Chapter 121: Fix Bayonets!

"Understood!" Upon hearing the order from Colonel Sueyoshi Fujii, the battalion commander hesitated for a moment before nodding in compliance.

Yet, his heart was heavy. He knew that an assault of this nature would inevitably result in staggering losses.

Did Fujii Sueyoshi not know this as well? The casualties were his own men; how could his heart not ache? But he had no choice. The brigade commander had issued a strict, final order: they must break through. If they failed, the consequences... Recalling the dark, grim expression on the brigade commander's face when he delivered that order, the battalion commander knew the outcome would be catastrophic. For the sake of his own future and to avoid the wrath of his superior, he had to order his men to charge, regardless of the cost.

"Warriors of the Empire! The detestable Chinese are right before our eyes. They are but a single regiment, yet they have blocked our entire brigade for so long and inflicted such painful losses upon us. As soldiers of the Empire, this is nothing short of a profound disgrace!"

"If we cannot annihilate them, we shall be shamed, becoming a stain upon the Empire! This humiliation will haunt us forever. Tell me, are you willing to carry this shame for the rest of your lives?" the battalion commander shouted, inciting the soldiers.

"No!" the Japanese soldiers roared back, their faces twisted with fury.

The commander’s words had successfully ignited their rage. Like him, these men were steeped in the Bushido spirit, convinced they were the world's most noble race, while viewing the Chinese as base and inferior. That a people they deemed lowly could block their entire brigade and inflict such heavy casualties was intolerable. Their anger surged, and they shouted in a frenzy.

"Yosh! Then, warriors of the Empire, charge bravely! Use your bayonets to slaughter these lowly Chinese! Use their blood to wash away our shame!"

Incited by their commander, the Japanese soldiers responded with fanatical fervor. Filled with mounting battle lust, they chanted, "Long live the Empire! Long live His Majesty the Emperor!"

Seeing that the men’s morale had reached a fever pitch, the battalion commander was satisfied. He drew his saber, pointed it toward the defenders' position, and shrieked, "Banzai! Charge!"

"Banzai!"

At the command, the Japanese soldiers surged forward like madmen. Even under the withering fire of the defenders, which mowed them down in rows, nothing could stop their advance. They were possessed. Disregarding death and destruction, they threw themselves at the trenches. Having been held back for so long by such a small force, the arrogant Japanese troops had been pushed to their breaking point. Fueled by their commander's rhetoric, they charged with total disregard for their own lives.

Facing this frenzied onslaught, the defenders were under immense pressure. They fought back with all their might, but they were simply too few. Under the relentless, suicidal pressure of the Japanese, the defenders could not hold the line. Finally, the first Japanese soldier breached the trench.

He had crawled up amidst the chaos, his body half-exposed, ready to leap onto the position. But in that instant, a flash of cold light erupted. Before the soldier could react, his head was severed, sent spinning into the air by a spray of blood. If one looked closely, they would see that even in death, his face remained fixed in a look of surprise. Standing before him was a young defender, gripping a blood-stained broadsword.

Without hesitation, the young soldier lunged at the next enemy. He dispatched two or three more, gasping for breath, only to realize that as time passed, more and more Japanese were flooding in. Kill one, and two appeared; kill two, and a swarm rushed forward. The enemy seemed endless. The young soldier fought with all his might, but eventually, he was overwhelmed. After felling six men, three or four others combined their efforts to drive their bayonets into his heart.

He was pinned to the trench wall. Yet, even in death, his eyes remained wide with fury, his hands locked tightly onto his broadsword.

This sight startled the five Japanese soldiers who had killed him, causing them to recoil. But upon recovering, they erupted in rage. They stepped forward and hacked off the soldier's head. Still unsatisfied, they chopped off the hand that gripped the sword.

"Baka! You detestable Chinese, how dare you glare at the warriors of our Great Japanese Empire! I’ll cut off your head and see how you glare! I’ll cut off your hand and see how you kill!" one soldier spat, throwing the severed head to the ground. As if that weren't enough, he stomped on it before moving on.

Not far away, Zheng Laoshi witnessed this scene. His eyes burned with hatred, his body trembling with murderous intent. "You dog-born devils! I will never coexist with you!"

"Brothers! Fix bayonets! Fight them to the death!" Zheng Laoshi flung his rifle aside, drew his broadsword from his back, and plunged into the nearest Japanese soldiers. The men of the First Battalion followed suit, fixing their bayonets and charging into the fray.

By now, many Japanese had breached the front line. Friend and foe were locked in close-quarters combat; fearing friendly fire, no one dared to shoot, relying instead on bayonets and steel.

"You bastards, die!" A soldier with a Henan accent roared, his eyes bulging as he swung his broadsword wildly into the crowd of Japanese. He fought with no technique, just brute force. Yet, his wild, chaotic swings caught several Japanese off guard, felling three or four of them.

The Japanese were momentarily terrified. They were used to disciplined, methodical bayonet fighting; they had never encountered a man who fought like a whirlwind, spinning with his blade. However, the well-trained Japanese soon recovered. They realized this was merely a soldier with great strength and no skill.

As the soldier prepared another swing, two Japanese raised their rifles and pulled the triggers. Two bullets tore through his body, spraying blood. The sturdy man collapsed with a crash, his blood-stained broadsword falling beside him.