Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Chapter 1193 This person is fake; we've all been fooled.

Upon seeing this, Lan Zichun rushed over and pulled him to the corner of the wall. When her fingertips touched his neck, she only felt something cold.

He gently closed his brother's wide-open eyes, his eyes surging with anger and grief. He gritted his teeth, leaned the body against the wall, turned around and charged at the Japanese army again. With both guns firing simultaneously, every bullet carried the fury of revenge.

"Brothers, hold on! As long as the station chief is safely evacuated, our deaths will not have been in vain!" Lan Zichun's roar was choked with sobs. His left arm had just been hit by the Japanese army, and blood had soaked through his sleeve, flowing down his arm and dripping onto the gun barrel, sliding down the grooves.

He knew that he and the remaining brothers were unlikely to survive. The Japanese soldiers kept coming, one batch fell and another rushed up, while their bullets were running out and everyone was wounded. But as long as they could buy time for the station chief to retreat, all sacrifices would be worthwhile.

Zhou Ming sat in the passenger seat, firing at the pursuing Japanese troops while frequently glancing at his besieged brothers. He was anxious but helpless, and could only desperately pull the trigger to try and relieve the pressure on them.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bullet hurtling towards Chen Gongshu's back, moving with lightning speed, leaving no time to warn him. Without a second thought, Zhou Ming lunged forward, shielding Chen Gongshu with his body.

With a "thud," the bullet pierced Zhou Ming's back and exited through his chest. Hot blood instantly stained his clothes and splattered onto Chen Gongshu's face and hands.

Zhou Ming groaned and collapsed limply into Chen Gongshu's arms, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Zhou Ming! Zhou Ming! Hold on!" Chen Gongshu held him tightly, his voice trembling uncontrollably, his heart aching as if it were being torn apart.

Zhou Ming struggled to open his eyes, a relieved smile appearing on his face. His breath was so weak it was almost inaudible: "Station Chief Chen... I... I did my best... To be able to contribute to the resistance against Japan... I have no regrets..."

His hand gripped Chen Gongshu's sleeve tightly, but the strength gradually dissipated. His eyes completely lost focus, his breathing stopped, and his hand fell limply to his side.

As Chen Gongshu watched Zhou Ming die before his eyes, his eyes were red and tears welled up, but he stubbornly held them back.

Now is not the time for grief; only by evacuating as soon as possible can we live up to Zhou Ming's sacrifice.

He gently placed Zhou Ming's body on the seat, wiped the blood from his face, his eyes grew even more determined, and once again raised his pistol, firing fiercely at the Japanese soldiers behind him.

Just then, Sun Weiguo suddenly turned his head, a hint of guilt on his face, his voice as weak as a mosquito's buzz: "Station Chief Chen... I... I can't go on either... I couldn't... get you out safely... I'm sorry..."

"Sun Weiguo, hang in there!" Chen Gongshu's heart tightened, and he reached out to help him, only to find that Sun Weiguo's abdomen was already soaked in blood, and the cotton wool and flesh at the wound were stuck together, a shocking sight.

Sun Weiguo shook his head, a relieved smile appearing on his face, his breath growing weaker and weaker: "No need... In my life... to have fought alongside the 29th Army... to have contributed to the resistance against Japan... that's enough... Station Chief Chen..."

"You must... live well... and drive the Japanese... out of China..." Before he could finish speaking, his head lolled to the side, and he slumped heavily onto the steering wheel, his hands still gripping it. He never woke up again.

Chen Gongshu looked at Sun Weiguo in the driver's seat and Zhou Ming in the passenger seat, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto their cold hands.

These two brothers, one sacrificed himself to shield him from a bullet, and the other used his last strength to protect him.

I was too confident... I underestimated the Japanese!!

He's the one who got everyone killed!

It was my own doing that led the brothers in the Military Intelligence Bureau into the Japanese's deadly trap!

Just then, Zhao Guangyuan and Lan Zichun, along with the remaining twenty-odd brothers, broke through the Japanese army's temporary blockade and finally arrived.

They were all covered in wounds, some with gunshot wounds in their arms, others with grenade shrapnel cuts on their legs, limping, their clothes stained with blood and dust, as if they had crawled out of a sea of ​​blood, yet their eyes remained as firm as iron.

Seeing that Chen Gongshu was safe and sound, a hint of joy flashed in their eyes, and they immediately hurried over to greet him.

"Stationmaster, are you alright?" Zhao Guangyuan walked quickly to the car, his gaze falling on the bloodstains on Chen Gongshu, his face full of worry.

He himself had been shot in the shoulder, and the wound was still bleeding, but he didn't care and wiped the blood away with his sleeve.

Seeing that Zhao Guangyuan still led his men in, Chen Gongshu closed his eyes in despair. It was pointless to say anything more to blame Zhao Guangyuan for bringing his men.

"I'm fine." Chen Gongshu shook his head, his voice heavy as if filled with lead: "Sun Weiguo and Zhou Ming sacrificed their lives."

He paused, pointed to the person bound in the carriage, and said in a cold voice, "This person is fake. We've all been deceived!! The real Liu Geqing has already been killed. We've fallen into a trap set by the Japanese army."

The military doctor who provided the intelligence had long been exposed and used by the Japanese with the aim of wiping us out in one fell swoop.

Zhao Guangyuan, Lan Zichun, and the others' expressions changed drastically, and they all gritted their teeth and cursed: "Damn Japanese devils, how could they be so cunning!" Lan Zichun clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with anger. The wound on his arm bled again due to his emotional agitation, flowing down his arm, but he was completely unaware of it, only feeling a rush of blood to the top of his head.

"Zichun, how are you?" Zhao Guangyuan noticed the wound on his arm and reached out to check, but Lan Zichun avoided him.

"It's just a minor injury, nothing to worry about." Lan Zichun grinned, revealing a mouthful of bloody teeth. He casually pulled a clean strip of cloth from his pocket, wrapped it tightly around the wound, and tightened it to temporarily stop the bleeding. "As long as the stationmaster is safe, what's a little injury?"

"Captain! The Japanese devils are surrounding us! There are more and more of them!" a member of the action team suddenly shouted, his voice filled with despair.

Everyone turned around and saw dust billowing at the entrance of the alley, with Japanese armored vehicles and infantry pouring in one after another. Light and heavy machine guns and grenade launchers were already set up, their dark muzzles pointed at them, forming an impenetrable encirclement.

"Brothers! Fight the Japanese devils to the death!" Lan Zichun suddenly raised his two pistols and roared towards the Japanese army. There was no fear in his eyes, only a desperate determination. "Station chief, you find a chance to break through, we'll cover you!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Japanese soldiers fired their guns again, and the sounds of grenade launchers exploding all around them filled the air, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the alley.

The brothers in the action team raised their guns to fight back, but the Japanese army was too numerous and their firepower was too fierce. They were trapped next to the ambulance and had no room to dodge.

Just as one of the brothers was about to get up and fire, he was hit by a hail of bullets, fell heavily to the ground, and never got up again.

To cover his comrades, another brother grabbed a grenade and charged toward the Japanese troops, perishing in the explosion.

Lan Zichun fired his two guns incessantly. Thompson quickly ran out of bullets and his spare magazine was also empty. He threw away the empty guns, pulled out two pistols, and continued firing.

Zhao Guangyuan was also bloodthirsty, his Thomson dart spraying bullets. He no longer had the refined demeanor of a painting shop owner; he was now a Kuomintang agent, a soldier fighting on the front lines.

Like ferocious beasts trapped in a desperate situation, they knew they were doomed, yet they refused to bow their heads, fighting to the death with their last ounce of strength. Every counterattack was carried with the determination to perish together with the enemy, and they used their blood to interpret the iron will and loyalty of the Kuomintang agents.

The Japanese army's offensive grew fiercer and fiercer, and the number of people in the action team dwindled. But until the very last moment, no one retreated, no one surrendered, only the resolute determination to fight to the death. In this narrow alley, a tragic elegy was being composed.