Chapter 449: Yamamoto Eighteen

Chen Jiageng dropped the hoe in his hand, his eyes showing a hint of panic.

For the past six months, he had been evading the Japanese Army's pursuit, but he never expected that even in the remote place of Marang, they would still find him.

Guo Yinglin stepped out, kept his composure, took the vegetable basket, and said, "Madam, please recount the details once more."

Now more than ever, calm is needed.

They support Chen Jiageng and are willing to give their lives for him.

Lin Cuijin tried to calm down, but her words still trembled.

She narrated the gist of the incident: her son had collided with a Japanese, and the opposite Little Devil surprisingly handed her son a piece of candy.

Guo Yinglin analyzed, "Mr. Chen, it seems we can't stay at this manor any longer. I'll go find Zhuang Mingli right away, and we'll relocate overnight."

Zhuang Mingli, leader of the Nanyang overseas Chinese aviation workers, is also a patriotic Chinese expatriate.

Chen Jiageng also nodded, "For this old, frail body of mine, I truly appreciate your effort."

"Alas, Mr. Chen, please don't say that. You are the leader of our Nanyang Chinese, and we must guarantee your safety!" Guo Yinglin finished, opened the door, looked left and right, confirmed no one was there, and immediately ran to find Zhuang Mingli.

However, while he was unaware, in a place he could not see, the three of Shanben Shiba were already waiting.

Shanben Shiba looked through the window, confirming that inside the house there was only a man, plus the woman and child he had just seen.

He nodded toward Xiaochuan Qingzhi and Gaoqiao Xinyi.

The three employed a triangular tactic, holding a Turtle Box—no, it should now be called the Southern Fourteenth Form—and silently approached the house inside the manor, whose former owner had evidently neglected it, leaving it somewhat dilapidated.

"Who's there!" Clearly, Chen Jiageng was on high alert; he sensed someone outside the house.

Since he had been discovered, Shanben Shiba made no attempt to hide, "Move."

A man in his sixties, two women, and two children.

The three quickly subdued the people inside, binding Lin Cuijin and the Indonesian female worker's hands, and also binding her son and daughter.

Chen Jiageng, seeing the scene, felt a bit deflated.

Along the way, many of his friends had perished, and in the end he still fell into the hands of the Japanese.

"Gaoqiao, go guard the doorway, watch out for anyone," Shanben Shiba said.

Gaoqiao Xinyi nodded, his pistol resting on his chest, his eyes vigilantly fixed on the outside of the house.

"Mr. Chen, if you intend to reach for the poison behind you, there's no need; we do not wish to harm you," Shanben Shiba said.

Chen Jiageng's body suddenly stiffened, his hand abruptly halted behind his collar, a flash of shock and caution crossing his eyes before being overtaken by intense vigilance.

He slowly withdrew his hand, lifted his gaze toward Shanben Shiba, his eyes like knives, and in a deep voice demanded, "How did you know?"

The bottle of potassium cyanide was something he had carried since breaking out of Singapore, a small white porcelain vial wrapped in soft cloth, hidden in the most concealed part of his inner collar, known to no one but himself.

He had long resolved that if he fell into the Japanese Army's hands, he would not survive by any means; he would rather swallow the poison and die than be used by the Japanese or become a tool to coerce Chinese.

Because Chen Jiageng knew clearly that the Japanese did not intend to kill him, yet a living Chen Jiageng, whether for the Nanyang Chinese or for himself, would not permit such a thing, so he would never allow himself to fall into the Japanese's hands.

Shanben Shiba, hearing this, let a subtly meaningful smile curl at his mouth, and the commander's pre‑departure admonition flashed through his mind.

"Chen Jiageng has a fierce temperament and carries cyanide with him; never press him too hard. We seek his influence, not his life."

Shanben Shiba suppressed his thoughts, about to explain his purpose and try to steady Chen Jiageng's emotions, when a rapid footfall outside the house, mixed with low murmurs, suddenly broke the dead silence inside.

"Bang—" the courtyard gate was shoved open violently, a stream of people poured in, each brandishing firearms or machetes, faces tense, eyes sharply scanning the yard, exuding a fearless, battle‑ready aura.

At the head was Zhuang Mingli, followed by Guo Yinglin and over a dozen robust men, all his personally trained confidants; among them two tall, resolute youths were his sons, Zhuang Wen and Zhuang Wu, each wielding a Mauser pistol, vigilantly watching every corner of the courtyard.

Zhuang Mingli, upon stepping into the courtyard, immediately spotted Gaoqiao Xinyi standing at the gate, dressed in black civilian attire, tall and fierce‑eyed, hands clasped behind him, fingertips barely revealing a gun grip, his aura unmistakably not that of an ordinary civilian nor of their side.

Zhuang Mingli's heart sank sharply, and he hurriedly turned back, asking Guo Yinglin beside him in a hurried tone, "Do you know this person?"

Guo Yinglin followed Zhuang Mingli's gaze, stared at Gaoqiao Xinyi for a long time, his brows tightly knit, then shook his head vigorously, his tone tinged with panic yet resolute, "Mr. Zhuang, I don't know him; he is certainly not one of us, nor a brother of the surrounding Chinese armed groups!"

"Bad! This must be a Little Devil!" Zhuang Mingli's complexion changed abruptly, his face turning pale, his heart skipping a beat.

Guo Yinglin, who handled liaison with nearby Chinese outposts, said that since he didn't recognize him, the man must be Japanese Army, and given the situation, Mr. Chen was likely already in peril.

"Quick! Protect Mr. Chen!" Zhuang Mingli, without a moment's hesitation, shouted loudly with an unquestionable command. As he spoke, he was the first to draw his waist pistol, aiming at Gaoqiao Xinyi at the gate, his eyes fierce and his aura instantly becoming sharp.

"Yes!" the confidants behind responded in unison, their voices ringing powerfully, without any hesitation.

Zhuang Wen and Zhuang Wu rushed to the courtyard's center, forming a defensive line, their barrels aimed at the Japanese at the gate, fingers on the triggers, ready to fire; the other confidants also drew their weapons, some wielding machetes, others holding short guns, spreading out, vigilantly watching the courtyard for ambushes while slowly advancing toward the house, fearing harm to Chen Jiageng inside.

Seeing this, Gaoqiao Xinyi's face instantly turned cold, his body shifting slightly, his right hand swiftly drawing the waist pistol, aiming at Zhuang Mingli and the others, his eyes fierce, his voice icy as he barked, "Don't move! One step further forward and I'll fire!"

Inside, Chen Jiageng heard the commotion outside, his heart jolted, then a trace of relief appeared on his face. He recognized Zhuang Mingli's voice and knew his own people had come to rescue him.

But he quickly furrowed his brows, his expression growing grave; since the Japanese dared to come to his door, they must have been prepared in advance, and Zhuang Mingli had only brought a dozen men, likely no match for the Japanese, so such a rash intrusion would instead lead into danger.