Chapter 102: At Any Cost

Akberier had always imagined the bandits on Gulu Mountain to be formidable, but now he realized he had been mistaken to consider them mere bandits. They were, in fact, a genuine military force—brave in combat and tenacious in spirit. Aside from some tactical flaws, the only difference between them and a true army was the lack of a uniform and a banner of their own.

Once again, he saw Yang Dagui’s face—an image he would never forget. Akberier vividly recalled through his telescope the arrogant expression Yang Dagui wore when he glanced back at his home village before departing.

He must be eradicated, at any cost! If not, no one knew how fierce these men would become in the next battle.

While dispatching more troops into the melee, Akberier also gathered reinforcements around the battlefield, ready to cut off Yang Xiaolin’s retreat at a moment’s notice.

When Lopatin’s “observation group” arrived at the edge of the battlefield, the fighting was at its fiercest. The hillside was strewn with bodies, Russian soldiers and bandits intertwined in a deadly struggle, locked in combat with no clear victor.

Though the Russians had long underestimated bayonets and grenades before the Russo-Japanese War, and their stabbing techniques seemed awkward, it was undeniable that their physical conditioning was far superior to that of the Chinese. When fighting for their lives, their tall, robust frames gave them a significant advantage.

An Englishman glanced at the heated battle and noticed more Russian corpses scattered on the ground. Smiling, he remarked, “The Russian soldiers are truly unstoppable. Despite the rivers of blood, they fight these bandits so fiercely. I believe even our British Empire’s forces would pale in comparison.”

Lopatin’s face darkened. The Englishman’s emphasis on “fierce” was dripping with sarcasm.

Unable to find a retort, Lopatin shouted, “Where is Akberier? Tell him I want this battle over in ten minutes! In ten minutes, these bandits must cease all resistance!”

The observers were not alone; some Qing soldiers watched nearby. Zhao Yansun stood beside Zeng Qi. Before his death, Prefect Zhang had taken on all responsibilities, including those of Zhao Yansun. This act of loyalty spared Zhao from punishment, and as the defense of Fengtian City strengthened, he was even promoted.

Now, Zhao was determined to risk his life in this campaign to eliminate Yang Dagui—not to serve the court, but at least to let the late Prefect Zhang rest in peace.

Yet, the battle before him tightened his throat. The Russians had deployed over seven hundred men, and the bandits’ lines grew thinner, but they still held on. In this brutal bayonet combat, two or three bandits stood back-to-back, daring to face four or five Russian soldiers—and often, the bandits emerged victorious.

Even in defeat, many bandits pulled their grenades’ pins with their last breath to take enemies down with them.

What were these people? Qing soldiers?

Zhao Yansun did not know. If they were Qing, then what was he? Perhaps they were rebels against the Qing—but why were these rebels so fierce?

As Zhao pondered, the bandits suddenly retreated.

He exhaled and thought bitterly: “No matter how fierce they are, they still can’t beat the foreign devils. Losing a life over this is pointless.”

Though he thought this, an inexplicable sadness welled up inside him.

At that moment, Lopatin relaxed somewhat. Regardless, the bandits had fallen back, and now it was time to pursue them. He immediately ordered Akberier to hold fast, and, true to his promise to Miss Elena, to search the battlefield for any survivors to capture.

Those clearing the battlefield soon reported back: one hundred and forty-two bandit corpses lay dead, none alive.

Lopatin expressed regret to Elena, “Miss Elena, I apologize. Our soldiers may have been too ruthless. You know how difficult it is to control emotions in battle. We didn’t capture the Chinese bandit you wanted, but rest assured, we have them cornered. They won’t escape.”

Before Elena could respond, a British journalist suddenly asked a courier, “May I ask, what are the Russian casualties?”

In recent days, Lopatin had instructed his troops to accommodate journalists’ questions about the war, so the soldier answered without hesitation, “Two hundred thirteen dead, fifty-seven seriously wounded, one hundred twelve lightly injured.”

Lopatin, furious, ignored the need to maintain his composure in front of the lady, and kicked the soldier sharply on the backside, shouting, “Get lost!”

The British journalist chuckled quietly. Lopatin glanced at him, then turned away. “Tell Akberier to pursue these bandits relentlessly! Don’t let them escape!”

Nearby, another reporter nudged the British journalist and whispered in Spanish, “Mark, do you think the Russians will catch these bandits?”

The British journalist shrugged, “No doubt about that. The Russians have twenty thousand troops, plus Qing soldiers as cannon fodder. But I think their casualties will be heavy—the bandits are fierce.”

As if to prove Mark’s point, Yang Xiaolin’s force retreated, with the Russians in hot pursuit. But just as they reached the hilltop, Yang Xiaolin’s men leapt into pre-dug fortifications. When the Russians charged with bayonets ready for close combat, the bandits opened fire instead.

The heavy machine guns roared, instantly killing over a hundred Russians. Fortunately, the Russians had not formed the traditional human-wall formation during their charge, or the losses would have been far worse.

This sudden blow darkened Commander Lopatin’s face further. Akberier wasted no time and organized his troops for a charge, while Russian artillery was brought up.

Lopatin whispered to a nearby soldier, “Tell General Akberier I think the Qing cannon fodder should lead the assault.”

Akberier rejected the suggestion. The courier returned with his message: “General Akberier says the bandit in front is none other than Yang Dagui himself! Therefore, Qing troops cannot be used. He believes the best troops and fiercest firepower must be employed to end this battle in one strike!”

“Yang Dagui?” The name clearly excited Lopatin. He quickly raised his binoculars to the mountaintop, a smile spreading across his face. “Good! Tell Akberier I support him—use the fiercest firepower possible!”