You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

Wangjia Village, located on the northern slope of Zhongtiao Mountain and east of the Qin River, is nestled in the folds of the Taihang Mountains.

On a warm autumn afternoon, the sun was shining brightly, making people feel lazy and comfortable.

The Qinhe River flows gently around the village, and small fish can be seen swimming in the clear water.

The village was quiet, except for the creaking of the stone mill in the threshing ground, and the old ox swishing its tail, slowly munching on the grass on the ground.

The village has about a hundred households, most of whom are surnamed Wang, and have lived on this land for generations.

The men, carrying hoes and still covered in mud, had just returned from the fields and were squatting at the entrance of their yards, sharpening their sickles and humming folk tunes from the Taihang Mountains.

The women sat on the doorstep, sewing shoe soles, chatting amongst themselves, their laughter occasionally breaking the silence.

The children, barefoot, chased each other through the alley, holding up freshly picked wild jujubes and laughing so hard they revealed their gap-toothed front teeth.

Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, two elderly militiamen with gray hair were dozing against the tree trunk, holding their homemade guns. The red tassels on the gunstocks swayed gently in the wind.

The battles in southeastern Shanxi have been fought brilliantly lately, and even the area near Zhongtiao Mountain has become much more peaceful.

The people felt reassured, thinking that the Japanese devils would be too scared to even run away, let alone dare to wander into this mountain valley.

However, no one expected that the gates of hell had already silently and slowly opened towards this peaceful little village.

"Bang!"

A sudden gunshot shattered the afternoon tranquility.

Two militiamen who were dozing under the old locust tree were suddenly awakened. Just as they were about to grab their homemade guns and stand up, a bullet pierced through the chest of one of them.

Blood splattered instantly onto the rough bark of the old locust tree. The old man groaned and fell straight down.

Another old militiaman, his eyes bloodshot with rage, grabbed his homemade gun and was about to pull the trigger, but before he could even raise his hand, three or four Japanese soldiers in drab uniforms rushed over and plunged their gleaming bayonets deep into his stomach.

The old man made a hoarse sound in his throat, gripping the bayonet tightly until his last breath.

Saburo Nomura walked slowly into Wangjia Village, his feet sinking into the fallen leaves.

The military knife in his hand was still dripping blood, and droplets of blood from the blade dripped down the tip to the ground, spreading out in dark red patterns.

He fired the first shot.

He watched the two old militiamen fall to the ground, his face expressionless, only a sickly, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Seal off all roads! Don't let a single Chinese person out!"

Saburo Nomura's voice was as cold as the waters of the Qin River in late autumn. He slowly raised his military sword, the blade pointing deep into the village, and gave his orders, word by word, his voice filled with barely suppressed fervor:

"Everyone in the squadron, hunt freely! Men, old, young, kill them all!"

"Keep the women for now, let the Empire's warriors have their fun, then we'll deal with them!"

"Burn all the houses! Take all the grain and livestock with you!"

"Hey!"

The two hundred-plus Japanese soldiers behind him instantly charged into the depths of the village, howling like wolves released from their shackles.

These Japanese soldiers, who had been fleeing with the main force for several days, had long been simmering with anger and resentment. Now they finally found an outlet for their pent-up anger, their eyes filled with a bloodthirsty red light.

They knew all too well that there were no Eighth Route Army soldiers, no fortifications, no guns or cannons in this village, only unarmed civilians.

Killing them is easier than slaughtering pigs or sheep.

Gunshots, screams, cries, and the rumble of collapsing houses instantly filled the entire Wangjia Village.

The children who had been chasing each other in the alley were frozen in fear. Before they could even react to what was happening, the Japanese soldiers who rushed over shot them one by one, knocking them to the ground.

The youngest child was only three years old. He was still clutching half a wild jujube in his hand when he saw his little friend lying on the ground and burst into tears.

A Japanese soldier walked over with a sinister grin, grabbed the child by the back of his collar, and lifted him high up like a chick.

"No! Don't touch my child!"

In the courtyard not far away, the child's mother rushed out like a madwoman, her hair disheveled, and lunged at the Japanese soldiers.

But she had only taken two steps when another Japanese soldier shot her in the leg, causing her to fall heavily to the ground. She could only watch helplessly as the Japanese soldier grinned and slammed the child onto the nearby millstone.

With a muffled thud, the child's crying stopped abruptly.

The mother let out a heart-wrenching wail and crawled desperately forward on the ground, trying to hold her child.

But the Japanese soldier holding the child had already walked over, raised his rifle butt, and smashed it hard on her head.

Blood gushed from the woman's forehead instantly, but she still held tightly to the child's body, repeatedly murmuring the child's nickname.

The Japanese soldiers burst into laughter, as if they were watching some amusing acrobatic performance.

They surrounded the mother and child, using bayonets to pry open the woman's clothes, stepping on her back, and hurling vulgarities at her.

The woman gritted her teeth, raised her head, her eyes bloodshot, and spat a mouthful of saliva hard onto the face of the leading Japanese soldier.

The next second, the gleaming bayonet pierced her chest.

Saburo Nomura stood not far away, watching this scene without the slightest emotion on his face.

He even found it somewhat boring; these Chinese were so powerless to resist, like lambs to the slaughter.

He remembered the days when Kenta pinned him to the ground and beat him when he was a child.

Back then, he was just like these Chinese people kneeling on the ground begging for mercy now—powerless, cowardly, and left to be bullied by others.

But things are different now. He has knives and guns, and he controls the lives and deaths of these people.

He understood that the so-called Bushido, the so-called strength, was never about reasoning, but about having a fast enough sword and a ruthless enough heart.

"Captain! There are more than a dozen people surrounding us!"

A Japanese soldier ran over and bowed to Ida Takeshi to report.

Saburo Nomura looked up and saw a dozen unarmed men surrounded by dozens of Japanese soldiers on the threshing ground, with women and old people huddled together holding children behind them.

Leading the group was the village's old chief, an elderly man in his sixties who stood in front of the villagers, leaning on a cane, and repeatedly bowed to the Japanese soldiers who surrounded them.

"Sir, please don't shoot! Don't hurt the children! Take the food, the livestock, you can have them all! Please!"

Saburo Nomura walked over slowly, his sword tapping softly on the ground.

He looked at the old village chief, a cruel smile playing on his lips, and asked in broken Chinese:

"You want us not to kill them?"

The old village chief nodded hurriedly, his cloudy eyes filled with pleading: "Yes! Yes! We'll give you anything, just please spare these children, they're still so young..."

"Small?"

Saburo Nomura suddenly burst into laughter, which grew louder and louder, as if he had heard the biggest joke ever.

"Even a newborn Chinese baby is an enemy of the Empire!"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly raised his military knife and slashed it down hard at the old village chief's neck!

The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and breaking bones was particularly jarring in the threshing ground.

Blood splattered all over Nomura Saburo, but he didn't care at all. He even stuck out his tongue and licked the blood that had splattered on the corner of his mouth. The sweet and fishy taste made his blood boil.

This feels so good.

The same thrill as when I first beheaded that old farmer during the sweep, even more intense.

The old village chief's body fell to the ground, his head rolled a long way away, his eyes still wide open, filled with disbelief.

The villagers surrounding them erupted in chaos. The women screamed in terror, and the children cried loudly in fear.

The men's eyes turned red. Some grabbed hoes from the side, others picked up stones from the ground, and they were about to rush towards the Japanese soldiers.

"shot!"

Saburo Nomura coldly gave the order.

A barrage of gunfire erupted instantly, bullets raining down on the villagers.

The young men at the very front were instantly riddled with bullets and fell heavily to the ground.

Blood stained the ground of the threshing ground and flowed into the soil through the cracks in the stone roller.

"Bring out all the men! Let's practice assassination!"

Saburo Nomura's order instantly excited the Japanese soldiers.

They rushed into the crowd, dragged out the remaining dozen or so men like dead dogs, tied their hands with ropes, and forced them to kneel on the ground.

Most of these Japanese soldiers were new recruits who had only recently joined the army, and they needed to be trained to be brave by using live people.

They held rifles with bayonets fixed, grinning maliciously as they stabbed at the unarmed villagers.

One cut after another.

The sounds of bayonets piercing chests, the villagers' painful groans, and the Japanese soldiers' excited shouts mingled together.

Some villagers were stabbed more than a dozen times and covered in blood, but they still stared at the Japanese soldiers in front of them until their last breath, without ever lowering their heads.

Saburo Nomura stood by, watching all this, occasionally offering a few words of advice, like a strict instructor.

Seeing that the new recruits' bayonet thrusts were inaccurate, he would personally step forward to demonstrate, raising his saber and beheading a villager with a single stroke, then saying to the recruits:

"Look carefully! Imperial warriors, your blades must be swift and ruthless, without the slightest hesitation!"