Chapter 477: Degjun Tanks

"Jin." Li Chengcan moved closer, lowering his voice, "If today's situation is wrong... don't charge recklessly. Staying alive is the only chance for revenge."

"Revenge?" Jin Shunzhi looked at the outline of the Degjun defensive line in the distance, "Who to take revenge on? Sakura Nation people? Deguo? Yingguo?"

"Whoever killed us, we take revenge on them," Li Chengcan said, "but we must stay alive first."

The daylight gradually brightened through the rain curtain. At 06:30, the British Army artillery began.

The same sequence as yesterday: shrieks, explosions, the earth trembling. Degjun's third defensive line was covered by fireworks, soil and debris flew into the sky. The bombardment lasted twenty minutes; at 07:00, the whistle sounded.

"Advance! All units, advance!"

But today, the tanks' engine sounds seemed different.

Jin Shunzhi lay on the trench edge observing. Fourteen surviving Mark I tanks slowly rolled out from the rear position—six fewer than yesterday. They clumsily formed two rows, their tracks tramping through mud, the hulls shaking between craters. The British tank crew in the cockpit wore grim faces, clearly aware that today's target was Degjun's last intact defensive line, and resistance would be fiercer than yesterday.

Cao County soldiers were driven out of the trench, staying two hundred yards behind the tanks. When Jin Shunzhi, in the third wave, ran with the crowd over the slick mud, he instinctively glanced back at the supervision team—those Sakura Nation machine gunners' fingers were on the triggers, their barrels aimed at their own backs.

"Hurry! Keep up!"

Open ground, death zone. Machine‑gun bullets swept from the Degjun defensive line, clanging on tank armor, thudding dullly on bodies. People kept falling, their screams drowned by explosions. Jin Shunzhi ran with his head down, his lungs burning like fire.

The first wave had already approached the Degjun defensive line three hundred yards.

At that moment, an anomaly suddenly occurred.

Behind the Degjun defensive line, a brand‑new engine roar came— not the rough, noisy diesel of the Mark I, but a deeper, smoother roar with a certain mechanical elegance. The sound initially seemed to come from underground, and then, one by one, steel silhouettes rose slowly from the concealed positions behind Degjun's trench.

Jin Shunzhi would never forget that scene in his lifetime.

Over thirty armored vehicles, painted in Degjun's iron‑gray camouflage, their silhouettes unlike any tank he had seen. They were not bulky diamonds but more streamlined, with noticeably slanted frontal armor, low compact turrets, wider tracks, moving markedly smoother and faster.

"What is that?" a Cao County soldier shouted.

"German tanks!" someone shouted.

No, not just tanks. The armored vehicles had already formed formations while moving—not clumsy lines but three‑vehicle squads spreading in a wedge. They crossed Degjun's trench at astonishing speed, their tracks barely slipping on the mud.

The lead Degjun tank's turret swiveled, aiming at the foremost Mark I.

Distance four hundred yards.

The muzzle flashed.

"Boom—!"

The Shell's shriek was completely different—sharper, more rapid. The next second, the Mark I's frontal armor erupted with blinding sparks, followed by a dull metal tearing sound. The tank jolted violently, stopped, thick smoke billowed from its front, and flames burst from the observation slit.

The cockpit cover was pushed open, a British tank crew on fire scrambled out, screaming as he rolled onto the mud. He had just hit the ground when a machine gun on a Degjun tank fired, the bullets turning him into a sieve.

The entire battlefield seemed to pause for a second.

"God..." from the observation post behind, British Army commander Major General Huo Reshao lowered his binoculars, his face ashen, "What the hell is that?"

"New‑type tanks, sir," the staff officer's voice was hoarse, "Intelligence had mentioned that Deguo might have obtained advanced designs from Lanfang, but we didn't expect... them to be deployed so quickly in combat."

Huo Reshao raised his binoculars again. The second and third Mark I tanks were hit almost simultaneously. Degjun's artillery was terrifyingly accurate, each shot striking the Mark I's most vulnerable vertical front armor. Those new tanks didn't even stop firing; they shot while moving, then maneuvered instantly to avoid possible counter‑fire.

"Order the tank units to retreat!" Huo Reshao roared, "Immediately!"

But the order came too late.

Degjun tanks—later they learned the model was "Model 1 tank"—had already completed their tactical deployment. They split into three combat groups, the left and right wings flanking quickly, the center pressing a frontal assault. The Mark I's clumsy turning became a fatal flaw against them.

Jin Shunzhi lay in a crater, watching helplessly as a Mark I tried to turn to meet the flanking Degjun tank. Its turret turned as slowly as an ox pulling a cart; before it finished aiming, the Degjun tank's 37 mm gun fired again.

That shot hit the turret ring.

After a screeching metal‑twist sound, the entire turret was blown off, flipping twice in the air before crashing heavily onto the mud fifty yards away. The headless tank hull surged forward a few meters, slammed into a crater, and ignited into a raging fire.

"Retreat! Tank units, retreat!"

A hoarse shout from the British Army commander crackled over the radio. The remaining eleven Mark I tanks began a hasty retreat, but Degjun tanks had no intention of sparing them. Three Model 1 tanks locked onto an isolated Mark I, hunting like a wolf pack, firing alternately from three directions. The Mark I's armor was pierced repeatedly at close range, and finally it collapsed on the battlefield like a punctured tin can, flames spewing from every seam.

The entire tank engagement lasted only ten minutes.

Ten minutes later, all fourteen Mark I tanks had become burning wrecks. On Degjun's side, only two Model 1 tanks were luckily hit on the side by the Mark I's onboard guns and disabled; the remaining twenty‑eight were intact.

The steel barrier vanished.

Now, exposed to Degjun fire, are twelve hundred unarmed—no, rifle‑armed but utterly useless against tanks—Cao County soldiers.

"Spread out! Find cover!" a Sakura Nation officer shouted.

But there was no cover on the open ground—just craters, corpses, tank wreckage. Jin Shunzhi and Li Chengcan rolled into a deeper crater, its bottom filled with half‑foot‑deep blood water, half‑submerged German soldier bodies. The stench hit them, but they could not worry about it.

Degjun's fire began to sweep over.

Machine guns, rifles, mortars, and the Model 1 tanks' machine guns and cannons. Shells rained down like scythes across the battlefield. Cao County soldiers fell in sheets, their screams merging. Some tried to run back, only to be cut down by the supervision team's machine gun. Some pretended to be dead on the ground, only to be run over by tank tracks, turned into mush.

"If this keeps going, we'll all die!" Li Chengcan roared amid the explosions.

Jin Shunzhi peered from the crater's edge. Degjun tanks were advancing, infantry following, beginning to clear the battlefield. The nearest tank was less than one hundred fifty yards away, its turret machine gun firing at a running Cao County soldier.