Three Thousand Cavalry Descended in Divine Judgment, Subduing Fire Thunder Blasted Through the Grain Convoy

An older general, forcing a smile, said, "Sir, our heads are tied together; how could we possibly leak secrets?"

"Not you?" Inukami Jusaburo interrupted him. "Then who could it be? Could it be...?"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Grain official.

Is there a problem with the grain official?

He really didn't know.

After all, only the samurai were nobles; the rest were commoners.

The expression on his face changed.

Bring me the two grain officials in charge of this grain route.

The guards outside the tent received their orders and left.

In less than an hour, the two grain officials were dragged into the main tent, bound hand and foot. Their knees slammed against the ground with a dull thud, and the two men turned pale with fright.

"My lord, have mercy! My lord!"

Inukami Jusaburo squatted down, looking one of the grain officials in the eye, and said in a flat voice, "Besides me, only the three of you know the location of the granary, right? So, it was you, you lowly commoner, who leaked the secret?"

The grain official shook his head frantically. "Sir, I absolutely did not!"

Inukami Jusaburo stood up and drew his sword from his waist.

"There's a traitor among the three of you."

He didn't give the other person a chance to say a second word.

The knife cleaves downwards.

Blood was splattered all over the tent floor.

The second grain officer saw his companion's head roll to his knees, and he collapsed to the ground, trembling as if his bones had been removed, with a large dark water stain on his crotch.

Inukami Jusaburo touched the ground with the tip of his sword, and blood flowed down the blade, forming a Xiaoshui on the sand.

He glanced at the remaining grain officer. "Where is the third person?"

"At, at- Busanpo Grand Camp--"

Inukami Jusaburo let out a "Heh".

Sheathed the sword.

He looked up at the generals in the tent, scanning them one by one. All their eyes were avoiding his; not one dared to approach him.

"Issue the order: anyone in the entire army who privately discusses matters concerning the supply lines will be executed."

The generals bowed their heads in response and filed out of the tent.

After the tent flap was lowered, the group went to a secluded corner, huddled together, and spoke in hushed tones, barely audible.

"Was the grain supply line truly cut off, or was it just a feigned one?"

"Who cares if it's true or not, didn't you see the look in the Inukami's eyes? He wanted nothing more than to cut us all down with him."

"Let's retreat while we can still move."

"Where to retreat to? The last major supply depot is in Busan, but who knows what Busan is like now?"

"So, we're just going to wait to starve to death?"

No one answered that question.

The group dispersed, each with their own thoughts.

Xue Huan, who was hiding in the gaps of the tent, wiped the dust off his face and smiled.

He lowered his head and walked into a row of tents next to him, found a Japanese soldier who was sharpening a knife, squatted down, and started talking to him in broken Japanese.

"Have you heard? Inukami Kami just beheaded two grain officials."

The Japanese soldier sharpening his knife looked up at him and asked, "Which unit are you from?"

Xue Huan pointed in a direction. "The ones guarding the south wall, the ones who came off duty."

The Japanese soldier didn't press the matter, lowered his head and continued sharpening his knife. After a couple of strokes, he muttered, "These days, it's hard to say. Tsk. Do you think we have enough food to last a few more days?"

Xue Huan sighed, "I heard there's only enough for five days left in the warehouse."

He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "I don't know who leaked the location of the warehouse, Great Yan people just used fire bombs to blast it, and they hit it with perfect accuracy. What else could this be but an inside traitor?"

The Japanese soldiers sharpening their knives slowed down.

Xue Huan stood up, dusted off his pants, and walked towards another row of tents.

After walking about ten steps, I heard the sound of a Japanese soldier sharpening his knife and whispering to the person next to him behind me.

He didn't turn around.

Beach.

Mei Boqian's knife had already chipped and dulled.

He flicked the knife, shaving off the blood and flesh clinging to the blade, took three steps back, and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. The sweat was mixed with blood, making his face even more smeared.

Three thousand private soldiers and Japanese scouts were tangled up on the beach. The Japanese, relying on their superior numbers, held them back in the shallow water. The soldiers in front couldn't retreat, and the soldiers behind couldn't get up, so they were all squeezed together in the middle.

An arrow grazed Mei Boqian's ear, and he instinctively turned his head, the arrow feathers leaving a stinging bloody mark on his cheek.

"Fuck you!"

He cursed, wiped the blood from his face, and yelled at his deputy, "Left wing, push forward! Don't let them surround us!"

The deputy rushed out at the order, shouting commands, and led a group of men to attack to the left.

Mei Boqian took a couple of breaths and turned to look back at the sea.

Gu Moran's fleet was gone, completely gone, leaving only their dozen or so small landing Xiaochuan at sea.

He cursed inwardly, then swallowed the words back.

What's there to be afraid of? I, the Great Yan Marquis of Dayan, am not afraid of death.

He knew he was there to take the fall; the main force had gone around to Incheon, and his three thousand men were just bait to draw the attention of the Japanese outposts.

Delay it for as long as possible.

He gritted his teeth, switched the dull blade to his left hand, picked up a gun from a dead man's hand from the ground, slung it over his shoulder, and charged forward.

Just do it!

Fighting for one's country, even in death I will be remembered for a thousand years!

In Busanpo, Busan.

Pu Yunshan lay behind a large rock, looking down through binoculars.

At the bottom of the ravine, there is a narrow path, with dense bushes on both sides, and beyond that, a patch of grass about waist-high.

There were more than a dozen grain carts parked on the road, with cloth flags with Japanese writing hanging on the shafts. The Japanese soldiers driving the carts had their cattle tied to the roadside to graze, while they squatted under the wheels of the carts and ate dry rations.

Pu Yunshan put down his telescope and licked his chapped lips.

The granary marked on the map is located in a mountain valley about five miles ahead. This batch of grain carts came out of the granary and were being transported towards Hanseong.

He glanced back at the three thousand cavalrymen lying in ambush in the grass behind him. They were a dark mass, their horses' muzzles tied with strips of cloth, as quiet as the iron-colored grass.

He raised his right hand and drew a circle in the air.

Attack signal.

Then he lowered his hand, wiped the sweat from his palms on the stone, and took out a tinderbox from his waist.

A bodyguard handed him a Subduing Fire Thunder.

Pu Yunshan held the tinderbox in his mouth, held the Subduing Fire Thunder in both hands, blew on the fuse at the bottom, and the sparks shot up with a "hiss".

He stood up, swung his arms wide, and hurled the smoking iron lump at the grain convoy.

"Brothers, our fate rests on this!"

Bomb it for me!

The Subduing Fire Thunder landed in the middle of the grain cart and bounced once.

Then the entire valley lit up.