Chapter 475: We Thought We Had Them Tied with Chains, But Now the Chains Are Broken

Jin Shunzhi gasped, staring at the corpse beneath his feet that was no longer human‑shaped. The military sword lay at his side; he bent down, picked it up, and held it. The hilt still retained the captain's body heat.

"Use this." He tossed his rifle to Yonghao, gripped the sword with both hands, and turned to find the next target.

The battlefield had become utterly chaotic.

Two hundred Sakura Nation soldiers faced nearly two thousand rampaging Cao County troops. The numbers were tenfold, the hatred a hundredfold. This was not a battle, but a frenzy of vengeance.

A Cao County soldier was pierced in the belly by a Sakura Nation soldier's bayonet, but he clutched the barrel tightly and, with his last strength, drove the bayonet into the opponent's neck, killing them both.

Three Cao County soldiers surrounded a Sakura Nation sergeant, using no guns—only fists, teeth, and helmets—smashing until the man turned into a puddle of flesh.

Li Chengcan displayed astonishing composure. He hid in a shell crater, firing his rifle with precise bursts, targeting only Sakura Nation officers and machine gunners. After each shot, he counted in Korean: "Third." "Fourth." "First, collect interest on the Hansong Governor's Office debt."

The most horrific was close‑quarters combat.

Bayonet thrusts, twists, withdrawals, then thrust again. The stock smashed skulls. Engineer shovels cleaved shoulders. Teeth snapped throats. The battlefield rang with Cao County shouts, Japanese screams, the crisp crack of breaking bones, and the muffled roar of flesh tearing.

No tactics, no formations, only primal slaughter.

Jin Shunzhi brandished his sword, charging through the crowd. The blade was sharp, cleaving a Sakura Nation soldier's clavicle and lodging in the bone. He stepped on the corpse, pulled it out with force, drawing a string of blood beads. Another Sakura Nation soldier lunged from the side; Jin slipped aside, then slashed the man's back, deep enough to see the bone.

"Shunzhi! Behind!"

Pu Yonghao's warning made him turn. A Sakura Nation lieutenant raised his pistol, less than five meters away. The gun fired—but it was not Jin Shunzhi who fell. Yonghao lunged forward, shielding the bullet with his body. The bullet struck Yonghao's right chest, spraying a blossom of blood.

"Yonghao—!"

Jin Shunzhi roared like a wounded beast and surged forward. The lieutenant tried to fire a second shot, but Jin was already at his side. The sword swept upward, cutting off the lieutenant's gun‑holding arm, then cleaving his neck. The head was nearly severed, only a strip of skin hanging, and the body collapsed limp.

He supported Yonghao. Blood foam spurted from Yonghao's mouth as he managed a strained smile: "Damn… finally… took down an officer…"

"Don't speak!" Jin Shunzhi tore Yonghao's clothing, trying to staunch the bleeding, but the wound was too deep, blood gushing like a spring.

"Useless…" Yonghao clutched his hand, his gaze beginning to fade, "Tell mother… the money… got it…"

His hand slipped.

Jin Shunzhi knelt in the mud, cradling his compatriot's corpse, a hoarse sob escaping his throat. Yet there was no time for grief on the battlefield. A Sakura Nation soldier charged forward brandishing a bayonet; instinctively Jin raised his sword to block, metal clanged, sparks flew.

Hatred reignited. He pushed Yonghao's body aside, stood, gripped his sword with both hands, and rushed the enemy.

The fight lasted twenty minutes.

When the last Sakura Nation soldier was torn apart by a dozen or so Cao County troops wielding random blades, the no‑man's land fell silent.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere. Sakura Nation bodies tangled with Cao County bodies, piled together. Blood soaked the soil, forming dark‑red streams that flowed into the craters, tinting the standing water a pale red.

Survivors stood amid the piles, gasping, drenched in blood. Some knelt and vomited, some clutched comrades' corpses and wept, some hoisted a Sakura Nation soldier's head aloft like a trophy.

Jin Shunzhi leaned on his sword, surveying the surroundings. He was still alive. The sword's edge was dulled, meat fragments clinging to it. His uniform was drenched in blood, indistinguishable as his or the enemy's. A wound on his face burned hot, yet he felt nothing.

He saw Lieutenant Zuoteng.

The supervising commander stood at the edge of the second trench, his face as pale as paper. The machine gunners beside him were frozen, their muzzles pointing to the ground. Clearly, the recent massacre had shocked them into forgetting to fire—or rather, they dared not fire. Two thousand red‑eyed Cao County soldiers, if they turned their guns…

Jin Shunzhi's gaze met Zuoteng's in the air.

Zuoteng instinctively stepped back half a step, hand on his holster. Jin merely gave him a cold glance, turned, and staggered toward Yonghao's corpse.

He crouched, closed Yonghao's eyes, retrieved the small iron box containing family photos from Yonghao's chest, and slipped it into his own coat. Then he picked up Yonghao's rifle, checked the ammunition—only five rounds remained.

"Chengcan!" he shouted.

Li Chengcan crawled out of a crater, his left arm riddled with bullets, a torn sleeve crudely binding it. He walked over, glanced at Yonghao's corpse, said nothing, and simply patted Jin Shunzhi's shoulder.

"Count the numbers," Jin Shunzhi said, his voice hoarse.

The living gathered. The first squad, which had set out with fifty men, now had only nine still standing, including Jin Shunzhi and Li Chengcan. The other squads were similar; this close‑quarters melee had halved the survivors again.

"How many… did we kill?" a young soldier asked, trembling.

No one answered. They looked toward the battlefield. The two hundred Sakura Nation soldiers were all dead. Their bodies had been repeatedly pierced, smashed, and chopped, some beyond recognition.

It was a venting of hatred, and also fear's backlash.

In the rear observation post, the British Army's 8th Group Army commander, Major General Horace Wellesley, set down his binoculars.

He remained silent for a long while, long enough that the staff officer beside him could not help but speak: "General?"

"Record this," Major General Horace Wellesley's voice was terrifyingly calm, "At 09:45 this morning, after seizing Degjun's second defensive line, our eastern support units engaged… Sakura Nation mercenaries within the Degjun camp, and a massive close‑quarters battle broke out. The fight lasted about twenty minutes, and the enemy forces were completely annihilated."

"The results are splendid, aren't they?" a young staff officer said.

Horace Wellesley turned to him, his eyes like ice. "Did you see clearly, Lieutenant? That was not a battle, it was beasts tearing each other apart. Those Cao County people…" He paused, seeming to search for the right word, "They are not soldiers, they are released, enraged beasts. We thought we had them chained, but now the chains are broken."

The staff officers looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Will the subsequent offensive continue?" the operations officer asked.

Horace Wellesley lifted his binoculars again, gazing at the battlefield. The surviving Cao County troops were rummaging through the corpse piles for ammunition, food, water. Their movements were mechanical, eyes hollow, yet deep within something burned—a ember of hatred that, once reignited, would consume everything.

"Pause the offensive," he said, "Let them regroup. Also… send a query to London, ask the Sakura Nation government why their soldiers are still appearing within Degjun's camp. We need an explanation."