Unlike the bustling, neon-lit splendor of Shanghai, the Japanese command headquarters was cold and deserted. Under the dim streetlights, squads of Japanese soldiers patrolled back and forth, sealing this area off from the outside world.
Zhang Xuan did not alert anyone. It was not yet time to kill Japanese soldiers. Under cover of night, he silently teleported into the command headquarters, then slowly made his way toward its center—a spacious hall, the liveliest place in the building. Even from afar, he could hear the Japanese yelling like demons about something.
Keeping close to the wall, Zhang Xuan approached a window and cautiously peeked into the hall.
"Hata Shunroku!" At first glance, Zhang Xuan recognized the middle-aged man in military uniform at the center. He was also the target of this trip.
Once he confirmed that Hata Shunroku was inside, Zhang Xuan began carefully observing the hall's layout.
Seventeen Japanese soldiers had gathered around a map, seemingly studying a battle plan. On the other side, five young confidential secretaries were writing furiously, presumably recording something. Aside from them, only two ordinary soldiers stood guard at the entrance.
There were quite a few people. At Zhang Xuan's Teleportation speed, he could take out at most eight before alerting the others.
"Use a bomb." Zhang Xuan tucked the dagger he had pulled out back at his waist, then vanished through Teleportation. Moments later, he reappeared with a high-explosive bomb in his hand.
Zhang Xuan had gotten it from Strucker. He had witnessed this thing's destructive power while wiping out Hydra before. One bomb was enough to flatten this entire hall.
After glancing into the hall once more, Zhang Xuan quietly placed the high-explosive bomb in a corner, then teleported away the instant it detonated.
A thunderous boom rang out, and all of Shanghai seemed to shake. Standing outside the Japanese command headquarters, Zhang Xuan watched smoke billow from the building amid waves of shouting, a smug smile crossing his face.
Taking advantage of the dust and smoke, Zhang Xuan returned to the hall. By then, it had completely vanished. All he could see was rubble, with severed limbs and mangled corpses scattered everywhere.
Zhang Xuan quickly found Hata Shunroku's body. With a soft snort, he pressed the note he had prepared long ago onto Hata Shunroku's chest, then vanished.
The next day, news that the Japanese command headquarters had been infiltrated by a mysterious person dominated newspaper headlines. The note Zhang Xuan had placed on Hata Shunroku's body was also revealed: "Those who speak of massacring cities again shall be killed!"
The words immediately spread across the country, stirring everyone's spirits. The Chinese people were truly exhilarated. The Japanese command headquarters had been wiped out—how could they not be excited?
The Japanese, however, were furious. They saw it as a desecration of the Japanese Emperor and vowed retaliation—brutal retaliation.
Zhang Xuan did not hesitate to strike again, eliminating several Japanese soldiers who had shouted the loudest. Yet this did not frighten the arrogant Japanese soldiers. Instead, it stirred their savagery, and they once more turned their bayonets on Chinese civilians.
Zhang Xuan had long known this would infuriate the Japanese, and he had already prepared countermeasures.
That night, Zhang Xuan gathered his army once again.
Since the battle of Jiangcheng, the army had rested for over half a month. Every one of them had eagerly awaited another battle like Jiangcheng. The moment they heard the assembly call, the same thought sprang into everyone's mind: they could kill Japanese again!
"I'll keep it simple. One word: kill!" Unlike last time, Zhang Xuan did not waste a single word. He was direct and concise.
"Kill!" "Kill!" "Kill!"
After the three cries, Zhang Xuan raised his hand to stop their shouts. "This time, our target is Nanjing!"
All thirty thousand soldiers froze for a moment, then erupted into even louder battle cries. The Nanjing Massacre had been deeply branded into the heart of every Chinese person, an eternal scar that would never fade. To avenge it here was the lifelong wish of every Chinese soldier.
That night, Nanjing became a blood-soaked hell, as though it had returned to those days.
In this battle, Zhang Xuan charged at the front, carrying a heavy machine gun like the incarnation of death as he swept aside every Japanese devil. Once the killing excited him, Zhang Xuan finally tossed away the machine gun and gripped his dagger, harvesting their lives one by one. He greatly enjoyed the blade slicing across their throats and the dying terror on their faces. It made him feel incomparably satisfied, like drinking a can of ice water on a scorching summer day—pure bliss.
After clearing every Japanese soldier from Nanjing, Zhang Xuan left behind his usual message, arranging it with the corpses of Japanese soldiers: "For every civilian killed, ten soldiers shall pay with their lives!"
Once everything was done, Zhang Xuan led his army away in an instant, truly coming without a trace and leaving without a shadow.
This time, the Japanese had learned their lesson. No matter how the foreign media reported it, they made no statement at all, as if they had become mute.
While all of China was thrilled by the battle, Japan and the National Government launched investigations one after another, seeking to uncover who and which army had done it. Japan's Tokkō and the National Government's Military Statistics Bureau mobilized all their resources. Unfortunately, after more than a month of investigation, they found nothing. Nanjing lay deep within Japanese-occupied territory and was surrounded by Japanese troops. It was simply impossible for a Chinese army to appear there.
After the news came out, gossip-loving Chinese people began saying that the Chinese soldiers who had died in Nanjing had returned for revenge. Though absurd, the rumor gained widespread acceptance, and the Nanjing Yin Army became a frequent topic of conversation.
One operation was not enough to crush the Japanese soldiers' arrogance. The slaughter of civilians still occurred from time to time.
Zhang Xuan assembled his army again and swept through several more Japanese military bases in succession. One hundred thousand Japanese troops vanished in the blink of an eye. After each base was cleared, Zhang Xuan left behind the same message: "For every civilian killed, ten soldiers shall pay with their lives!"
After several such incidents, although many Japanese officers were furious, ordinary Japanese soldiers no longer dared to casually murder Chinese civilians.
They came and went without a trace, just like ghosts and phantoms. No matter how Japan investigated, it could find no information whatsoever about this army. The name Nanjing Yin Army was thus firmly established, and even Japan had no choice but to give this mysterious force a codename: "Ghost Army."
Inside a secluded residence in Shancheng.
"Two months, and you still haven't found anything?" The luxuriously dressed young man could not suppress his rage. He raised a hand and slapped the balding middle-aged man beside him. "What use are you? You might as well go die!"
The middle-aged man trembled as he dropped to his knees, his voice shaking as well. "R-Replying to Young Master, they may really be the Nanjing Yin Army. They returned to kill Japanese soldiers and avenge themselves."
"What Nanjing Yin Army? It's just a smokescreen!" The young man snorted coldly and said in an icy voice, "I'll give you one more week. If you still have no news, you can go die!"
At the same time, in the new Japanese command headquarters, a tall young man wearing a sun-god mask walked in. Arrogance gleamed in his exposed eyes.
"Welcome, Mr. Yoshida Shiro!" Okamura Yasuji, the newly appointed commander-in-chief of the Japanese Expeditionary Army in China, approached him with a broad smile, wearing a ridiculous pair of glasses.
Yoshida Shiro, still masked, glanced sideways at Okamura Yasuji without saying a word.
Okamura Yasuji took no offense and continued smiling. "Regarding the Ghost Army..."
Before Okamura Yasuji could finish, orange-red flames suddenly erupted from Yoshida Shiro's body and shot toward the sky. A supremely confident voice could faintly be heard: "Leave this to me!"