First Victory

"Waaah! Aaargh! Uwaaagh!" In the dim light, nothing existed of this night except swarming shadows, pairs of bloodshot eyes, and wretched, hysterical squeals like slaughterhouse pigs. The chill blades that had breached the enemy encampment tore through flesh and bone under the driving rain, sending severed limbs flying amid unending shrieks. Under the pitch-black sky, broadswords gleaming with cold steel hung suspended over enemy heads, terrifying many of the Japanese troops into fainting on the spot. With footsteps, battle cries, and screams churning into a chaotic chorus, a torrential storm of blood finally broke across Fengtai Station. Through the gloom, Zhu Shiqing fought like a masked bull warrior. Charging past even Xiang Chengyu, he flicked aside a tent flap with the tip of his blade and hooked the edge back around, cleaving right into the exposed neck of an enemy soldier. Caught completely off guard, some had no time to scream; there was only the wet hiss of spraying blood. Fang Wenjian put his martial-arts training on full display. Even with a weapon as deadly as a broadsword in his hands, his favorite method remained locking an enemy's throat from behind and choking the life out of him. When he caught an isolated Japanese soldier, Fang would first slap the rifle aside, shatter the man's kneecap with a front kick, twist both arms until the joints snapped, and grind the devil's face deep into the sodden mud with his boot. Such intensely sadistic brutality was practically an eccentric quirk of his. The Japanese soldiers stationed farther away finally realized what was happening. Torches flared to life across the far side of the camp, and the Japanese began returning fire. Bang! Bang! A few gunshots pushed the pandemonium in the encampment to its absolute limit. Fear, panic, and confusion defined the night. Crossing from the realm of dreams to the underworld took no longer than the blink of an unseeing eye. Yet the individual proficiency of Japanese troops was undeniable. Those who regained their senses quickly gathered in small groups of three and five, raising torches aloft until their combined light gradually illuminated the entire campground. The Japanese platoon leader who had once swaggered so arrogantly before Gu Chuanning burst out of his sleeping quarters half-dressed. Firelight showed two broadsword-wielding "Kings of Hell" in blue-gray uniforms hot on his heels. They pursued him northward until two Japanese soldiers intercepted them, and the fighters clashed in a desperate scuffle. Here in twentieth-century China, where firearms reigned supreme, the soil of Beiping and Tianjin bore witness to a brutal melee straight out of the age of cold steel. Except for sporadic bursts of gunfire, the Japanese were incapable of organizing concentrated volleys. First, the darkness made it impossible to distinguish friend from foe, and the opposing forces were locked in a tangled, churning brawl. Second, though common wisdom held that a gun was faster and deadlier within ten paces, in this chaos, raising a rifle meant risking a broadsword chopping off both hands before pulling the trigger. Xiang Chengyu and Xia Qidong struck from two flanks, carving a trail of blood. Although casualties in Sun's regiment were mounting, no one could walk away from this crimson night unstained. The nightmare of the haughty Japanese garrison at Fengtai was far from over. Hearing the commotion in the rear, the dozen or so guards stationed at the entrance of the railway depot turned to look, only for Gu Chuanning to open fire on them with a machine gun from across the way. Under the clattering burst of automatic fire, the soldiers at Fengtai Station became some of the few "lucky" men that night to meet a proper end by bullet. Zhu Shiqing slashed his way out of an eastern tent and plunged into a western one. Dark shapes lurked everywhere. He hacked at steel helmets and chopped at figures in white undergarments, fighting until his head spun. If asked how many he had slain, he truly could not tell. "Dammit, didn't they say there was only one platoon?!" Zhu Shiqing finally halted, his chest heaving violently from the exertion. Taking a breath in the dark, he felt his vision and senses slowly clear. The stench of blood rushed into his nostrils, and a hot surge rose in his throat. He turned his head and gulped another breath of air to force it down. The fighting was drawing to a close. Only a handful of Japanese soldiers bolted into the night, fleeing northward. Zhu Shiqing looked around in astonishment. After butchering his way through the camp for so long, someone was supposed to believe this had been only a single platoon of Japanese troops? With every step, he seemed to tread on a corpse, and many of the bodies were stripped of clothing. As he puzzled over this, Sun Yi's hearty laughter echoed from the distance, followed by his bawdy holler: "Glorious! Bloody glorious!" Zhu Shiqing hurried over. Half of Sun Yi's face was coated in half-dried blood alongside fresh crimson that ran with rain and sweat. At his feet lay a Japanese soldier clad in a deep-khaki uniform. Judging by the insignia, an officer. Zhu Shiqing first checked on Sun Yi. "Regimental Commander, are you hit?" Sun Yi cursed, "You bastard, you just want me dead, don't you? Every drop of this blood belongs to the devils!" Zhu Shiqing let out an awkward chuckle, bent down, took a torch from a nearby soldier, and leaned in to inspect the body. Well, look at that—a captain, one rank above himself! "Dammit, this was a whole company," Zhu Shiqing muttered, standing up with lingering dread yet a thread of excitement in his voice. "Commander, we just wiped out an entire Japanese company!" "A company?" Sun Yi hesitated, rubbed his nose, and looked down at the dead officer whose throat had been sliced open. After studying the insignia carefully, he said, "He really is a company commander. My blade just earned its keep." The northern side of Fengtai was now firmly under the regiment's control. According to the pre-battle plan, Tan Hai's battalion was to immediately establish a defense line around Fengtai Station to prevent an enemy counterattack at daybreak. Only Gu Chuanning was absent, having chased the fleeing Japanese platoon leader several li into the night until the disarmed officer met a gruesome end at the hands of Company Commander Gu, who had nursed his grievances for months. Surveying the battlefield, Zhu Shiqing felt a chill run down his spine. When the Japanese had repeatedly provoked them over the past few days, there had actually been two full companies garrisoned at Fengtai. Under those circumstances, had the enemy launched a preemptive assault against Fengtai, Sun's regiment—with its limited firepower and the station's near-total lack of fortifications—could never have held out. Tonight's surprise attack had succeeded largely because they leveraged the brutal advantage of cold weapons, and because the second enemy company had happened to be temporarily redeployed earlier in the day. Yet such was fate. The Ozawa Regiment had clashed with the 29th Army back during the Great Wall War of Resistance. Now old foes had crossed paths again, playing out another drama of a midnight camp raid. One wondered if Colonel Ozawa would fly into a rage tomorrow morning upon hearing the news from Fengtai. Over the course of the night, Sun's regiment had secured a decisive victory. Morale reached an absolute peak. The men raised their bloodstained broadswords and swung them toward the sky in rhythm, roaring in unison: "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" "We've cleaned up our end, but I wonder how Wanping is holding out." Sun Yi slowly slid his broadsword back into its scabbard, slung it over his back, and fixed his gaze northwest toward Wanping. The rain had ceased, and the distant rumble of artillery had fallen silent. In the stillness, flickering firelight cast an orange glow across the flushed faces of his troops. "Our top priority is to build fortifications right where we stand," Zhu Shiqing reminded him. "The Japanese won't take the loss of a whole company lying down." Sun Yi knew what mattered most. Seizing the momentum of their triumph, he turned to face the entire regiment and barked, "Brothers! The devils took a heavy beating from our 219th Regiment tonight, and they're bound to come back for revenge tomorrow. Tonight, even if we have to dig with our bare hands and pry with our blades, you will carve out our fortifications!" "Yes, sir!" the men of Sun's regiment answered as one.