Chapter 103: Luring the Enemy Step by Step

The firepower of the Russians was truly ferocious—the kind of intensity that Lopatkin described, against which all resistance seemed futile. Exploding shells tore across the mountaintop, shattering rocks that the bandits had previously been unable to breach, and snapping the budding branches of trees with the sheer force of the blast waves.

Yang Xiaolin had stationed only five or six men on the summit, keeping the rest of his force hunkered down behind the crest. Stones dislodged by the barrage rained down around them. Sui Bing, glancing upward, remarked, "Commander, if we had actually been up there, what would have happened to us by now?"

Yang Xiaolin laid back, pulled a cigarette from his tunic, and lit it. He took a leisurely puff, ignoring the hypothetical question. "Tell the boys to keep their spirits up. As soon as the shelling stops, the enemy will charge. Remember, once we’re up there, take it easy—don’t overexert yourselves. If we drive the Russians away too easily, they’ll just turn around and surround us, and that will make this fight much harder."

Sui Bing didn't stand on ceremony; after a yawn, he took a cigarette from Yang Xiaolin’s pack. "Commander, once we break out, can we find a place to sleep? I don't think I can hold on much longer."

Yang Xiaolin knew that after a day and a night without rest, plus a full night of marching, not even a mule could take it, let alone a man. He nodded. "Once we break through this encirclement, it will take time for the Russians to form another. We should have a day or two to get some proper sleep."

A good night's sleep—the most basic of human needs—was something these men could only dream of. It might seem unbelievable, but even with the deafening roar of artillery above, some of the bandits curled up on the hillside and actually fell asleep.

When a brother next to Yang Xiaolin began to snore softly, Yang realized just how desperate the unit was for rest.

As soon as the shelling on the peak ceased, a sharp crack of gunfire reached Yang’s ears. He shouted, "Get up! Charge!"

The bandits, startled from their brief slumber, grabbed their rifles and followed Yang toward the peak. Upon reaching the top, they found the trenches they had dug completely obliterated; the entire summit looked as if it had been plowed.

Only two of the brothers left on the peak were still alive. One was severely wounded, while the other was firing his rifle at the Russians rushing up the slope. The bandits had barely reached the top and had not even had time to set up their heavy machine gun before the Russian assault force arrived.

When the Russians were forty meters away, Yang Xiaolin roared, "Fire!"

Bullets and grenades rained down on the Russians. The enemy continued to press forward, firing as they advanced. Within those thirty or forty meters, the air turned into a thick, swirling haze of smoke; one could barely see the men on the other side.

Dirt sprayed everywhere. Just as Sui Bing was getting into the flow of the battle, he noticed the heavy machine gun beside him fall silent. Looking over, he saw the gunner was dead. He crawled over, pushed the body aside, and without even aiming, began spraying fire into the smoke.

Zheng Qi was a new recruit who had joined at Gulu Mountain after Yang Xiaolin rescued him and others from a Russian mine. He had initially taken his severance pay, intending to go home and live a normal life, free from deception.

But when he arrived home, there was no one left. The entire village was empty. According to acquaintances, a detachment of Russian soldiers had passed through, stayed the night, and left not a single living soul behind.

Since arriving at Gulu Mountain, Zheng Qi had one goal: to kill Russians. He vowed to kill 541 of them—one for every person in his village.

Watching the howling figures charging up the hill, his eyes were unnervingly calm. He peered through his iron sights into the hazy smoke. When a silhouette paused in his field of vision, Zheng Qi pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Seeing a flash of red bloom within the smoke, a smile touched his lips. "Number three."

He reached down, picked up a small stone, and tucked it into his pocket.

He was satisfied with today's tally. He had already killed three, and at this rate, he might get five or six by the end of the fight. He raised his rifle again. Many of the Russians had broken through the smoke and were nearly upon them. This would be the last shot; surely it was time for bayonets now?

Zheng Qi pushed the thought aside. Forget that—just make this last shot count.

He spotted a Russian officer holding a command saber. The man was crawling on the ground, presenting a small target. Zheng Qi didn't know if he could hit him, but he wanted to try. He figured that if he killed an officer, it should count as two.

Just as he finished aiming, Yang Xiaolin’s voice rang out from behind: "Throw your grenades! Prepare to retreat!"

The tactical goal had been achieved; the enemy would surely give chase. The battlefield Yang had prepared was in the valley, not here, so it was time to lure the enemy toward the canyon.

Upon hearing the order, the bandits tossed their remaining grenades. The explosions forced the Russian soldiers back a few paces, and the squad leaders began leading their men in a retreat.

Zheng Qi’s squad leader tapped him. "Let’s go, brother!"

Zheng Qi was reluctant; his sights were already locked on his target. He didn't lower his rifle. "Wait, just one more shot! Just one!"

The squad leader didn't argue, crouching beside him. Zheng Qi pulled the trigger, and the Russian officer, who had been crawling, slumped forward onto the ground.

The squad leader chuckled. "Nice shot. Let's go!"

Zheng Qi was equally pleased with his marksmanship. He jumped out of the trench, ready to join the retreat. But the moment he stood up, several bullets tore toward his position. He didn't realize that the man he had just killed was a high-ranking officer, and his shot had pinpointed his location to the enemy. Though he moved quickly, the enemy’s aim was already fixed on that spot.

Two bullets struck Zheng Qi in the back, and another hit his thigh. He collapsed, murmuring to himself, "Damn... only four."

The squad leader rushed back to pull him up. Zheng Qi grabbed the leader’s hand, trying to rise, but found he had no strength left. He shoved the leader’s hand away. "Squad leader, I can’t make it. Go, don't worry about me."

The squad leader’s face twitched. Zheng Qi smiled at him. "Give me two grenades, will you? I was captured by the Russians once before. I won't let them take me a second time."

The squad leader pressed his lips together, shoved his remaining two grenades into Zheng Qi’s hands, and turned to run.