Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The forest was deep; anyone thrown in would vanish like a drop of water into the ocean. He Yuzhu squatted under a sheltered rocky cliff, a simple hand-drawn map spread out before him, its surface thickly covered with pencil marks. He tapped heavily on two points marked with red circles—enemy supply depots, about twenty kilometers apart, nestled beside the highway, like baskets hanging from either end of a carrying pole.

"The one to the south, about a platoon to guard, is yours." He looked up at Lao Geng. Lao Geng, the newly promoted company commander, had a taut face and his Adam's apple bobbed. "The one to the north is smaller, but in a tricky position," He Yuzhu turned to Zhang Dashan, "You have to be quick, strike and retreat."

He scanned the several young, tense faces around him: "Remember, we're nominally a company now, but in a fight, it's still a small team job. Each company will form its own groups, three people per group, five people per team, flexible combinations. The mission is simple: go in, light the fire, detonate, create maximum commotion, and then evacuate along the predetermined route. No lingering in battle."

"Company commander, what if we run into a tough nut to crack..." The newly promoted squad leader, Chen Dalei, said in a slightly weak voice.

"Avoid the tough nuts and find another place to bite," He Yuzhu said decisively. "We're wolves, not tigers. How do you fight wolves? You bite once and run, letting other wolves take your turn. Don't even think about taking the whole piece of meat at once."

He took out several palm-sized metal boxes with antennas and handed them to Lao Geng and Zhang Dashan. "Portable radios, newly issued by the division, priority for trial installation. Remember the channels and code words, remain silent except in emergencies, and keep the time spent on the radio short."

Old Geng weighed the heavy machine in his hand, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to grin, but he only managed a slight movement. "Having this thing makes me feel more at ease."

"Reassuring?" He Yuzhu glanced at him. "If it rings, it's probably not a good sign." He looked down at his watch. "Operation time: 3 a.m., simultaneous action. Check your watches now."

At 2:50 a.m., outside the South Supply Station.

Snowflakes drifted into his collar on the night wind, the chill biting to the bone. He Yuzhu personally led his team to a snowdrift fifty meters outside the barbed wire fence, night-vision goggles perched on his forehead. A patch of eerie green stretched into their vision: stacked wooden crates, oil drums, lit tents, and figures loitering with guns on watchtowers, while searchlights lazily swept across the snow.

He lay in wait for nearly half an hour, his breathing extremely slow. The defenses weren't particularly strong, but the structure was intact. He beckoned, and Old Geng and the demolition expert quietly crept up to him.

"Bury a set of 'iron watermelons' in the middle of the oil drum pile, under the main tent's support pillars," He Yuzhu's voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "Detonate them with these." He pulled out two black plastic blocks, each about the size of a matchbox, connected to thin wires. "Remote control, effective from fifty meters. Press the button after they've been lured out."

Old Geng took the unfamiliar object and examined it closely by the light of the snow, his fingers unconsciously tracing its edges. He Yuzhu didn't let him ask any questions: "It's a captured experimental product; you just need to know how to use it. Demolition team, take your positions. The rest of you, come with me to the east side to make some noise."

He led five men around to the eastern pile of debris. This area was far from the main position, with only a low fence separating them. He Yuzhu gave a hand signal, and two soldiers quickly laid anti-personnel directional mines outside the fence—a powerful weapon he had redeemed with points, its fragments spraying out in a fan shape, specifically designed to kill densely packed groups of people.

After making the arrangements, he looked at his luminous watch: 2:58 AM.

He nodded to the soldier on the east side.

An arrow with a damp cloth tied to it left the bowstring silently, tossing a smoking grenade over the fence.

"boom--!"

The firelight exploded, the sound particularly jarring in the silent snowy night. The watchtower's searchlight abruptly shifted, and figures poured out of the tents, shouting and gathering towards the east.

He Yuzhu stared at the blurry figures in the night vision goggles as they stepped into the edge of the kill zone, and pressed the detonator with his thumb.

boom! boom! boom!

The dull thud was unlike any ordinary landmine—it was the thud of metal shrapnel tearing through flesh. Screams erupted, and a group of people collapsed beside the eastern fence, the rest sprawling in panic, a chaotic mess.

The supply depot was in complete chaos. Officers yelled, wounded soldiers wailed, and people ran around like headless flies... No one noticed that two dark figures were rapidly retreating from the pile of oil drums and tents.

He Yuzhu spoke briefly into the radio, "Close the net."

In the distance, Old Geng pressed the detonator.

Boom! ...

Flames erupted first from the pile of oil drums, a fireball soaring into the sky and engulfing half the night. Then, ammunition boxes exploded, a series of deafening roars echoing through the valley. The main tent was torn to shreds by the shockwave, wooden crates and debris flying in a shower of sparks.

The supply depot was engulfed in flames. Survivors cried out and fled; putting out the fire was no longer an option.

"Withdraw!" He Yuzhu decisively ordered.

The group retreated into the mountains like ghosts. Almost simultaneously, a faint light appeared on the northern horizon—Zhang Dashan had also succeeded.

On the way to evacuation, He Yuzhu was on edge.

He only breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived at assembly point number three and saw Lao Geng, Zhang Dashan, and the key members of each group appear one after another. Headcount: Only two people were grazed by stray bullets, and no one was killed.

As dawn approached, he suddenly stood up: "Groups one and two, come back with me. The rest of you, hide and rest."

"Give it back?" Old Geng was stunned.

"Clean up the battlefield." He Yuzhu's eyes were cold and clear. "Collect enemy uniforms, helmets, and identification tags, especially those of officers. Quickly."

They crept back to the edge of the ruined supply depot. The American troops had withdrawn, leaving only charred remains, embers, and dozens of bodies that hadn't been taken with them. He Yuzhu and his men quickly collected relatively intact uniforms, helmets, officer insignia, and identification tags. He deliberately removed bloodstained personal items—photographs, letters, cigarette cases—from several corpses, haphazardly bundling them into a ball.

Then, he deliberately left traces in the opposite direction of the evacuation route: several footprints pointing towards the mountains, discarded empty cans, and a hastily buried but still partially exposed package containing his bloodstained personal belongings.

Zhang Dashan understood: "This is..."

"Send some 'intelligence' to their command." He Yuzhu brushed the snow off his hands. "Let them think the attackers are from several different forces—guerrillas, a southern infiltration group, or even someone else. Don't let them blame our company too soon."

By the time they evacuated again, it was already dawn. He Yuzhu leaned against an old pine tree, closing his eyes to rest, while a series of system notifications rang in his mind:

[Successfully commanded a company-level coordinated raid, destroying two key enemy supply depots.]

[When tactics are employed effectively, significant results can be achieved at minimal cost, and battlefield deception can be carried out.]

[Based on battlefield contribution assessment, you will receive +80000 battlefield points.]

Current battlefield score: 419398 points.

Main quest progress: 0.419%

Eighty thousand points were credited to his account. He Yuzhu felt a surge of warmth in his heart, but he quickly suppressed it. He looked at the soldiers sitting or lying not far away, exhausted but with bright eyes, and knew that these points were earned through risking their lives.

He accessed the system and found the urgently needed item:

Portable shortwave radio (platoon level, 10 units): Enhances the communication capabilities of small units. Requires 10000 points to redeem.

He redeemed his points. Ten thousand points were deducted, but ten smaller radios were added to his system space. He planned to distribute them gradually, ensuring that each independent action group had basic communication support.

Old Geng leaned over, handed over half a compressed biscuit, and whispered, "Company Commander, I'm a little uneasy about going back to collect those things later."

He Yuzhu took the biscuit, broke off a small piece, and chewed slowly. "It's good that it's getting fuzzy. The job we do is not only to make the enemy feel pain, but also to throw them into a daze. The more confused they are, the safer we are, and the more meat we can bite off."

He gazed at the road winding like a thin thread among the distant mountains, his eyes unfathomable.

The hunt has only just begun.