Chapter 423: Cut Off the 18th Division's Retreat Route

The smoke over Eyebrow Mist had not yet cleared, and the morning sun filtered through the heavy dust, speckling the crater‑scarred ground.

At this moment, the entire Expeditionary Force's command system was immersed in the great joy of having captured Eyebrow Mist.

"Victory." Stilwell held the Telegram and read it twice carefully.

In fact, he was certain that, under the relentless onslaught of so many fighter planes and bombers, only a handful could survive.

Yet when the victorious battle report lay before him, Stilwell still found it hard to believe.

Because after entering Myanmar, all he had received were retreats, defeats, the British fleeing, the British abandoning positions, the Expeditionary Force pulling back.

However, when real victory unfolded before his eyes, he was uncertain; the Japanese Army did not seem invincible.

"General, is war becoming too easy?" Hank asked.

Stilwell shook his head, "Hank, you underestimated the Expeditionary Force's resolve to drive the Japanese Army out of Huaxia, and you also underestimated its fighting will!"

From that moment, Stilwell once again assessed the Expeditionary Force's combat power.

In truth, Stilwell had always been optimistic about Huaxia soldiers; even after reaching Myanmar, he continued to organize forces for a second Myanmar Campaign.

The soldiers of the Regiment were clearing the battlefield, Hu Xianqun's tank regiment was overhauling its tracks, and Zhang Bing's Sherman tank group was resupplying ammunition.

Transport Vehicles in the rear kept streaming toward Eyebrow Mist, carrying the th Division's soldiers and a large amount of military supplies.

Commanders of all levels hurried to report the triumph to superiors; the radio was filled with uplifting words like "great victory" and "total annihilation".

Yet on the edge of this sea of celebration, the garrison of the 201st Division exuded a starkly different, solemn killing atmosphere.

Jiang Anguo stood in front of a Jeep, holding a battle‑status report just delivered by a communications soldier. His gaze was cold and unclouded by the joy of victory.

He stared at the core circle on the map representing the 18th Division, his brows slightly furrowing.

"18th Division... that 'jungle demon' hasn't been fully slain," Jiang Anguo muttered, his finger pressing a heavy spot in the area south of Mandalay on the map. "Today's victory only broke their teeth; if we don't seal their throats, that vicious wolf will slip back into the jungle and rise again."

While everyone celebrated the great victory at Eyebrow Mist, the main force of the 201st Division—a unit called Iron Fist—specialized in jungle warfare.

Second Regiment, Yang Zhi, specialized in defense.

Had already quietly readied for departure.

Only the third regiment's Hu Dali, a jungle specialist, stayed behind, fighting alongside the 200th Division.

They broke away from the main force retaking Mandalay, like a Dark Arrow released from its bow, vanishing from everyone's sight.

In the marching column, Iron Fist, the commander of the 201st Division's regiment, surveyed the celebrating allied units and then his own division's silent march, his mind full of doubt.

He quickened his pace to the front of the line, catching up with Jiang Anguo, who was deep in thought aboard the Jeep.

"Regimental Commander!" Iron Fist brushed dust from his face, lowered his voice and asked, "Everyone's celebrating victory at Eyebrow Mist, where are we headed? This direction... is southward."

Jiang Anguo heard him, slowly raised his head, and looked at the fierce officer who had followed him only a short while; Iron Fist was massive—1.85 m tall, burly—standing before Jiang Anguo like a mountain.

A faint, inscrutable smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

The smile held no levity, only the coldness of a hunter seeing prey fall into a trap.

"Celebrate?" Jiang Anguo snorted lightly, "It's still too early to celebrate. For us, the real battle has only just begun."

He pointed to the winding blue line on the map—the Rice Border River.

"From the Rice Border River we will go straight west, land on its south bank, and completely seal the Little Devil's retreat," Jiang Anguo said softly.

In fact, the bridges over the Rice Border River had already been completely destroyed by Jiang Anguo's bomber fleet; in recent days the Little Devils had tried to repair them, only to have the bombers level them again.

Iron Fist was startled, "The Rice Border River? There should still be Japanese Guard Units there, and the current is swift—are we to cross the river?"

"Exactly, we will cross the river." Jiang Anguo's gaze deepened, as if piercing Myanmar's jungle and returning to the Yichang battlefield of years past.

In that moment, his thoughts flew back to the scenes of fighting alongside Old Xu and Hu Lian.

The Battle of Yichang was his fame‑making battle, the one that truly made his name known at home and abroad.

He remembered the beacon fires at Xiao Ting, and the raging torrents of the two crossings of the Yangtze River.

Back then, facing the Japanese Army's fortified river defenses, he employed the stratagems "Lure the Tiger from the Mountain" and "Encircle Wei to Rescue Zhao," annihilating the Little Devil's 13th Division, then force‑crossed the Yangtze River and captured Yichang in one stroke.

That resolve to turn death into rebirth, that thrill of stabbing the enemy's heart, still makes his blood boil today.

"Iron Fist, do you remember how I fought at Yichang?" Jiang Anguo suddenly asked.

Iron Fist was startled, then stood at attention and said, "Remember! That was a model! Regimental Commander, your actions were divine—two Yangtze crossings, striking straight behind the enemy!"

Iron Fist had not taken part in the Battle of Yichang, but the post‑battle summary, the battle reports compiled by officers of all ranks, and the footage captured by the on‑site photographer of the assault on Xiao Ting and Yichang had already been submitted to the division headquarters.

They were also studied and shared among the various units.

Jiang Anguo nodded, his gaze sharpening like a blade: "The art of war says, strike the void, avoid the solid. With Eyebrow Mist defeated, the Japanese Army's 18th Division will be thrown into panic; their primary thought now is to retreat southward and link up with other Japanese forces south of Mandalay. They assume we will regroup and march along the road, but I will not let them."

He abruptly spread the map, drawing a huge circle on the Rice Border River with red‑blue pencils: "The Rice Border River south of Mandalay is like the Yangtze's natural barrier back home. The devils think it's their safe shield, the only route for retreat. I will exploit this, use our advantage—we will board landing craft, go upstream of the Rice Border River to reach Mandalay, and, just as we did at Yichang, give them a 'reverse operation.'"

"We are to land on the south bank of the Rice Border River?" Iron Fist's pupils contracted sharply; the plan was daring to the extreme.

If successful, the 18th Division will be sealed completely inside Mandalay's pocket; if it fails, the 201st Division, deep in enemy territory, will face the danger of a Japanese counter‑strike.

But on reflection, Iron Fist didn't sense any real danger; even if there were countless devils, he was confident he could devour them.

"Exactly! Block the 18th Division completely inside Mandalay!" Jiang Anguo declared resolutely, "We will be like a nail, hammered firmly into the south bank of the Rice Border River. Tell the brothers, in this battle we must outrun the devils' retreat!"

"Yes!" Iron Fist's eyes ignited with fierce battle spirit; he asked no more, turned and ran back to his company, "Regiment, everyone, put on life jackets, board all landing craft! Target: the south bank of the Rice Border River!"

On the other side, Yang Zhi's Second Regiment had also gotten all its troops onto the landing craft.

The calm Rice Border River, even swollen by the rainy season, was not bustling; nevertheless, forty‑five LCI‑type landing craft had already revved their engines, humming at full throttle, sailing toward Mandalay.