Chapter Twenty-Five

  The dead squad is still moving forward in the jungle, now it has expanded several times and has become a complete battalion. The black skin is walking in front to guard, the dressed people are taking care of the two wings and the rear, now most people have weapons, and that 92-style heavy machine gun was carried by the dead squad.

  The dragon carried Li Wula in the middle of the team, Li Wula wore someone else's clothes, indeed as Hao Shouyi said, he was no longer bleeding, and what dripped to the ground was just water.

  Li Wula moved slightly later, and the excessive blood loss had actually made him unable to see. He used his hand on the dragon's shoulder to grope for the dragon's forehead. The dragon walked with a blank expression, allowing the person on its back to do this groping. That hand touched the dragon's forehead, then slid over the bridge of its nose, and finally fell down. The dragon felt a head falling onto its shoulder with an entirely blank expression.

  The dragon walks away. He didn't plan on staying.

  The battle in the river valley made him have a whole string of men who were dead set against him, and yet he still dragged us through the jungle, just as he said, the Japanese army stretched their lines too long, exchanged a bucket of water for a bottle of wine, hair hanging down, war.

  Li Wura died 10 minutes after we set off, but Mi Long carried him on his back without a word for another hour. Suddenly, it dawned on us that there was no longer any living Northeasterner beside the dead Northeasterner Mi Long.

  In the morning light of the jungle, the dragon was still walking with the corpse on its back. Its expression and gait had not changed in the slightest. It seemed to be tireless, a machine carrying a dead body.

  Wearing a backpack and carrying a light machine gun that should have been carried by Mi Long, as if to make up for his own lack of effort.

  Hao Shouyi didn't even dare look at him as he walked by his side, "Mí Lóng."

  No response.

  Hao Shouyi said in a low voice: "The man is already dead."

  No response.

  "Shut up! Have you brought the Mountain Cannon? Can it blast those little Japanese devils to death? What are you bragging about?"

  We were shocked, looking at the dead body standing by the road, because what came out of that guy's mouth was Northeastern dialect. We almost thought this guy was a Northeasterner, but that didn't count, he had previously used Northeastern dialect to quarrel with Mi Long, Beijing dialect to fight with me, Shaanxi dialect to chat with Hao Shouyi, and even the screams of ethnic minorities from the border areas came out of his mouth. Nothing could be counted - this guy was a dialect machine.

  The dragon stared at him, because "mountain cannon" is a very serious Northeastern insult, and it was directed at the deceased.

  He's dead, dead, as if he didn't notice the dragon's gaze at all, and then said: "What to do? Take a machine gun to kill people. The whole dead person is numb, who is deceiving whom? Turtle grandson stuff."

  He didn't even look back, and went straight to his team leader. The dragon looked not angry but bewildered, he was bewildered for a while, then put down Lioura by the roadside, turned around and pulled back his machine gun from the shoulder of the stunned Ma.

  In the eleven years of exile, Mí Lóng was already a man who was ruthless enough to himself. He left the corpse by the roadside without looking back. I watched with bated breath as he overtook the dead and went to the front of the team.

  I was worried that Mò Lóng would kill him off because he didn't say he'd kill him off - later I found out, Mò Lóng had gagged himself, and from then on he barely spoke.

  "Hey, hey! Someone's calling me: 'Messenger! Within three meters! Get to a distance where I can reach you with just one swipe of my ear scraper!'"

  I limped after him.

  We dark-skinned devils crouched behind trees along the edge of the forest in the first line, while those wearing clothes formed the second line for this charge.

  This time I didn't die, I was only three meters away. I crouched beside him and looked out at the forest - a British underground bunker, Japanese troops gathered there throwing hand grenades into the entrance one by one, machine guns firing blindly inside - no need to ask what they were doing.

  Die die quietly said: "Pass it on. I'll copy with my left hand on the left side, and my right hand on the right side. Wait for the signal to swing."

  I passed it to Not Spicy, Not Spicy passed it to Snake Buttocks, Snake Buttocks passed it to Dizzy Dragon, Dizzy Dragon should have passed it to Bean Pancake, but he's now sulking and imposing a gag order on himself, while Bean Pancake is not only four meters away, an absolutely unreachable distance with a hand slap, but also intently begging his protector for hemp.

  The dragon picked up a stone from the ground and threw it over, but the stone was a bit too big, and he hit the bean pancake right on the head with a "clang", and finally the bean pancake turned its head, looked at the dragon for a moment, and then fell straight down.

  In our midst of astonishment, Ma Pu rushed over and fought with Mi Long. We were in a flurry, those who were putting on their clothes and the Black Skin Devils together separated the two.

  Luckily, dozens of meters away, the Japanese army was enthusiastically throwing hand grenades one by one, otherwise our ambush team would have been ambushed.

  The left hand started swinging down with a thud.

  The dragon began firing, his arm strength was astonishing, but the use of it was completely wrong, and the intimidating power of its machine gun fire was far greater than its lethal force.

  It's worth mentioning that he has a dark bruise on his eye socket that looks like it was punched out.

  We start encircling from both left and right wings at the same time, shooting.

  One side was numb from being shot, while the other side was delightedly bleeding out dragon's nose blood.

  Our team has expanded again, and the two brigades have become three. The middle brigade is a heavy machine gun and a stretcher carried by manpower. Ma had to lift one end of the machine gun, wiping his nosebleed with a scowl on his face, apparently it was a punishment for him.

  The lost dragon walked at the end of the central column, carrying Dou Bing who was still dizzy and his machine gun.

  We wandered in the jungle all day, attacking the Japanese army who only sang empty city tactics, and a team of ownerless lone souls of our army joined us, at night, finally expressed his satisfaction to some extent.

  I looked around and said: "They're almost pulling out half an independent regiment."

  He expressed his satisfaction in this way, "Hmph."

  The airport's horizon flickered with artillery fire and trajectories under the night sky, but the bombardment was not intense, mainly because it came from some light mortars and grenade launchers fired by the Japanese army under our surveillance, which were also half-hearted, with intimidation far exceeding actual casualties. The most brilliant and violent explosions were actually some planes destroyed by both the Japanese and British armies, as well as their own ammunition depots set on fire.

  We finally don't have to be savages anymore after that hum, and we were led onto the right path back to the airport. The airport is being attacked by the Japanese army, and the British army here is also burning things. If 24 hours ago we would have considered this march a suicide, but now... the Japanese troops we encountered are all singing empty city tactics.

  Die, die, look enough, handed over the newly acquired telescope to me. He deliberately left time for me to see it. He was not in a hurry because his men were setting up an ambush behind the trenches dug by the Japanese army at the airport. They also set up two newly acquired 92-style heavy machine guns and several light machine guns.

  My eyes are glued to the telescope, and I say: "Two small teams plus a few cannons, even if they swell up, it's only 140 or 150 heads. Zhuge Liang will be furious, his Empty City Stratagem can only be used once in a lifetime, but the Japanese sing it three times a day."

  He died, he looked at him with no joy, and said calmly, "Their transport capacity can't form an overwhelming advantage in this area in a short period of time. All the main forces have gone to India and chased after Burma. Behind is just behind the peacock's butt - by the way, what is '聻'?"

  "When a man dies, he becomes a ghost; when a ghost dies, it becomes an evil spirit; the fear of an evil spirit is like the fear of a ghost." I explained to him.

  Die die laughing, "So profound. In Xuzhou, you were just eating military rations, and fought for four years? Were you always studying before?"

  In my unsatisfactory life, this is the part that has always made me indignant: "Just reading books. The kind of reading that turns human flavor into rotten book page flavor."

  "Dead, dead, happy!" "What kind of thought is this? I'd like to know."

  He wasn't majestic, but he had a kind of infectiousness that was completely unrelated to majesty, which made people like me who were extremely resistant to him sometimes unconsciously surrender. So I showed it to him, using a pose of shaking his head and waving his tail, drawing whiskers and circling, reciting Liang Qichao's "Youth China Says" in the manner of a cultural zombie, sometimes even singing it out loud, with an inherently sad tone.