Chapter 111: Breaking the Stronghold

With the plan set, the entire apparatus began moving. Though the Military Group had the most personnel overall, guard duties were spread across many locations, and this operation mobilized only thirty combatants—the rest came from other groups. Having been doing tedious labor since landing, this battle was like a field trip plus stress relief. Everyone enthusiastically volunteered, and slots filled quickly with 250-plus names. Latecomers discovered all spots taken and scrambled to find connections. For a while, Wu De's and He Ming's quarters saw constant traffic.

Wu De screened the applicants: those physically weak, possessing unique technical skills, or older were all rejected, and only the young and strong were accepted—one hundred fighters total. Since opponents primarily used cold weapons, protective gear was crucial. The ten assault team members preparing to deliver explosive charges and storm the breach each received a full riot police suit plus a riot shield. Though useless against modern rifles, these could stop primitive firearms and arrows.

Wu Nanhai organized women and the Agriculture Group to make provisions. His experimental foods—all rejected by popular demand—were replaced by Auntie Cao's suggestion: for just a one-or-two-day trip with no long storage needed, make flatbreads. With oil and salt, they would keep a day or two. Following her demonstration, one group mixed batter, another chopped scallions, and a third tended the fire. Over a hundred jin of flatbreads were quickly prepared and packed in new wicker baskets to be carried by pack animals. The Agriculture Group's support team brought a pot for boiling water, a pot for cooking rice, plus extra food. The Medical Group organized a medical team with emergency surgical equipment and supplies—they got the best treatment: a dedicated farm truck. Bairren Fortress's clinic prepared for surgery.

The recon squad left ahead of the main force. After dark the next day, they established a forward command post on a small hillock outside the manor, carrying a radio. Six Military Group-selected snipers accompanied them. Wu De deployed one sniper with two scouts in six teams, dispersed around the manor to control movement. His orders were simple: entry allowed, exit forbidden. Those leaving by the main gate were to be captured if possible. Those climbing the walls were to be shot on sight. Complete isolation.

The snipers used Saiga-308 rifles—7.62mm NATO rounds that provided range and power ideal for this mission. With proper optics, hitting a person at one kilometer was not a problem.

Wu De, commanding this operation, arrived first. After dispatching the sniper teams, he sat in a fishing chair at the command post—just a clearing carved from the grove, surrounded by barbed wire. Inside the tent, a shaded lamp burned. Xue Ziliang's situation maps and terrain charts lay enlarged on a folding table. Beside them, a 15W radio's lights flickered, maintaining contact with Bairren Fortress.

By evening, the main column arrived in stages, dispersing and hiding below the slope. The first organized night march went smoothly. Using night vision equipment and fluorescent identification strips, nearly two hundred personnel—combat and support—plus pack animals all arrived safely on time. Nobody got lost. Wu De immediately had the logistics team organize hot water for foot washing. He and several commanders discussed briefly—reminding them to watch discipline after breaking in, preventing looting and indiscriminate killing. Then he sent everyone to rest early while he waited at the table for remaining follow-up units.

This was the transmigrators' first proactive attack since landing over two months ago. With their technology and firepower, breaking this stronghold would be child's play. Based on his and the intelligence staff's analysis of all information, Gou Manor stored at least one to two thousand shi of grain. Silver, cloth, jewelry, ornaments—certainly substantial too. Thinking of the benefits for transmigrators after breaking the manor, his heart secretly thrilled.

But then he considered: more treasure meant profit distribution issues. Would anyone get greedy and steal? Would anyone challenge the current distribution system or the asset management personnel? He had heard the saying "able to share poverty, not wealth." Then, thinking of the many who would die in the assault—including innocents—his heart grew uncomfortable. He was not optimistic about so-called civilized people's standards. Once on a battlefield, blood running hot, anything could happen.

Shortly after the fifth watch, dawn was breaking. Xi Yazhou also reported: he had organized salt villagers to depart for hauling duties. Civilians—unlike trained personnel with night vision equipment—often suffered night blindness. They had departed at first light.

Wu De checked with the county-outskirts observation station—no unusual activity in the county seat. The sniper teams who had waited all night also reported nothing abnormal. He asked Yuan Qiushi—now his dedicated guard and messenger—standing duty outside the tent: "Is everyone up?"

"Already up—some are asking where to brush teeth and wash faces!"

"Brushing and washing!" Wu De laughed. "Tell everyone: brush and wash after we're inside! Eat now—prepare for battle!"

Chewing flatbread and drinking cold water, Wu De emerged from the tent. He raised his binoculars, observed the wall lights and listened for watch calls, then announced: assemble. He explained the battle plan to all combatants, assigned each team's tasks, and finally said: "Inside the manor, remember four things: one, don't kill innocents; two, don't assault women; three, don't burn houses carelessly; four, don't pocket loot!" He paused. "I won't recite the Three Disciplines and Eight Points. Most of you never served in the military—I'll say just one thing: don't forget you're civilized people! Don't do anything worse than animals."

Someone in the ranks quipped: "Please—those skinny, filthy, never-bathing women? Even if she assaulted me, I wouldn't dare accept!"

Another added: "So: be an animal or be worse than an animal?" Laughter erupted.

This laughter made him realize: though armed to the teeth, these were still basically civilians. No more talking—the manor must have noticed the noise. Act immediately.

Shortly after the fifth watch, Gou Manor's night watchmen had just extinguished the wind lamps when footsteps and coughing sounded in the distance. Everyone became alert, shaking awake their dozing companions. They waited, peering from the battlements. Lingao dawns were often foggy—distant visibility was poor. Shadowy figures in the mist—quite a crowd. A sentry called loudly: "Who goes there?"

The transmigrators' force had advanced to two hundred meters from the gate. Wu De halted everyone—each team took positions and began digging foxholes with entrenching tools. Not fearing enemy fire—just guarding against blast debris. Already spotted—no point answering. He immediately fired a signal flare.

The ten-man demolition team, seeing the flare, charged the gate at sprint speed carrying explosive charges. These volunteers were selected for strength and running ability—all hundred-meter-dash champions. Zhang Bailin had not gotten his "Bailin Cannon" but had settled for demolition—volunteering to carry explosives. The others brought semi-automatic rifles.

Watchtower sentries, receiving no response but seeing a blindingly bright green orb fly from the mist, knew trouble was coming. They beat the alarm gong. "Attack! We're under attack!"

With urgent gong beats, guards from the huts below the watchtowers rushed up. While loading cannons and heavy muskets, they leaned out, straining to see enemies in the fog. Just then—a rifle volley from the mist. Four or five watchtower guards screamed and tumbled. Survivors ducked behind battlements. The next volley punched through the brick battlements. A few rounds later, no one on the watchtower remained whole—bodies sprawled everywhere. Below, squad leaders urgently rallied militia to the gate, preparing for combat.

But those few seconds were enough for the demolition team to reach the gate. The explosive charges were lashed to bamboo poles, ensuring they would press firmly against the gate. Without electric detonators or blasting machines, the three black powder primers on the charges used fuses. Calculations indicated the fuse length should cause detonation in two minutes—enough time for the person lighting it to reach safety.

The fuse was indeed lit. All team members reached safety and dropped prone. Two minutes passed—nothing. Two-thirty—nothing. Three minutes—still nothing! Everyone behind the earthen berm sweated profusely. If the gate did not blow, they would have to scale the walls and assault the hard way.

"What the hell is this thing!" Zhang Bailin irritably raised his head from behind the mound.

At that instant—the explosives detonated. Flash of fire. A muffled explosion shook the ground. Many felt dizzy, their organs churning. Then debris rained down—brick fragments, dirt lumps, wood splinters clattering everywhere.

Zhang Bailin felt a clang on his head—a brick had landed. Grateful for his helmet—then his cheek felt cold, then hot. Touching his face, he found blood everywhere. He stared blankly, then began shaking uncontrollably. "Close... close call... almost got 'martyred.'"

Wu De steadied himself. The gate was completely engulfed in blast smoke. One watchtower had vanished entirely; the other had half-collapsed. The wooden gate was certainly vaporized. He raised his arm: "Sound the charge!"

(End of Chapter)