Seizing the high ground meant having an unobstructed view of the entire battlefield—and that was exactly where the general and his men stood, atop the hill, gazing down at the railway track that coiled below like a long sheet of iron snake skin.
The Liu twins, Gang and Chuang, were cleaning their guns and checking their ammunition, the crisp click of bolt actions echoing softly in the mountain air. Lin Tao hovered beside the general, arguing insistently, "General, I'm more agile—let me take the front. You stay back and command; it's safer that way!" Meanwhile, Tian Tu knelt nearby, measuring out gunpowder and preparing explosives, muttering to himself, "Need just the right amount—too little won't break the rails, too much might hurt the boys." Tang Chong, adjusting the settings on his sniper rifle, glanced up now and then at the dagger planted on the rock beside him—a memento from his old spotter, as if the man had never left.
"Enough bickering—let's assign roles," the general said, his voice steady and firm. "Tian Tu, take the explosives and plant them by the rails. Stay hidden. Gang and Chuang, you two guard the tracks from the woods on either side. Lin Tao, you're with me up front. Tang Chong, stay here on the hill—keep watch, use the signal flags, and don't fire unless it's a last resort."
Orders given, they moved into position at once. Tian Tu slung the explosives over his shoulder and crept toward the rails; the twins vanished into the woods, their guns aimed quietly at the track. Lin Tao refused to lag behind, hurrying after the general and repeating, "I'll cover you when we board—promise!" Tang Chong gripped the green signal flag, his eyes fixed on the far end of the track, unblinking.
Before the ambush, Tian Tu had gleaned crucial intel from a trip to the village below: the train was carrying supplies looted from local villagers, bound for a warlord's armory—medicines, padded cotton jackets, and grain, enough to get the starving villagers through the winter.
From his vantage point, Tang Chong scanned the horizon, ready to signal. Below, Chuang called up softly to his brother, "Gang, d'you think we'll get enough supplies for the villagers? If we come up short, those folks'll freeze or starve—fucking hell, we can't let that happen."
Gang's voice drifted back from the left woods, sharp with disgust: "Better ask how much those dogs stole from the people! Warlords and their merchant lackeys are no better than pigs—who knows how much they've crammed on that train?" His eyes never left the swaying underbrush, alert for any surprises.
In an instant, Tang Chong spotted a wisp of white smoke on the horizon. He lifted his binoculars, calculating the distance—roughly 800 meters to the general's position. Waving the green flag in tight circles, he signaled, "Train approaching." Tian Tu saw it and hurried to secure the explosives, pulling the fuse to a safe 5-meter length—enough, he thought, to blow up a small boat, let alone rails. The twins tensed, fingers on triggers; the general loaded his rifle, staring at the growing outline of the train. "They say this iron beast's belly is full of 'treasure'," he muttered. "Today we'll see just how much it stole."
Tang Chong counted the train cars: "One, two, three, four, five…" The intel hadn't specified which car held the supplies, so taking out the locomotive was their only option. He switched to the red flag, waving it sharply. Tian Tu grabbed his binoculars, confirmed the five cars, and signaled back with a green flag—"Understood: target the locomotive." Tang Chong readjusted his sniper scope, locking onto the train's cab.
Onboard, 15 armed guards patrolled the cars, tasked with protecting the looted cargo. The guard captain, a burly man with a scarred face, roared through the carriage, "Men, we're at the Lucky Grove entrance! Three more hours to the armory—stay sharp! Don't let bandits catch us off guard!" What he didn't know was that the "Lucky Grove" would bring them anything but luck.
"Three… two… one!" With a deafening boom, Tian Tu ignited the explosives. He'd used too much—the locomotive was blown clean off the tracks, crashing into the woods in a shower of twisted metal and flame. Smoke and dust filled the air. Without the engine, the remaining five cars careened forward, skidding over the broken rails and onto the dirt. Two guards, smoking by the coupling between cars, were thrown from the train, landing face-first in the mud. Gang peeked out from the trees, grinning, "First time I've seen someone 'brake' with their face—impressive."
The jolt sent crates flying inside the cars; two boxes of medicine hurtled toward Chuang. He rolled out of the way just in time, yelling up at Tian Tu, "What the fuck were you thinking? That's way too much explosive—you almost took me out with those crates!" Tian Tu shrugged apologetically, then barked, "Positions! Get ready to board!" From the hill, Tang Chong frowned—the smoke obscured his view. He couldn't shoot accurately; the others would have to fight their way in alone.
"Load up! Board the train! Secure the supplies!" the general shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The five men charged from five directions: the general and Lin Tao toward the first car, Gang flanking left, Chuang right, and Tian Tu circling to block the rear exit. The guards, dazed by the crash, scrambled for cover and returned fire. The captain, blood streaming down his face from a gash on his forehead, staggered to his feet—the impact had thrown him from the front to the back of the train. "Anyone who can still hold a gun—fight back!" he screamed. "If we lose this cargo, the warlord will have our heads!"
Lin Tao reached the first car first, leveling his Mauser at the door. "Drop your weapons! We only want the supplies—no one has to die!" he yelled. Chuang, spotting a guard aiming at the general, fired twice, hitting the man in the chest. The guard collapsed with a groan. "The general said no unnecessary killing," Chuang snapped, "but this fucker was gonna shoot you in the back—what else was I supposed to do?"
Lin Tao kicked open the door and fired a warning shot—only to be tackled from behind by a guard who'd been hiding behind the seats. The two grappled on the floor, but the guard didn't know Lin Tao was the best fighter in their group. Lin Tao drove his fist into the man's ribs, then twisted his arm until there was a sickening crack. Blood trickled down Lin Tao's cheek—a scratch from the guard's nails—but he paid it no mind. Raising his gun again, he shouted, "Still want to fight? Next one goes down for good!"
Silence answered him. Of the three guards in the first car, two had been thrown from the train during the crash, their heads crushed; the third lay whimpering, his arm broken. Most of the remaining guards were holed up in the middle cars, and the twins were already struggling to hold them back. The general rushed to reinforce them, with Tian Tu abandoning his rear post to join in. Lin Tao bound the injured guard to a seat, then grabbed his gun and ran to help. The guards had numbers on their side, but they were just thugs who bullied villagers—no match for men who'd survived countless battles.
"Tian Tu, how much fucking explosive did you use?!" the general yelled, ducking behind a train car as bullets zipped past. "We needed to break the rails, not blow the whole damn train to pieces!"
"I didn't mean to overdo it!" Tian Tu replied, firing from behind a tree and hitting a guard's arm. "I just wanted to make sure it worked—I didn't think it'd be this powerful!"
"Tang Chong! Where are you?!"
By then, the smoke had cleared. Tang Chong, finally able to see, spotted a guard sneaking a shot at the general. He squeezed the trigger—crack—and the guard fell dead, a bullet through his head. The general glanced up, nodding in thanks, then shouted, "Tian Tu, with me! Chuang, cover us!"
They sprinted to the third car. Inside, a guard raised his gun—but Tang Chong's bullet took him down before he could fire. The general kicked open the door, locking eyes with Lin Tao, who'd fought his way in from the second car. Firing a warning shot into the ceiling, the general roared, "Enough! Drop your guns! I've said it twice—we only want the supplies. Resist, and you die. Cooperate, and you live."
The guards, already battered and dizzy from the crash, hesitated. When they saw their comrades fall one after another, they tossed their guns to the floor and raised their hands. The twins boarded to tie them up, while Tang Chong stayed on the hill, watching for stragglers. The captives were herded to the tracks—some sitting, some lying, moaning in pain, their arms or legs broken. Of the 15 guards, 5 were dead, 7 wounded, and only 3 unharmed. They were lucky to be alive.
Gang and Chuang began hauling crates of supplies off the train, piling them into a heap. Tian Tu searched each car for intel—maps, manifests, anything about the warlord's next supply run. Lin Tao went to fetch the seven horses they'd hidden in the woods, each saddled with empty sacks for the cargo. The general stood guard over the prisoners—until one guard, foolhardy enough to reach for a discarded gun, was shot by Tang Chong before he could fire.
The general turned, his voice cold but calm: "I said I wouldn't kill unless forced. But if any of you try to sneak an attack like him—my man on the hill will make it quick."
Soon, Lin Tao returned with the horses. The group loaded the medicine, grain, and jackets into the sacks, strapping them to the horses' backs. Meanwhile, Tian Tu found the guard captain in the fourth car, bleeding heavily from a chest wound, clutching a stack of documents and a leather-bound logbook. Tian Tu took the papers, then bandaged the captain's wound—though the man glared at him, his eyes murderous, as if he wanted to strangle him. Tian Tu ignored him, tended to one other injured guard, then dragged the captain to the general.
The captain collapsed at the general's feet, too weak to stand. When he looked up and saw the general's face, his eyes widened in terror, his lips trembling. "No… it can't be… You're Tian Yu? How are you alive?"
He'd recognized him instantly—Tian Yu, the leader of the 28th Independent Army, who'd fought the warlords back in 1925. The captain remembered all too well: his superiors and the wealthy merchants had crushed that army with unspeakable cruelty. The official report had said every last man was dead—no one had escaped.
"The 1925 battle… you were all supposed to be dead!" the captain gasped, his voice filled with horror and disbelief, as if he were staring at a ghost. He forgot all about his bleeding chest. "How… how are you here?"