Courtyard House: A Start with Black Gold Swallowing 100,000 Silver Dollars

Before long, everyone was mobilized.

The streets and alleys were deathly silent in the dead of night. Apart from the Japanese military police pacing back and forth in their leather boots, there was hardly anyone to be seen.

But this operation was well-prepared – the chosen meeting place was only four hundred steps from the target warehouse, and taking a shortcut would only take five minutes.

Hurrying along the wall, dodging the patrol several times, I finally caught sight of the gray-walled, high-roofed warehouse in the shadows at the alley entrance.

A dozen or so Japanese soldiers with Type 38 rifles slung over their shoulder stood at the entrance, their bayonets flashing coldly; behind the walls, inside the windows, and in the corners of the courtyard, countless other eyes were hidden.

"Six men, immediately seize both rooftops on the left and right! Upon hearing the explosion, take out the sentries on both sides!"

At Niu Dali's command, six dark figures darted up the wall like cats.

Immediately afterwards, he waved his hand sharply, and a dozen or so grenades flew in arcs toward the gate.

"boom--!!!"

"boom--!!!"

"boom--!!!"

A deafening explosion ripped through the night, and flames shot skyward. The wooden door shattered into dust, and the seven or eight Japanese soldiers at the door were all thrown to the ground without uttering a sound.

The Japanese soldiers on both sides of the sentry post also fell down, their heads bursting open, and their blood splattered on the blue brick ground.

In less than half a minute, most of the more than ten defenders had been lying down.

Despite their swift fighting, the real reason was superior equipment – ​​the agents' Mauser pistols and Thompson submachine guns had high rates of fire and heavy firepower, which no single-shot rifle could withstand.

Niu Dali kicked open the charred door frame and rushed in first. Ten men followed in, their guns sweeping towards the depths.

Sure enough, there were Japanese soldiers hiding inside.

He fired with both guns simultaneously, each bullet precisely hitting the enemy's forehead; behind him, his teammates swept across with submachine guns, their muzzles spitting fire and raining bullets like a net.

The Japanese soldier had barely raised his rifle to aim when he fell. There wasn't even time to reload.

In the blink of an eye, the Japanese soldiers were emptied from the warehouse, leaving only one spy with a wound on his left arm, blood seeping through the bandage.

The weaponry was far inferior, making victory a foregone conclusion.

Perhaps the Japanese didn't believe at all that anyone would dare to raid the armory right under their noses.

"Hold the doorway, I'm going in to pack the medicine."

Niu Dali left those words behind and turned to disappear into the dark depths.

This warehouse was full of military supplies—gasoline drums were piled up like small mountains, tung oil jars lined the corners, iron ore was piled high, and there were several mountain guns with their wheels removed, with shell boxes stacked higher than a person...

Without even blinking, he rolled up his sleeves, and all the supplies vanished.

Finally, he carefully inserted the explosive block into the side of the load-bearing column, connected the detonator, and tightened the detonator.

The gunfire outside the door gradually subsided, and the Japanese mopping-up operation was nearing its end. Scattered resistance fighters huddled behind broken walls, rubble, and overturned carts, firing their weapons. Niu Dali crouched down, carefully placing the explosive charge, and then inch by inch guided the fuse to the doorway.

"All done, let's go!"

Before he finished speaking, he struck a match with his thumb, and the fuse ignited with a "hiss".

Several agents took the opportunity to throw grenades, aiming them at the narrow alleys, doorways, and behind low walls where the Japanese soldiers were hiding. Several loud bangs made it impossible for Xiaobenzi to lift his head.

The group turned and fled, their footsteps swift as the wind.

"boom--!!!"

Flames shot into the air, and thick smoke carrying splinters of wood and iron soared into the sky.

A military supply depot was reduced to ashes, and this time Little Ben was really angry enough to jump up and down cursing.

The next morning.

As expected.

Akagi Toshio was summoned to General Nobuda's office and given a severe dressing-down.

The military police were responsible for maintaining order in Beijing and cracking down on anti-Japanese elements. Now that the military oil depot has been blown up, creating a huge vulnerability, who else can they blame but the military police?

General Nobuda's loudest shout was "Baka yarou!", his spittle almost landing on Akagi's face.

Akagi kept his head bowed the entire time, his neck was so stiff it turned white, and he didn't even dare to breathe.

The deficit was enormous—without gasoline, trucks broke down, tanks stalled, planes were grounded, three-wheeled motorcycles were stranded on the streets, and even the diesel engines in the factories couldn't run.

Although there is still some fuel left in various places, enough to drive about 10 miles, this little bit of stock won't last long. At most, it will last for a day or two before we have to wait for emergency transport from Tianjing.

General Nobuda's face was ashen. When he first occupied the capital, he was full of vigor and walked with a brisk pace; now, undercurrents were surging in the city, ambushes were lying in wait outside, and anti-Japanese forces were harassing him day and night. His rule was crumbling, and he had lost all his pride.

"Junxiong-kun!" His voice was as cold as a knife scraping iron. "Immediately impose martial law on the entire city—entry is permitted only, no exit! You have ten days to find all anti-Japanese elements. Otherwise... you know the consequences."

"Hi!!!"

Akagi bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees.

But as soon as he stepped out of the office, his face turned so dark it looked like it could drip water.

Back in his room, he immediately summoned all the military police squad leaders, the head of the maintenance committee, and even Niu Dali.

The room erupted in a roar that shook the paper windows—he unleashed all the pent-up anger and humiliation he had suffered at Xintian's hands on his subordinates. Only after shouting did he issue the order: a city-wide manhunt, a thorough search of every house.

Anyone who is unfamiliar or whose behavior is suspicious is arrested and interrogated.

The only exception was the embassy district—foreigners were still the supreme rulers, especially the Germans, who were their allies and dared not even dart in there.

Li Wenguo had made preparations in advance. He sent all the spies out of the city through the tunnel overnight, so that they could hide in the surrounding counties to catch their breath and then come back to fight when things calmed down.

However, the underground party members who were also hiding in Beijing were not so lucky.

Faced with this whirlwind search, many people were arrested on the spot. Those who could withstand the interrogation were released after a few days; those who could not withstand torture were immediately thrown into death row.

Lao Pan and Zhou Zheng were also taken to the military police station. Fortunately, Niu Dali personally examined them and recognized them at a glance, waving them away on the spot.

Old Pan was a master of opportunism. He grinned and approached Sha Qiang, his eyes darting around as he lowered his voice: "Boss, I'm quite familiar with Ding Xiaoqi and his group. I'd like to ask you to inquire about someone."

Sha Qiang raised an eyebrow, glanced around, and said in a deep voice, "Follow me."

Old Pan felt a surge of warmth in his heart, quickly grabbed Zhou Zheng, and hurriedly turned into a quiet alley.

"Speak, hurry up."

Sha Qiang stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes like an eagle's, warily scanning the walls and eaves around him.

"Hehe, here's the thing—are Jiang Moumou, Qin Moumou, Qin Moumou, Wang Moumou, Ni Moumou… all these brothers in the police station right now?"

Old Pan licked his chapped lips, his face full of flattery.

"Say the names again, slowly, one by one clearly. I'll go back and check them. Let's meet here again at this time tomorrow."

Upon hearing this, Old Pan immediately perked up and read out the names of the five people clearly, word by word.

After saying that, the three of them went their separate ways without uttering another word.

"Old Pan, we're incredibly lucky to have gotten in touch with Master Li! He has connections all over the capital; even the most difficult things can be accomplished by finding a roundabout way."

Zhou Zheng breathed a long sigh of relief, his face full of joy.

"Old Zhou, watch your mouth!" Old Pan grabbed his arm and whispered, "From now on, you can only keep the words 'Master Li' in your heart. You can't let a single word slip out. If those traitors or those little devils hear it and harm Master Li, we'll really become wandering ghosts with nowhere to stay."

Zhou Zheng shuddered and immediately came to his senses.

That's right. It was precisely because of this connection that they were able to gain a foothold in the capital and live a stable life.

The next morning, Sha Qiang, Lao Pan, and Zhou Zheng met at the agreed location on time.

"Hey, Boss Qiang, how's it going with those brothers you asked me to meet yesterday?"

As soon as Lao Pan appeared, he put on a smile, his shoulders slumped slightly, and wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes, looking just like a lapdog that had just begged for food.

"Hmm... the three are still being held in our station. Director Niu will personally cross out their names later and release them immediately."

Sha Qiang's tone was flat and indifferent.

Director Niu?

Isn't this guy a confirmed traitor?

Old Pan and Zhou Zheng exchanged a quick glance, their pupils shrinking simultaneously—surprise and doubt spread rapidly, like ink dripping into clear water.

"Hey boss, isn't Director Niu supposed to be licking the knife's edge for the little devil? Why are you willing to let him go?"

Niu Dali was one of the targets that their underground party wanted to eliminate.

"If he nods, he can leave. Don't ask anything else."

Sha Qiang lowered his eyes, but his words sounded like they were weighed down by a heavy stone.

A few years ago, when Li Wenguo assigned Sha Qiang, Tie Dao, and Kong Wu to Niu Dali's command, he was also bewildered. But within a few days, he figured out the truth: this Director Niu, on the surface, supported the Japanese puppet regime, but secretly he was already in cahoots with Master Li. Only then did he feel relieved.

The expressions on Lao Pan and Zhou Zheng's faces at this moment were exactly the same as when Sha Qiang first heard the truth.

...Could it be?

Niu Dali never actually defected to the enemy?

The two men's Adam's apples bobbed slightly, their minds churning—Sha Qiang was Master Li's close confidant, and even he could command Niu Dali, so Niu Dali was probably one of their own!

"What about the other two? Why haven't they shown up yet?"

Old Pan shook off his distracting thoughts and hurriedly pressed for answers.

"He's been locked in a dark room by the maintenance committee." Sha Qiang frowned. "Troublesome."

The puppet regime? That's a den of traitors; the police can't get a foothold there.

If Niu Dali were to insist on vouching for someone, it would only attract attention—he had neither a relative nor a reason to do so.

Not to mention that the Japanese army is currently searching more thoroughly than a sieve, making it difficult to even slip money through a crack in the door.

"Boss! Boss! Please help me think of another way! I'm begging you!"

Old Pan clasped his hands together, took half a step forward, bent his waist even lower, and spoke with an unyielding, persistent tone.

He excels at this—persuading people until their scalp tingles, yet somehow they can't truly get annoyed.

Sha Qiang paused for a moment, then finally spoke: "I can only tell you where they're being held, and draw you a layout map of the detention center. But let me make this clear beforehand—if you fail, commit suicide on the spot, don't drag us down with you."

"You have five minutes."

—The drawing was done by Niu Dali himself. He was very familiar with the ways of the puppet regime.

"Old Pan, should we save him or not?" Zhou Zheng asked in a low voice.

Old Pan didn't answer, his jaw tightening as he rapidly calculated in his mind: with double guards added at the city gate and the military police's motorcycles constantly roaring through the streets, if a single shot rang out, they would be surrounded and killed within three minutes. Their few guns were no match for a squad of Japanese soldiers.

Five minutes passed, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he still didn't make a decision.

"Um... if I may ask," his throat was dry, "is Master Li... in the capital?"

Abandoning his comrades? He couldn't do it.

Even if there's only a sliver of hope left, we must hold on to it.

Sha Qiang's lips moved, but he didn't answer. He only said, "I have to go ask."

"Okay, okay! Thank you so much! Thank you so much!"

Old Pan bowed three times, his forehead almost touching his chest.

Before long, the three comrades had their names crossed out by Niu Dali, successfully escaped, and headed straight for the stronghold.