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

After leaving Sasaki's office, He Dajun walked around the factory area with a wooden cane, then returned to the wooden house, sat down, and opened the system panel to take a look.

The defense-breaking points have risen to over 11 million, and there are more and more things that can be redeemed in the system.

In addition to the usual grenades, explosive charges, and heavy machine guns, there are now some things he has never seen before: bulletproof vests and night vision goggles.

He flipped through the newly unlocked items, plotting how to use them to cause even more trouble for the Japanese.

The notes kept being posted. Every night when He Dajun went out, he carried more than a dozen newly written notes in his pocket.

The contents of the note are constantly being updated.

"The Loyal Army is here; traitors will surely die."

"Those who offend our Great Xia, though far away, shall be punished."

Each note was like a time bomb, and no one knew when it would explode in the heart of some Japanese soldier.

Daisuke Tanaka of the Special Higher Police established a special investigation team to collect all the notes found throughout the city and compare the paper, handwriting, and the location and method of pasting the notes in an attempt to find out the attackers' patterns of action.

But after comparing them for a week, he came to a conclusion that puzzled him even more: the handwriting on the notes was not from the same person; some were crooked like a primary school student, while others were neat and tidy like an accountant.

The paper used was not uniform; some were yellowed paper, some were newspaper scraps, and some were blank pages torn from account books.

When Tanaka Daisuke placed the investigation report on Sasaki's wooden table, his expression was one of confusion and frustration.

He said the attacker was not a single person, but at least three or four people acting simultaneously, each responsible for different areas.

Moreover, their movements are completely unpredictable; today they're in the north of the city, tomorrow in the south, and the day after tomorrow they might be back in the north. They are utterly impossible to foresee.

Sasaki flipped through the report, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

Thinking of this, Sasaki felt a chill run down his spine.

The notes were still being posted, and the Japanese soldiers were still dying, but news from the south kept coming back.

He Dajun saw the battle report in the wooden shed of the steel rolling mill.

The battle report was brought to him by Suzuki, who said that Major Sasaki had asked him to see it.

The Japanese military headquarters' wording was as concise as ever: The Imperial Army has broken through the defenses of the Daxia garrison along the Suzhou line, and the vanguard is advancing towards Jingzhou.

He Dajun placed the battle report on the table and tapped the words "Jingzhou" lightly with his fingers.

He knew what this meant.

In another timeline of history, after the defeat in the Battle of Shanghai, the Japanese army relentlessly advanced westward along the Beijing-Shanghai Railway.

The elite troops of the Kuomintang had already been wiped out in the Battle of Shanghai, and the remaining troops were even worse equipped and less trained, making them no match for the Japanese mechanized forces.

Suzhou, Wuxi, Changzhou—they were lost one after another.

The vanguard of the Japanese army was less than 100 kilometers away from Jingzhou.

He folded the battle report, put it in his pocket, and walked out of the wooden house, leaning on his cane.

Everything in the factory area remained the same. Workers were moving bricks and shoveling stones on the ruins, while Suzuki stood at the workshop entrance, holding a folder and writing something down.

But He Dajun noticed a detail: there were two more sentry posts than usual today, and there was an extra three-wheeled motorcycle at the factory gate with a light machine gun mounted in the cargo bed.

This shows that the Japanese were also on edge. Although they were winning victory after victory on the front lines, their rear was becoming increasingly unstable.

The Loyal Army's attacks became more frequent and covered a wider area, forcing the Japanese to devote more of their forces to defending the city.

That evening, He Dajun told Bai Ling about the battle report in a side room.

Bai Ling remained silent for a while, then took out a piece of intelligence that Lao Yang had delivered during the day from under the kang mat.

The intelligence came from the major party through underground channels, and its content was more detailed than the Japanese battle reports.

The Xia army held out on the outskirts of Suzhou for four days, suffering more than half its casualties, and was forced to retreat.

The defenders of Wuxi held out for only two days before their city defenses were reduced to ruins by the Japanese heavy artillery.

The Changzhou garrison is putting up a desperate resistance, but the disparity in troop strength is too great, and it is estimated that they will not be able to hold out for long. The Kuomintang government has begun to evacuate from Jingzhou, transferring all important documents, equipment, and personnel westward.

After listening, He Dajun leaned against the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and remained silent for a long time.

I know what will happen next.

In another timeline, the Battle of Jingzhou lasted less than two weeks.

After the Japanese invaders entered the city, they committed a horrific massacre.

Three hundred thousand people, not soldiers, but civilians. Men, women, the elderly, and children.

They were shot, buried alive, burned to death, and thrown into the Yangtze River. The river was filled with corpses, and the water was dyed red, taking more than a month to return to its original color.

Bai Ling looked at his silent expression and asked him what was wrong.

He Dajun recounted the situation in Jingzhou in a very soft voice, as if he were talking to himself.

He said that the elite troops of the Kuomintang had been wiped out in Shanghai and that the troops defending Jingzhou were just hastily assembled, and some of the soldiers had never even touched a gun before. They were just pulled up to fill the gaps in the battle line.

It won't take the Japanese too long to attack Jingzhou.

He then mentioned what the Japanese soldiers might do after entering the city, but he swallowed the words back down.

He didn't want to scare Bai Ling. People in this era didn't know what would happen next, but he came from another time and space, and he knew.

Bai Ling was silent for a while, then asked him what he planned to do.

He Dajun said he hadn't decided yet.

He leaned against the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), his fingers tapping lightly on his knees, one tap at a time, in a very slow rhythm.

He was wondering what he could actually do.

Jingzhou is far from the capital, so he can't possibly travel back and forth every day.

Moreover, he had puppet troops to manage in Beijing, Sasaki to deal with, and Bai Ling to protect.

But he couldn't just stand by and watch Jingzhou turn into a living hell.

He knew the course of history and what the Japanese would do in Jingzhou.

Knowing this is more agonizing than not knowing it.

If you don't know, at least you can say, "I didn't know this would happen."

But you know, you can't pretend you don't know. You can't just stand by and watch things happen without doing anything.

Bai Ling suddenly spoke up: "You can't change the entire battle situation by yourself."

He Dajun paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile.

He knew Bai Ling was right. He could kill over a thousand elite soldiers by himself, but he couldn't kill an entire division.

He could blow up an ammunition depot, but he couldn't sink a Japanese warship.

He could kill all the traitors in Beijing, but he couldn't stop the Japanese soldiers far away in Jingzhou.

There are limits to what an individual can do, and there are limits to what a system can do. He knew this, but he was still unwilling to accept it.

"I don't want to change the course of the battle." He Dajun's voice was low, carrying a weariness that Bai Ling had never heard before. "I just don't want to regret Bai Ling. If I really do nothing, I will never forgive myself for the rest of my life."

Bai Ling didn't speak. She reached out and grasped He Dajun's fingers, squeezing them gently.