Courtyard House: I only wiped out 30,000 Japanese pirates

And so it was; Sasaki's expression changed.

He turned around and whispered something in Japanese to the guard behind him. The guard put away his gun, quickly ran to He Dajun's side, checked his injuries, and then turned back to shout something to Sasaki.

Sasaki nodded, walked up to He Dajun, and looked down at him.

He Dajun was still screaming in agony, rolling on the ground clutching his left leg, blood seeping from between his fingers, his face a mixture of ash and sweat, looking utterly wretched.

Sasaki looked at He Dajun and said, "He Dajun, you're incredibly lucky. Of course, you should thank us for saving your life."

He Dajun grimaced in pain, but still managed an awkward smile: "Thank... thank you, Sir! I, He Dajun, will serve the Imperial Army my whole life!"

Sasaki's lips curled slightly upwards, and he turned to give a few instructions to his officers. Soon, a stretcher was brought in, ready to lift He Dajun from the ground for a doctor to examine him.

At this moment, Sasaki glanced again at the crater on the ground and the two other landmines that had been dug out, and the smile on his face slowly disappeared.

He turned to Suzuki beside him and whispered something in a cold voice, "Investigate immediately and find out who planted the landmines. We must find out."

He Dajun lay on the stretcher, his left leg wound still bleeding. The military doctor squatted down beside him and wrapped a bandage around his leg twice. The bandage was immediately soaked with blood as soon as it was wrapped.

The medic frowned and added another layer. He Dajun didn't look at his own legs, but at Sasaki's back.

Sasaki was walking out of the workshop.

"Sir!" He Dajun shouted as he propped himself up halfway on the stretcher.

Sasaki stopped, turned around, and frowned slightly.

He Dajun was tumbled off the stretcher. His left foot hurt so much that he grimaced as soon as it touched the ground, but he managed to stand up and limped over to Sasaki, bending down to stand.

"Sir, there's something else I forgot to mention. I'd like to ask you for a favor."

Sasaki looked at him without saying a word.

He Dajun recounted He Daqing's story.

"Sir, my brother is just a cook. He doesn't know anything, not even that Tan Zhengyong is a resistance fighter. I am loyal to the Imperial Army, and my brother is an honest and law-abiding man. He would never have anything to do with resistance fighters."

"Please, Your Excellency, consider that he stepped on a landmine today, which is considered a service to the Imperial Army, and spare my brother."

Sasaki listened but did not speak immediately.

He looked at He Dajun, a slow smile appearing on his lips, but it was a cold smile.

"He Dajun, I can trust your loyalty. But why should I trust your cousin's loyalty? Your guarantee is worthless to me. You've gone too far, abusing my trust."

He Dajun bent over even deeper, his expression a mixture of humility and fear.

He apologized verbally, but in his heart he was thinking that if He Daqing really died at the hands of the Japanese and he couldn't complete the system mission, he would sneak into Sasaki's residence tonight and twist the little Japanese devil's head off.

Your grandfather killed over a hundred Japanese soldiers on the Lugou Bridge, and now he's acting like a grandson to you here? Do you think you can handle that?

But nothing was visible on his face.

Pain had stood before Sasaki for so long, pleading for mercy.

Sasaki looked at He Dajun, who was bent over with blood still seeping from the bandage on his left leg, his forehead covered in sweat, and his expression pitiful and humble.

Suddenly I felt a bit annoyed. These damned Xia people, they really do have brotherly feelings.

But then he thought again, He Dajun had just "discovered" three landmines for him, preventing the core workshop from being blown up. This person was indeed useful.

If a cook discourages him, he might not work as hard in the future.

He's just a cook; killing him won't do him any good, and letting him go won't cause any loss either.

Just consider it as throwing a bone to this dog.

The key point is that He Daqing can be used to threaten He Dajun later.

"Alright, He Dajun." Sasaki waved his hand, his tone as if dismissing a persistent beggar. "I can let your cousin go. But remember, you must guarantee your loyalty. You have to prove you're useful."

He Dajun immediately raised his head, his expression changing from humble to grateful, his voice choked with emotion: "Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! I will be loyal! I will be useful! I will do whatever you ask me to do!"

Seeing his tearful gratitude, Sasaki's lips twitched slightly, and he said, "In a couple of days, I will give you a chance to prove your loyalty."

Then he glanced at He Dajun's injured left leg; the blood seeping from the gauze had already soaked into a large area.

He said, "Your leg is injured; you can go home and rest."

He Dajun quickly shook his head, fast and resolute: "No need! No need! Sir, this little injury is nothing! I work for the Imperial Army, and I won't leave the front lines even with minor injuries! I want to stay at the factory and watch them repair Workshop Two! This is my duty, He Dajun!"

He spoke with great passion, his spittle practically flying out of his mouth. To an uninformed person, his appearance of unwavering loyalty would easily make him seem like a staunch traitor.

Sasaki looked at him with a calm expression.

He'd heard these declarations of loyalty so many times he'd become desensitized.

Some people are sincere, some are fake, but it doesn't matter to him; he only needs these people to be useful.

Keep them if they're useful, kill them if they're not.

It's that simple.

He didn't say anything more, turned around, and walked out with the guards.

Sasaki walked along the gravel path between the factory buildings. When the workers saw him coming, they all lowered their heads and didn't dare to stop what they were doing, swinging their shovels even faster than before.

This is a madman.

Sasaki walked into the office building. The office was simply furnished with a table, a chair, and a map of Beijing hanging on the wall, marked with several circles in red and blue pencil.

He walked behind the table, sat down, picked up the phone, and shook it a few times.

The operator's voice came through the receiver.

Sasaki spoke a few words in Japanese into the microphone, his tone brief and cold, as if issuing a command.

At the same time, in an interrogation room in the eastern part of Beijing, He Daqing was being whipped while tied to a pillar.

The interrogation room was small, with bare blue brick walls splattered with fresh blood, layer upon layer, seeping into the cracks between the bricks and turning into dark brown stains.

The room contained only a table, a chair, and a brazier burning charcoal in the corner. Two branding irons were stuck in the brazier, glowing red-hot and gleaming eerily in the dim room.

He Daqing was tied to a chair with his hands tied behind his back, the hemp rope on his wrists digging into his flesh.

His blue short-sleeved shirt was torn to shreds, with strips of cloth hanging from his body, revealing streaks of blood beneath.

The bloodstains were fresh, still oozing beads of blood. He kept his head down, his chin resting on his chest, his lips cracked and chapped, and he made intermittent groans in his throat.

As soon as he arrived, before they even asked him a question, they lashed him twice with a whip.

The whip was made of cowhide and soaked in salt water; it was incredibly painful to be struck.

It's the kind of pain that feels like being branded on flesh with a red-hot iron bar.

After his skin was torn open, the saline solution seeped into the wound, causing his entire body to spasm with pain. His toes curled up and then relaxed, relaxed and then curled up again.

He Daqing had never been beaten like this before. He felt the pain as soon as the first lash landed. When the second lash struck the same spot, he broke down and screamed, the sound bursting from his throat.

But it seemed so unfamiliar that it startled even him.

He Daqing silently prayed that he would pass out quickly. If he passed out, he wouldn't feel the pain anymore.

But my body wouldn't listen; the more it hurt, the more awake I became.

All I could do was pray to the Buddha, to God, and to all the gods in my heart to make him faint.

What he didn't know was that even if he fainted, it wouldn't help.

The Japanese had a way to wake him up. They poured a bucket of cold water on him, and even someone in a coma would wake up.

Then continue drawing.

After being whipped twice, the interrogators began to ask him questions. They asked him how many years he had worked at the Tan Family Restaurant, what his relationship was with Tan Zhengyong, whether he knew who Tan Zhengyong usually associated with, and whether he knew that Tan Zhengyong's house had a tunnel.