In the drizzling rain, a thick fog blanketed the southern jungle of Guadalcanal.
Moving along a trail where one could barely see a hand in front of one's face, Liu Ren had his most "valuable" trophy of late slung at his waist.
Glancing at the barbarian-like Liu Ren, Howard turned his head and said, "In the Middle Ages, he definitely would've been a tyrannical monarch!"
"Hahaha, now that really is a dark joke!"
Laughing as he looked at Howard, Forrest was thoroughly amused.
Hearing the muttering behind him, Liu Ren looked back over his shoulder. "What the hell are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing! We were just discussing what to eat later!"
Answering Liu Ren with a beaming smile, Howard quickly spread his hands in explanation.
Pushing further forward, Liu Ren suddenly raised his arm.
A rustling sweep of movement gave way to complete stillness.
As the fierce-looking men of the security battalion behind him raised their submachine guns in unison, Liu Ren dropped flat against the ground, listening intently.
And in the next second, Liu Ren pointed a finger toward the distance and barked in Japanese, "Bakayaro! Which detachment are you with?!"
"We are..."
Just as the Japanese troops across from them heard the familiar language and were about to answer, Liu Ren roared, "Fire! Open fire!"
*Rat-tat, rat-tat-tat!*
A deafening metal storm instantly swept through the thick fog, shredding the Japanese soldiers in the distance before they had even spotted their enemy.
Watching the howling hail of bullets tear through their comrades' bodies, the Japanese shouted and returned fire.
Yet no matter how they aimed their rifles, they could not hit their opponents through the blinding fog.
"Walkie-talkie! Radio! Call for heavy artillery support!"
Waving toward the rear, Liu Ren bellowed,
"Southern Guadalcanal, coordinates... Ten-round rapid fire!"
As Liu Ren hung up the radio, a howling roar immediately echoed across the sky.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
One after another, artillery shells rained down ahead, their terrifying shockwaves instantly dispersing the surrounding fog.
Looking at the two-hundred-meter zone ahead, everywhere littered with the gruesome devastation wrought by heavy artillery, Liu Ren couldn't help but bare a savage grin. "Damn it, trying to compete with me in firepower? Don't you know I run an arms factory? Motherfuckers!"
Listening to Liu Ren's colorful language, Howard and Forrest fell silent.
Because what was the greatest perk of following Liu Ren? Ferocious firepower, of course. Back in the Great War, they had never fought such an extravagant campaign. At the slightest hitch, it was heavy artillery support; if a position proved even mildly tough to crack, heavy cruisers would come along to gently stir your sleeping soul!
After two consecutive days of encirclement and suppression, there were no longer any large Japanese forces left in the southern forest. Still, a handful of "rats" remained, attempting to drag them into a war of attrition.
To deal with this, Liu Ren led the combat brigade to withdraw from the southern forest and then began dropping massive quantities of incendiary bombs.
He had no time to waste on these "rats," because he had come here for one reason: to wipe them all out! As for the methods? That was merely a trifling condiment. After all, victors never stand trial in military court!
Inside a low cave hidden in the jungle, Inoue was coughing up blood, his face pale and haggard. Ever since Masao Maruyama had brought the 2nd Division here, they had set foot on a dead-end road straight to hell.
"Inoue, are you alright?!"
Looking worriedly at Inoue, a Japanese soldier beside him hurried over to support him. But upon realizing that Inoue was so starved he couldn't even stand, he stammered in horror, "Inoue, you... you..."
Watching his formerly closest comrade look at him like a venomous scorpion, Inoue spat out a mouthful of blood and whispered, "I don't want to die, Yamada... I don't want to die... I want to go home... Home... Home..."
Yet before Inoue could finish his words, his body had already begun to stiffen.
Watching Inoue collapse to the ground, a photograph slipping from his fingers, Yamada felt an unspeakable breakdown within his heart.
Because they had been sent here solely to die. The Americans weren't weak or cowardly at all like Imperial General Headquarters had claimed; they had the most advanced weaponry, the most terrifying fire support, and endless soldiers...
"Your Imperial Majesty! Why... why did you send us here?!"
Screaming hysterically, Yamada coughed up a spurt of blood and fell still, just like Inoue before him.
And in this jungle, what Liu Ren gave them was never just the regret of enlisting, but a bone-deep despair when death finally arrived.
Cruisers patrolled around the Solomon Islands, blocking any Japanese retreat and unleashing massive concentrated strikes whenever enemy movements were spotted.
On the island itself, the south had turned completely into a "Forest of Death," for no living soul could walk out of it—and even if someone did, they would never set foot in a POW camp.
At the US encampment, 1st Special Operations Brigade.
Steam rose gently from a cup of hot tea. Lifting the cup, Liu Ren casually reviewed a telegram, his expression completely tranquil. "Inform Commander Alexander: all is quiet on the southern front."
Hearing Liu Ren's words, Howard asked dubiously, "Don't those guys who surrendered need to be transferred to a POW camp?"
"What did we come here for? Wasn't it to wipe them all out? Doesn't sending them to a POW camp cost food rations?" Liu Ren replied. He had already reached an understanding with Alexander: no prisoners, no surrenders—only death.
Five thousand years of glory brushed past in a stroke; a century of national humiliation filled two thick volumes! He had not come to talk benevolence and fairness with the Japanese, because he had no right to do so—and indeed, no one had the right to speak those words on behalf of the martyrs who had perished in battle.
For during that war of resistance when no hope was in sight, people had even braced for the worst outcome—compiling an outline of national history so future generations would remember their homeland. Bathed in blood and caked in mud, they fought to secure peace for three generations.
When the martyrs fell on the battlefield, they had never even stopped to think whether they could win; they held only a single conviction: they could not afford to lose. They could not leave that burden to the next generation—for if they did not pay the price, their children and grandchildren would have to fight in their place!
Raising his head, Liu Ren stared up at the tent ceiling and exhaled a heavy breath. "Have Forrest handle the business."
Hearing Liu Ren's order, Howard didn't hesitate. He stood up and left. He was a soldier, too, and he knew how things worked on the battlefield: resolute obedience to the commander's orders.
*Beep! Beep! Beep!*
The assembly whistle blew.
When the ragged Japanese soldiers emerged from the dilapidated wooden barracks, they saw a grim-faced Forrest clamping a cigar between his teeth, staring coldly at them.
"Oh, shit, these bastards stink to high heaven!"
Exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke, Forrest directed the Japanese troops to dig pits.
Yet seeing a pit deep and wide enough to bury a thousand men, many Japanese veterans instantly realized what was happening, terror washing over their faces—because this was exactly what they had done in the Far East.
Watching a few hardened veterans among the Japanese exchange glances and whisper to one another, Forrest curled his lips into a sinister grin. "Only figuring it out now?"
Rabaul. Japanese Command Center.
Having received the news of the 2nd Division's total destruction, Harukichi Hyakutake smashed his cup in fury and roared, "Baka! Incompetent trash! That fool Maruyama actually threw away the Empire's finest division in the southern jungle!"
Yet after venting his rage, Hyakutake was at a total loss for what to do. In the Pacific theater, they no longer possessed any chips to wrestle with the Americans.
"Those damned idiots in the Navy!"
Roaring with fury, after cursing Masao Maruyama, Hyakutake turned his rage on the Navy. It was their defeat that had forced him into this hopeless predicament!
Chapter 64