Chapter 8

After the first company on the small street engaged in battle, the third company on the west side of the small street also clashed with the enemy. Unlike the fighting on the small street, this area was a maze of houses, courtyards, brick walls, and narrow alleys, a pure street battle. The gunshots were chaotic, overlapping, and continuous. There were over fifty enemy soldiers, and the third company, without the second platoon, also had about fifty men, fighting in the rubble, their positions interwoven.

When the gunfire finally rang in his ears, Hu Yi unconsciously entered a state of readiness, temporarily forgetting his bloody past and the unknown future. He raised his left foot in a horse stance, stepping on the gap in the wooden wall in front of him, his body slightly leaning forward and crouching. Under the lowered and curled gray cap, his narrow eyes gradually narrowed, and his breathing slowed. Instinct took over, controlling his body, his mind, and the new Mauser rifle.

He ejected the first spent cartridge and pulled back the bolt. The first shot was too high, flying over the target and landing on the ground. Damn! Hu Yi realized he had neglected to adjust the sight, so he lowered the range from 300 meters to 100 meters and repositioned the muzzle near the window gap. One of the two enemy soldiers who had been throwing grenades on the ground had disappeared, while the other remained motionless, still clutching the grenade. Intuitively, Hu Yi knew he was dead, probably killed by Wang Laokou, as the sound of the big guy's gun had preceded his. There was fog, and at a distance of over fifty meters, it was hard to see any blood or the point of impact. The old soldier's rule on the battlefield: don't assume one shot will kill the enemy. With his right eye half-closed, he aimed through the 100-meter sight, through the slightly lowered front sight, and focused on the center of the enemy's back. *Bang*—a powerful jolt, tinged with a slight pain, traveled from his shoulder through his entire body, giving Hu Yi a sense of relief.

A thin tongue of flame and a faint wisp of smoke spread from the window of the small building, carrying a light scent of gunpowder. A 7.92mm bullet, like a little sprite, whistled through the air, completing its brief journey in an instant, piercing the back of the enemy's corpse and, with its last bit of strength, burying itself in the ground. The already dead enemy died again.

"Perfect shot, you're a good girl!" Hu Yi silently praised the slightly warm Mauser in his hands. *Click*—his right hand mechanically pulled and pushed the smooth, slightly shiny bolt, adjusting the muzzle and aiming at a target moving behind a wall near the corpse. The wall blocked the vital parts, revealing only half a shoulder and a steel helmet. *Bang*—*Clang*—the bullet grazed the corner of the helmet and ricocheted, the movement of the crawling enemy saving him from a fatal hit. The ricochet from the helmet startled him, and he realized his position was compromised. He immediately retreated to the corner, crouched, and turned to run back to find a new cover.

*Click*—the third cartridge case lightly jumped out of the chamber, rolling in a small arc and landing beside Hu Yi. "Lucky bastard!" He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, slightly adjusting the muzzle and shifting his aim to the other end of the short wall, waiting. His right index finger began to apply pressure, slowly and gently, the trigger gradually sinking, approaching the firing point.

*Bang*—the figure that had just crouched and darted out from the corner was knocked off balance by a sideways force, falling to the ground. A hole in his thigh panicked the enemy, who struggled to stand but failed, immediately switching to crawling, trying to escape the deadly corner.

*Click*—the fifth bullet smoothly slid into the chamber, the conical, slightly curved brass cartridge standing proudly and coldly at the starting line. "You won't be running anymore!" Hu Yi told the enemy in his mind. He raised the still-smoking muzzle and aimed at the struggling, dirty soul.

*Bang*—a bullet struck the ground beside the struggling enemy, sending up a cloud of dust. "Damn... is there wind? Missed again?" the big guy grumbled, ejecting the spent cartridge from the window to Hu Yi's right.

*Bang*—another shot rang out, and the struggling enemy finally lay still, his head half-blown off, white brain matter mixed with blood splattering the ground and the wall. "Damn, aimed for the neck but hit the head. This unlucky bastard, can't blame me," Wang Laokou muttered resentfully from the window to Hu Yi's left.

Amid the muttering of the big guy and Wang Laokou, Hu Yi reluctantly released the trigger, re-aiming and searching for a new target. When his gaze swept over an open window, his heart sank, and a chill spread through his body. This was a very familiar feeling. Although visibility was poor and he could only see an open, dark window, Hu Yi was certain that the window had been closed when he last checked. He instinctively knew that a machine gun was inside, and the two-story building, which stood out from the surrounding area, would eventually be noticed by the enemy. The open window was for mounting the machine gun's bipod on the windowsill, otherwise, it couldn't shoot stably. Perhaps the enemy machine gunner had already completed his aim.

"Take cover!" Hu Yi shouted, pushing off the wooden wall with his front foot, causing his body to fly backward and fall onto the floor.

*Click* *Click*—the window was torn apart piece by piece, starting from one side and tearing horizontally to the other. *Crack* *Crack* *Crack*—wood chips and broken glass flew through the air, tracing crisscrossing paths. The sound changed to *Tap* *Tap* *Tap*—the bullet trajectory extended along the window frame and wooden wall, creating a series of bullet holes that let in light, jumping to the second window, then the third, and finally returning along the same path, tearing through the south wall and piercing the north wall, leaving a trail of continuous bullet holes. The wooden second floor trembled continuously, creaking and groaning, while bullets whistled through the room, destroying everything in their path, creating fragments and piercing through all obstacles. After a moment, it finally quieted down...

The firefight outside continued, but the small building was silent, deathly still.

The simple-minded boy crouched in the corner of the first floor, wide-eyed, staring blankly at the staircase leading to the second floor, unable to speak. He didn't understand what had happened, unable to comprehend it, only hearing the sudden noise and trembling from upstairs, and the continuous dust falling from the ceiling, as if everything that could be broken upstairs had been shattered. The continuous shattering sound was terrifying, instinctively making the simple-minded boy feel fear.

Zhao Yong, who had been guarding the first-floor door, finally reacted, dropping his gun and rushing up the stairs, stumbling and falling. "Platoon leader! Big guy! Platoon, platoon leader!" His voice trembled, on the verge of tears, his hands and feet uncooperative, the short wooden stairs seeming endless.

When Zhao Yong first joined the third platoon, he felt frustrated. The third platoon, not part of the main force, was a collection of misfits, led by an old platoon leader. He was disheartened. Gradually, he experienced the battlefield, seeing cheap lives extinguished like grass, watching the so-called main forces change like crops, some faces disappearing in the smoke before he could even remember them, chilling his heart. The third platoon, though small, seemed to last longer, so he slowly began to remember only the third platoon, only the platoon leader, the big guy, and the others. Whether he wanted to or not, whether he liked it or not, his memory was filled with these people. Unconsciously, the third platoon had become the only support in his heart, allowing him to still complain and mock, without becoming numb to the environment.

When the sound of the roof being penetrated began, Zhao Yong was stunned. Unlike the simple-minded boy, Zhao Yong knew what the sound was, and he could imagine the platoon leader, the big guy, and that annoying Hu Yi being hit. The machine gun fire piercing the roof also pierced Zhao Yong's heart, each shot piercing him, leaving him cold.

As the sound of the roof being torn apart continued, Zhao Yong was frozen in place. He knew what it meant, and his heart was shattered, one shot at a time, leaving him cold and numb.