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

Old Yang hesitated for a moment before saying yes, but it would take time.

He Dajun said there was no need to rush, to take it slowly. The key was to make the people feel that there was still hope, so that they wouldn't actually believe that the country was doomed just because they heard a few traitors say that the country was doomed.

On the other hand, after investigations from various sources, the list of traitors grew longer and longer.

He Dajun compiled the list submitted by Liu Haizhong, the intelligence verified by Lao Yang, and the faces he had observed during this period, and wrote them all down in a thin ledger.

The cover of the ledger was an ordinary blue cloth, which looked no different from the attendance book of the steel rolling mill. However, what was recorded inside was not attendance records, but names, addresses, occupations, and "crimes".

Some people's names were followed by only one line, such as "publicly persuading people to surrender in a teahouse" or "helping the Japanese lead the way to search their neighbors." Others' names were followed by a long paragraph.

For example, Zhao Bingwen's name was followed by the following: "Published three treasonous articles, advocated the theory of national subjugation in public, and took the initiative to contact the Japanese military police to provide a list of progressive students."

He Dajun flips through this ledger every day.

He looked calm as he flipped through the pages, as if he were looking at an ordinary attendance record.

Bai Ling felt a chill run down her spine when she saw the densely packed names and records of crimes on the page.

She knew what He Dajun was doing, but she neither asked nor offered any advice.

She knew that once this person decided to do something, they wouldn't change their mind. And she also knew that most of the people in those names were indeed not innocent.

Another day passed, and He Dajun began to take action.

The first to die was Zhao Bingwen.

This history professor, now a cultural committee member of the "New People's Association," was strangled to death with a steel wire in front of his own home.

On the night of the incident, Zhao Bingwen had just returned from the newspaper office, had drunk some alcohol, and was walking unsteadily.

As he walked to the door of his mansion and took out his key to open it, a hand suddenly reached out from behind and wrapped a thin steel wire around his neck.

Zhao Bingwen struggled for less than ten seconds before going limp, and the key fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

He Dajun dragged the body into a corner of the alley, took a piece of paper from his pocket, and placed it on the corpse's chest. The paper contained only one line: "Those who surrender to the Japanese shall die."

The words on the note were written with his left hand, crooked and messy, like the handwriting of a primary school student who had just learned to write.

He squatted down to look at his work, thought the effect was okay, then stood up, dusted off his hands, and walked away with his wooden stick.

The news of Zhao Bingwen's death spread throughout Beijing's cultural circles early the next morning.

The members of the "New People's Association" were terrified. Some of them ran to the Japanese soldiers and cried, saying that Commissioner Zhao was the most loyal collaborator of the Imperial Army and had been assassinated by the resistance fighters. They begged the Imperial Army to catch the murderer.

But the others dared not utter a sound. Several of the writers who had previously worked with Zhao Bingwen took sick leave the next day and hid at home, too afraid to go out.

The second person to die was someone Lao Yang introduced to He Dajun; he was a man named Cai Mazi.

This man was not a scholar, but a hoodlum who ran a general store in the alley where He Dajun lived. After the Japanese entered the city, he took the initiative to "surrender" to the outpost, saying that he wanted to help the Imperial Army maintain order.

After that, he started doing things for the Japanese, leading people to search the neighbors' houses. Whatever they found was his, and if they didn't find anything, he would threaten the neighbors to pay money, saying that otherwise he would report them to the Imperial Army for harboring resistance fighters.

He caused the deaths of three families, and the entire family of one of them was captured and interrogated by the Japanese and has not been heard from since.

Every time Cai Mazi returned from the outpost, he would have a few blood-stained bills in his pocket, and his smile would be brighter than ever.

He Dajun knocked on his door in the early hours of one day.

Cai Mazi thought it was someone from the Imperial Army coming to give him a reward, so he opened the door with a grin, still wearing his clothes.

When he saw He Dajun standing at the door, leaning on a wooden cane, his smile froze for a moment.

He Dajun didn't waste any words with him. He closed the door, then strangled Cai Mazi to death in his own main room, and stabbed him twice more after he died.

After disposing of the body, he took a note from his pocket and placed it on the corpse's chest. The note read: "Traitorous dog, die."

The third, the fourth, the fifth. They would even kill several traitors every day.

Of course, it wasn't just about killing traitors. On the way there and back, whenever He Dajun saw Japanese soldiers, as long as there weren't too many of them, he would kill them with grenades.

He Dajun's score kept rising.

……

Lately, He Dajun has been going out every night, and every time he comes back, his pockets are missing many notes.

The campaign to kill traitors spread throughout the city. He Dajun and other resistance organizations saw new names being registered and new people being "brought to justice" every day.

The high command of the Japanese and their puppet troops were furious, but they were unable to quickly find the real culprit.

More importantly, they dared not make a fuss.

Because too many people saw what was written on the note, too many people knew that these traitors died because they were working for the Japanese.

If the Japanese launch a major investigation into this matter, it would be tantamount to admitting that they cannot protect traitors, and who would dare to work for the Japanese in the future?

This unusual silence terrified the traitors even more.

They thought the Japanese would send people to protect them immediately, but they didn't expect that their comrades who died in bed would be forgotten after their bodies were taken away.

The Japanese would at most send someone to take a statement, and then that would be the end of it.

Some people started secretly hiding kitchen knives, some started using chairs to barricade doors before going to bed, and some simply moved to live near the Japanese military camp, preferring to pay more protection money rather than stay alone at home.

But none of this worked.

The killing of traitors continued, with notes appearing one after another on the chests of the corpses. The words on them grew shorter and shorter, but more and more frightening.

"Traitor, die."

"The whistleblower shall die."

"Those who inform on others shall die."

These words themselves are not scary; what's scary is that the people who say them never go back on their word.

Then the puppet troops also got scared. They were also traitors, and even more outrageous ones, but they had guns.

Even so, many members of the puppet army were killed, and many of those who were almost alone were also killed.

At this moment, He Dajun also became afraid. He walked up to Sasaki, trembling all over, and said, "What should we do with the Imperial Army? So many of our puppet troops have died. What should we do?"

Sasaki looked at his terrified expression, remained silent for a moment, then leaned back in his chair and spoke in a rare, gentle tone.

His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried the confidence of a seasoned hunter calming a frightened dog.

"He Dajun, what are you afraid of? It's just a dying struggle for the resistance fighters to kill a few puppet soldiers." Sasaki took out a cigarette from the cigarette case, lit it with a match, took a puff, and then slowly exhaled the smoke.

"The more frantic they become, the more it shows they've run out of options. Unable to defeat the Imperial Army on the front lines, they resort to assassinations from the shadows. These kinds of people will never amount to anything."