After the fierce battle, Leitao carefully swept the battlefield. He placed his powerful, modified assault rifle and its accompanying magazines and ammunition into the mysterious Bagua Spinning Top Space. This miraculous space system provided him with immense convenience during combat, allowing him to carry a vast array of weapons and equipment, fully preparing him for whatever lay ahead.
Leitao’s gaze fell upon a Type 38 rifle. Although its performance could not compare to his modified assault rifle, it might prove useful under specific circumstances. He skillfully slung the Type 38 rifle over his shoulder, adjusting the strap to ensure it hung securely. Next, he picked up a Japanese Type 100 submachine gun. The weapon had a unique design and felt comfortable in his hands. After thoroughly checking its condition to ensure it was functional, he filled his tactical belt with its magazines, ready to engage in battle at a moment's notice.
Descending the stairs, Leitao vigilantly surveyed his surroundings. Sunlight struggled through the shattered windows, casting light onto the rubble-strewn ground, while the air hung heavy with the acrid stench of gunpowder and blood. Among the broken walls and ruins, faint sounds could be heard. Leitao crept toward the noise, only to find a group of ragged, exhausted soldiers resting against a wall. Their uniforms were tattered and stained with shocking patches of blood, clearly indicating they had just survived a brutal fight. Leitao recognized them immediately as remnants of the Guo'an Army.
However, when the Guo'an Army soldiers saw Leitao in his peculiar desert camouflage frogman suit, they mistook him for a Japanese soldier. They tensed up instantly, raising their guns toward him.
"Stop! Who are you?" a stubble-faced soldier barked, his eyes filled with suspicion and hostility.
Leitao held up his hands to show he was not an enemy. "Don't shoot, I'm not with the Japanese Army," he replied quickly. "My name is Leitao. I am an overseas Chinese who just returned to the country to join the resistance."
"An overseas Chinese?" A thin but steely-eyed soldier frowned. "What proof do you have that you aren't a spy sent by the Japanese?"
Leitao said with complete sincerity, "I just fought a fierce battle against the Japanese devils upstairs. All the weapons I’m carrying were captured from them. I have only one goal in returning: to fight the invaders and defend our country." He then flashed a confident grin and boastfully asked, "Besides, have you ever seen a Japanese devil as tall, heroic, dashing, debonair, handsome, brilliant, and as good-looking as Pan'an as I am, with combat skills this top-notch?"
The soldiers looked at each other, still hesitant. Just then, a female medic among them looked at Leitao and muttered to herself, "What a lecher. Even if he isn't Japanese, he doesn't seem like a good person... though he did seem to save everyone just now. It must have been him who took out the Japanese artillery position, right? Who else could it have been?"
The two sides remained in a standoff. The air seemed to freeze, the tension stretched tight like a string ready to snap. At that moment, an unexpected danger emerged. A wounded Japanese soldier appeared like a phantom, lunging suddenly from the shadows. His face was twisted with savage, burning fury. He clutched an explosive charge, the fuse already lit. With a hysterical, shrill scream of "Long live the Emperor of Japan!" he charged recklessly toward the Guo'an Army soldiers, clearly intending to go down in a suicide blast.
Leitao’s eyes sharpened into icy glares. "Damn it, seeking death!" he roared. "A tiny little island nation, and you dare call yourselves grand? Who the hell gave you the courage? Your Watanabe Hamako?" Without a second of hesitation, he raised the Type 100 submachine gun. His finger tightened on the trigger until his knuckles turned white. He locked his gaze on the charging soldier with grim determination. His hands remained steady as rock, without a hint of a tremor. He opened fire, his finger rhythmically pulling the trigger as bullets streaked out like meteors, carrying his anger and resolve.
"Rat-tat-tat!" The sound of the submachine gun rang out sharply in the tense atmosphere. Although the Japanese soldier was riddled with bullets and his body spasmed, he charged forward like a maddened beast, disregarding everything. Leitao adjusted his aim, firing while shouting, "Scatter! Get out of the way!"
The Guo'an Army soldiers were stunned by the sudden turn of events, but they quickly snapped into action, scrambling for cover. The Japanese soldier drew closer, and beads of sweat formed on Leitao’s forehead. He kept firing, hitting the soldier's legs and abdomen, trying to stop his advance. Yet, the Japanese soldier seemed oblivious to the pain and kept rushing forward.
In the nick of time, Leitao took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He aimed for the soldier's head and squeezed the trigger again. This time, the bullet struck true. The Japanese soldier buckled and collapsed to the ground, and the explosive charge detonated just a short distance from the group, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
This harrowing scene left the Guo'an Army soldiers shaken, and they finally realized that the man in the desert camouflage frogman suit was no Japanese soldier. An older soldier stepped forward, examined Leitao carefully, and said, "Look at his eyes and his actions—he doesn't look like a Japanese spy. And he really did save our lives just now."
The others lowered their weapons. One soldier walked up and patted Leitao on the shoulder. "Brother, we misunderstood you. We apologize."
Leitao smiled slightly. "It’s fine. We are all brothers in the resistance now; we should stick together."
The soldiers nodded in agreement. Together with Leitao, they began to discuss their next move. They knew the war was far from over; they had to keep fighting, at any cost, to defend their land and their people.