Chapter 390: Tokyo Amidst the Sea of Fire

The B-29's belly bomb bay opened, and dozens of M-69 napalm bombs screamed down.

From over two thousand meters altitude, the bomb tails' tracer lights looked like a meteor shower, cutting through the dawn.

After descending to lower altitude, the bomb casings burst, and hundreds of clumps of jelly‑like flame drifted slowly like crimson cherry blossoms, scattering with the wind toward Japanese Army barracks, warehouses, and the tarmac.

On the ground, a young soldier looked up and murmured, "So beautiful… like Kyoto's night cherry blossoms."

He didn't understand why these "petals" didn't fall to the ground, but instead landed lightly and gently on rooftops, tents, and even on the shoulders of nearby Japanese soldiers.

The next second—

Boom!

The jelly‑like flame ignited instantly, reaching temperatures of up to a thousand degrees.

The wooden hut was engulfed like a sheet of paper in a fire dragon, the truck tires melted into black slurry, and the ammo boxes detonated one after another.

The acrid smell of scorched flesh mixed with the foul odor of burning rubber stung the eyes shut.

The soldier had a dab of sticky oil on his face; at first it felt merely warm, but in an instant his skin began to smoke, curl, and carbonize.

He screamed and fell to the ground, his hands frantically slapping his cheeks, only to make the fire burn hotter.

"Water! Give me water!" he roared, but when water was poured on it, the flames instead splashed and spread.

Yet no one came to rescue him; all around, wails rose.

Some, their bodies ablaze, fled and crashed into the sea of fire;

Others curled into a corner, consumed by the flames, leaving only a charred, twisted silhouette that emitted a nauseating smell of burnt protein.

Some tried to rush forward to rescue, but when they grabbed nearby items that could be used for firefighting, they found that anything stained with this 'heavenly fire' was utterly unusable for rescue.

Even dousing oneself with water proved useless.

They could only watch their companions, continuously wailing and screaming.

Tokyo's dense population is precisely why Jiang Anguo chose it as the bombing target; without fighter escort for the bomber fleet, the operation was extremely dangerous.

Japan, a country prone to earthquakes, therefore has many wooden structures in Tokyo.

When white phosphorus bombs meet oxygen, they burn continuously, and the entire Tokyo ignited.

The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder smoke and a faint scent of meat.

Between white phosphorus bombs and incendiary bombs, Jiang Anguo deliberated for a long time; ultimately he chose the white phosphorus bomb because he wanted to give the Japanese a lesson, one aimed not only at the Japanese Army high command but also at the Japanese populace.

The B-29s in the sky had released all their belly bombs.

The escort aircraft performed the final filming in the air.

In fact, the last B-29, serial number Divine Bird 012, carried no munitions, only photographs—pictures of the Japanese Army dropping poison gas shells and killing civilians.

Jiang Anguo knew clearly that these items were of no use to the Japanese people, who had suffered under Imperial oppression.

Therefore, on those photographs he wrote some words: "Kill Huaxia civilians, and next time repay a hundredfold!"

"Next time you massacre Huaxia civilians, we will drop special bombs over Japan's skies!"

He wanted to tell the Japanese high command that if they continue massacring Huaxia civilians, then next time Jiang Anguo will deploy over a hundred B-29 bombers to flatten the entire Tokyo.

Tokyo became like a furnace of hell.

From several thousand meters altitude, William took one last look at the smoking city and whispered, "For all Huaxia civilians sacrificed under the Japanese Army's slaughter… we have walked to Tokyo on your behalf."

William traced a cross on his chest with his finger.

"Amen! May God forgive me!" William said in an American tone, consoling himself.

He was fully aware of the white phosphorus bomb's power; before departure, William repeatedly confirmed with the Commander whether to use the white phosphorus bomb.

The white phosphorus burned, scattering like dazzling cherry blossoms over Tokyo.

Burning away all sins!

The mournful air‑raid siren suddenly tore the tranquility of the Tokyo Imperial Palace.

"Enemy aircraft! American bombers! Have entered the city's airspace!"

The inner‑court attendants' faces turned ashen as they stumbled into the Emperor's resting quarters.

Before Emperor Yurén could react, a line of guards forcibly dragged him away.

Emperor Yurén wore a bewildered expression; he still didn't understand what was happening as explosions rang in the sky.

Boom!!!

A deep, muffled blast came from the southeast, shaking the entire palace violently.

The glazed tiles tumbled down, and the Tang‑Song porcelain on the display cabinet shattered with a clatter across the floor.

Outside the windows, crimson flames illuminated half the sky.

"Your Majesty! Hurry!" the chief guard of the Imperial Guard Division, Sanzhai Xiongyi, slammed the palace doors open, and six fully armed guards surged in like iron towers.

Without waiting for the Emperor to react, two men seized his arms, one supporting his waist, practically dragging him away from the throne.

"Audacious! I am the Emperor…" Yurén shouted while struggling, his dragon‑pattern kimono being torn askew.

"Your Majesty, forgive me! Protecting the Emperor is protecting the nation!" Sanzhai roared, his voice almost a sob.

The group sprinted down the corridor, and behind them another series of explosions followed in quick succession.

Boom! Boom!

It was white phosphorus bombs falling among the pine forest and annexed palace buildings of the Eastern Imperial Garden.

The flames rose dozens of meters high, ancient thousand‑year‑old trees instantly turning into torches, fire‑snakes licking the palace walls with the wind.

As Emperor Yurén was forced into the entrance of an underground air‑raid shelter, he couldn't help glancing back.

He saw a corner of the Fengming Hall already engulfed in flames, its metal roof melting and dripping in the fire like tears.

It was the site where successive emperors held ceremonies, now wailing under foreign bombs.

"Quick! Close the gates!" Sanzhai shouted.

All Japanese guards dared not be careless; they hadn't expected the enemy's bombing to appear over Tokyo again.

The heavy steel blast‑proof door slammed shut, sealing the flames and heat outside.

Inside the underground air‑raid shelter, the emergency lights flickered.

Yurihito slumped in the blast‑resistant chair, his face pallid and his chest heaving violently.

"What are the losses?" he asked hoarsely.

The communications officer trembled as he reported, "His Majesty… Fengming Hall, parts of the East Garden Corridor… burned. Fortunately the Main Hall, Hall of the Virtuous, and Shenjia Hall were untouched…"

Yurihito closed his eyes, a vein in his temple pulsing.

He did not fear death— as a "Living God," he had long been indoctrinated with the notion of "jade shattering."

But he dreaded that the sacred, inviolable imperial palace had been defiled by mortal fire in broad daylight.

After a long pause, he opened his eyes, his gaze icy: "Investigate! Who did this? China? Or the United States and England?"

No one dared to answer.

Emperor Yurihito believed it must have been the Americans, yet where did the American fighter planes take off? Clearly the main force of the Imperial Japanese Navy was hunting the United States Pacific Fleet for a decisive battle, so how could bombers have entered Japanese airspace?

"His Majesty, in the haste of leaving just now, I found a piece of paper, presumably dropped together with the bomb," the communications officer shakily handed the paper to Emperor Yurihito.

Even in his extreme anger, Emperor Yurihito took it, glanced at it, and read: "If you slaughter the Huaxia civilians again, we will drop special bombs over Japan's skies!"

"It's the Chinese!" Emperor Yurihito said furiously.

Accompanying it was a photograph of the Japanese Army using Poison Gas Shells against the Third War Zone of Huaxia.

After this incident, Yurihito immediately convened a cabinet meeting and halted the slaughter of Chinese civilians, because no one dared to risk that the next drop might be not a white phosphorus bomb but the special gas written on the paper.

Before the Chinese expeditionary army's commander‑in‑chief Tian Junliu resigned in disgrace, he also relayed a message to Tokyo: during the execution of "Operation 19," the Chinese forces also employed mustard gas, inflicting serious damage on the Imperial Japanese Army.