Chapter Fifty-Five: Make Our Enemies Look Up to Us

A row of grenades exploded, blasting open a path. Behind them, the bandits surged forward, brandishing all manner of melee weapons as they charged in to kill! If earlier General Akberil had still hoped to keep his distance from the enemy using tactics he excelled at, now that the gap had vanished, the Russians truly had no power to resist in hand-to-hand combat. In an instant, they were forced into retreat, step by step, by the bandits’ fierce assault.

Beside him, a Russian officer, evidently conscientious to the end, still worried about the general’s safety even at this desperate moment. “General, we must withdraw for now!”

Akberil was full of helplessness. The enemy had already pressed in from the flanks; only if his position could block these bandits would they have no chance of escape. But just a little more time was needed, and now he was left with no choice but to retreat. After all, he was a Russian general—if he were killed in a charge by a gang of Qing dynasty bandits, even annihilating the entire enemy force would not redeem the honor of the Russian army.

“Withdraw!”

At last, Akberil uttered the word. The adjutant had clearly been waiting for this order; as soon as the command left the general’s lips, the adjutant wasted no time, following right at his heels in hasty flight.

A breach finally appeared in the Russian encirclement—one paid for by the lives of the bandits! Yang Xiaolin dared not linger in the fight, for another Russian unit was already closing in. “Second Company, cover the retreat! Everyone else, follow me and break out!”

Gu Tianming was already prepared. While the others rushed out with Yang Xiaolin, he led the bandits of Second Company straight toward the retreating Akberil, determined to buy as much time as possible for the brothers to escape safely.

Biaozi was wounded, and Ergantzi, with Biaozi slung over his back, ran desperately after Yang Xiaolin. Biaozi’s breathing was labored. “Don’t leave me behind, Ergantzi.”

Sweat poured down Ergantzi’s face; the pain in his injured leg was as if it had snapped in two, but he managed to turn and squeeze out a smile. “Do you take me for you?”

Biaozi, draped over his shoulder, managed a laugh as well. “Good brother. I owe you.”

Behind them, Tinghui carried a gun, his eyes scanning left and right for Russians, occasionally firing a shot to bring down another enemy. Ergantzi, struggling under Biaozi’s weight, called out, “Brother, give me a hand with his backside!”

Tinghui nodded. “Right away!”

Though he said this, Tinghui’s weapon was aimed at the Russians they’d already left behind. He spotted General Akberil, surrounded by several men, slowly making his way toward another Russian unit. Tinghui figured this old man must be an officer—he would not let such a target slip away.

The distance between Akberil and Tinghui was not far, but the general was shielded by the bodies of his men; Tinghui could only catch fleeting glimpses of a bobbing head. He guessed his chances of making the shot were slim, but it was worth a try. If he could kill a Russian officer, it would count as vengeance for Brother Ma Liuzi.

Tinghui took aim at General Akberil, steadying himself for half a minute before squeezing the trigger.

By Akberil’s pace, the bullet should have found its mark. But just then, the adjutant’s figure suddenly darted into view—taking the bullet in the head and saving the general by a hair’s breadth.

Tinghui let out a long breath, feeling little disappointment. He hurried forward to catch up with Ergantzi, lifting Biaozi from behind and making the burden much lighter.

At that moment, Akberil had no idea that the adjutant behind him was dead. Gu Tianming’s pursuit was relentless, leaving the dozens of Russians around them in a panic—no one had time to check on the adjutant’s fate.

As Gu Tianming and his men pressed on, one of the bandits, Wang Changgui, tripped over the adjutant’s corpse, stumbling to the ground. As he picked himself up, he realized he was clutching something in his hand.

He gave it a tug and pulled the adjutant’s bag free. It was genuine leather, the sort of high-quality item that would fetch a high price even in Russia. Wang didn’t know luxury goods, but he figured it was perfect for carrying ammo and rations. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he continued the charge with Gu Tianming.

After a brief pursuit, another Russian unit drew near. Gu Tianming offered token resistance, then hastily withdrew.

Only then did General Akberil realize his adjutant was missing. Looking ahead, he spotted the adjutant’s bag hanging from a bandit’s shoulder, and in that instant, his soul nearly left his body.

Inside that bag were crucial Russian military documents—not only his correspondence with the commander, but future Russian deployment plans for western Liaoning, strategies for the campaign against Feng Delin, and secrets that must never fall into the hands of outsiders!

“Shoot the one with the bag! Now! Don’t let him escape!”

But no one is master of fate on the battlefield; killing another is never so simple. Wang Changgui did notice that the Russian bullets seemed to come especially close to him, but he had no inkling it was all because of the bag he carried.

The boy was fast to begin with, and the hail of Russian bullets only spurred him on—he was running faster than any athlete.

Their rear guard held out for only a few minutes, but it was enough. By the time they fell back, Yang Xiaolin had already regrouped the first wave of retreating troops; they paused atop the hill, not moving on.

Only then did Yang Xiaolin feel the searing pain in his shoulder. He tore a strip from his undershirt to bind the wound as best he could. The battle had been brutal indeed—between First, Third, and the rearguard Second Company, only two hundred men remained. Half of their thousand-strong force had been lost.

Hundreds of brothers lay dead along the road, and those who survived were battered and bloodied. Yet, strangely, Yang Xiaolin felt no sorrow; on the contrary, a wild exhilaration welled up inside him, impossible to suppress.

“Brothers, we’ve broken through!” Yang Xiaolin shouted.

The bandits’ faces burned with even greater fervor; they raised their arms and roared, “Awooo! Awooo!”

Their cries rang out like tigers and wolves—the spirit of a predatory army was beginning to take shape. Even Biaozi and Sui Bing, both gravely wounded, managed to smile.

Yang Xiaolin suddenly remembered a saying: “Some things are dearer than life itself!”

Down below, the Russians were reforming their lines. Even though Yang Xiaolin’s men were right on the hill above, visible to the naked eye, General Akberil dared not risk a reckless assault.