Chapter 473: Fight Until the British Stop You, or You All Die

"Keep charging! No stopping!"

The tank has already surged forward two hundred yards. Degjun's first line of defense has begun to return fire.

The rat-a-tat of machine‑gun fire came from afar, like the loom of Death. Bullets sliced the air, emitting a chirp‑chirp shriek. In the row ahead of Jin Shunzhi, someone was hit, collapsing to the ground, blood gushing from his back and spreading dark red in the mud. Another man tried to pull him back, but a bullet from the assault team shattered his knee.

"Charge! If you rush through, you'll be safe!"

Safe? Jin Shunzhi forced a wry smile. He knew there was a second trench behind the first, and a third behind the second. This battle had raged for over two months, both sides tugging back and forth over this land, each yard of advance costing blood.

But he still had to run. If he stayed, the machine gun behind would kill him; if he ran, the one ahead might kill him. Either way was death, yet at least when he ran he could feel himself struggling.

The tank proved useful.

Degjun machine‑gun rounds struck the armor plates, sparking but failing to penetrate. The clumsy yet steadfast Mark I lumbered forward, using its onboard cannon and machine gun to suppress fire points. One tank rolled over a section of barbed wire fence, its tracks pulling the spiked wire into a tangled heap of scrap. Another crushed a half‑collapsed machine‑gun bunker, sending concrete shards flying.

The Cao County soldiers followed the steel barrier and actually surged to the front of Degjun's first trench.

Distance fifty yards.

Jin Shunzhi stumbled, falling into an artillery crater. The bottom was filled with murky sludge, soaking a rotting Degjun corpse whose swollen face was unrecognizable. He felt sick to his stomach, but heard Japanese coming from the crater rim:

"Grenade! Throw!"

A few wooden‑handled grenades arced toward the trench. After the explosions, German cries rang out.

"Fix bayonets!"

A clatter of metal rang. Jin Shunzhi fumbled, pulling the bayonet from the muzzle and snapping it into place. He scrambled out of the crater and saw the first wave of Cao County troops already leaping into the trench.

Close‑quarters combat began.

No, that can't even be called a battle. It was a massacre. Degjun had already suffered heavy casualties from artillery and tank assaults; the survivors were mostly wounded. The charging Cao County troops outnumbered them ten to one. Bayonets drove into chests, rifle stocks smashed skulls, combat engineers' shovels split collarbones… the trench became a meat grinder.

Jin Shunzhi also jumped down.

A young Degjun soldier curled in a corner, a bullet lodged in his leg, trying to reload his rifle. Seeing Jin Shunzhi, he raised his hands in terror, shouting something in German—probably a plea for mercy.

Jin Shunzhi's hand gripping the bayonet trembled. He saw the soldier, no older than eighteen, with pale‑gold hair, blue eyes, his face smeared with mud and fear. It reminded him of Shuntai.

"Kill him!" someone shouted in Japanese from behind.

It was Pu Yonghao. Yonghao's eyes were blood‑shot, blood dripped from his bayonet, and he no longer looked like his usual self.

Jin Shunzhi gritted his teeth and turned away. He couldn't lower his hand. The Degjun soldier curled tighter, tears mixing with mud as they fell.

Chaos continued in the trench. Some Cao County troops cleared remaining enemies, while others began looting—rummaging Degjun corpses for pocket watches, wallets, cigarettes. Someone found a can of food, pried it open with a bayonet and devoured it ravenously. Hunger overrode fear.

Jin Shunzhi leaned against a section of parapet, breathing heavily. The part of the trench he occupied was roughly held, gunfire dwindling. Looking up, the lead tank had already crossed the trench, pushing onward toward the second line of defense. Endless assault squads followed behind.

"Hold position!" the Sakura Nation officer shouted, "Await the second wave orders!"

Pu Yonghao leaned in, handing him half a piece of black bread: "Found it in a Deguo guy's pack. Eat."

The bread was as hard as stone, but Jin Shunzhi still gnawed a bite. The carbs gave his limp legs a bit of strength.

"We... survived?" Yonghao asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"For now," Jin Shunzhi said. He checked his rifle—still over twenty rounds left, the bayonet unbroken. His talisman remained in his chest.

At eight a. m., the second wave of attack began.

This time was tougher. Degjun had recovered from the initial blows, and the firepower of the second line was noticeably stronger. Artillery began to blanket the middle zone; three British Army tanks were hit, crippled, and burned on the open ground.

Cao County casualties rose sharply.

When Jin Shunzhi surged with the crowd across the two‑hundred‑yard death zone between two trench sections, he saw an entire line on the left swept down by machine‑gun fire, falling like wheat being cut. On the right, someone stepped on a landmine, a severed limb flung onto his face, hot blood smearing him.

He practically rolled into the second trench.

The fighting here was fiercer. Degjun resisted stubbornly, both sides contesting each segment of the criss‑crossing trench network. Grenades exploded around corners, submachine guns sprayed at close range, bayonets clashed with combat engineers' shovels.

Jin Shunzhi and Pu Yonghao moved back‑to‑back through a side trench, trudging forward. Rounding a bend, they ran head‑on into three Degjun soldiers.

There was no time to think; instinct took over. Jin Shunzhi thrust his rifle forward, the bayonet sinking into the first Degjun's abdomen. The man screamed, his rifle dropping. Yonghao struck the second Degjun's head from the side with his rifle stock, the sound of bone shattering ringing clear.

The third Degjun, more seasoned, stepped back half a pace, raising his gun to aim. Jin Shunzhi saw his trigger finger twitch—

"Bang!"

The gun fired. But the one who fell wasn't Jin Shunzhi; it was the Degjun. A blood‑filled wound opened at his brow, and he toppled backward.

The shooter was Li Chengcan. The sharp‑tongued scholar now held a rifle, its muzzle smoking faintly. His face was pallid, his hands shook, but his gaze was fierce.

"Thank..." Jin Shunzhi began.

"No nonsense," Li Chengcan cut in, "This trench is cleared, move forward."

The three formed a makeshift squad and kept advancing. They met two more small‑scale resistances, each resolved by sheer numbers. Jin Shunzhi's bayonet was stained with blood twice more; each thrust forced him to avoid looking at his opponent's face.

He told himself he was killing the enemy. Killing the enemy was the only way to live.

But who was the enemy? The Deguo? The Sakura Nation soldiers who tied him here? Or the Yingguo who paid for his life?

His thoughts grew chaotic. Adrenaline waned, fatigue and fear surged anew. Leaning against the trench wall to catch his breath, he finally noticed a stray bullet had grazed his arm, blood soaking his sleeve.

"Bandage it," Pu Yonghao tore off a strip of leg‑binding cloth.

After simple treatment, the three pressed on, eventually reaching the main passage of the second trench line. It was already occupied; dozens of Cao County soldiers sat or lay there, most wounded. Several Sakura Nation officers were counting heads, reporting numbers in Japanese.

"Third squad, should be fifty, actually... nineteen."

"Fifth squad, should be fifty, actually... eleven."

Casualties exceeded half. Jin Shunzhi's original first squad started with fifty men; now fewer than twenty could still stand.

Lieutenant Zuoteng walked over, his face expressionless. He scanned the survivors, his gaze lingering a moment on Jin Shunzhi's face before moving on.

"Rest ten minutes. Drink water, check equipment. The third wave attack is at nine thirty."

"Sir," a Cao County soldier asked in stiff Japanese, "When... do we have to keep fighting?"

Zuoteng coldly looked at him: "Fight until the Yingguo stop you, or you all die out."

The soldier fell silent, lowering his head to fidget with his rifle.