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

The grenade traced an arc in the air and landed precisely on the back seat of the jeep.

Yagyu Kazuo looked down and saw a dark object at his feet. His expression changed from confusion to horror. Just as he opened his mouth, the grenade exploded.

With a loud bang.

The rear half of the jeep was blown off, and fragments of the doors and seats flew far away.

The driver was thrown off the steering wheel by the blast wave, rolled several times on the gravel road, and his face was covered with cuts from broken glass.

Kazuo Yagyu and his assistant in the back seat were killed instantly by the explosion. Their bodies were crushed onto the twisted car frame by the shockwave, their postures as bizarre as two crumpled paper figures.

Without hesitation, He Dajun threw another grenade, worried that the other party might not be completely dead yet.

Without looking back, he quickly ran back along the route he had come from.

Whistles and shouts came from behind. The guards at the factory gate were alerted by the explosion and were running this way.

Of course, they were firing, but they couldn't see anything in the dark, so they could only fire randomly.

Outside of class, the Japanese also began to take action in other directions.

Clearly, the Japanese had gained some experience in dealing with such sneak attacks.

Rewind to half an hour earlier, He Dajun thought for a while and decided that he still had to kill this guy.

Then he said, "Yagyu Kazuo must die."

Bai Ling immediately asked, "Why?"

"He was in the courtyard for less than two hours. He looked at your hands, at Zhu Zi's reaction, and at my brother's trembling hands as he poured tea. He didn't say anything, but he saw everything."

He Dajun's voice was very low, his tone seemingly devoid of any emotion, "How could this person have thought of coming to the courtyard to see me? There's definitely something wrong with that."

Bai Ling nodded.

"He must have discovered something, suspected something. That's why he concludes there's no evidence today, but there might be tomorrow. He's only suspicious now; once he starts investigating, he'll find something sooner or later."

He Dajun turned to look at Bai Ling. "He just left our house less than half a day ago. If we act now, no one will suspect us. Who would be stupid enough to kill the person who interrogated them on the very day they were interrogated?"

Bai Ling was silent for a while, then asked him how he planned to take action.

He Dajun said, "I guessed he would take a jeep to see Sasaki, so I killed him."

Bai Ling didn't ask for any more details, knowing that the other party's skills were extraordinary.

He Dajun then stood up and drove away on his motorcycle.

After that, I played for a while and then changed into a Japanese military uniform that I had redeemed through the system.

……

As He Dajun ran a kilometer or two, pushed out the motorcycle he had hidden, and sprinted towards the courtyard dressed in Japanese clothes, Sasaki also heard the explosion.

When the sound of the explosion reached Sasaki's office, he was looking at the unfinished report left behind by Kazuo Yagyu.

The report contained only a few lines of text, written in illegible handwriting, clearly hastily penned before leaving the office.

The gist of the statement is that He Dajun appears respectful, but his respectfulness is too perfect, and further investigation is recommended.

Then the explosion happened.

Sasaki immediately went to the window, pulled back the curtains, and looked outside.

The firelight from the direction of the factory gate reflected on the glass, appearing dark red and flickering.

He glanced at his watch subconsciously; less than five minutes had passed since Kazuo Yagyu left his office.

He was immediately terrified. If he had gone out just now, he would definitely be the one who died.

And then there's the thought that the other party might be planning a sneak attack.

He couldn't help but feel extremely scared and terrified. These Great Xia resistance soldiers deserved to die. Why couldn't they be killed off completely? Why didn't they just obediently wait for him to come and kill them?

Sasaki gritted his teeth and stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill.

Chaos had erupted at the factory gate. Guards rushed out from their posts with guns at the ready, their flashlight beams flashing wildly in the darkness, and whistles blaring everywhere.

Sasaki stood by the window watching his subordinates rush out and spread out into a search formation at the factory gate.

He didn't follow them out immediately. He waited.

Will the attackers launch a surprise attack?

Based on everyone's previous experience, resistance fighters often do this: they bomb and run away, then come back and take advantage of the chaos to kill another wave.

But this time there was none. Apart from the guards shouting at each other, no other gunshots rang out.

The attackers threw only two grenades, then left cleanly and efficiently, like a surgical operation.

After hesitating for a long time, Sasaki finally went downstairs.

He gathered more than thirty people, with two machine gunners carrying a Type 11 light machine gun at the front, surrounded by guards.

The group walked along the gravel road at the factory gate to the wreckage of the jeep, their leather boots crunching on the broken glass.

The scene at the factory gate was even worse than he had imagined.

The wreckage of the jeep was still burning, and the flames illuminated the entire street.

Flames leaped from the gaps in the twisted frame, scorching the leaves of the plane trees along the roadside until they curled up.

The acrid smell of burning rubber mixed with the smell of gasoline, making people want to cough.

The driver was being held by two guards and sat on a stone bench by the roadside. His face was covered in blood, the front of his military uniform was torn apart, revealing wounds that were still bleeding, and his arms hung limply at his sides.

It's already dead.

The two bodies in the back seat had been dragged out of the vehicle by the guards and placed side by side on the roadside, their faces covered with military overcoats.

One of them was dressed in casual clothes, was not tall, and had a silver ring on the ring finger of his left hand.

Sasaki crouched down and lifted his military overcoat to take a look. Half of Yagyu Kazuo's face had been sliced ​​off by shrapnel, but the silver ring on his left ring finger was still there, reflecting a cold light in the firelight.

Sasaki covered himself back up with his military overcoat, stood up, and remained silent for a long time.

The guards and staff around him dared not speak.

The air at the factory gate felt heavy, like it was filled with lead.

Kazuo Yagyu is the head of the Fourth Section of the Special Higher Police in Beijing. He has been in this line of work for nearly twenty years and has handled at least eight hundred to a thousand cases.

He fought against resistance organizations in Northeast China and never lost.

As a result, in Beijing, at the gate of a steel rolling mill, he was sent to his death by a hand grenade.

Sasaki took out a cigarette case from his pocket, pulled one out and put it in his mouth, then struck a match and lit it.

He took a drag, then slowly exhaled the smoke, which mingled with the black smoke still billowing from the wreckage of the jeep.

"Notify the Special Higher Police," he said, his voice not loud, but everyone at the quiet factory gate could hear him clearly. "Have them send someone. Don't touch the site; leave all traces."

Then he turned around and called to a guard: "Go to the courtyard immediately and bring He Dajun to me."

……

the other side.

When He Dajun returned to the courtyard, Bai Ling was still sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), holding the hand grenade in her hand.

He Dajun closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long sigh.

"It's over. I've taken care of Yagyu Kazuo," he said.

Bai Ling looked at him, nodded gently, and put down the grenade.

He Dajun took off the Japanese military uniform, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it, along with all the other weapons, into the tunnel. He took a quick shower and then lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed).

At this moment, He Dajun reverted to being the limping captain of the puppet army.