Chapter 48: Former Imperial Japanese Army, Shiro Onoda!

A Japanese soldier!

The thought struck Wang Erhu like a bolt of lightning hitting the top of his head. In an instant, all the anger and resentment in his mind were replaced by a chilling, bone-deep terror.

Although the Japanese soldier looked like a wild savage, the aura of murder, honed from heaps of corpses, could not be faked!

"Run!"

That single word was all that remained in Wang Erhu's mind. Acting almost on conditioned reflex, he spun around, scrambling and tumbling as he tried to flee backward.

The Fatty and the Mute reacted even faster than he did. The instant they recognized who the newcomer was, they had already turned and bolted.

Yet, how could lowlifes whose bodies had been hollowed out by years of alcohol and lust possibly outrun an imperial soldier who had survived in the mountain forests for half a year?

They had barely taken a few steps when the Japanese soldier moved. His motion was as swift as a cheetah's. With a few bounds, he flashed before them, blocking their path, his pitch-black gun barrel aiming directly at Wang Erhu, who was running at the front.

"Halt."

A stiff, icy Chinese word slipped from the Japanese soldier's lips.

The three of them froze as if struck by an immobilization spell, abruptly stopping their tracks and staring in terror at the evil spirit before them, who seemed to have crawled straight out of hell.

"Spare... spare my life! Your Excellency! Don't shoot!"

Wang Erhu's legs went weak. With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees, raising his hands high above his head while squeezing out a smile far uglier than weeping.

The Fatty and the Mute dropped to their knees as well, kowtowing like pounding garlic, their mouths emitting unintelligible cries for mercy.

This Japanese soldier was none other than Shiro Onoda, who had been lurking in the mountains for a long time.

He looked down at the three "Manchurian" men kneeling before him and shaking like chaff in the wind. A trace of contempt and confusion flickered through his wolf-like eyes.

He had originally intended to open fire and kill them all to eliminate any future trouble, as they had inadvertently stumbled into his territory.

However, when he saw how utterly spineless these three were, offering such a humble and pathetic plea for mercy, he hesitated.

He had lived in these mountains like a savage for far too long. He had no idea what was happening in the outside world, whether the empire had launched a counter-offensive, or where his comrades might be.

He needed intelligence. He needed to understand the situation outside.

And these three cowardly locals before him might... perhaps become his eyes and ears.

Holding his rifle, Shiro Onoda walked step by step toward Wang Erhu, pressing the icy muzzle directly against Wang Erhu's forehead.

Wang Erhu shuddered violently from head to toe, and a familiar, warm stream uncontrollably leaked into his trousers.

The freezing muzzle, like a piece of cold iron, pressed hard against Wang Erhu's forehead. The scent emanating from the barrel—a mixture of gunpowder and death—made every nerve in Wang Erhu's body stretch taut.

He could clearly feel that if the other man's finger twitched even slightly, his head would explode like a rotten watermelon.

Fear—unprecedented fear—seized his heart like an invisible giant hand, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

He could even hear the "chattering" sound of his own teeth rattling.

"Y-Your... Excellency... Spare me... Spare my life..."

Wang Erhu's voice had lost all pitch, thick with weeping. He kowtowed frantically on the ground, his forehead quickly bruising and drawing blood. "W-We... we were just passing by... we didn't see anything! Really, we saw nothing at all!"

Beside him, the Fatty and the Mute were frightened nearly out of their wits. The Fatty buried his head in the crook of his arm, his bulky body trembling uncontrollably as he muttered pleas for mercy over and over again.

As for the Mute, he kowtowed while pointing frantically at his own throat, gesturing wildly to indicate that he was mute and could not utter a single word to anyone.

Shiro Onoda coldly gazed down at the three pathetic-looking "Manchurians" displaying such disgraceful behavior.

In his understanding, these people ought to be subjects of the empire, compliant citizens loyal to the Emperor.

Yet in these three before him, apart from cowardice and baseness, he could not detect a shred of the honor belonging to imperial subjects.

The look of contempt in his eyes grew heavier, but his murderous intent diminished slightly in response.

Killing these three pieces of trash would be as easy as turning over a hand.

Yet if he killed them, he would be forced to remain an isolated savage in these deep mountains forever, never knowing the outside world's situation.

He needed pawns. He needed tools he could put to use.

And these fellows, who looked as foolish as pigs and as timid as mice, were precisely the most suitable candidates for tools.

They were cowardly enough, which meant they would be easy to control.

Shiro Onoda slowly withdrew the rifle pressing against Wang Erhu's forehead, though the muzzle remained unlowered, locked steadily upon the three of them.

Wang Erhu felt the pressure on his forehead ease, and the string in his heart that had been pulled to its absolute limit relaxed by a tiny fraction.

He cautiously raised his eyelids, carefully observing the Japanese soldier's expression.

"You... from the village down the mountain?" Shiro Onoda spoke again. His Chinese pronunciation was very strange, and his vocabulary extremely limited, but his meaning remained clear.

"Yes! Yes! We're from Laoghegou Village!" Wang Erhu grasped at the straw as if it were his lifeline, bowing and scraping repeatedly, terrified that if he were even a second too slow, the muzzle would press back against him.

"Down the mountain... right now... what is the situation?" Shiro Onoda continued to ask, his gaze as sharp as a blade, staring fixedly into Wang Erhu's face as if trying to judge from his micro-expressions whether he was lying.

"The situation?" Wang Erhu froze for a second, then immediately snapped to his senses and blurted out, "Good! Good! The situation is just great! With the help of the So- ... with the help of our big brother, the polar bears, our lives are wonderful!"

He had originally wanted to think of the Soviet army, but remembering that the man before him was a Japanese soldier, he instantly corrected himself.

"Polar bears?" Shiro Onoda's brow furrowed sharply, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.

Half a year ago, it was precisely while fighting against Soviet armored forces that he had ended up in this wretched state. His entire platoon had been practically annihilated.

"They... still here?" Shiro Onoda's voice grew even colder.

Wang Erhu felt his scalp tingle under that gaze and hurriedly said, "Here! They're here! But... but there aren't many of them. Just a headquarters in town, and they don't really meddle in things much! In the village... in the village, we still call the shots ourselves!"

To stay alive, Wang Erhu subconsciously began to beautify the situation and downplay the presence of the Soviet military.

Shiro Onoda fell silent, rapidly analyzing the information.

The Soviet troops were still present, which meant the war might not yet be over, or at least the empire had not achieved a decisive victory.

He had to be even more cautious.

"In the village... are there any soldiers?" Shiro Onoda asked another crucial question.

"Soldiers?" Wang Erhu's mind instantly flashed with Xu Feng's face. But upon second thought, if he handed over a dangerous character like Xu Feng, what if this Japanese soldier went to cause trouble for Xu Feng? Wouldn't that be a case of using a borrowed knife to kill someone?

Yet reconsidering, Xu Feng's martial prowess was such that even the Soviet troops couldn't handle him. Could a Japanese soldier who looked half-starved to death be a match for him?

What if he failed to kill Xu Feng, and instead Xu Feng found out that he was the informant? Then he truly wouldn't have a place to be buried.

Between two evils, choose the lesser. Wang Erhu made his decision in a flash.

"No! None at all!" He shook his head like a rattling drum. "The villagers are all just honest, hardworking farmers, how could there be any soldiers? Oh, wait, there is one!"

His tone shifted, a trace of sinister malice appearing on his face. "There's one crippled fellow! Named Xu Feng! He used to run with the bandits in the mountains before his leg got broken and he came back to the village. That punk is no good at all!"

Wang Erhu began adding fuel to the fire, accusing Xu Feng of numerous "crimes" to Shiro Onoda.

"Your Excellency, you have no idea! This fellow named Xu Feng relies on some third-rate martial arts to run amok in the village, bullying honest folks like us! Look at the injuries on us brothers, we got beaten by him!"

He pointed to his own face, swollen like a pig's head, and then pointed to the Fatty's hanging arm. "He even robs us of our things and forces us to work for him! It's completely lawless! He... he's even very close with the Soviet army, he must be a traitor!"

Wang Erhu turned black into white, portraying Xu Feng as a bully who colluded with the Soviets and preyed upon the local villagers.

He wanted to use this Japanese soldier's hands to deal with Xu Feng.

Even if they couldn't kill Xu Feng, causing him some trouble and disgust would still be satisfying.

Shiro Onoda listened quietly without interrupting him.

A local with a crippled leg, some martial arts skills, and a good relationship with the Soviet army?

This information immediately made Shiro Onoda vigilant.

In his view, such a figure was very likely a spy planted in the village by the Soviet forces, or quite simply a remnant of the anti-Japanese united army.

This was a potential, massive threat.

It seemed his previous decision had been correct.

Keeping these three pieces of trash really could yield unexpected intelligence.

"You... want me... to help you... deal with him?" Shiro Onoda looked at Wang Erhu, asking word by word.

Upon hearing this, Wang Erhu's eyes lit up. He seemed to see the hope of revenge and kowtowed frantically. "I beg Your Excellency to make decisions for us! As long as you can take care of that fellow surnamed Xu, the few of us will be your beasts of burden from now on, whatever you tell us to do, we'll do!"

"Very good." A trace of a satisfied yet chillingly sinister smile finally appeared at the corner of Shiro Onoda's mouth.

This was precisely the outcome he wanted.

He pointed his muzzle at the roe deer lying dead on the ground. "This, lift it up and come with me."

Then, he pointed at Wang Erhu and the other two. "You lot, from now on, every three days, bring food and supplies up to me. Salt, matches, medicine, I want all of it."

"And," he paused, his gaze turning sharp, "keep a tight eye on every single move that fellow Xu Feng makes. Whatever people he meets, whatever things he does, whatever words he speaks, you must report every single detail to me honestly."

"If any of you dare to play tricks, or leak my existence..."

Shiro Onoda pulled back the bolt of his rifle, producing a crisp, metallic clacking sound. "You, and your entire family, will die."