Chapter 746: The Lanfang People Fled

Lai Dun looked up.

"General, you mean—"

Ai Lunbi set the bamboo pole down.

"Send orders to all units: cross the river at dawn tomorrow. The vanguard is 150,000 men. Follow‑up forces will come up gradually. The objective is—first drive the Lanfang people out of the Sinai Peninsula, then pursue them all the way to Dubai."

He walked to the window and stared at the distant grayish sky.

"Tell the soldiers, after this battle they can go home."

Early morning of February 12, the Suez Canal.

The moon was full and bright, casting silver ripples on the water. The canal's water lay still, drifting slowly north toward the Mediterranean.

At the crossing, engineers were building a pontoon bridge. Huge floats were pushed into the water, planks laid atop them and tied down with rope. No one spoke, only the clank of hammers and the creak of wood.

On the bank, soldiers formed a long line, awaiting the order to cross. They bore rifles, slung ammunition bags, their faces expressionless. Some smoked, some stared blankly, some lifted their heads to the full moon, lost in thought.

A young soldier asked the veteran beside him, "Squad Leader, are we going to fight the Lanfang people?"

The veteran gave him a glance.

"Hmm."

"Are the Lanfang people formidable?"

The veteran was silent for three seconds.

"I don't know. But I've heard they have quite a few tanks."

The young soldier swallowed.

"Tanks? Do we have tanks?"

The veteran shook his head.

"Us? We only have two legs."

The young soldier's complexion turned pale.

The veteran patted his shoulder.

"What are you afraid of? Tanks are also driven by people. If people drive them, we can kill them."

A whistle sounded from afar.

"First echelon, onto the bridge!"

The soldiers began moving toward the pontoon bridge. The planks creaked underfoot, the river flowed quietly beneath. No one spoke, only footsteps and occasional coughs.

The moon illuminated the advancing silhouettes, stretching their shadows long across the water.

At four o'clock in the early morning, the British Army vanguard had fully crossed the canal.

One hundred fifty thousand men set foot on the Sinai Peninsula.

Ai Lunbi stood on a rise on the east bank, watching the assembling troops. Moonlight fell on his face, lighting his sharp eyes.

Chief of Staff Lai Dun came over and whispered, "General, the vanguard is in position. The follow‑up forces are crossing the river."

Ai Lunbi nodded.

He gazed at the distant dark desert, at the vague sand dunes, at the places that would soon become battlefields.

"Lai Dun, send a telegram to London: our forces have crossed the canal and are advancing toward the Lanfang positions."

Lai Dun nodded, turned, and left.

Ai Lunbi stood alone there, watching the east grow ever brighter.

Dawn was approaching.

Morning of February 12, deep within the Sinai Peninsula, the Lanfang front command.

Zhao Dengyu stood before the sand table for a full two hours. On the table, red flags represented the British Army, blue flags represented Lanfang. Red arrows surged from the canal direction, dense as a swarm of ants.

Chief of Staff Li Tiejun stood beside him, holding a reconnaissance report.

"Division Commander, the reconnaissance aircraft just sent back news. Yingguo people crossed the canal last night, the vanguard at least 150,000. Follow‑up forces are still coming, total estimated at 400,000."

Zhao Dengyu nodded, saying nothing.

Li Tiejun continued, "They don't have many tanks; the recon plane saw only a few dozen. All Mark I models, old‑type."

Zhao Dengyu finally lifted his head.

"Four hundred thousand men, a few dozen tanks. Ai Lunbi wants to drown us with a sea of people."

Li Tiejun sounded uneasy, "Division Commander, four hundred thousand versus our 120,000. Even with five hundred tanks, can we manage?"

Zhao Dengyu looked at him and smiled.

"Old Li, you've followed me for three years; when have you ever seen me fight an uncertain battle?"

Li Tiejun was momentarily stunned.

Zhao Dengyu picked up the phone and connected to each division.

"Relay my order—entire army withdraw two hundred kilometers."

A gasp came from the other end of the line.

"Division Commander? Withdraw?"

"Withdraw? We've fortified this position for three months; retreat after a single shot?"

"Withdraw! Can't understand human language? Let the Yingguo bastards chase us, the farther they chase, the better!"

He hung up, looking at Li Tiejun.

"Don't understand?"

Li Tiejun shook his head.

Zhao Dengyu walked to the sand table and pointed at the canal.

"Look, the Yingguo are just coming from the canal, still close to it. If we engage them now, they'll retreat back to the canal side in an instant."

His hand swept backward.

"We retreat, let them chase. The farther they chase, the farther from the canal. When they chase into the interior, the supply lines stretch, the formation thins, and they can't even move when they try—"

His hand snapped shut.

"We turn back in one bite, and they won't be able to get away."

Li Tiejun's eyes lit up.

"Division Commander, are you planning to wrap a dumpling? Right, after the retreat order the Seventh Division to turn back via Alish, then swing around behind the Yingguo troops to Genaye, and block the Yingguo's route back to the canal!"

Zhao Dengyu smiled.

"Wrap a dumpling. A dumpling big enough for four hundred thousand people."

He walked to the window and watched the mass of troops assembling in the distance.

"Tell the brothers, don't panic or lose order when withdrawing. Tanks, trucks, jeeps—our legs are better than the Yingguo's. They can't catch us."

He paused.

"When they get tired from the chase and can't move, that's our time to feast. In short, this battle pits 120,000 against 400,000; the advantage is ours!"

At eight a. m. on February 12, Lanfang forces began to retreat.

Over five hundred tanks turned east, forming a dozen or so Columns, kicking up clouds of sand. Trucks followed behind, packed with soldiers. The artillery slung their guns onto prime movers and withdrew with the main force.

Zhao Dengyu stood on a jeep, watching the retreating army.

A young signalman ran up, saluting: "Division Commander, the Seventh Division is calling! Asking if they need cover?"

Zhao Dengyu shook his head.

"No cover needed. Let them withdraw. Tell Liu Zhenjie to stay close and not fall behind."

The signalman turned and ran off.

Li Tiejun came over, speaking softly: "Division Commander, do you think the Yingguo will fall for it?"

Zhao Dengyu stared at the dunes growing ever farther away.

"They will. Four hundred thousand chasing twelve thousand. If it were you, would you chase?"

Li Tiejun thought for a moment.

"Chase."

Zhao Dengyu nodded.

"That's right."

The jeep started and drove east.

Behind them, toward the Sinai Peninsula, the British Army's vanguard was closing in.

In the afternoon of February 12, the British Army's vanguard reached the Lanfang position.

The position was empty.

The trench was dug deep and wide, meeting Lanfang's usual standards. Firing posts, shelters, ammunition depots—all were present. Yet the trench itself—empty.

Ai Lunbi stood at the edge of a trench, looking at the barren fortifications.

Chief of Staff Lai Dun walked over, his expression somewhat complicated.

"General, the Lanfang have fled. They ran fast, taking all the tanks, trucks, and artillery."