On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

The Japanese expatriate quarter in Lushun had now become a living hell.

Before the Northeast Army breached the city, these expatriates were the masters of Lushun.

They live in the best houses, run the most profitable shops, walk down the street with their heads held high, and look down on the Chinese people.

The Japanese operated in Lushun for decades, with a population of tens of thousands, including merchants, teachers, doctors, and ronin (masterless samurai).

They married and had children here, making Lushun their home.

But after news of the city walls collapsing and tanks entering the city spread, everything changed.

First came the sound of gunfire, coming from the direction of the north gate, getting closer and closer.

Then came the sound of explosions, the deep rumble of tank guns and the muffled thuds of grenades mingling together, rattling the windows.

Then came screams, the screams and desperate wails of the Japanese soldiers filled the air.

The expatriate district was in complete chaos.

The men frantically rummaged through the guns hidden in their homes, including Nambu pistols, Murata rifles, and some even carrying samurai swords.

They opened the window and looked out onto the street, their expressions shifting from panic to fear.

"The north gate has been breached!"

"The Chinese army has entered the city!"

"Run! Run towards the port!"

The streets were filled with fleeing crowds.

Women stumbled and ran, carrying children; the elderly were pushed to the ground and no one helped them up; men carried boxes and pushed carts, piling everything they could carry onto them, and surged south like a swarm of frightened ants.

But they can't run far.

The Northeast Army's tanks had advanced three blocks south from Beimen Street, with infantry following behind, conducting a sweeping cleanup of every building.

Huo Quji's orders were very clear:

Leave no survivors.

The tank crews and infantry carried out the mission thoroughly, bombarding any Japanese soldiers who resisted with guns.

Every Japanese soldier who ran out of the house was swept away with a burst of bullets.

Any Japanese soldier who tried to play dead or hide in the ruins pretending to be a civilian was finished off with two shots to the chest and one to the head. Even God would shake his head in dismay.

No one shouted "Surrender and you won't be killed."

The phrase "surrender and you will not be killed" is no longer in the dictionary of the Northeast Army today.

The expatriates soon realized that running south was pointless.

Gunfire was equally intense from the south gate, and the entire city of Lushun was pierced by the steel torrent of the Northeast Army from north to south.

They were trapped in a huge pocket, surrounded by gunfire and death.

So they began to hide.

Some people crawled into cellars, some climbed into attics, some hid in temples and school classrooms, and some ran desperately toward the port, trying to squeeze onto the few Japanese merchant ships docked at the pier.

But the scene at the dock was already quite different. The Northeast Army Navy, which Zhang Xueming had previously mobilized, had arrived at the battlefield.

At that time, the Northeast Army's navy was the best in China. Although it only had a few warships, it was enough to blockade the entire port of Lushun.

Any ship attempting to leave port would be bombarded to pieces by naval guns.

The first Japanese merchant ship that forced its way out of port was blown in two outside the harbor, its wreckage emitting black smoke and burning on the sea.

As more and more Japanese soldiers went into hiding, the Northeast Army began to search and capture them in smaller groups. However, these Japanese soldiers had lived there for a long time, making the search very difficult for the Northeast Army.

Wang Yizhe and Liu Duoquan started racking their brains and decided to mobilize the local people.

After the initial fear of the cannon fire and gunfire, the Chinese people in Lushun finally realized that the Northeast Army had invaded.

The Northeast Army, the old marshal's Northeast Army, finally marched from Fengtian to Lushun.

At first, a few daring young men poked their heads out of the window.

They saw T-34 tanks on the street, the Northeast Army battle flag fluttering on the tanks, and the soldiers in Northeast Army uniforms following behind the tanks.

Then they heard a shout in a Northeastern accent:

"Fellow villagers, don't be afraid! The Northeast Army is back!"

That shout was like a key that unlocked the heart of the entire city.

In an alley near the North Gate, an old man with a wrinkled face peeked out from behind his door.

"The Northeast Army...is it really the Northeast Army?"

The old man's lips trembled, and cloudy tears streamed down his face. "My God, you've finally come...you've finally come..."

Behind him, his wife, holding a bundle wrapped in a tattered cotton-padded coat, also began to cry.

Their son was captured by the Japanese seven years ago to build fortifications and never returned.

My daughter was conscripted into a comfort station; she was never seen again, neither alive nor dead.

The elderly couple stayed in this dilapidated house like two sparrows waiting to die, for a full seven years.

Now, they have finally waited for this moment; the Northeast Army has arrived.

The news spread like wildfire through the city's Chinese community.

The news spread from the North Gate to the South Gate, from the East District to the West District. Every surviving Chinese person ran out of their hiding place, stood on the street, and watched the gray-green tanks and infantry drive past them.

Some people were crying, some were laughing, some were kneeling on the ground and kowtowing to the tanks, and some were rushing into the ranks like madmen, wanting to touch the tanks and hold the soldiers' hands.

A middle-aged man in patched clothes stopped a Northeast Army platoon leader by the roadside, grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go, his eyes red like a rabbit's.

"Sir, are you still recruiting? I want to join the army! I want to kill the Japanese devils!"

The platoon leader glanced at him and patted him on the shoulder:

"Fellow villager, don't be in such a hurry. The Commander-in-Chief has ordered that there's a job available. Would you be willing to do it?"

"What kind of work?"

"Catch the Japanese devils."

The platoon leader pointed to the overseas Chinese community behind him. "The Commander-in-Chief said that all the people in the city should come and help catch the Japanese devils."

"Find a Japanese soldier, and you'll get a silver dollar as a reward."

The middle-aged man paused for a second, then his expression changed.

A silver dollar is a considerable sum of money for ordinary people.

But what truly made this middle-aged man's eyes turn red was not money, but the word "grab".

"Catch the Japanese?"

His voice suddenly became deep and rough, "I'd do it even if it were free! I've waited fifteen years for this day!"

The news spread throughout the city faster than tanks could carry it.

Find the Japanese soldier, and you'll get a silver dollar.

No mobilization, no explanation, and not even organization are needed.

People from all over China poured out of every alley, every courtyard, and every dilapidated house, carrying everything they could get their hands on: kitchen knives, shovels, carrying poles, wooden sticks, ropes, and carrying pole hooks.

Some people even rushed out of the kitchen with an axe used for chopping ribs.

The people of Northeast China are known for their fierce and tough nature.

The people raised in this land of white mountains and black waters are tall and strong, making them natural-born soldiers.

The Fourth Field Army's million-strong army swept all the way from Northeast China to Hainan Island, relying on the fierce courage of the Northeasterners.

They were usually oppressed by the Japanese, like a tiger chained up.

But once the chains break, the tiger will bare its teeth.

Now, the chains are broken; Zhang Xueming cut them for them.

The "slave-catching team" that was spontaneously formed by the people took shape in less than half an hour.

They had no unified command, no unified uniforms, but they had one common prey: the Japanese soldiers.

On the streets outside the expatriate district, a group of burly men from Northeast China stopped several expatriates who were trying to escape.

The man at the head of the group was nearly 1.9 meters tall, with shoulders as broad as a door panel, and he was holding a carrying pole as thick as an arm.

His cotton-padded jacket sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, revealing bulging veins on his exposed forearms.

"Run? Where to run?"

To the overseas Chinese, his voice sounded like the pronouncements of the King of Hell.

Several overseas Chinese were so frightened that their legs went weak.

One of the young Japanese soldiers reached for his pistol at his waist, but before he could draw it, a carrying pole was swung at him from the side.

"Snap!"

My wrist was broken, and the white bone fragments pierced through the skin.

"Ah!! Ah!!"

The Japanese soldier let out a scream and rolled on the ground in pain.

"Baka!! How dare you attack the Great Japanese Empire..."

Before his companion could react, a group of burly men from Northeast China rushed up, pinned him to the ground, and tied him up with ropes around his head.

The binding method was crude but extremely sturdy; the ropes dug into the flesh, binding them like pigs awaiting slaughter.

The leading man squatted down, grabbed a Japanese soldier by the hair, and lifted his face off the ground.

"Hey, isn't this Captain Tanaka?"

The man grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow from years of smoking. "So, you've finally met your match?"

Tanaka was trembling like a leaf, muttering incoherently in Japanese, probably begging for mercy.

But no one understood it, and no one wanted to listen.

The man ordered his men to beat the beast to death. He didn't know if the corpse was valuable, but killing Japanese soldiers was the most satisfying thing.

Subsequently, more slave-catching teams stormed into the expatriate quarter.

The streets of the expatriate district were filled with fleeing Japanese soldiers.

Some people climbed over the wall, some crawled through dog holes, and some hid in the woodshed and covered themselves with straw.

But all methods of hiding were futile against the locals.

The Chinese people know every corner of these alleys, these courtyards, and these houses far better than the Japanese soldiers do.

They knew exactly which family's cellar could hide someone, which family's attic had a hidden compartment, and which family's backyard had a dry well.

A team of slave hunters surrounded a two-story Japanese-style wooden house.

There were more than a dozen overseas Chinese hiding in the house, including men and women, the elderly and children.

The men stood guard at the door with guns, while the women huddled in the corner with their children, trembling with fear.

The men from Northeast China outside the door didn't try to force their way in; instead, they started setting fires.

It wasn't burning down the house; it was burning a bunch of chili peppers and sulfur, covering their mouths with a damp cloth, and fanning the thick smoke into the house.

The acrid smoke filled the room, and within five minutes, the people inside were so choked by the fumes that tears and snot streamed down their faces, and they were coughing so hard they couldn't straighten up.

A Japanese man rushed out with a gun, but as soon as he stepped out the door, he was hit in the face with a shovel, his nose bridge collapsed, and he fell backward to the ground.

Women carrying children ran out of the thick smoke, knelt on the ground, and kowtowed in broken Chinese, begging for mercy:

"Please, please, the child is innocent, the child..."

A man from the slave-catching team squatted down and looked at the woman.

His face showed no sympathy, only a cold expression.

"innocent?"

"When you arrested my wife and caused the death of my child, why didn't you claim innocence? When you dragged my wife into a comfort station, why didn't you claim innocence then?"

The woman cried so hard she couldn't speak, and could only keep kowtowing, her forehead hitting the stone slab until it bled.

The man stood up and looked down at her, his eyes red and bloodshot.

"The Northeast Army has arrived today."

He pointed to the advancing tanks in the distance, "They're here to stand up for us."

"You're begging me to spare you? Why should I spare you?"

The slave-catching team behind him gave the woman no further chance to beg for mercy.

The rope was put around their necks, the knot was pulled, and a dozen or so overseas Chinese were dragged out of the courtyard like a string of crabs and disappeared at the end of the alley.

Such scenes are playing out in every corner of Lushun.

The slave-catching team searched house to house. Japanese soldiers hiding in cellars were dragged out by their ankles, old men hiding in attics were poked down with bamboo poles, and ronin hiding in temples were pulled out from behind Buddha statues and had their legs broken on the spot.

Those overseas Chinese who tried to swim away from the dock were caught in fishing nets by the locals guarding the shore, hauled up like fish, and thrown onto the shore, where they were left to shiver in the cold sea wind.

While the regular troops of the Northeast Army were dealing with the remaining Japanese soldiers head-on, the slave-catching teams were clearing out the hiding expatriates in the capillaries of the city.

The two forces, one overt and one covert, cooperated seamlessly.

Sometimes, when the Northeast Army saw slave-catching teams dragging prisoners out of alleys, the soldiers would just glance at them and continue advancing.

No one sympathizes with these beasts.

In Northeast China, the Japanese spent thirty years erasing the word "sympathy" from the Chinese lexicon.