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

Someone walked by, glanced at it, and couldn't help but laugh: "Old Wang, you're fucking trying to fool someone."

"I'm a potter, so of course I have to use what I'm good at. Don't worry, once it's dry, I guarantee it will be exactly the same." Old Wang immediately retorted when he heard someone questioning his skills, but his hands didn't slow down at all.

After a while, it was already broad daylight.

Further down the hillside, a group of people were building a new command post.

Several tents were set up, telephone lines were strung around the area, and a red flag was erected at the entrance.

There was also a warehouse covered with tarpaulin next to it, with some straw and wood scraps piled up underneath, which looked like a lot of supplies had been stockpiled.

The Fifth Column Command Post inside Quzhou City.

Luo Zhuoying had been torn between his inner conflict and the principal's strict orders for a long time. Chen Cixiu's admonitions and the principal's orders left him in a dilemma.

It wasn't until the tea in his hand had gone completely cold that he came to his senses and asked the staff officer beside him, "Has the Red Army launched any further attacks?"

The staff officer respectfully reported, "Reports from the front indicate that the Red Army on the southern front is reinforcing its positions and has not continued to advance. They seem to have anticipated our counterattack. The Red Army on the northern front has launched a small-scale offensive against our positions, but the number of troops involved is not large; it should only be a feint."

Luo Zhuoying felt a surge of anger rush to his heart, and then laughed in fury: "Well done, this is what it means to anticipate the enemy's moves. No wonder you are Xun Huaizhou, no wonder you are Su Yu."

He paced around the room a couple of times with his hands behind his back, then suddenly stopped. "Fine, I'd like to see how your supposedly brilliant brains will deal with our air force's aerial bombs!"

He strode to the table, grabbed the telephone receiver, and cranked the handle: "Connect me to Air Force Command."

After a few seconds, a voice came from the other end of the phone. Luo Zhuoying shouted at the top of his lungs, "This is Luo Zhuoying! Send out all your bombers! Target the Red Army positions south of Quzhou! Immediately! Right now!"

About half an hour later, the roar of engines could be heard in the sky south of Quzhou.

First, a few small black dots appeared at the edge of the clouds, and soon more and more appeared. Finally, more than 30 bombers formed a loose formation and pressed in from the northeast.

The Red Army positions on the ground were silent; the soldiers had long since taken cover in air-raid shelters.

The scarecrows dressed in gray military uniforms stood crookedly by the trench, while several fake cannons made of wooden frames cast long shadows in the morning light.

In the distance, in front of the newly erected fake command post, the red flag was still fluttering in the wind, and several scarecrows stood under the flagpole, their military uniforms rustling in the wind.

The first bomber swooped down, its bombs detaching from their racks, arcing through the air before crashing into the center of the dummy position, sending up a cloud of dust that soared into the sky.

Then the second, the third...

One bomb after another blasted the fake position into ruins...

Several more planes joined the bombing run.

The whole process lasted nearly twenty minutes.

A burnt smell permeated the air above Qujiang, and black plumes of smoke twisted and rose into the sky from several burning sites, resembling several leaning pillars.

When the last plane pulled up and turned east, the position south of the city looked completely destroyed.

There were bomb craters everywhere, and several sections of the trenches had collapsed.

The Nationalist officers on the city wall of Quzhou witnessed this scene through binoculars.

They were all overjoyed, and the vigilance and tension of the past few days vanished instantly!

However, due to the great distance, the officers did not actually see the details clearly; at least, they could not see the scarecrows that had been burned to ashes after the bombing.

The news quickly spread throughout the entire defense line—the air force had bombed the Red Army's positions to smithereens; all the machine guns and artillery were gone, and the Red Army didn't even have a chance to fight back.

The morale of the Nationalist officers and soldiers who had assembled at the front was greatly boosted.

A low cheer rang out from the trenches as the officers and soldiers enthusiastically began organizing their equipment.

The regimental commander, standing at the forefront of the trench, shouted, "Attack! Ten silver dollars for every Red Army soldier killed!"

The order was given, and the sound of gun bolts being pulled echoed through the trenches.

The Nationalist soldiers, guns in hand, emerged from behind their bunkers, spread out in a skirmish line, and pressed towards the ravaged position.

After the explosions stopped, the Red Army soldiers who had been hiding in the air-raid shelters quickly emerged from underground.

Based on their experience, which they had practiced countless times, they ordered the machine gunners to leave their bunkers first, followed by the infantry.

Everyone returned to their original battle positions!

From the trenches came repeated instructions: "Listen up, get close and fire. No one is allowed to fire first."

On the Red Army's position, soldiers lay prone at the edge of the trenches, their guns already aimed forward.

"Let them get close and fire. Everyone, stay calm." The company commander whispered the order, his eyes fixed on the skirmish line ahead.

The enemy's footsteps grew closer, and they could now clearly see the excited faces beneath their helmets.

Those Nationalist soldiers clearly believed in the air force's results, and strode forward with their backs straight, too lazy to even perform the most basic tactical maneuvers.

Two hundred meters.

One hundred meters.

Fifty meters.

The company commander suddenly waved his hand, "Fire!"

In an instant, a burst of gunfire erupted from the trenches.

Machine guns, rifles, and submachine guns opened fire simultaneously, and bullets poured out like a torrential downpour, heading straight for the unsuspecting Nationalist soldiers.

The first few people rushed forward and were riddled with bullets before they even had a chance to scream.

The once neat skirmish line collapsed instantly.

The Nationalist soldiers were thrown into chaos by the sudden and fierce attack.

"An ambush! We've fallen into a trap!"

"They're not dead! There are still people on the position!"

Most of the Nationalist soldiers who were lucky enough to survive fled in panic, unaware that this would hasten their demise.

The veterans of the Red Army loved shooting at these targets; they were practically living, moving targets.

The precision of the Mauser rifle, combined with their exceptional marksmanship, meant that at a distance of 100 meters, they could hit any target they aimed at.

What affects their shooting accuracy the most is the complex environment on the battlefield, especially the threat posed by enemy fire, which greatly disrupts their mindset.

The truly clever Nationalist soldiers simply lay down on the ground!

After all, the distance was awkward; 50 meters was neither too far nor too close. Charging would mean certain death, while escaping would be a near-certain death.

How can one survive?

Yes, hands up!

In just a few dozen seconds, the Nationalist army's first wave of attack crumbled under the Red Army's firepower.

The smiles on the faces of the Nationalist officers on the city walls of Quzhou hadn't even faded when they witnessed this sudden turn of events.

Through the telescope, the soldiers who had been so spirited just moments before were now scattering and fleeing like headless flies, their ranks completely disorganized.

"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!" A man who looked like a regimental commander slammed his binoculars onto the battlement, his face ashen. "Pass on my order! All deserters will be executed on the spot! Anyone who dares to retreat a single step will be killed without exception!"

After the order was given, several machine guns were set up behind the position and began firing mercilessly at the retreating soldiers.

Those soldiers who had managed to escape were shot by their own men before they even reached safety.