Chapter 755: I Don't Want Casualty Numbers, I Only Want Daka

The battle lasted a full three hours.

At seven a. m., the sun rose over the jungle, bathing the entire battlefield in a blood‑red light.

Shanben Yifu stood on a rise, holding a telescope and watching the first line of defense far away that had already been seized by Sakura Nation soldiers. In the trench, soldiers were cleaning the battlefield, dragging British Army corpses aside, carrying the wounded away, and gathering weapons and ammunition.

Tufei Yuan Xian Da ran over, panting heavily.

"General, the first line of defense is taken. But… the casualties are too great."

Shanben Yifu did not turn around.

"How many?"

Tufei Yuan Xian Da's voice trembled.

"First Division, over three thousand killed. Second Division, over two thousand killed. Third Division, over four thousand killed. Fourth Division…"

"Enough. I don't want casualty numbers; I only want Daka," Shanben Yifu interrupted him.

Tufei Yuan Xian Da closed his mouth.

Shanben Yifu set the telescope down and turned to look at him.

"What about the second line of defense?"

"It's still in the Yingguo's hands. Recon reports at least twenty thousand are holding that side. The fortifications are sturdier than the first line, and there are more machine guns."

Shanben Yifu was silent for three seconds.

"Order each division to rest for one hour. After one hour, resume the attack."

Tufei Yuan Xian Da was stunned.

"General? The soldiers are exhausted, the casualties are too great. If we don't rest again…"

Shanben Yifu looked at him, his gaze terrifyingly calm.

"Tufei Yuan, do you know what the Yingguo are doing now?"

Tufei Yuan Xian Da shook his head.

"They're fleeing," Shanben Yifu said. "After the news from Sinai arrived, their morale collapsed. The first line fell after only three hours, which was impossible before. The soldiers at the second line are certainly hesitating, scared, and thinking about how to escape."

He pointed at the British Army positions in the distance.

"If we halt now and give them time to regroup, they'll realize we have few left too and will rally. When we fight later, more will die."

Tufei Yuan Xian Da was silent for three seconds.

Then he stood at attention and saluted.

"Yes, General."

At 8:30 a. m., the second assault began.

This time, the Sakura Nation soldiers' charge was even more frantic than the first.

They stepped on comrades' corpses, trampled blood pools, eyes reddened as they surged toward the second line of defense. Mines still exploded, machine guns still rattled, but no one stopped, no one retreated.

Shantian Yilang surged in the middle of the formation.

His left arm was bleeding—somewhere a shrapnel wound had opened, blood running down his arm, dripping onto the sand and drying quickly. Yet he couldn't tend it; he just ran, ran, ran.

The young soldier beside him remained at his side.

The kid's left shoulder had been hit; blood stained half his uniform red. He kept running, teeth clenched, without a word.

"Kid," Shantian Yilang asked while running, "What's your name?"

"Tianzhong... Tianzhong Erlang."

Shantian Yilang was startled for a moment.

Tianzhong Erlang. Tianzhong Yilang's younger brother.

The Tianzhong Yilang who had written to him from Kuala Lumpur, telling him "as long as you're alive," died in the ruins of Kuala Lumpur. His brother now ran beside him.

"I know about your brother," Shantian Yilang said.

Tianzhong Erlang said nothing.

Shantian Yilang also said nothing further.

The two kept running.

Ahead, the second line of defense drew nearer.

The British Army's machine guns roared even louder.

Bullets swept in like a downpour, soldiers beside them falling in waves. Shantian Yilang saw a soldier next to Tianzhong Erlang struck in the forehead, falling backward, eyes still open, staring at the sky.

He didn't stop.

Tianzhong Erlang didn't stop either.

Thirty meters.

Twenty meters.

Ten meters—

They leapt into the second trench.

In the trench, British Army soldiers were in retreat. Some dropped their rifles and fled; some raised their hands and knelt to surrender; others kept fighting, only to be stabbed to death by Sakura Nation soldiers' bayonets.

Shantian Yilang rushed into a bunker where a few British Army officers were hiding, pistols raised toward the doorway.

He lifted his rifle and aimed.

The gun fired.

It wasn't a single shot, but several sounds blended together.

He didn't know who he hit, only that those people fell down.

Then he leaned against the bunker wall, breathing heavily.

Tianzhong Erlang also surged in, drenched in blood. Blood stained his gun, splattered his face, and covered his hands.

"Veteran," he panted, asking, "Did we... win?"

Shan Tian Yilang looked at him, saying nothing.

He stepped out of the shelter, stood in the trench, and stared at the distant third line of defense that had not yet been taken.

There, the British Army's battle flag was still fluttering.

At two p. m., Shan Ben Yifu stood on a height of the second line of defense, holding a telescope and looking at the distant third line.

Tu Fei Yuan Xian Da stood beside him, holding the freshly tallied casualty figures, his hand trembling.

"General, the First Division has 3,000 left. The Second Division has 4,000 left. The Third Division has 2,000 left. The Fourth Division has 8,000 left. In total, fewer than 20,000 can still fight."

Shan Ben Yifu said nothing.

"General," Tu Fei Yuan Xian Da's voice trembled, "we cannot charge again. If we charge again, we'll be wiped out."

Shan Ben Yifu set the telescope down and looked at him.

"What about those who trust him?"

"The two divisions of the Burmese Independence Army are also battered. Less than 8,000 remain."

Shan Ben Yifu was silent for three seconds.

He stared at the distant third line of defense, at the faintly visible British Army battle flags, and at the soldiers still moving within the trench.

Fifty thousand British Army troops—how many remain after all this fighting?

Perhaps twenty thousand, perhaps ten thousand.

They are also about to collapse.

"Tu Fei Yuan," he said, "order each division to launch the final assault."

Tu Fei Yuan Xian Da was stunned.

"General—"

Shan Ben Yifu cut him off.

"Yingguo are worse off than us. They are also losing men and collapsing. Now it comes down to who can hold out to the end."

He pointed at the distant third line of defense.

"Tell the soldiers, capture this line and Daka will be ours. If we fail, those who died ahead die in vain."

Tu Fei Yuan Xian Da was silent for three seconds.

Then he stood at attention and saluted.

"Yes, General."

At three p. m., the final assault began.

Shan Tian Yilang no longer had the strength to run.

He held his rifle and trudged step by step toward the third line. Each footfall was as heavy as if filled with lead, each step demanding his full effort. The wound on his left arm still bled, but he no longer felt pain.

Tianzhong Erlang walked beside him.

The child's face was as pallid as paper, lips violet, the light in his eyes nearly extinguished. Yet he kept walking, step by step, alongside him.

"Veteran," Tianzhong Erlang suddenly spoke, his hoarse voice unrecognizable, "Tell me, can we make it back alive?"

Shan Tian Yilang was silent for three seconds.

"We can," he said.

Tianzhong Erlang froze for a moment.

"Really?"

Shan Tian Yilang gave no reply.

He lifted his head, watching the approaching line ahead, the gaping muzzles, and the silhouettes shifting within the trench.

Then he raised his rifle and, with his last strength, shouted:

"Charge!"

They surged forward.

This time, the British Army's machine gun only rang for a few minutes.

Then it stopped.

When Shan Tian Yilang leapt into the third trench, he saw a scene like this—

In the trench, British Army soldiers were scattering in panic. Some discarded their rifles and fled; some raised their hands and knelt to surrender; some clutched their heads, crouching in corners, trembling all over.

A British Army officer stood in the trench's center, brandishing a pistol, trying to organize resistance. He fired at the fleeing soldiers, killing one, two, three. Yet more soldiers ran past him, ignoring him.

A Sakura Nation soldier rushed forward, bayonet thrust into his abdomen.

He fell, eyes still open, staring at the sky.

Shan Tian Yilang stood there, watching it all.

Won?

He didn't know.

He only knew that he was still standing, still breathing, still able to see.