Chapter 346: Great Sword Squad! Follow Me!

At the moment Hu Lian's 11th Division began boarding.

Almost simultaneously, on the south bank of the Yangtze River, at the Moji Shan artillery position, Jiang Sanpao squinted, watching the River Surface.

Jiang Sanpao earned his name by being able to calibrate a target within three shots. He noted that the third wave of transport ships did not return to Moji Shan, but headed straight toward Dianjun Mountain.

"Understood…" he lifted the corner of his mouth, immediately grabbed the field telephone, "All units, attention! Reverse the gun barrels, target: Yichang West Gate City Wall and its annexes! Bomb the damned, I'll send those Japanese to hell!"

The order given, twelve 150‑mm howitzers slowly turned.

But Jiang Sanpao deliberately reduced the rate of fire, conducting intermittent bombardments; he knew that the Moji Shan direction no longer required fire cover. At this moment the Japanese garrison on the western wall was thin, unable to stop the 11th Division Tiger Wolf Corps, and a torrent of shells would only draw Japanese attention.

If the savage bombardment continued, it would waste ammunition and might hit our own street‑fighting troops. True artillery art lies not in how much steel is poured, but in when to fire, where, and for how long.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The first test volley precisely struck the Zhenchuan Gate arrow tower.

Bricks and stones shattered skyward, smoke billowing.

Inside the city, the Japanese command post was in chaos.

After eight rounds of attack, Yichang's west wall barely breathed; even the few survivors were already trembling with fear.

The river water slammed against the bank.

The landing craft formation quietly pulled ashore.

Hu Lian showed no hesitation; the instant the landing craft's ramp struck the mudflat, he vaulted down, spraying a spray of water. Hu Lian wore an M35 steel helmet, his hand gripping an MP40 Submachine Gun—both weapons he had obtained from his brother‑in‑law at noon. Good fellow, a uniform set of German arms.

The MP40 in his hand fired rapidly with steady recoil, exactly to his liking.

He hit the ground, dropped to one knee, and swiftly scanned the surroundings.

The western city wall, under the repeated bombardment of Independent Regiment's Jiang Sanpao's 150‑mm howitzers, was already riddled with holes. Not just one collapse—but three!

The largest breach spanned over ten meters; bricks piled like a mountain, smoke still thick, charred beams jutting from the rubble. Atop the wall, only seven or eight Japanese soldiers peeked out, faces full of panic, clearly not expecting the enemy to break through from the west.

"Heaven‑granted opportunity!" Hu Lian felt a chill, instantly seizing the fleeting chance.

He sprang to his feet, raised the MP40 high, his voice booming: "33rd Regiment! Great Sword Squad! Follow me! Rush through the breach! No breathing room for the Japanese!"

"Yes!" Over a thousand soldiers behind roared in unison, their clamor nearly overturning the thin river mist.

"Kill—!"

"Charge—!"

"Kill the Japanese!!!"

The shouts thundered, shaking the ruined walls into dust. Morale had never been so high; they had waited for this day too long. Since Wuhan fell and Yichang was lost, how many compatriots were buried by the river? How many civilians were displaced?

Tonight, it is not revenge but reclamation!

Hu Lian led the charge like a ravenous tiger. With his left hand he held his gun, his right hand drew a wooden‑handled hand grenade, shouting as he surged: "First Battalion left wing! Second Battalion right wing! Third Battalion follow me straight into the Drum Tower! Kill!"

The warriors understood instantly.

The Great Sword Squad surged ahead, MP40s firing in unison, bullets pelting the wall's remnants like a rainstorm. Several Japanese lifted their Type 38 helmets, only to be swept into a sieve, bodies rolling down the wall base.

They gave the Little Devils no chance to retaliate.

"Boom!" Hu Lian lobbed the hand grenade precisely into a window that seemed to house a machine‑gun nest; a flash of fire, and the wailing abruptly ceased.

He was the first to leap into the largest breach, his boots striking the scorching debris with a crisp "crack". Behind him, the 33rd Regiment surged like a breached dam into the city. Compared with Independent Regiment's Yao Quanyi's command, the 11th Division was evidently less familiar with street fighting.

Even so, the Japanese could not withstand the high‑spirited 11th Division.

At this point the Japanese were already encircled from the west and south.

The city's streets were narrow, flanked by old blue‑brick houses; doors and windows were shut, but Hu Lian knew that behind each window a Japanese Cold Gun could be hidden. He instantly ordered: "Loose formation! Teams of three! Alternate cover! When you spot a fire point, throw a grenade first, then charge!"

The order spread quickly.

A squad of warriors sprinted along the wall; suddenly a second‑floor window flashed with fire, "Clack! Clack! Clack!" a Type 96 light machine gun sprayed bullets.

"Prone!" the Platoon Leader roared.

Almost simultaneously, two flank warriors hurled two hand grenades.

"Boom! Boom!" the window collapsed instantly, bricks mixed with limbs falling.

"Up!" the squad surged in, submachine guns sweeping the interior, great swords gripped behind. Passing each Japanese corpse, they stabbed a knife into the heart, confirming no living, then pressed forward.

The firepower was so ferocious it seemed the great swords were unnecessary.

On the main street, Hu Lian led a spear‑troop advancing toward the Drum Tower Plaza.

There, the western Yichang traffic hub, also the Japanese reserve's final gathering point. Sure enough, dozens of Japanese hurriedly formed ranks, attempting a counter‑attack.

"Machine Gunner! Suppress!" Hu Lian barked.

To be honest, it was Hu Lian's first time seeing an MG42 machine gun, and to avoid exposing the target, the machine gunner hadn't disassembled the weapon, though he knew how to load it.

The machine gunner quickly set up the gun, the muzzle spitting a tongue of fire. At a terrifying 1,200 rounds per minute, the Japanese formation was shredded. The Japanese fell like stalks of wheat, blood staining the bluestone slabs.

"Impressive, so fierce," Hu Lian stared, the machine‑gun fire truly brutal.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

The sustained fire output gave the Japanese no chance to survive.

"Charge forward! Don't let them regroup!" Hu Lian swapped to a fresh magazine, personally leading the charge.

At that moment, a Japanese officer brandished his sword, leading over ten men out of a tea‑house back alley, attempting a flank attack.

Hu Lian's eyes were sharp, his MP40 fired a burst, "Tap tap tap!" three bullets struck the officer's chest. The officer staggered, his sword slipping, and he fell on his back.

"Little Devil, you dare brandish a sword before me?" Hu Lian sneered, kicking the corpse aside and pressing on.

His goal was clear: he must rendezvous with Yao Quanyi's force at the Drum Tower before nightfall. Only a joint encirclement could utterly crush the Japanese's final will to resist.

Meanwhile, gunfire grew denser toward the South Gate; that was Independent Regiment's Yao Quanyi pushing north!

"Brothers!" he shouted back, "Did you hear? Independent Regiment is about to wipe out the Japanese division commander! Speed up! Tonight we'll dine together on the Drum Tower!"

"Kill—!"

Morale surged again. The warriors surged through the streets like mad tigers, hand grenades clearing the way, submachine guns sweeping the rear, great swords delivering the final blows; wherever they passed, no Japanese remained.

The city's common folk also came forward to point out where the Little Devil was hiding, and some collaborators were identified by the townspeople; the war was urgent, and there was no way to deal with the collaborators at that moment, so a group of townsfolk were made to keep the collaborators restrained, to be settled together after the war.