Chapter 493: South China Freedom Army (3)

At that moment, a crisp "ding‑dang" rang.

A tin Canned Spam was thrown onto the vacant ground among the POWs; after hitting the ground it rolled a few times and finally stopped not far from Shanben Jianci and Jiman Yixiong.

All the POWs' gazes instantly fixed on that can, their eyes full of longing.

They had gone far too long without meat, not even having a decent meal.

The scent of the Spam seemed to seep through the metal, making their throats itch and forcing them to swallow saliva.

Yet even so, not a single captive dared to step forward, not even anyone moved a foot; everyone stared rigidly at the can, their eyes showing both desire and deep fear.

They knew well that in this mine, rules mattered above all.

Even a piece of bread or a can, without a supervisor's or officer's permission, must not be touched.

What awaited them would surely be the supervisors' ruthless whips, perhaps even harsher punishments.

Jiang Anguo did not step into the POW ranks; though composed and confident, he would not risk his own safety.

If any of these POWs hid a stone in their clothing and he walked in and smashed it onto his head, that would cause trouble.

Jiang Anguo stepped onto a massive rock, looking down at the POWs from above, his calm gaze sweeping each numb, yearning face.

He was pleased with the expressions of these Japanese POWs, each gaze showing desperation and a look as if they wanted to eat him.

He cleared his throat, "cough cough," two sounds; his voice was not loud but carried undeniable authority, clearly reaching every POW's ear: "This is a Canned Spam. Whoever grabs it gets it, start now."

When his words fell, Jiang Anguo found the Japanese Army POWs below still motionless, heads down, eyes averting, as if they hadn't heard him.

This puzzled Jiang Anguo; he could clearly see in their expressions an unmistakable hunger, see their tiny saliva‑swallowing motions, yet why did they not dare step forward?

Could it be that they were famished to the point of lacking the strength to fight for food?

A moment later, Jiang Anguo's mouth curled into a self‑mocking smile, silently cursing in his mind: these Little Devils are just one word.

Despicable!

If you don't give them a bit of force, they won't know the rules and won't dare take a step.

Without any hesitation, Jiang Anguo drew the M1911 pistol from his waist, finger pulling the trigger; "bang" rang, shattering the mine's silence.

The gunshot instantly froze everyone.

The POWs trembled in terror; many even felt their legs go weak, nearly collapsing.

They muttered incoherently, faces full of panic; the once orderly line became chaotic again.

The Guard Company soldiers beside Jiang Anguo reacted swiftly, instantly raising their rifles, muzzles snapping toward the POWs below, eyes alert.

As long as Jiang Anguo gave any order, they would pull the trigger immediately.

From his lofty perch, Jiang Anguo stared at the panicked POWs, his tone icy, shouting loudly: "Whether you understand or not, this can in front of you is edible; fight for it! Whoever grabs it gets it! If I see anyone not move, I'll shoot them!"

His voice carried strong deterrence; even though most POWs didn't understand Chinese, they could feel the threat of death from his cold gaze and harsh tone.

Sure enough, under Jiang Anguo's threat, all the POWs panicked completely; survival instinct and hunger instantly overrode their fear.

They surged like a pack of starving wolves, howling as they lunged at the can in the middle; the once orderly line instantly descended into chaos. These former comrades now showed no camaraderie, faces hardened with ferocity.

This is nature,

Of course, in the Japanese Army, beating and cursing soldiers is perfectly normal.

To fight for this can, they punched and kicked each other; some smashed with fists, others kicked hard, and some even opened their mouths to bite nearby compatriots, each blow lethal and merciless.

Screams, shouts, and the clash of fists and feet intertwined, the scene descending into utter chaos.

Jiang Anguo stood on the rock, watching silently, his face expressionless, as if observing an inconsequential farce.

To his surprise, in the end the can was actually snatched by Shanben Jianci.

Shanben Jianci wasn't tall, but was unusually fierce; he clutched the can tightly to his chest.

Regardless of his compatriots' punches and kicks, even as a wound on his back was torn open and blood soaked his prison garb, he never let go, stubbornly withstanding everyone's scramble, firmly holding the can.

Jiang Anguo nodded toward Xiao Si beside him.

Xiao Si immediately understood, leading a Guard Company squad forward briskly.

Wielding a baton, he shouted sharply, forcibly separating the chaotic POWs.

The still‑fighting POWs, after a barrage of shouts and pushes from the guards, instantly fell quiet, heads down, daring not to move.

Then Jiang Anguo drew a sharp Bayonet from a soldier's waist beside him and tossed it to Shanben Jianci, who was crouched on the ground clutching the can.

Shanben Jianci reacted swiftly, instantly releasing one hand and securely catching the Bayonet.

He lifted his head, looking at Jiang Anguo on the rock, his gaze tinged with awe and fear.

Without any hesitation, he carefully pried open the Canned Spam with the Bayonet.

As soon as the can was pried open, a rich meat aroma instantly spread, drifting to every corner of the mine.

Shanben Jianci's throat let out a "gudong" sound, the swallow audible, clear enough for Jiang Anguo ten meters away to hear.

For these long‑starved POWs, the rich Spam aroma was undeniably the deadliest temptation, enough to drive them mad.

Shanben Jianci inhaled deeply, suppressing his excitement.

He carefully used the Bayonet to lift a small piece of Spam, placed it in his mouth, savored it, and after a moment could not help but exclaim with satisfaction: "Yo‑si, truly delicious!"

He lifted his head, glanced at the surrounding guarded POWs, his gaze full of greedy Japanese soldiers.

Shanben Jianci knew clearly that this can could not be hidden; once discovered, he would face severe punishment, perhaps even lose his life.

Thus, without further hesitation, he ate the Spam in three or five bites, finishing it all.

He ate it cleanly, even licking the can lid repeatedly with his tongue, leaving no scrap of meat, as if to lick away every trace of flavor.

After finishing the can, Shanben Jianci stood satisfied, both hands gripping the Bayonet tightly, his body slightly bent at a ninety‑degree angle, arms straight, raising the Bayonet overhead, his expression reverent as he remained rooted, not daring to lift his head.

At this moment he no longer bore the arrogance of a former Japanese Lieutenant Colonel; his face was full of submission, appearing completely tamed and exceedingly obedient.