers behind, they could neither advance nor retreat.

"Ha ha! You weakling thing, see where you can run!"

Standing at the narrow pass of Huyashan, Mi Long watched the black mass of Japanese vehicles and infantry in the ancient path below, dancing with excitement, his reckless bandit spirit erupting again, "Today I'll be like Zhao Zilong, making seven charges in and out!"

What a ruthless man.

Under his command there was only one Platoon plus the Company Section, totaling only a few dozen men, yet he dared to block a Japanese brigade's advance. This isn't warfare; it's like pulling a tooth from a tiger's mouth!

But Mi Long is far from a reckless brute without strategy.

Charging up the Huyashan pass, he instantly surveyed the terrain. It was a natural ambush circle—one man could hold the pass, ten thousand could not break through. Without hesitation, he pointed at the high ground on both sides and roared, "Machine Gun Squad! Go up! Occupy that hilltop for me, fire from high to low; it's a feng shui treasure!"

A few MG42 General Machine Guns were quickly set up on the highest rock, their black muzzles pointing down, locking onto the overcrowded ancient path below.

"Rat‑rat‑rat!"

Gunfire echoed through the valley, but the sound was unlike usual.

When Mi Long was well‑supplied, MG42 fire was a dense hail of bullets, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, reaping lives as if mowing grass. Today, that once‑frantic "fabric‑tearing" sound is sparser, even resembling a gentle Jiangnan drizzle—soft, continuous, intermittent.

But this isn't because the gunners were weak; Mi Long issued a death‑order.

"Fire! All of you, hold back! Conserve ammunition!"

Mi Long pulled the trigger for controlled bursts while roaring. Though generous, he wasn't a fool. Xiaoting had just finished that brutal round, and his troops hadn't received rear supplies; each ammo sack was emptier than a stomach.

Facing an entire brigade of Japanese below, the bullets in his hands were life. He had to abandon his usual "spraying" tactics, suppress his inner restlessness, and use precise bursts to hold the Japanese at bay.

Each 7.92 mm bullet, though precious, was still devastating from this lofty perch. Every gunshot sent a forward‑charging Japanese soldier flying in blood and flesh, tumbling into the deep ditch by the road like dumplings dropped into a pot.

But Mi Long knew that these few bullets couldn't hold the Japanese for long. All he could do now was, with his few dozen men, plunge a hard knife into Nanshan Xiuji's heart, dragging the fight out for as long as possible.