High-temperature thermite spread like the tentacles of a demon, turning everything it touched into a sea of fire. The heat was staggering, as if intending to melt the very world away. Even the nearby artillery pieces were not spared; under the intense roasting, the metal began to twist and warp. Gun barrels bent like twigs snapped by the hands of an invisible giant, and the once sturdy carriages gradually dissolved into piles of useless scrap. The equipment and supplies that had been neatly arranged were reduced to nothingness amidst the explosions and flames, leaving behind only a scene of utter devastation.
The Japanese Army position fell into immediate chaos. Soldiers screamed and shouted, scurrying about like headless flies. Some were thrown directly into the air by the force of the blasts, slamming heavily into the ground, vomiting blood, their fates unknown. Others were trapped in the inferno, struggling in agony as their uniforms ignited and their skin charred, letting out shrill, piercing cries.
Leitao stood on the hillside, watching the Japanese Army fall into disarray. There was not a trace of pity on his face, only a cold, grim satisfaction. He knew this strike had successfully torn a massive gap in the Japanese Army's offensive deployment. Yet, he was not content to stop there. He quickly stowed his howitzer and prepared to move, knowing the Japanese Army would soon surround the area—if he didn't leave now, when would he?
Chapter 77