Chapter 432: Little Devil

The air on the Mandalay Eastern Front has already been thoroughly permeated by fear and despair.

Mukoda Koya stood on the command post's observation tower, holding a telescope, staring intently at the Myanmar civilians driven to the frontmost edge of the position, a malicious grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

At this moment, Mukoda Koya does not dare to expose his position; he knows that the Chinese troops on the southern bank of the Mi River have snipers, and his ear is already wrapped in gauze.

Half of Mukoda Koya's ear was blown off.

"Chinese, aren't you the so‑called righteous army? Aren't you supposed to refrain from harming civilians?" Mukoda Koya muttered under his breath, a wild gleam flashing in his eyes. "Today, I will make these lowly people your death talismans!"

Under his order, the Japanese Army artillery had finished the final loading—not high‑explosive shells, not incendiary shells, but canisters painted yellow‑green, the Poison Gas Shells.

A pungent odor seeped faintly from the sealed cans, causing even the Japanese soldiers operating the artillery to instinctively cover their mouths and noses, a flicker of aversion passing through their eyes.

This is a trick the Japanese Army has tried repeatedly without fail.

When assaults stall they release poison; when encircled they release poison; even if it harms the innocent, even if it violates international law, in their eyes any means is acceptable as long as they win.

"Fire!" With a harsh howl from the Japanese Army artillery Commander, the Eastern Front Japanese positions erupted with cannon fire in an instant.

"Whoosh—whoosh—!" each Poison Gas Shell trailed a strange yellow‑green smoke, soaring over the densely packed heads of the civilians ahead, and slammed hard toward the attack line of the 200th Division!

The civilians were terrified to the point of soul‑shattering, collapsing on the ground, their cries and shouts tearing the air, yet the Japanese held them in place with bayonets, not allowing a single step back. They became the Japanese Army's most shameless shield—able to stop bullets, but unable to stop the deadly poison gas fired by their own troops.

On the 200th Division's attack position.

Division Commander Dai Anlan stood on the Tank's command tower, watching the incoming yellow‑green shells, his gaze suddenly hardening, yet showing no sign of panic.

The nightmare of the Tonggu campaign was still vivid: back then the Japanese 55th Division had been unable to take the position after a prolonged assault, and in a frenzy launched Poison Gas Shells; the 200th Division lacked protection and suffered heavy casualties. That battle became a deeply etched pain throughout the entire division.

It was precisely because of that battle that the 200th Division's vigilance against Japanese poison gas reached the utmost.

Of course, Jiang Anguo's early warning further tightened everyone's nerves.

"All personnel, wear Gas Masks!" Dai Anlan's order was instantly broadcast through the communicator to the entire force.

"Squad Leader! The Little Devil really fired Poison Gas Shells!" a young soldier shouted while deftly putting on his Gas Mask, his voice sounding muffled through the mask but without any trace of fear.

The veteran Squad Leader skillfully checked the mask's seal and barked, "Why panic! Commander Jiang has long prepared; each of us has a mask! The loss we suffered at Tong cannot happen a second time today!"

The Squad Leader brushed his hand over the brand‑new MP40 Submachine Gun; now a single squad dares to launch an attack on a Little Devil squad, and that MG42 General Machine Gun is practically a killing instrument.

"Exactly!" the nearby warriors chorused, "Secure your masks, prepare to counterattack!"

In just a few seconds, the 200th Division's tens of thousands of troops were all wearing Gas Masks, the Tank crew sealed the hatch, and, still wearing their masks, opened the hatch.

Infantry originally exposed outside quickly took cover in temporary artillery shelters, standing in strict formation awaiting orders.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" Poison Gas Shells exploded in succession before and behind the Expeditionary Force's positions, the yellow‑green toxic fog instantly spreading like a legion of wraiths, enveloping everything.

The pungent, eye‑burning, suffocating fumes filled the surroundings, yet the 200th Division's position remained as steady as Mount Tai, showing no sign of chaos, let alone the heavy casualties of the Tonggu campaign.

Through the protective lenses of his Gas Mask, Dai Anlan watched the spreading toxic fog, his fury blazing: "Mukoda Koya! You truly are this despicable!"

The Japanese Army's habit of using Poison Gas Shells is well known to Huaxia officers, but there's nothing they can do; there simply aren't enough Gas Masks for everyone.

Civilians block the road, the poison gas clears the way.

The Japanese aim to use this double‑handed trick to completely trap the 200th Division's mechanized offensive.

The 200th Division is caught between a rock and a hard place: tanks dare not fire straight, infantry dare not charge, heavy artillery dares not cover fire—once fired, the civilians at the front will inevitably be the first victims, both jade and stone burned together.

Dai Anlan punched the Jeep's door, "The Little Devil is truly insidious!"

"Commander, what do we do now?" Regiment Commander Liu Shuren of the 599th Regiment asked.

Everyone is well aware of the Little Devil's actions, yet now there truly is no solution.

The steel iron division is once again tightly pinned by a shameless tactic.

At this moment, hanging by a thread, with no way forward or back.

On the southern bank of the Mi River, the Expeditionary Force's main artillery position was suddenly struck by a thunderous explosion!

This is the firepower core personally built by Jiang Anguo, and Jiang Sanpao's artillery regiment has long been poised for action.

Earlier, at Jiang Anguo's command, Jiang Sanpao received a death‑order: regardless of cost, suppress the Japanese Eastern Front artillery, destroy the Japanese fire points, cover friendly forces, and never allow the 200th Division to be sacrificed in vain!

Frontline observation balloons and scouts have recorded and transmitted the coordinates of the Japanese Eastern Front positions, artillery locations, and poison gas launch points, each clearly marked on the artillery command board.

Jiang Sanpao, shirtless, his dark face slick with sweat and oil, clutched a command flag like a tiger ready to pounce. He didn't know the frontline Japanese had used civilians as human shields, nor that they had fired Poison Gas Shells; he only knew one thing: the commander gave the coordinates, that's a death‑order—fire! Fire hard!

"Observation post reports coordinate correction complete!"

"Artillery positions parameters adjusted! All 105 mm howitzer batteries are in position!"

"Ammunition loaded, ready to fire at any moment!"

The Messenger's voices rose and fell, rapid and resonant.

Twenty‑four German‑made 105 mm heavy howitzers lined up in order, their dark, massive barrels raised high, pointing straight at the Japanese positions on the Mandalay Eastern Front.

The massive gun carriages were deeply embedded in the ground; beside each gun stood artillerymen with solemn faces, ready to fire.

Jiang Sanpao suddenly raised the command flag, his eyes blazing, his voice hoarse as he roared, his shout drowning out all other noises on the position: "All attention to the target: the Japanese poison‑gas artillery position and fire support point on the Mandalay Eastern Front! Fire!!"

"Fire—!!"

At the command, the earth shook!

"Boom—!!!"

"Boom—!!!"

Twenty‑four 105 mm howitzers roared simultaneously!

The earth‑shaking cannon roar instantly ripped the sky, the massive recoil causing the entire riverbank to tremble slightly, dust billowing skyward.

Each high‑explosive shell, weighing over a dozen kilograms, trailed a scorching flame tail, like thunder descending from the heavens, roaring toward the Japanese Eastern Front positions!

The dense barrage fired in unison, forming a terrifying curtain of fire.

In the sky, shells rained down densely, forming a sheet of steel rain; their speed and ferocity far surpassed the Japanese mountain guns and Poison Gas Shells.

At this moment, the artillery fire along the Mi River became the sole hope of the entire Eastern Front battlefield.