47: Chapter 47 Death Highway and Steel Barrier

The order was passed down quickly. The Wa State 17th Division, that elite force that had originally marched south with such imposing momentum, was now like a wounded beast that had been stabbed hard; it began to turn north, struggling and bleeding profusely.

Retreating, especially from intense combat, is the task that tests a unit's foundation and a commander's ability most. Although Zhao Yan desperately tried to steady the formation, phrases like "ditch heavy equipment," "full-speed retreat," and "rear-guard suicide mission" spread through the soldiers like a plague. Panic bubbled up, impossible to suppress. When the first soldier dropped his heavy pack and excess ammunition and bolted for the rear, the seeds of collapse were sown.

The officers' whips, rifle butts, and even the summary execution of deserters barely held the unit together, preventing an immediate disintegration. But that desperate, panicked urge to flee and return home had already overwhelmed their will to fight.

T-03 detected the movement the moment the Wa State army began to stir. Drone footage showed plumes of dust rising behind the enemy, with vehicles and personnel massing as they moved north.

"Master, the fish is struggling; it wants to return to the nest," he reported flatly.

Far away in the rear command post, Zhang Cheng watched the real-time situational map, a cold curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "As expected. Tell T-03 to pursue, but don't bite too hard. Maintain pressure, drive them, herd them into our pre-set 'slaughterhouse.' Also, notify the Fourth and Fifth Brigades: the 'guests' are arriving soon—prepare the 'reception.'"

And so, on the long highway from Mengmao to Pangkham, a cruel chase and series of blockades began.

The Third Brigade, commanded by T-03, trailed the retreating Wa State army like a pack of the most patient wolves. They launched no large-scale charges, instead using long-range mortar harassment, precision sniping, and small-unit flank attacks to bleed the retreating Wa State army dry. Every time the Wa State army tried to stop to regroup or establish a defensive line, the coalition's artillery would land right on time, forcing them to continue their desperate flight.

This persistent, shadow-like pressure was more effective at breaking the unit's nerves than a brutal frontal battle. The Wa State soldiers' spirits were stretched thin; exhaustion, hunger, and fear piled up. They discarded more and more equipment, from heavy machine guns and mortars to personal canteens and rations. Along the highway, discarded weapons and wounded soldiers who collapsed and could no longer get up were everywhere.

Zhao Yan's heart sank lower and lower. He had expected the journey would not be peaceful, but the patience and cunning of the pursuers exceeded his imagination. The true nightmare arrived when he saw the terrain ahead.

"The Thread of Sky."

The name matched the terrain—the highway here was tightly squeezed between two sheer, knife-cut stone mountains. The road was less than ten meters wide, yet over a kilometer long. Sunlight struggled to reach the valley floor, making it gloomy even at high noon; it was the perfect place for an ambush.

"Has the vanguard passed through? Any abnormalities?" Zhao Yan asked anxiously over the radio from his command vehicle.

"Report, Division Commander. The vanguard assault team passed through safely twenty minutes ago. No enemy activity. It's just... the valley is too quiet; there isn't even any birdsong," the vanguard captain reported, his tone uncertain.

Quiet? Zhao Yan's heart tightened. But there was no time for hesitation now, and no other road to take. The pursuers' artillery began to roar again, shells slamming into the tail of the column and inciting screams of agony.

"All units, accelerate! Pass through The Thread of Sky quickly! Don't stop!" Zhao Yan ordered through gritted teeth. He could only gamble—gamble that Zhang Cheng's troops didn't have enough time or presence at such a remote location to set another deadly trap.

The massive, straggling army, like a wounded serpent, writhed as it crawled into the dark gullet of "The Thread of Sky."

The beginning stretch was uneventful. Only the chaotic sound of countless military boots crunching on the gravel road, along with the soldiers' heavy panting and stifled coughs, echoed between the narrow rock walls, adding to the eeriness.

When over a third of the troops had entered the deepest part of the canyon and the tail of the column had fully entered the entrance—

"Fire!"

A cold voice, amplified countless times by loudspeakers, suddenly exploded from the tops of the cliffs on both sides! It was like the Reaper tolling a funeral bell!

The next second—

"Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!!!" "Boom-boom-boom-boom—!!!" "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!..."

Light and heavy machine guns, automatic rifles, sniper rifles... the sound of every gun exploded at once! Muzzle flashes linked together above the dark canyon like a dancing light of death! Countless bullets, accompanied by shrill whistles, poured down from a near-vertical angle, weaving a three-dimensional web of fire with no blind spots!

It was truly a rain of bullets!

The narrow valley floor instantly became a living hell!

The Wa State soldiers fell in swathes like harvested wheat. They had nowhere to hide, no cover to take. Bullets sparked blindingly against the rocks and exploded into mists of blood upon hitting bodies. Screams, wails, and desperate cries were completely swallowed by even fiercer gunfire and explosions (hand grenades and rifle grenades also rained down from the sky).

Blood flowed like a stream, meandering across the uneven road surface; the thick stench of blood and gunpowder smoke filled the entire canyon, making one want to retch.

"It's an ambush! Charge out!" "Run back! Run back!" "Help! My leg!" The formation was in total chaos! Those in front wanted to charge forward, those in the rear wanted to retreat, and those in the middle were jammed and unable to move, becoming perfect sitting ducks. The officers' shouting was completely useless; in the face of absolute fear of death and the disadvantageous terrain, discipline was nothing.

Zhao Yan's command vehicle was lucky; it hadn't entered the deadliest part of the ambush zone, but it was blocked near the entrance. He watched helplessly as his soldiers were slaughtered like livestock in the canyon, his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets, yet he had no way to help.

"Division Commander! You can't go in! It's a death trap in there!" the Chief of Staff held onto Zhao Yan, who wanted to get out of the vehicle.

"Where's our artillery?! Where is our artillery?!" Zhao Yan roared.

"Most... most of it was abandoned in Mengmao! The few remaining pieces—their firing angles can't reach the cliff tops at all!"

"Then fill it with lives! Organize a suicide squad, climb the slopes on both sides, and take out their firing positions!" Zhao Yan's eyes were bloodshot.

But the Wa State soldiers who attempted to climb the steep rock walls became the best targets for the snipers while still in mid-air, falling one by one like puppets with severed strings.

This ambush lasted for nearly two hours. The gunfire gradually thinned—not because the ambushers had run out of ammunition, but because there weren't many living targets left standing in the canyon.

In the end, relying on the rear guard to hold the valley entrance at the cost of their lives, combined with a weak counter-charge from the vanguard on the other side, and accounting for the fact that the ambushing Fourth Brigade didn't seem to "intend" to annihilate them entirely (their mission was primarily to severely damage and delay them), Zhao Yan managed to lead the remnants of his shell-shocked unit out of "The Thread of Sky," looking disheveled and wretched, as if they had just passed through the gates of hell.

Looking back, the dark canyon entrance resembled a devil's maw, chewing on the bones and souls of thousands of Wa State soldiers.

Taking a headcount, in this battle alone, the 17th Division lost nearly two thousand more men, and a large number of lightly and heavily wounded soldiers were left behind in the Valley of Death.

There was no time for grief, not even time for fear. The sounds of the pursuing guns and artillery were getting closer again. Zhao Yan wiped something from his face—he couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears—and croaked, "Keep moving! Leave this place! To Pangkham!"

The remnant army set off again, but their morale had collapsed; numbness and despair were written on every face. They moved their legs mechanically, as if they were nothing more than a group of walking corpses heading toward a predetermined end.

But the Death God had no intention of letting them off so easily.

They had walked less than fifteen kilometers forward when, on a long uphill slope known as "Soul-Breaking Slope" and the rolling hills on both sides, a more complete, stronger, and more densely defended coalition position appeared, as if it had grown out of the ground, blocking their path!

Trenches crisscrossed, machine gun bunkers were scattered like stars, and anti-tank ditches and barbed wire were layered one after another. The Fifth Brigade's flag fluttered coldly at the highest point of the slope.

This time, they couldn't even organize a desperate charge.

When the Fifth Brigade's heavy machine guns began to roar and mortar shells landed accurately into the marching column, the last of the Wa State remnant army's fighting will collapsed. Many people simply knelt on the ground, threw down their weapons, and surrendered. Others tried to scatter into the forests on either side, but small, well-prepared detachments of Death Soldiers chased after them like hunting dogs.

Zhao Yan knew it was all over. The 17th Division was finished. Wa State was finished too.

He refused his subordinates' suggestion to change his clothes and run, sitting blankly on a rock, staring in the direction of Pangkham with hollow eyes. It was probably already burning into a sea of fire by now, right?

After four days and three nights of hellish flight, blockades, ambushes, and disintegration, when the fewer than four thousand battered, shell-shocked soldiers remaining by Zhao Yan's side finally caught a distant glimpse of the blurry outline of Pangkham, many couldn't help but collapse to the ground and weep uncontrollably, as if they had seen the other shore.

But the next moment, this "hope" that was right before their eyes—bought with the lives of countless comrades—was completely crushed into dust by the final scene before them.

In front of the final open ground outside Pangkham, a massive army with strict military bearing and a killing intent that had almost solidified into a black physical entity had already built a continuous, despairingly sturdy defensive position! Armored vehicles, artillery, and dense black shadows... that all-too-familiar black flag with a golden sword fluttered in the morning breeze, announcing the arrival of the final judgment.

After capturing Pangkham, the main forces of the Death God Legion's First and Second Brigades, having rested only briefly before rushing south, were now under the personal command of Old K, acting like the sturdiest of floodgates, firmly sealing off the last path home for the Wa State remnants.

With an iron wall blocking the front and life-claiming pursuers sealing the road behind.

An inescapable net, with no wings to fly away.

Supported by his personal guards, Zhao Yan used his last ounce of strength to raise his binoculars. He glanced at the muzzles of the cannons raised on the opposite position, then looked at the soldiers beside him, who couldn't even hold their rifles steady and whose eyes were unfocused. He smiled miserably, let go, and allowed the binoculars to fall to the ground, shattering into pieces.

It was over.