114: Chapter 114 Unwanted Supplies

"Demon God?!" Ono Jiro's pupils constricted sharply. He laughed in extreme anger, his chilling laughter echoing within the enclosed military tent, carrying a bone-piercing coldness.

He leaned forward abruptly, pressing both hands onto the table, staring fixedly at the adjutant with eyes as fierce as a jackal.

"Ignorant! Absurd!"

"The Imperial Japanese Army is invincible; how could a Demon God possibly block our path?!"

Cold sweat streamed down the adjutant's forehead. He hurriedly bowed and kowtowed, his voice growing weaker: "This subordinate dares not speak nonsense! This is the unanimous account of all the surviving soldiers who experienced it!"

"They say that the Chinese man advanced through our artillery fire. Bullets hitting him felt like nothing more than an itch. Even when artillery shells exploded directly on him, it merely blasted him away, and he would stand back up again very quickly."

"He is simply like a Demon God incarnate. That pass seems protected by a Demon God; it is completely impossible to conquer!"

As each rumor fell, the rage within the tent gradually faded, replaced by a suffocating silence.

The ferocity on Ono Jiro's face slowly receded, but the gloom and wariness in his eyes settled and spread bit by bit.

Guns and artillery cannot kill him, explosions cannot break him, his supplies are endless, and he grows stronger the more he fights in desperate situations.

No tactic can crack him, no force can suppress him, and even his methods, trump cards, and patterns are completely unfathomable.

This has already exceeded the scope of tactics, troop strength, and equipment.

If this is not a Demon God wreaking havoc, then what is a Demon God?

Ono Jiro stood up straight slowly. His gaze pierced through the gap in the military tent, looking far away toward the mist-shrouded Beishan Pass, his expression extremely grim.

Originally, he thought the defenders at Beishan were merely remnants clinging to life, and that just a few rounds of heavy assault would be enough to completely flatten the defensive line and tear open the Xinkou barrier.

But now, he finally understood.

That was a terrifying existence that could not be measured by the logic of war.

"Pass down the order."

Ono Jiro's voice was low and hoarse, carrying a caution suppressed to the extreme.

"Suspend small-scale assaults. All units are to garrison in place; unauthorized advances into the pass are prohibited."

"Immediately contact Colonel Sakata with urgency and report the bizarre combat situation at Beishan truthfully."

He clenched his fists tightly, his eyes filled with solemn murderous intent.

Anyone who stands before the iron hooves of the Imperial Japanese Army must be completely crushed.

Meanwhile, at the Beishan position.

Everywhere were blasted craters, overturned stones, and tree trunks snapped in half. A thin layer of dust covered the ground, rising whenever the wind blew.

Mo Yufei stood on the highest boulder in the forest. Having fought back and forth for two days without sleep or rest, the fatigue pressing down on him dissipated completely at this moment when he saw the life energy in his system.

The thick night pressed down over the entire rear camp of the Japanese Army. The evening breeze in the forest, carrying the lingering scent of gunpowder and a faint smell of blood, swept across the desolate mountain path.

With the front lines retreating to rest, the entire rear encampment, supply routes, medical outposts, and forward command posts were all filled with the Japanese Army, who were on high alert.

A black shadow hid amidst the deepest tree shadows and gullies; Mo Yufei stood quietly. His face was cold and emotionless, his eyes as deep as a cold pool, devoid of any unnecessary emotion.

Stepping into the enemy camp, there was only one thing to do: kill every enemy he saw, and take all the supplies he could use.

He kept his figure extremely low, his feet stepping over the soft, wet mud without a sound. Using the cover of the night, he advanced rapidly, thrusting straight into the heart of the Japanese Army's rear perimeter.

Two Japanese Army sentries on rotation along the mountain path were walking slowly with their rifles, chatting in low voices. Their leather boots crunched over gravel, making crisp, faint sounds. Their gazes were unfocused, completely off guard.

Until a cold wind suddenly pressed against their faces.

The two sentries snapped back to reality, their pupils suddenly shrinking to pinpoints, their faces turning deathly pale instantly.

"Who?!"

The short shout had barely left their mouths before Mo Yufei was already upon them.

His right hand thrust the combat saber out fiercely, piercing straight through the Japanese Invader's chest.

Crack! The crisp sound of the sternum cracking was drowned out by the night wind.

The sentry's eyes bulged, and blood instantly gushed from his mouth and nose. In barely two breaths, the strength left his body, his frame slumped down limply, and he fell into complete silence.

The second sentry beside him was completely terrified. While his body stiffened, he frantically raised his rifle, letting out a shrill roar, and turned to run and call for help.

"Enemy attack—!"

Before the roar had faded, Mo Yufei stepped sideways to block his retreat, bent his elbow, and slammed it fiercely into the man's chest.

A dull thud reverberated through his body.

The Japanese Army sentry was knocked backward half a meter by the immense force, his chest caved in, a large spray of blood foam erupting from his mouth, and his rifle flew from his grip.

He curled up on the ground clutching his chest, twitching and rolling violently, his fingertips clawing desperately into the mud. The intense pain twisted his features, and he kept emitting desperate wails of agony.

Mo Yufei leaned down, pressed his left hand firmly onto the man's neck, and with his right hand, swung his saber fiercely, severing the head.

Two corpses lay across the mountain path, their warm blood seeping into the black mud.

Mo Yufei looted anything of value from the two men and stored it in his space, then continued his advance without pausing, pushing deeper to kill.

Advancing all the way, blood flowed all the way.

All the Japanese Army supply soldiers, orderlies, and resting infantry encountered along the way ran into the deadly black shadow in the night.

Some hurriedly raised their guns to shoot, some drew their swords and roared as they charged, some were so scared they abandoned their weapons and fled, and some knelt on both knees, kowtowing and crying for mercy.

No one was spared.

Before shots could be fired, they were closed in on and had their throats slit. Those who charged had their tendons and bones snapped inch by inch. Those who fled were intercepted instantly and killed on the spot. Those who knelt and surrendered still met the same lethal end.

In the night forest, screams rose and fell, layered upon one another, shrill and desperate, yet all were swallowed by the evening forest breeze.

The crisp sound of bones breaking, the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground, and the wails before death continued incessantly, echoing throughout the entire supply route.

Mo Yufei's strikes became faster and more ruthless, with every move being fatal, without a moment of hesitation or mercy.

The continuous slaughter permeated his entire being; the indifference in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a thick, dark, and malevolent aura.

The blood staining his body layered upon itself, his temperament grew increasingly cold and violent, and his desire to kill boiled over completely.

Having cleared the entire mountain path of troops, he looked up at the brightly lit rows of canvas tents not far away: the Japanese Invaders field hospital.

The tent flaps were repeatedly blown open by the night wind, and the inside was filled with the wails of wounded soldiers, the sounds of personnel moving hurriedly, and chaotic Japanese chatter.

The two guards on duty outside the tent noticed the unusual silence in the perimeter, their hearts tightening suddenly. They gripped their rifles and leaned forward to look, just about to call out a warning.

The black shadow had already arrived right in front of their faces.

After two short thuds of landing, two heads rolled away, and the bodies fell stiffly into the pool of blood outside the tent.

Mo Yufei sighed: "Killing is still the best, and cutting off heads directly is the most satisfying!"

Mo Yufei ripped open the heavy cloth curtain.

The warm yellow light instantly illuminated the figures throughout the tent.

Everywhere lay heavily wounded Japanese Invaders covered in blood and filth, with severed limbs. Several male and female medical staff, holding gauze and syringes, were urgently treating the wounded soldiers.

Everyone in the tent froze suddenly, all eyes nailed to the blood-stained shadow at the doorway, and extreme panic exploded instantly.

"Help!!"

"Enemy!!"

Piercing screams, terrified roars, and chaotic commotion exploded instantly.

Some retreated in a panic, covering their heads to dodge; some frantically grabbed for the firearms by the wall in an attempt to resist; some huddled in corners, shivering and kneeling to beg for mercy; the heavily wounded soldiers who could not move could only twist their bodies in despair, emitting shrill wails of pain.

Throughout the entire field hospital, dozens of Japanese Invaders, not a single one survived.

Mo Yufei stepped inside, clearing the area mercilessly.

Those who resisted, head cut off; those who fled, head cut off; those who begged for mercy, head cut off.

In just a short moment, all the wailing in the tent ceased, and there was not a single sound of a living person left.

Corpses lay everywhere, fresh blood soaked the floor of the tent, and the thick, heavy scent of blood was suffocating.

He stood in the center of the sea of corpses, his malevolent aura completely solidified, his body radiating a bone-piercing coldness.

He raised his hand to quickly collect all the medical supplies in the tent, his movements crisp and efficient, without pausing for even a moment.

He turned and exited the tent. The night wind hit his face, but it could not blow away the blood and murderous aura covering him.

He locked his gaze onto the deepest part of the mountain col, at the most heavily fortified reinforced tent: the Japanese Army's forward temporary command post.