Chapter 20: The Enemy Enters the Trap

For the next few days, he gritted his teeth and studied diligently, filling a small notebook with various formulas until his pencil was nearly worn down.

“Little Stone, do you think you can do it?” Wen Song asked.

Although Little Stone had done fairly well in theoretical study, he hadn’t yet experienced real combat and had only been assisting Wen Song in battles so far.

He scratched his head and looked at Long Wencheng. “Commander, do you think I can do it?”

Long Wencheng chuckled and tapped the M35 steel helmet on his head with a finger. “You tell me.”

Seeing his lack of confidence, Wen Song tried to provoke him. “If you can’t do it, just say so. No one here will laugh at you.”

Those words sparked a fire in Little Stone. “I can do it! Who says I can’t? I’ve studied hard. Give me that flat-trajectory cannon, and I’ll definitely outshoot you, prisoner.”

He glared at Wen Song angrily, clearly eager to prove himself against this prisoner, even though everything he had learned came from him.

“Alright then, we’ll use both cannons at once. We won’t be at a disadvantage in long-range firepower. By then, the light and heavy machine guns, the assault squad, even the cavalry company will join the fight. The medical corps can’t sit idle either—anyone able to move will join the battle; those who can carry ammo will carry it, those who can shoot will shoot, and those who can throw grenades will throw grenades.”

Long Wencheng’s confidence soared, believing the battle was already eighty percent won.

The 189th Regiment had been pursuing for three straight days, struggling along rugged mountain paths.

Though they had supplies, morale remained low after days of exhaustion. The soldiers were worn out from seven or eight days of forced marches with barely any rest; their feet were nearly ruined.

Moreover, after a string of defeats, the strength of three battalions had been depleted within days, casting a shadow over the troops’ hearts. Many spread rumors that the Red Army ahead actually numbered over two thousand.

Old Thunder Dog sensed the urgency to catch up with the enemy quickly.

On one hand, the Red Army was about to cross into Guizhou territory, and he dared not pursue further lest the Guizhou army, whose stance toward the Reds was uncertain, might attack them. On the other hand, the soldiers were too exhausted; continued pursuit risked them dying either from battle or sheer fatigue.

Offering large sums of money was losing its effectiveness, and Old Thunder Dog was reluctant to give out gold bars.

“Commander, after Five Finger Ridge ahead lies Guizhou territory. If we keep chasing, we might…” Deputy Officer Hu Biao hurried over, pointing at the five peaks ahead.

“Afraid of what? If we chase another hundred or two hundred miles, they’re tired and so are we,” Old Thunder Dog replied, glancing at the camping traces on the ground.

Undoubtedly, the Red Army had camped here last night—and had even eaten some cured meat. That cured meat originally belonged to them, but had been freely taken by these Red bandits!

“Five Finger Ridge looks like a good place for an ambush,” Hu Biao observed. “Commander, could they pull a counterattack here to ambush us, just like before?”

Old Thunder Dog stared at the peaks with worry.

“Send a few men up to scout. If there’s no one, we’ll pass through; the rest rest here.”

Looking at his soldiers, many slumped with shoulders and heads drooping, barely propping themselves up with their rifles, clearly at the end of their endurance.

The five peaks weren’t very high but were steep, making the climb difficult.

The few soldiers named for the task grumbled bitterly, their calves swollen from continuous marching, the straps on their legs nearly bursting.

But military orders were not to be disobeyed; they cursed their commanders in their hearts and began the climb, using their rifles for support.

At one-third of the way up, one soldier plopped down, gasping for breath.

“I’m done. Even if we get to the top, we still have to climb down and keep marching. We can’t treat ourselves like beasts of burden.”

An old soldier rubbed his head weakly.

Like a plague, others followed suit, sitting down on the slope, declaring they couldn’t climb any further.

“The Red Army isn’t made of iron. If we can’t climb, why should they be able to? The officers are just torturing us.”

“Exactly. Let whoever wants climb, climb. I’m done—if I get shot, I get shot. I’m too exhausted to care.”

They all muttered back and forth, refusing to move.

Their squad leader, also exhausted, knew that pushing them harder might trigger a mutiny.

Looking at the even steeper peak ahead, he doubted even he could make it to the top.

“Alright, I know you’re tired. Here’s the deal: when we get back, if anyone dares to tell the officers we didn’t reach the summit and snitch, I’ll be the first to deal with them,” the squad leader warned.

Everyone agreed, unwilling to be informers.

After wasting over half an hour here, they finally left the peak and descended.

Seeing their return, Deputy Officer Hu Biao asked, “Any sign of enemy?”

The scout leader, weary, replied, “Sir, if there were anyone up there, we wouldn’t have made it back.”

Hu Biao eyed the exhausted soldiers and the steep slope skeptically, thinking that unless the Reds were superhuman, they couldn’t have climbed either.

He then reported to Old Thunder Dog.

“Commander, no one’s on those peaks ahead. They’ve been marching hard too and are probably just rushing to Guizhou.”

Old Thunder Dog nodded, imagining himself as the Red regiment commander. Surely, he’d be heading for Guizhou as well.

Guizhou’s militia was weak, allowing them to shake off the Guangxi troops’ pursuit. There was no need to risk an ambush here.

Besides, despite losses, Old Thunder Dog still had about a thousand elite troops, while the enemy numbered only six or seven hundred, clearly at a disadvantage.

An ambush here would be pointless.

Having considered this, Old Thunder Dog finally ordered his forces to pass through Five Finger Ridge and continue toward Guizhou.

Atop the peak previously scouted by the Guangxi troops, Long Wencheng lowered his binoculars and exhaled slightly.

“That was close, but fortunately everything went smoothly.”

He glanced down at the slope.

Below, the exhausted soldiers of the 189th Regiment were being prodded and scolded by their officers, dragging themselves forward with heads and shoulders drooped, like walking corpses.

Clearly, these enemies were utterly worn out, likely without rest last night, forced to march day and night just to catch up to the Red 18th Regiment ahead.

“They’re coming, they’re coming.”

Long Wencheng’s lips curled into a faint smile as he slowly raised the muzzle of his Lee-Enfield rifle, aiming at the advancing main force of the 189th Regiment below.