The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

The wind at the bottom of the ditch stopped before the gunshot rang out.

Zhao Weiguo lay prone in the grass on the southern ridge, able to smell the dew on the grass and the smell of gunpowder wafting from the distant ravine. The night was dark, and the low trees on both sides of the ridge were just dark shadows.

His left elbow was braced against a protruding rock, and his right hand held a Mauser pistol with the muzzle pointing downwards.

Then gunshots rang out.

Thirty red markers on the panel lit up simultaneously. The markers were arranged in three columns, each corresponding to a group of people at the bottom of the ditch. The first column was the outpost group.

The five markers of the outpost group lit up simultaneously, and then went out one by one.

Three were eliminated within four seconds. The remaining two rolled behind the earthen embankments on either side of the ditch.

The view covered the entire Coffin Gully, approximately 180 meters from its mouth to its end. Gardenia was located at the highest point of the ridge. She was the first one to be eliminated.

Zhao Weiguo didn't move his mouth. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said three words to Lao Zhou, who was lying next to him.

"Push it in."

Old Zhou didn't reply. He climbed down the ridge, bringing with him seven or eight figures emerging from the bushes. The assault team burst in from the north end of the gully, their footsteps making a dense sound as they pounded on the gravel.

Old Zhou walked at the front, his Mauser pistol pointing forward, stopping every twenty steps to fire a short burst of three shots.

The men behind Lao Zhou split into two lines, advancing along the earthen embankments on either side of the ditch. Three men on the left and four on the right, providing cover for each other.

When the first group crouches down to fire, the second group bends over, runs forward twenty steps, and then crouches down to take over the firepower.

The assault team advanced slowly but steadily. Upon reaching a new firing position, they would fire two short bursts to subdue the enemy before getting up and running forward.

The gravel crunched underfoot. Someone slipped on a loose rock, but his comrade pulled him up, and the two continued forward.

Pebbles at the bottom of the ditch were scattered everywhere by bullets. Sparks flickered in the darkness.

Tanaka heard gunshots coming from behind him.

His position was in the southern part of the middle of the gully, where the five men were crawling along an earthen embankment. About thirty paces ahead was a huge rock, about two people high, covered with moss.

By occupying that boulder, we can establish a defensive stronghold in the middle of the gully and cut off the firepower of the entire gully from the middle.

Tanaka waved his hand. The five men stood up at the same time, bent down, and rushed towards the boulder.

The first shot came from the ridge on the other side.

The bullet struck the last man in the back, causing him to fall forward, his face hitting the gravel without a sound. Tanaka Yuzuru did not turn around.

He rushed behind the boulder, leaned against the rock wall to catch his breath, and then glanced out from the side.

The second shot hit the spot where he had just peeked out; the bullet embedded itself in the edge of the boulder, sending up a shower of rubble. A fragment of rubble hit Tanaka's face, and he squinted.

Gardenias are on the opposite ridge.

She was using a captured Type 38 rifle, the butt resting against her shoulder, her right eye close to the front sight. She lay prone behind a rock, the barrel protruding about ten centimeters from the edge of the rock.

Her breathing was steady, and with each exhale, she pulled the trigger, the gun barely wobbling. She fired one shot and moved to a different position, each time taking no more than three seconds.

Shoot, put away your gun, move two steps to the side, lie down, raise your gun, and try again.

Her face was pockmarked, making it difficult to see clearly in the darkness. Her eyes shone frighteningly bright in the moonlight, fixed motionless on the mountain ridge.

Tanaka retreated behind the boulder. He had four men left: two were lying prone in the ditch at the foot of the boulder, one was leaning against the earthen embankment, and the other was crawling back.

The man had a bullet hole in his right calf, and blood had soaked through his trouser leg, leaving a dark trail where he had crawled.

Tanaka made a gesture. Abandon the boulder.

The four men retreated along the bottom of the gully towards the middle, eventually finding themselves in a natural depression. The depression was about five meters wide and three meters deep, with irregular stone walls on all sides. The bottom was covered with a layer of gravel and withered grass.

Yamamoto's main squad is already there.

His face was obscured by the darkness, and his breathing was heavy, with each inhale accompanied by a hissing sound.

Zhao Weiguo determined his location from the sounds of battle and the direction of the grenade impacts: the center of the crater was slightly east of the crater, about sixty meters from the southern ridge.

A Czech-made light machine gun was set up in the crater. The gunner propped the gun on a rock at the edge of the crater, aiming the muzzle at the southern ridge.

Yamamoto transferred two men from the main force to serve as ammunition handlers for the machine gunners, and divided the remaining eight men into two groups, one guarding the north and the other guarding the east.

Tanaka led his four men to join the northern group. The total force in the crater became thirteen men. Yamamoto walked around the bottom of the crater, checking everyone's position and ammunition.

He moved quickly and said nothing unnecessary.

The machine gun fired.

The bullets were fired in short bursts, three shots at a time, hitting the grass on the south ridge. The bullets flew past Zhao Weiguo's head, making a whooshing sound.

The sound was shrill, like someone tearing cloth next to her ear. Gardenia was pinned down by gunfire. She lay prone behind a rock, unable to lift her head.

Yamamoto gained three minutes of breathing room.

Zhao Weiguo saw on the panel that the markings in the crater were being rearranged. Yamamoto was tightening his defenses, pulling the remaining soldiers scattered at the bottom of the trench into the crater.

The markers cluster together from a dispersed state into a dense cluster.

He wasn't in a hurry.

Old Zhou's assault team had advanced to a position about 60 meters inward from the north end of the ditch, and was still 40 meters away from the pit.

The monk's melee team lay in ambush behind a pile of rocks about fifteen meters south of the crater, and remained undetected.

The monk crouched behind a pile of rocks, clutching two hand grenades in his hands, the pins dangling from his little finger. His breathing was so light that he couldn't even hear it himself.

Zhao Weiguo and others are waiting for a window.

Inside the crater, Yamamoto's machine gunner was changing magazines. The magazine catch made a crisp metallic click.

The monk heard it.

He got up from behind the pile of rocks, bent over and ran three steps to the top of the pit. He lay down and peered down.

At the bottom of the crater, the machine gunner crouched behind his gun, while the ammunition handler unwrapped the magazine packaging paper, his fingers groping along the edges of the paper in the darkness.

Yamamoto leaned against the stone wall on the east side of the depression, his left hand on the holster at his waist, and his right index finger tapping unconsciously on the stone wall.

The monk pulled the ring.

The grenade rolled off the edge of the crater, bounced off the stone wall with a muffled thud, and then rolled to the side of the machine gun tripod. The machine gunner glanced down at it.

explosion.

The blast wave rose from the bottom of the crater, whipping up rubble and dry grass. The machine gunner was thrown overboard, slammed against the rock wall, and then collapsed in the pile of rubble.

The ammunition box was propelled half a meter by the blast wave, the lid popped open, and bullets scattered all over the ground, clattering and rolling into the cracks in the rocks. The machine gun fell silent.

The monk jumped into the crater before the smoke from the grenade explosion had cleared.

His feet landed on the gravel, his body leaning forward, the dagger in his right hand already drawn. The blade was covered in dust, which flickered in the firelight.

Yamamoto's two guards rushed at him from both sides of the pit at the same time.

The man on the left was holding a bayonet, the tip aimed at the monk's abdomen. The monk dodged the blade, grabbed the gun barrel with his left hand and pressed it down, while his right hand slashed the man's wrist upwards with a dagger.

The blade made a very soft sound as it cut through the skin, like tearing a damp cloth. The man's hand loosened, and the gun fell.

The monk didn't stop. He rammed his knee into the man's abdomen, and as the man bent over, the dagger pierced his neck. The blade went in two inches, lodging in the cervical vertebrae.

The monk twisted the knife and pulled it out, blood splattering onto his sleeve.

The guard on the right had already rushed to within two steps of the monk. The monk did not turn around.

As he pulled the dagger from the first man's neck, he turned half a circle to the left, using the first man's body to block the second man's view.

The second man's bayonet pierced the first man's back, the tip protruding from beside his shoulder blade.

Taking advantage of the moment, the monk plunged the dagger in his right hand into the second man's ribs, the blade slicing upwards and severing two ribs. The man groaned, his knees buckled, and he collapsed to his knees on the gravel.

The monk pulled out the dagger and stabbed the man in the back of the neck.

The two people fell down in less than ten seconds.

The monk stood at the bottom of the pit, blood splattered on his face. He wiped it with his sleeve, the blood spreading across the fabric. He looked up at the east side of the pit.

Yamamoto is no longer there.

Below the rock wall on the east side of the depression, there is a shallow ditch, just wide enough for a person to pass sideways. There are fresh scratches at the bottom of the ditch, and the gravel has been turned up, exposing the damp soil underneath.

Yamamoto rolled into the shallow ditch the moment the grenade exploded. The monk saw that the ditch led to a pile of rubble deeper into the crater.

He didn't chase after them.

North of the pit, Tanaka saw that the machine gun had stopped firing and two guards had been killed, and knew that the pit could not be defended.

He led the last three men out of the pit through the northern exit, trying to slip into the bushes to the north amidst the chaos. The four of them crouched low, running along the shadows at the bottom of the ditch.

Old Zhou was waiting there.

The assault team set up a crescent-shaped firing line in the bushes at the north end of the gully. Old Zhou squatted in the middle, his pistol propped up on a rock.

His eyes were fixed on the bottom of the ditch, where he saw four dark figures running from the direction of the crater.

The first dark figure ran less than ten meters from cover. Old Zhou's Mauser pistol fired. Three short bursts.

The first shot hit the person's chest slightly to the left, the second shot hit the chest slightly to the right, and the third shot hit the left shoulder.

The man fell forward, face down on the rubble, his short gun flying half a meter away.

Tanaka Yuzuru.

The three men behind him were caught in the assault team's fire. They all fell within two seconds. Silence returned to the bottom of the ditch, broken only by the clanging of spent shell casings and the groans of the wounded.

Tanaka lay face down on the gravel in the coffin ditch, his back riddled with bullet holes, his uniform soaked with blood.

Zhao Weiguo shifted his gaze from the panel to the bottom of the ravine. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the mountain ridge, casting shadows across the ravine.

The fire in the crater was still burning; the grenade had detonated some of the ammunition, and the orange-red flames licked at the stone wall, making the crater flicker.

In the firelight, you could see scattered shell casings and rags, as well as a body lying on the edge of the crater.

The monk stood at the edge of the crater and raised his fist in Zhao Weiguo's direction. His sleeves were covered in blood, which turned black in the firelight.

Zhao Weiguo did not respond. He was counting.

There are twelve marks left on the panel.

There were thirty in total. Eighteen have been eliminated; four were wounded and rendered incapable of fighting, their markers turning gray; the other fourteen were killed, their markers disappearing.

The twelve marks were clustered in a small area at the deepest part of Coffin Gully, right against the eastern stone wall. That was Yamamoto's last strength.

Zhao Weiguo looked up at the east. There was a narrow, greyish-white slit on the horizon. The sky was turning pale.

He stood up, his knees numb from kneeling in the grass, and his left trouser leg was soaked with dew. He flexed his fingers, and his knuckles cracked twice.

The gunfire at the bottom of the ravine had ceased. Only the fire in the crater was still burning, occasionally a bullet exploding with a muffled thud. The wind blew in from the ravine's mouth, carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood.

He glanced at the panel. The twelve markers were clustered at the deepest part of the coffin ditch, pressed against the eastern stone wall, motionless. Yamamoto was waiting for dawn.

Zhao Weiguo removed the magazine from his Mauser pistol to check it. There were eight bullets left. He pushed the magazine back in, pulled the bolt, and chambered a round.

It will end before dawn.

Old Zhou led his men to advance from the mouth of the gully. Every twenty steps they advanced, they threw two grenades, followed by a short burst of fire. The stones at the bottom of the gully were sticky from being soaked in blood, making their boots slippery.

The monk led his melee team around from the south side of the crater to the top of the eastern stone wall. Yamamoto's remaining twelve men crouched in a row against the stone wall, all with their guns pointed outwards. The one at the very back had his left hand on his holster and his right hand gripping a short knife, the tip pointing downwards.

Before the monk could even speak to Yamamoto...

The first grenade rolled down from the top of the rock wall and landed at the feet of the group of people. The second grenade bounced off the rock wall and landed in the crowd.

The explosions rang out in chorus. Shrapnel and debris bounced back and forth between the narrow stone walls, unable to find an exit. Six of the twelve markers were destroyed simultaneously.

The remaining six rushed out. The first four were blocked at the bottom of the ditch by Lao Zhou's assault team, who fired in bursts of three shots each, finishing in twenty-four seconds. The last two were Yamamoto and the last guard.

The guard lunged at the monk and grabbed him around the waist. The monk sidestepped, kneeing him in the chest, and then plunged his knife under the monk's collarbone. In those two seconds, Yamamoto climbed up the rock wall, gripping a crevice with his left hand and using his right hand to push his short knife into the wall for leverage.

Gardenia's gun fired a shot from the south ridge.

The bullet struck Yamamoto's right shoulder, causing him to slump. His dagger slipped from his hand and fell into the ditch, bouncing twice against the rocks. His left hand was still gripping a crevice in the rock, but it was too weak to exert any force.

The monk lunged forward, grabbing Yamamoto by the collar with one hand, pulling him off the rock face and slamming him onto the rubble. He then rammed his knee into Yamamoto's lower back and twisted Yamamoto's arms behind his back with both hands.

Yamamoto didn't struggle.

He turned his head to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and stared at the monk for a second in the moonlight. Then he stopped moving.

Zhao Weiguo came down from the ridge. The smoke from the battle hadn't dissipated from the bottom of the ravine, and it was still choking. He walked up to the monk.

The monk lifted Yamamoto up. His arms were tied behind his back, blood seeped from the gunshot wound on his shoulder, and the back of his military uniform was soaked.

"Commander. Alive."

Zhao Weiguo glanced at it.

He didn't go. It turned out that the old brigade commander's words, "After the great battle, headquarters will want to see you," referred to something that would happen soon. He had a clue about this, but he didn't say it aloud.

He turned to the messenger beside him and said three words.

"Tie it up tightly."

Then he looked up at the end of the ditch. A sliver of gray-white sky was already breaking through in the east, casting a pale blue hue on the smoke rising from the bottom of the ditch. The wind picked up again in Coffin Gully, carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood towards the mouth of the ditch. Outside the mouth, Old Zhou was leading his men to collect the corpses, stacking their guns one by one along the roadside.

Zhao Weiguo holstered his pistol. There were six bullets left in the magazine. The prisoner he was going to take with him was already securely bound. He knew where to go next.

Headquarters wants to see him. Yamamoto is also to be sent there.

Do both things at the same time.