Chapter 372: The Japanese Army Without Its Air Force

South of Jingmen.

Over the Zhang River.

William piloted a P-38 "Lightning" fighter aircraft, skimming low; beneath the wing a gray‑white dirt road wound along the river, a military route from Jingzhou to Dangyang.

The river was narrow, less than a hundred meters wide, yet it was the Japanese Army's sole main channel for southward support of Dangyang.

"Ghost One, three kilometers to the Right‑Front, dense marching column spotted!" a wingman pilot's voice came over the radio. "Visual confirmation: steel helmets, rifles, pack mules and wagons, it's a Little Devil support unit!"

William squinted down, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth: "Look at the scale, at least a regiment. Likely the Japanese Army's 231st Regiment stationed at Jingmen, Kikuchi Chongnan? Your timing is perfect."

He switched channels swiftly: "All units, attention! Target confirmed: Japanese Army 231st Regiment rushing to aid Dangyang. No anti‑air fire, no aerial cover, formation dense. Execute the 'Iron Broom' tactic, free attack, prioritize command nodes and ammunition trucks!"

"Let's send them back to Tokyo!"

"Received!" Twenty‑three P-38s responded in unison.

Nick's second battalion flew straight to Jingmen, tasked with destroying all defensive positions around Jingmen's outskirts, including the Bunkers built by the Little Devils.

Ghost First Battalion, the P-38 fighter aircraft formation spread like silver shuttles, dropping rapidly from three thousand meters to eight hundred meters, then diving down the slope.

On the ground, the 231st Regiment was immersed in a pre‑apocalyptic calm.

Regiment Commander Kikuchi Chongnan rode his horse, his face grim.

Last night, he received an urgent telegram from Division Commander Sasaki: "Dangyang in crisis, rapid aid!" He dared not delay, personally leading 2,500 men on a night dash.

"Hurry! Must reach Dangyang before nightfall!" Kikuchi whipped his horse forward.

But at that moment,

Buzz—!

Engines roared like thunder, piercing the sky!

"Enemy aircraft!!" the sentry shrieked.

Kikuchi jerked his head up, seeing dozens of iron birds tearing the blue sky—no, aircraft, their noses glinting coldly.

"Hit the deck! Take cover!" he roared, drawing his sword.

But it was too late.

Clack‑clack‑clack—clack‑clack‑clack—!

The P-38's nose unleashed four. 50‑caliber Browning machine guns, bullets raining down like steel rain.

The first wave of fire swept through, piercing the middle of the marching column.

Three soldiers had their chests blown open, intestines hanging on their bayonets;

A mule carrying ammunition was hit in the head, crashing down and detonating the grenade box on its back.

Boom!

A fireball shot upward, the blast wave flipping everyone within ten meters.

"Second wave! Release bombs!" William ordered.

Nine P-38s pulled up then dove again, belly doors opening, sixteen 200‑pound high‑explosive bombs screaming down.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions merged into a sheet, the dirt road blown into a series of craters.

A Sergeant just raised his binoculars, half his body vanished;

A communications soldier ran clutching a radio, his head sliced off by shrapnel;

Kikuchi's warhorse had its front leg blown off, throwing him to the ground.

Immediately after, another nine P-38s roared past, followed by dozens of aerial bombs dropped into the Japanese Army formation, inflicting massive casualties.

"Baka, someone help me!" Kikuchi Chongnan felt his lower half had gone numb.

"Regiment Commander!" a guard lunged, but was swept down by the second wave of machine‑gun fire, blood splattering Kikuchi's face.

He struggled to rise, his left arm a bloody mess, his right hand still gripping his sword.

Looking around, hell was laid bare:

Corpses sprawled, severed limbs hanging from trees, the wounded wailing like ghosts.

Someone leapt into the river to escape, only to be swept away by the torrent;

More people curled with heads in their hands in the bomb craters, eyes full of terror, like livestock awaiting slaughter.

"Imperial… why do you not protect us?" he murmured.

In the sky, William was as cool as ice.

"Li Jie, the left‑wing group fleeing toward the woods, you're on it."

"Understood! Send them to meet Amaterasu!"

Li Jie pulled the control stick, lowered the nose, a string of bullets fired precisely, five Japanese soldiers fell instantly.

"Mike, suppress the rear squad, don't let them regroup!" Li Jie shouted over the radio.

"Received! Watch my incendiary!"

A white phosphorus bomb hit the ground, flames leaping three meters high; two Little Devils were set ablaze, screaming as they fled, finally plunging into the river and extinguishing.

The white phosphorus bomb was also a lethal weapon Jiang Anguo had placed in Changde, intended for use when support was most needed; however, it belonged to William's squadron, and lacking other aerial bombs, they mounted the white phosphorus bomb under the aircraft's belly.

In a brief ten minutes, the 231st Regiment's structure collapsed.

Casualties exceeded 1,600, the command system paralyzed, ammunition exhausted, morale at zero.

William lifted the nose, scanning the battlefield, saying coldly, "Mission accomplished. Returning to Dangyang; the commander has already prepared ammunition for us, resupply underway, next target Jingzhou!"

William glanced back at his handiwork; he was quite satisfied with this bombing by the First Battalion, which could be said to have thwarted the Japanese Army's plan to move south into Dangyang.

Nevertheless, even if this group of Japanese dared to support Dangyang, Jiang Anguo had already seized Dangyang in advance and held it, ensuring they would have no way back.

The Little Devils will endure even harsher strikes.

Jiang Anguo has a rule: solve the enemy with artillery, not by piling up lives.

Since fighter jets can be used to directly eliminate the Japanese Army, Jiang Anguo does not want excessive losses.

It's nothing more than spending some points.

Jiang Anguo, in Dangyang, saw the points soaring in the system and immediately understood that William had succeeded again; now, as long as the Little Devil dares to leave the city, they will suffer heavy losses.

Only Zuozuomu Dao Yi in Jingzhou was clever enough; upon seeing the China Air Force in the sky, he ordered his troops to retreat to Jingzhou immediately, and after later discovering that the China Air Force had not launched an attack on the city, he seemed to understand something.

And at this moment, Jiujiang.

Inside the temporary headquarters of the 11th Army, A Naganuma stared at the map, his face ashen.

After occupying Yueyang, Xue Yue simultaneously launched a feint toward Yunxi and Linxiang, tying down the Japanese Army's main corps in Wuhan, rendering them immobile.

On the Yangtze River, transport ships dared not set sail; a few days earlier, the troop transport of the 104th Regiment was sunk on the Yangtze by the Huaxia Air Force, and the Japanese Army's 104th Regiment's 1st Battalion, which was supporting Yueyang, was completely lost.

Now, even ground reinforcements are being hunted down from the air.

"The sky… no longer belongs to the Imperial." A Naganuma sat down dejectedly.

A Naganuma was bewildered; in the defensive battle, his own 13th Division had turned out like this, the entire army wiped out.

But even so, why did every unit sent out for support die at the hands of the China forces, or perhaps were struck by the China Air Force, causing regiment‑level casualties.

Is it that the China forces have grown stronger, or that the soldiers of the Imperial have become weaker?

Everything began the day the Central China-Huanan Airport fell; all fighter jets and bombers were bombed by the China Air Force, and up to now, A Naganuma's 11th Army has been mired in the Jianghan Plain.

And on the scorched earth south of Jingmen, the corpse of Juchi Zhongnan was still being trampled by warhorses; his eyes still stared at the silver eagle fading in the sky. No matter how much regret he felt, at this moment he had already gone to meet the Emperor!