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

The massacre outside Fengtian City lasted for a full hour.

When the last fleeing Japanese soldier was stabbed through the back with a bayonet and fell screaming onto the frozen ground, the entire battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

The gunfire stopped, the explosions stopped, the shouts of battle stopped, and only the mournful sound of the north wind sweeping across the wilderness and the rushing sound of the Hun River washing away blood foam remained.

Five thousand suicide soldiers stood on the open ground, blood still dripping from their bayonets, their feet resting on a fleshy carpet of thousands of corpses.

Their German-style steel helmets reflected a cold, eerie luster in the midday sun, and their uniforms were splattered with dark red bloodstains, indistinguishable as to whether they were from the Japanese or their own soldiers.

No one spoke, no one cheered, and no one even showed any expression.

They simply stood there quietly, like five thousand statues crawling out of hell, waiting for the next command.

The veterans of the Northeast Army on the city wall peered down through the crenellations, their mouths agape, speechless for a long time.

A seasoned veteran who had fought in battles during Zhang Zuolin's era gripped his rifle with his remaining three fingers, spat a mouthful of bloody saliva over the edge of the battlements, and hoarsely cursed:

"Damn it, I've never seen a war fought like this before."

"Where did these people come from? Why are they so fierce?"

Liu Duoquan stood on the city gate tower, his hands bracing against the broken bricks of the crenellations, his fingers still trembling slightly.

Five thousand fierce Japanese soldiers hacked their way from the city wall to its base, from inside the city to outside, until the Hun River turned red with blood.

This scene was truly breathtaking.

He turned his head and glanced at Zhang Xueming standing beside him.

Zhang Xueming is checking the wounded soldiers' injuries.

Liu Duoquan's Adam's apple bobbed up and down several times, wanting to say something but not knowing what to say.

He suddenly remembered the time when he followed the old general to fight Guo Songling. The old general squatted by the trench, smoking his pipe, and said something while looking at the corpses all over the mountains.

When it comes to war, you either don't fight at all, or you fight so badly that the enemy trembles at the mere mention of your name for the rest of their life.

What the old general said and what this second master did were practically identical.

"Commander Liu."

Zhang Xueming stood up. "Send men to clean up the battlefield."

"Collect all the Japanese soldiers' weapons and equipment, register them, keep what can be used, and scrap what cannot be used. Dig deep pits to bury the corpses, so as not to cause a plague."

"Also, cut off all the heads of the Japanese soldiers and build a mound of heads with the overseas Chinese."

"Remember to marinate it with lime, so it doesn't smell bad."

"Yes!" Liu Duoquan snapped to attention and turned to make the arrangements.

.......

Meanwhile, on the dirt road on the north bank of the Hun River, Kenji Suzuki was leading less than 800 remaining soldiers in a desperate northward run.

His military cap was missing, his mustache was covered in dust and saliva, and the left sleeve of his yellow wool uniform was torn open by shrapnel, revealing a blood-soaked shirt underneath.

He ran unsteadily, his military boots making a stumbling motion on the frozen ground. Several times he nearly fell, only to be pulled back by his chief of staff, Minoru Onodera.

His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his pupils unfocused, and his lips were moving as he mumbled incoherently.

Onodera Minoru leaned closer to listen and could barely make out a few words.

"impossible......"

"Where did this come from...?"

"Five thousand people..."

"devil......"

Hirata Yukihiro walked at the very back of the group.

His uniform was still relatively neat, and his sword was still in its sheath at his waist, but his face was expressionless, and his eyes were as empty as two dry wells.

Behind him followed the remnants of the 29th Regiment, numbering less than two hundred.

The regiment of four thousand men is now reduced to this few.

Moreover, more than half of the remaining people were injured. Some used rifles as crutches and limped along, some had their broken arms in slings, and some were crying as they walked.

The group had traveled about five miles north on the north bank of the Hun River when suddenly the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from ahead.

Kenji Suzuki suddenly raised his head, his hand instinctively resting on the military knife at his waist.

The remaining soldiers behind him also stopped and looked nervously ahead.

The sound of hooves grew closer, and a column of khaki-colored cavalry emerged from the horizon.

Leading the group was Colonel Shinichi Kono, commander of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment. He rode a tall, chestnut-colored Mongolian horse, with a saber hanging on the left side of the saddle and a lance on the right.

Behind him were more than 800 cavalrymen, whose hooves kicked up a long yellow trail of dust across the plain.

Shinichi Kono was originally ordered to come from the direction of Gongzhuling to support the attacking troops.

According to Itagaki Seishiro's orders, the 2nd Cavalry Regiment was to quickly infiltrate to the north of Fengtian City after the siege began, cut off the connection between Beidaying and Fengtian City, and prevent Wang Yizhe's troops from returning to reinforce.

However, his troops were entangled by Wang Yizhe's ambush north of Beidaying and fought for more than an hour before they were able to break free. By the time they arrived outside Fengtian City, the siege had already ended.

He saw the Blue Sky with a White Sun flag on the city wall of Fengtian from afar while on horseback, and his heart skipped a beat.

Seeing this group of disheveled and broken soldiers walking towards me, my heart sank.

"Suzuki-kun!"

Shinichi Kono dismounted, his military boots kicking up a cloud of dust as he stepped on the frozen ground. He rushed to Kenji Suzuki and grabbed his shoulder.

"What's going on? Where are the attacking troops? The 4th Regiment? The 29th Regiment? Have they taken Fengtian yet?"

Kenji Suzuki looked up at Shinichi Kono.

His lips trembled violently for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"No...that's all."

"That's it?"

Shinichi Kono's pupils contracted sharply. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"They're all gone."

Kenji Suzuki suddenly burst into tears.

"My 4th Regiment, four thousand men, is gone. Hirata-kun's 29th Regiment, four thousand men, is also gone."

"They all collapsed beneath the walls of Fengtian City, their bodies covering the ground, turning the Hun River red."

He pointed to the hundreds of remaining soldiers behind him, his voice suddenly rising eight octaves, turning into an almost hysterical shriek:

"That's all there is left!"

"Two regiments, eight thousand men, less than eight hundred left!"

"They're all dead! They were all killed by that devil!"

Shinichi Kono's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

He released Suzuki Kenji's shoulder, took a step back, and glanced at the group of defeated soldiers in front of him, then looked over their heads towards the distant Fengtian City.

The smoke from the battle still swirled above the city walls, turning half the sky gray-black.

"What about the overseas Chinese?"

Shinichi Kono's voice trembled slightly, "There are still more than a thousand Imperial citizens in the city. When you attacked the city, they..."

"He's dead."

Yukihiro Hirata, who had been silent all along, finally spoke.

His voice was so calm that it sent chills down Shinichi Kono's spine.

"They're all dead."

"They were taken to the city wall and, in front of us, their heads were chopped off one by one."

"More than 1,100 people, not one is left."

Kono Makoto's mouth was agape, and he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

The cavalrymen behind him also heard Hirata Yukihiro's words, and a collective gasp rippled through the ranks.