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

As night fell, on Fushan Hill No. 3, the Nationalist soldiers stationed there huddled in their fortifications, idly chatting amongst themselves.

Someone clicked their tongue and muttered in admiration, "Speaking of Bai Mudan, the top courtesan of Baihua Tower, she is truly an unparalleled beauty, with an impeccable figure and appearance."

An old soldier nearby chimed in, "That's right. Such a beautiful woman can only be admired from afar. If it weren't for the military police watching, I'd really like to get closer and take a better look. Even if I were to fall into the hands of the Red Army tonight, it would be worth it to get close to such a beauty."

Someone scoffed and joked, "With your rough and clumsy appearance, you're lucky to even get a glimpse from afar. You dare to dream? The fact that the officer allowed us to take a few more glances is already an extraordinary favor. What, you're still thinking about queuing up? Dream on."

Upon hearing this, the group of Nationalist soldiers sitting around burst into laughter.

Before the laughter had even subsided, someone suddenly frowned and hissed, "Shh, what's that noise? Could it be the Red Army sneaking up under cover of darkness?"

Just as someone next to him was about to make a joke, before he could finish speaking, the veteran platoon leader beside him suddenly turned serious and ordered sternly, "Stop talking nonsense! Fire a flare!"

call out……

A flare suddenly shot into the sky, its pale light instantly piercing the night and illuminating the hillside below.

Below the hillside, countless Red Army soldiers stealthily approached. The next second, the soldiers, who had been moving stealthily, suddenly sped up and, under the cover of night, surged towards the Fushan position like a tidal wave, a roaring tsunami.

The Nationalist soldiers inside the fortifications were terrified, their faces turning ashen, and they blurted out instinctively, "This is too much."

At the same time, several feint attack forces, Hu Tiantao's First Division, and Zheng Sanjiang's assault team had already infiltrated their designated positions.

The sound of gunfire was the signal, and all units acted simultaneously, catching the Nationalist army completely off guard.

Everyone thought the Red Army would launch a night attack, but logically speaking, shouldn't a night attack be launched late at night when they are most tired and least vigilant?

You launched a night raid as soon as it got dark, while everyone was still savoring the afterglow of those sluts and hadn't even finished digesting their delicious meals, and suddenly a bayonet was pointed at their face.

The Red Army soldiers have absolutely no sense of military ethics!

But to be fair, Jiang Dingwen's methods were effective. Rewarding the troops not only boosted morale, but also spread the word throughout the army that the Red Army was going to launch a night attack.

At first, the Nationalist troops at several positions were indeed badly beaten due to their lack of preparedness.

But they were, after all, well-trained elites, and quickly recovered after not being completely overwhelmed in the first wave.

The only exception among them was the Fukuyama position, which had actually adjusted its strategy.

But the adjustments were useless; more and more Red Army soldiers rushed up the mountain, and they simply couldn't keep up with the advance!

The battalion command post on Hill 1 was located in a bunker on the mountaintop, which was situated at the highest point of Fushan, overlooking the entire area.

Upon discovering the Red Army's attack and the defeat of the brothers on the mountainside, the battalion commander, who had been somewhat dejected, instantly perked up.

Under his command, the two heavy machine guns opened fire at full speed, creating a crossfire that forced back the Red Army's first charge.

Gunfire erupted, and in the ensuing chaos, a dozen or so of their own men who were trying to escape to the mountaintop were also accidentally wounded.

But at this point, there's no time to worry about that.

Inside the mountaintop bunker, Zhou Mingyuan, the battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion of the 518th Regiment, felt as if his head was about to explode, and his hand holding the phone was trembling violently.

He had just ordered the machine gunners on the hillside to block the slope with all their might when he turned around and reconnected the artillery battalion's dedicated line.

"Battalion Commander Zhang! This is Zhou Mingyuan! Hill One can't hold out any longer! Your men, open fire immediately! Bombard Hill One with all your might! Don't worry about friendly fire; apart from these few bunkers on the hilltop, it's all Red Army soldiers now!"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a hurried response from Battalion Commander Zhang of the artillery battalion: "Old Zhou, it's not that I don't want to help you, but I'm in deep trouble too! The damn Red Army has gotten right up to my artillery position!"

"We don't even have proper infantry cover. Fighting at close range is tantamount to suicide. My side is about to break down. We're like a clay Bodhisattva crossing the river, barely able to save ourselves! I've already ordered everyone to pack up and prepare for a strategic retreat!"

"Huh? What should we do then? You're fucking deserting in the face of battle, that's absolutely unacceptable. If you're going to run, at least fire a couple of shots to cheer me on first."

Zhang Mingyuan's heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He gritted his teeth: "Then go find the Second Battalion! Your hills are close together, making it easier for them to provide support!"

"Find him? I'll give it a try." As soon as Zhou Mingyuan said this, the phone went dead.

He gulped down a mouthful of cold water and then dialed the Second Battalion's number.

After a few beeps, a deep, hoarse voice came from the other end: "Qian Guodong, Battalion Commander of the Second Battalion."

"Brother Qian! This is Zhou Mingyuan! I'm here..."

Before he could finish speaking, Qian Guodong interrupted him: "Old Zhou, don't say anything! My several high grounds are being attacked at the same time. The Red Army is fighting like they're risking their lives. I'm short of reinforcements!"

"And here's something even worse: the battalion defending the north gate—I just heard gunfire and they're in an uproar too. It's no use talking to them; good luck to them!"

Zhou Mingyuan's hand holding the receiver froze instantly, and the last trace of color drained from his forehead.

He stood there stunned for a while. The other end of the phone had long since hung up, but he still held the receiver to his ear, as if he could find some way out from the buzzing busy tone.

He slumped down on the phone and leaned against the concrete wall.

All the positions at the west gate, the artillery battalion outside the city, and the battalion outside the north gate were all captured at the same time.

Those police and military police in the city usually act arrogantly, but who would dare to actually go out of the city and fight the Red Army head-on?

Even if they manage to leave the city, they will definitely be rescuing the nearest and most valuable artillery battalion.

As for his own position in Fushan, it was the farthest corner in the west of Fuzhou. By the time reinforcements arrived, he would be dead.

Zhou Mingyuan slammed his fist against the wall, his heart filled with rage: Damn it, if a man dies, he'll fly to the sky; if he doesn't die, he'll live for ten thousand years!

He took a deep breath, forced a smile, and turned to clap his hands at the dozen or so bewildered brothers in the bunker:

"Brothers! Cheer up! Listen outside! The Red Army's firepower is so-so, and our fortress is very sturdy. If we can hold out until dawn, victory will be ours, and everyone will be promoted!"

The soldiers inside the bunker looked at each other, and one muttered, "Commander, the gunfire outside is like firecrackers going off during the New Year. Can they hold out until dawn?"

Zhou Mingyuan's face hardened, and he swept his eyes fiercely over them: "What nonsense are you spouting! I keep my word! Everyone to your firing positions, load your bullets, and if you dare to undermine morale again, you'll be executed on the spot!"

His mind was in turmoil. Surrender? In his dreams.

He came from a prominent family in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. His parents were still alive, and there were hundreds of people in his family, young and old. If he were to defect to the Communists here, not only would the Nationalists not let him go, but his family's reputation would be enough to kill him.

He could only grit his teeth and swallow his determination to save the last bullet for himself.

We absolutely cannot become prisoners of the Red Army! Not even if it means death!