Chapter Ninety-Nine: Let’s Have Breakfast First

The matters outside had been settled; the Russians were, of course, to be killed—every single one of them. As for the Qing soldiers, they were to be screened. If anyone pointed them out as having aided the Russians in their misdeeds within the stronghold, they were to be executed immediately. Those who had not acted as pawns for the enemy were spared by Yang Xiaolin, though their weapons were confiscated.

Thanks to the "sponsorship" of the Qing troops, Yang Xiaolin’s forces suffered no loss of supplies; on the contrary, they were significantly replenished. Hand grenades and other munitions were scattered everywhere. While the leaders held their meeting, the men outside had already replaced all their expended ammunition. Many had even upgraded to new Mauser rifles, which were undeniably superior to the Japanese and Russian weapons they had previously carried.

The surplus firearms and ammunition were distributed to the local hunters. When the Russians first breached the stronghold, these hunters had harbored a faint hope that the invaders would leave once they realized Yang "the Devil" was not there, which is why they had not resisted. By the time their weapons were seized, it was too late to fight back. Now, as the bandits handed out guns, every villager in the stronghold—men, women, and even teenagers—stepped forward to claim one. They knew what to do if the Russians returned.

Several young men insisted on joining the fight, and even some women who had lost their husbands or fathers took up arms, demanding to join the expedition against the Russians. Yang Xiaolin, however, did not take them in. He did not doubt their resolve or sincerity; he believed they would be just as brave as his own men when facing the enemy. But this mission required more than just courage, and these people were fueled by such intense hatred that their presence might jeopardize the operation.

Yang told them that their priority should be to transport the elderly and the children to safety, rather than throwing their lives away. If they truly wished to fight the Russians, they could—but only after he had finished this battle and they had secured the safety of their families. They could find him afterward.

He led his troops out once more, moving at an even faster pace. In April, the sky usually began to brighten shortly after six o'clock; Yang needed to cover the distance of less than eight miles—about twenty-some li of rugged mountain trail—before six.

Twenty-some li in just over two hours seemed like a generous timeframe, but in reality, it was not. Crossing through steep, jagged mountains was far more taxing than running on flat plains. Not only was the physical toll immense, but the trail, while labeled as twenty li, could easily stretch to thirty or forty in actual distance.

After more than an hour of running, they encountered a particularly difficult mountain valley, which cost them precious time. By the time they reached their destination, Yang Xiaolin’s back was soaked in sweat. As he and Nyerere caught sight of the Russian encampment, the troops behind them were strung out in a long, ragged line, their formation completely lost.

Nyerere gasped for air and glanced at his watch. "Six-zero-three. Yang, launching an attack now is not a good idea."

Yang understood this perfectly. His men were collapsing to the ground from exhaustion as they caught up to him. He helped them up one by one, whispering, "Don't lie down. Sit, rest for a moment, and eat something to regain your strength."

The air in western Liaoning was still bitter in April, especially in the early morning. The first rays of light struggling to pierce the horizon offered little comfort. The bandits regrouped on the hillside, resting briefly. By the time they had recovered enough strength to move, the sun had fully risen.

Yang Xiaolin himself felt an extraordinary sense of exhaustion—sleepy, hungry, and drained. The sweat from their long run turned icy on their skin as they stopped, and many of the men were shivering violently, clutching their rifles. Yang did not know how they had managed to keep going, just as he did not know how he had endured it himself.

"Suibing, take a few men and come with me to scout the situation ahead. The rest of you, stay where you are. No fires, no talking, and no lying down!"

General Kuropatkin was also feeling quite fatigued. A full day of navigating mountain paths the previous day had left his back aching, and upon waking, he felt as though he could hardly rise. Still, he forced his eyes open, trying to appear more alert. "Guard! Where is my razor?"

A shave was non-negotiable; he might have to face countless camera lenses today, and his appearance had to be impeccable.

The guard outside heard his call, rushed in, and handed over the razor. "Mr. Commander, General Akberil is outside to see you. It seems to be a matter of some urgency."

Kuropatkin’s expression soured. "That tiresome man! Sometimes I truly wish I could send a telegram to the Tsar to have him transferred to Europe!"

The guard asked, "Shall I tell him to leave? Tell him you haven't woken up yet?"

Kuropatkin glared at the guard. "No! Let him in. As much as I loathe him, he is useful for tasks I loathe even more—like fighting on the front lines. I cannot deny the man has a knack for war. I need him."

The guard stood at attention. "Yes, sir!"

When Akberil entered, he looked tense. "Commander, I have bad news. It is possible our advance guard has been wiped out by Yang the Devil."

Kuropatkin paused. "No! That is absolutely impossible! Where did you hear this?"

Akberil replied, "Several Qing soldiers who fled from the front lines can confirm that at two o'clock this morning, Yang the Devil attacked our outpost!"

"Why was I not informed?"

"How many of your communications officers would dare to disturb your rest?"

Kuropatkin was left speechless by Akberil's retort. After a moment, he mused, "Well, this is not entirely bad news. At least we know where they are now, don't we?"

Akberil nodded. "Yes. It is now six-twenty-seven. It has been over four hours since the battle took place. We must react immediately!"

Kuropatkin walked toward the door. "And what do you suggest we do?"

Akberil said, "First, we must have the other units close in on our position immediately!"

Kuropatkin nodded. "Very well, issue the orders in my name to all units."

Akberil continued, "Furthermore, we must enter a state of combat readiness and push the troops forward. We must do it now; we have already lost four precious hours!"

Kuropatkin hesitated. "Akberil, I understand your sentiment, but surely we should at least let the soldiers have their breakfast?"

Just as General Akberil was about to argue, they heard the voice of the French journalist, Helene. "Mr. Commander, what are you and the General discussing so early in the morning?"