Southern guerrilla warfare: I led the Red Seventh Army Corps to amassed a million troops.

The soldiers carrying the red flag in the ranks became the primary targets of concentrated fire.

The flag bearer fell halfway up the hill, the red flag tilted, and someone immediately stepped forward to catch the flagpole and continue charging forward.

The red flag advanced another dozen steps, when a hail of bullets came, and blood splattered on the flagpole.

The soldier gripping the flagpole tightly felt a tremendous force in his chest, and his whole body involuntarily leaned backward, his hand loosening its grip on the flagpole.

The person next to him immediately took over!

This flag is about faith, but even more so about morale.

This time, two people reached out at the same time and lifted the flagpole back up before it fell to the ground.

One by one, the flag-bearing soldiers fell, but the red flag never fell to the ground.

At this point, the frontline skirmishers were less than 100 meters from the Nationalist army's position.

An old soldier suddenly leaped up from the ground, raised his Mauser rifle, and pulled the trigger.

On the Nationalist army's heavy machine gun position, the gunner who was firing intensely suddenly leaned back and released his grip on the gun.

But the assistant gunner filled in almost simultaneously, and the gun spat fire again.

Without pausing, the veteran cocked the gun, and the second bullet flew out of the chamber.

Before the assistant striker could even get a second short shot off, he followed in his predecessor's footsteps.

But there was a third person in the heavy machine gun position.

At this critical moment, several Red Army soldiers carrying machine guns took advantage of the lull in the firepower and sprinted at full speed to a position less than fifty meters from the position.

They held the gun barrels horizontally in front of their chests and gripped the triggers tightly.

The crisp, continuous firing of submachine guns filled the air, and a hail of bullets poured into the Nationalist army's trenches like a torrent. The heavy machine gun fire abruptly ceased.

The advancing troops faced no further obstacles.

Above the crowd, a figure carrying a Mauser pistol suddenly stood up straight.

He was a company political instructor. His once handsome face was covered in gunpowder and dust, but his eyes shone like a flame.

He drew his pistol from his waist, pointed it into the air, and shouted, "Comrades! For victory, follow me!"

In that instant, the Red Army soldiers on the entire hillside seemed to be ignited by that shout.

Those who had been crawling straightened up, those who had been hiding behind the rocks leaped out, and everyone's pace quickened at the same moment, like a gray tide surging towards the already crumbling defensive line.

The first one to jump into the trench was the company political instructor.

He fired two Mauser pistols, emptying their magazines, then drew his bayonet and lunged toward the next cover.

The crowd surged in behind them, the glint of bayonets flashing in the billowing smoke, short clashes mixed with screams echoing above the mountaintop.

The Nationalist soldiers finally couldn't hold on any longer.

First, a few soldiers at the front threw down their guns and ran away. Then, like dominoes, the will to resist along the entire defensive line collapsed in an instant.

Some Nationalist soldiers fled backwards along the ridge, while many others simply threw their guns on the ground, covered their heads with their hands, and squatted in the trenches.

The flag of the Republic of China on the mountaintop was ripped down and thrown on the ground.

A young soldier forcefully planted a red flag, its flagpole already stained crimson with blood, into the scorched earth atop the highest peak. The flag fluttered wildly in the mountain wind.

The gunfire gradually subsided and soon fell silent as the red flag came into view in the distance from several positions around Fengling that were still putting up a stubborn resistance.

Su Yu put down the binoculars, her face twitching involuntarily.

In just two hours, hundreds of people were killed or injured.

He will have to issue at least a hundred death notices today.

Many of them had just left their hometowns a few days earlier, accompanied by their families, to embark on the revolutionary path.

Now, in the blink of an eye, they are separated forever.

The burning passion in his heart seemed to cool down considerably at that moment.

How many tough battles await them as they fight their way north? And how high will the final casualties be?

He wasn't afraid of casualties; he was afraid of not knowing how to face the villagers in the base area in the future.

This is not indecisiveness.

This is a heavy responsibility, and countless pairs of eyes filled with eager anticipation. The villagers are waiting for their sons, brothers, and husbands to come home.

Some say that a general must love his soldiers like his own children and use them like mud.

This statement actually contains a huge contradiction.

He truly loved his soldiers like his own children; it wasn't an act. Seeing them sacrifice themselves was a heart-wrenching pain, like a sharp needle piercing his bones.

This heartache could only be kept deep inside, never to be shown, lest it affect morale.

Su Yu stood still, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

He buried that sadness deep in his heart, suppressing all his emotions into that unseen box deep within his chest.

He turned around, his expression returning to calm and composure, and ordered his staff officer, "Notify Comrade Huaizhou that the plan can begin."

The staff officer accepted the order and left, while the soldiers continued cleaning up the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the troops that had not participated in the battle continued northward along the main road at the foot of the mountain.

This is the rhythm of this war.

No one knew when reinforcements from the Nationalist army would arrive, so they had to race against time and fight against an unknown enemy.

At this point, it's best not to talk about how powerful the Red Army's intelligence system was.

No matter how capable someone is, the commander at the front will not completely trust them.

Soon, the Red Army heading north encountered a pleasant surprise.

As mentioned before, Luo Zhuoying was eager to rescue Fengling, so he searched for reinforcements everywhere and headed south at full speed.

But this is actually a gamble. If the distance is too far, it is very likely that the pass will have already fallen halfway through the journey.

These reinforcements were instantly placed in danger.

They could neither advance nor retreat.

At this point, the smartest course of action is to find a high vantage point, hold it, and wait for reinforcements.

Although, given the current situation, the chances of survival are not very high.

But at least theoretically, there is still hope for a comeback.

Moreover, by holding out due to geographical advantages and dragging the battle out until nightfall, the chances of survival during a breakout attempt would increase significantly.

But clearly, neither of the commanders of the two Nationalist reinforcements had the brains to do that.

Perhaps under normal circumstances, they could come up with this method when working on a sand table.

But on the battlefield, when the situation takes a sharp turn for the worse and dangers lurk everywhere, when their own lives are threatened, few people can still think calmly.

Therefore, the commanders of both reinforcements made the same choice—to retreat.

The first wave of reinforcements was a brigade. When they discovered the Red Army's trail, the vanguard heading north was only three miles away from them.

This fellow had a modicum of sense; he knew that this distance was far from safe and there was virtually no hope of outrunning the Red Army's ironclad footsteps. So he left a detachment to cover the rear.

Then the rearguard held out for fifteen minutes, and after suffering more than 20% casualties, they surrendered directly, which was considered fair enough to justify the military pay they received from their superiors.

The vanguard of the pursuing troops consisted entirely of veteran Red Army soldiers. They took mountain trails and made detours, covering 15 kilometers through the towering mountains in less than two hours, and ended up ahead of the Nationalist army.

This terrified the routed Nationalist soldiers.

It's bad enough that there are enemies chasing us from behind, but why is the road in front blocked by the enemy as well?

Did the Red Army grow wings and fly over here?

In a state of extreme terror, coupled with the fact that they had run all the way and were exhausted both physically and mentally, they simply surrendered.