Making Them Feel Despair

Zhang Xueming hung up the phone, a wider smile playing on his lips.

On the artillery positions around him, dozens of rugged-looking behemoths with dark, black barrels had just finished their first round of roars. The gunners were swiftly cleaning the barrels, preparing for the next load.

These were his trump cards.

The Soviet-made ML-20 152mm howitzers.

He had gone through a lot of trouble to acquire this batch of killing machines and transport them in undetected.

Where did the money come from?

Naturally, he "borrowed" it from the Japanese.

The Japanese merchant associations and expatriates in Qingshan Field were swimming in wealth. They usually acted high and mighty, but he had simply asked them to "crowdfund" this war in advance.

Zhang Xueming raised his binoculars and looked at the distant position, now reduced to scorched earth, feeling incredibly pleased.

"Damn, these cannons are truly something!"

Chu Shixin, the commander of the Feng Army's independent artillery brigade, a burly man whose voice was louder than cannon fire, was flushed with excitement.

"Compared to our old firecrackers, these are like gods descending from heaven!"

Zhang Xueming patted his shoulder and chuckled.

"Do you like them?"

"Like them! I love them! Young Marshal, where did you get these? Can you get us more?"

"It's good that you like them."

Zhang Xueming handed him the binoculars.

"Don't get too happy just yet, the job isn't finished."

"Those guys living the good life are probably already scared stiff."

"Now, it's time to let them feel what despair is."

On the high ground, there was a deathly silence.

Only the strong smell of gunpowder and the strange odor of something burning remained in the wind.

Yamada Ichiro's binoculars clattered to the ground, but he didn't notice, his eyes fixed on the sea of fire in the distance.

The artillery position that, not long ago, they had been so proud of.

Gone.

Everything was gone.

Fifty brand-new Western-style mountain artillery pieces, along with hundreds of well-trained Imperial artillerymen, had been wiped off the face of the earth in those few short minutes.

Matsui Shigeki was no better off. The hand holding his binoculars trembled uncontrollably, his face was deathly pale, his lips quivered, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Shock?

No, this was terror.

It was the kind of soul-deep fear a weakling felt when looking up at a god.

"My, my, what a powerful firework show."

A lazy, distinctly amused tone broke the frozen atmosphere.

Zhang Xueliang took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped the corner of his mouth, looking as relaxed as if he had just finished a bowl of tofu pudding from a street vendor.

He glanced at the two dazed Japanese officers and clicked his tongue twice.

"Gentlemen, don't just stand there."

"Your army's artillery performance is over, now it's our Feng Army's turn."

"So? How was our opening act for the year? Quite spectacular, wasn't it?"

His words were like a sharp awl, piercing deeply into Matsui and Yamada's hearts.

Yamada Ichiro suddenly turned his head, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently at Zhang Xueliang.

"Mr. Zhang! These are your artillery?!"

"When did you get such weapons?"

He pointed at the burning land in the distance, almost roaring.

"Its range... what is its range?!"

This was the most crucial question.

The hill they had retreated to was a good seven or eight kilometers away from the original artillery position.

And the enemy's artillery fire had come from even farther away than they were!

What did this mean?

It meant that the range of the Feng Army's new artillery was at least ten kilometers, possibly even fifteen!

What kind of concept is this?

This means the Feng Army's artillery can pound any of their artillery positions from an absolutely safe distance, however they please!

Zhang Xueliang looked at his near-collapse demeanor and deliberately put on a surprised expression.

"Lord Yamada, you're asking me?"

"How would I know?"

He shrugged, looking innocent.

"I'm just a guide. I don't understand military matters."

"But then again..."

He drew out his words and leaned into Yamada Ichiro's ear, speaking in a hushed tone that only the two of them could hear, grinning.

"Within range, there's truth everywhere. Ever heard that saying?"

"Now, the truth is on our side."

The shelling finally stopped.

But for the survivors on the Japan artillery positions, the real nightmare had only just begun.

More than ten military trucks roared, crushing the rugged, scorched earth as they stopped at the edge of the positions.

The doors opened, and hundreds of Feng Army soldiers, armed to the teeth, jumped out with practiced movements and cold eyes.

Leading them was Chu Shixin.

He strolled around the positions, his boots making squelching sounds as they stepped on the ground mixed with dirt and flesh.

Twisted gun barrels, shattered parts, and mangled limbs were everywhere.

The smell of burning filled the air, making one want to vomit.

"Listen up, you bastards!"

Chu Shixin stopped and yelled at the soldiers behind him.

"First, check if anyone's still breathing."

"If there are any who aren't dead yet, don't hold back on bullets. Put them out of their misery."