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

Liaodong, South Manchuria Railway.

The Liutiaohu section, located less than three kilometers north of Fengtian City, is a desolate wilderness.

The railway was lined with waist-high wormwood. When the autumn wind blew, the withered yellow grass rustled, like countless thin, dry hands scratching at the ground.

Below the roadbed was a long-dried-up drainage ditch, piled with years of fallen leaves, the stench of decay mixed with the earthy smell, churning in waves in the night wind.

The railway tracks gleamed with a cold, silvery-gray luster under the moonlight. Two parallel steel rails stretched from north to south, one end connecting Changchun and the other Lushun.

This railway was nominally a joint venture between China and Japan, but in reality, it was firmly controlled by the Kwantung Army from the day it was built.

Every sleeper, every spike, every inch of rail bears the shadow of the Rising Sun flag.

It's like an iron wire, strangling the black soil of Northeast China, making it hard for 30 million people in the Northeast to breathe.

Suddenly, a faint flashlight beam flickered below the roadbed.

"hurry up."

Lieutenant Kawamoto Suemori lowered his voice and urged him on.

He crouched on the slope of the roadbed, one hand supporting his knee, the other gripping a Type 14 Nambu pistol, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force.

He was thirty-one years old this year. His chin was cleanly shaved, his lips were pressed into a thin line, and his nasolabial folds cut deeply down from the sides of his nose, creating a harsh and cold face.

He stared at the railway tracks ahead, which gleamed slightly in the moonlight. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a desperate fervor, like a gambler who had staked everything on the table, waiting for the dealer to lift the dice cup.

Behind him, six Kwantung Army soldiers were frantically stuffing explosives under the railway tracks.

They were dressed in khaki winter clothes, their leggings covered with burrs and withered grass seeds, and their breath swirled in the beams of their flashlights.

A young private squatted by the railway tracks, holding a compacted yellow explosive in his hands. His fingers trembled violently, and the cold sweat on his palms soaked the oil paper on the outside of the explosive package, making it sticky.

His name is Ono, he is nineteen years old, and he was just transferred to the 2nd Independent Garrison Battalion from the recruit camp three days ago.

He held the explosives, his lips moving for a long time before he finally couldn't help but ask in a low voice:

"Lieutenant, this is our own railway. Why are you bombing it?"

Kawamoto Suemori turned his head, and the beam of his flashlight shone on Ono's face.

Ono squinted from the light, and Kawamoto noticed that his forehead was covered in sweat, while his eyebrows were covered in a layer of frost.

"Baka, you idiot, of course it's to frame the Chinese."

Kawamoto angrily rebuked, "After the bombing, you dumped these bodies next to the railway tracks."

"Did you understand?"

He pointed his gun at the roadbed below. There lay three corpses, dressed in the grey-blue uniforms of Northeast Army soldiers, but the bullet holes and bloodstains on their clothes were fresh.

They were stragglers from the Northeast Army who were secretly captured and shot by the Kwantung Army's intelligence agency outside Fengtian City this afternoon.

The bullet entered through the back of his head and exited between his eyebrows, making his facial features unrecognizable.

Ono was stunned.

He opened his mouth, uttering a muffled syllable, but ultimately said nothing.

He wanted to ask, "Why do this?"

But he didn't dare ask.

Because Lieutenant Kawamoto's eyes had already told him to carry out the order immediately.

In fact, not only did he not know, but even the high-ranking officials and ministers in the Japanese headquarters did not know why they were doing this.

In fact, all of this was a conspiracy concocted by the Kwantung Army itself.

Seishiro Itagaki, Kanji Ishihara, and Masashi Hanaya were known as the "Three Crows" within the Kwantung Army.

They orchestrated everything that happened tonight from the Kwantung Army headquarters in Lushun, without the knowledge of Tokyo, the Ministry of the Army, or the General Staff.

They bombed the railway, framed the Northeast Army, and then launched a full-scale attack under the pretext of "self-defense counterattack."

They weren't gambling with the fate of just one division; they were gambling with the fate of the entire nation of Japan.

If they win, Manchuria will be in the hands of the Kwantung Army.

If I lose, I can always commit seppuku to atone for my sins.

This was the tradition of the Kwantung Army: subordinates overthrowing superiors and acting first and reporting later.

"Lieutenant, the explosives are loaded."

A sergeant slid down from the roadbed and reported in a low voice.

His voice was strained, but in the silent wilderness, every word was jarringly clear.

Kawamoto Suemori glanced at his watch.

22:10

"Everyone, retreat thirty meters and prepare to detonate."

The six soldiers scrambled back into the drainage ditch, lay prone on the cold, wet soil, covered their ears with their hands, and buried their faces in their arms.

Ono was among them, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

He felt an immense fear that threatened to engulf him.

Although he was a new recruit, he wasn't stupid; he knew what would happen if this section of the railway was blown up.

Is this a consequence that a new recruit like him can bear?

Kawamoto Suemori stood on the embankment and took one last look at that section of track.

The moonlight shone on the top surface of the rails, reflecting a thin, silvery line, like a taut string.

He took a deep breath, raised his right hand, and paused in the air for a second.

Then he swung it down suddenly.

"ignition!"

The detonator pressed the detonator.

"Boom!"

A muffled explosion ripped through the night sky.

Orange-red flames exploded beneath the railway tracks, the flames swirling and shooting three or four meters high, illuminating the surrounding area for dozens of meters.

The rails were blown apart, and the broken ends of the rails curled up, appearing a twisted orange-red in the firelight.

Fragments of the sleepers, mixed with gravel and dirt, were thrown into the air by the shockwave, then crashed down onto the three corpses.

The echo of the explosion rolled across the empty field for a while before gradually dissipating.

Kawamoto Suemori and others quickly stepped forward to investigate as the smoke from the battle subsided slightly.

The Liutiaohu section of the South Manchurian Railway was blown up, with about 1.5 meters of rail broken. The rail at the break point was bent into an S-shape, six or seven sleepers were blown up, and a large crater was blown into the roadbed.

This damage could be repaired in less than an hour by a professional railway engineer.

Whether it's repaired or not isn't the focus tonight; the focus tonight is who did it.

"Bring the body over here."

Kawamoto Suemori kicked at the gravel at his feet. "Place it by the rails, face up, and keep the gun within reach."

"We need to make sure that anyone who comes to check tomorrow morning can immediately see that it was the Northeast Army that blew up our railway."

Several soldiers hurriedly carried the three corpses to the railway tracks and arranged them in the correct positions as instructed by Kawamoto.

Ono also carried one of the bodies. The back of the corpse's head was on his palm, leaving a patch of semi-congealed bloodstain, sticky and still slightly warm.

He flinched and almost let go.

But he gritted his teeth and dragged the body to the designated location, then quickly wiped his hands on his pants twice.

Kawamoto Suemori pulled a telegram sheet from his pocket, shone it with a flashlight, and wrote down the telegram he had prepared long ago, word by word.

To the Kwantung Army Headquarters:

"At 22:20, about 300 Northeast Army soldiers from the Beidaying area of ​​Fengtian bombed the Liutiaohu section of our South Manchurian Railway and launched an attack on the 3rd Company of the 2nd Battalion of the Independent Garrison, which was responsible for the railway defense."

"My unit is returning fire. Requesting tactical guidance."

He handed the telegram to the communications soldier next to him.

"Send this to the Kwantung Army Headquarters and General Headquarters immediately, by express urgency."

The communications soldier took the telegram and ran towards the armored patrol vehicle parked in the distance.

The patrol vehicle's diesel engine chugs and roars, and the antenna on its roof sways slightly in the night wind.

The clicking sound of the telegraph key came from inside the carriage, and the electromagnetic waves were quickly transmitted to the Kwantung Army headquarters.