Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Zhou Zhengqing secretly deduced that if the explosives on the vehicle were detonated with a fuse, then logically, the explosion point should have fallen a dozen meters away from the convoy, and the timing must have been precisely calculated by the Military Intelligence Bureau in advance.

Therefore, it seems that either the Military Intelligence Bureau made a mistake in calculating the vehicle's speed and the duration of the fuse's burning, or the postal vehicle encountered an accident en route, causing its speed to deviate from the expected direction, thus making the explosion location different from the plan.

If the other possibility is that the driver manually presses the detonator to detonate, then the other party actually has no choice but to detonate it immediately a dozen meters away from the convoy.

As Zhou Zhengqing thought about it, he became more and more certain of his judgment. The driver was already exhausted and on his last legs. If he hesitated for even a moment longer, or tried to get any closer, he would probably die of exhaustion before he could.

If the person is no longer breathing, how can they possibly detonate the explosives and complete the mission?

In order to lure the tiger away from the mountain, he will have no other choice.

With these thoughts in mind, Zhou Zhengqing deliberately left Terauchi Hisaichi waiting for a dozen seconds, also to buy some time for the Military Intelligence Bureau. Then he sighed softly and said slowly, "Alright, let's go together then."

I'd like to see who's so bold as to launch an attack right under my nose!

"General!" Masaki Yamaya cried out anxiously, his voice filled with worry, "The scene is too dangerous. What if there's an ambush..."

“It’s alright.” Zhou Zhengqing raised his hand to interrupt him, his tone steady, his eyes sharp yet calm: “The incident happened suddenly, and the other party launched a suicide attack with the belief that they were going to die, catching us off guard.”

We now have sufficient troops on our side, and everyone is on high alert. It will not be easy for the enemy to launch a surprise attack again.

We will only observe and command from a distance, and will not rashly approach the core battlefield.

Looking at Zhou Zhengqing's determined eyes, Masaki Yamaya knew that further persuasion would be useless. He could only sigh helplessly, respectfully reply "Hi," and then start the car, slowly driving towards the direction of Wang Kemin's convoy.

The surrounding guards, military police, and Japanese troops immediately followed, forming a tight escort formation, and the atmosphere became increasingly tense.

Zhou Zhengqing's eyes were fixed on the front. The gunshots and explosions were getting closer and closer. He could imagine the tragic scene. The Kuomintang agents must have been lying in ambush there, taking advantage of the moment when the military police were tied down to launch a fatal attack on Wang Kemin's convoy.

The car tires screeched as they rolled over the gravel on the road, and the car gradually slowed down.

Zhou Zhengqing leaned back in the swaying chair, the pain in his forehead gradually subsiding, but the dizziness from the explosion had not completely faded. His ears were filled with increasingly dense gunfire and explosions. The sound was no longer a distant muffled thud, but a roar that was right next to him. Every gunshot was accompanied by a crisp metallic clang, and every explosion caused the ground to tremble slightly.

Squinting, he looked ahead through the shattered car window, his pupils involuntarily contracting slightly when they came into view of the hellish battlefield.

This place, only a few hundred meters from the intersection, is already a different kind of tragic scene.

Three black sedans, which were originally neatly arranged, were now lying haphazardly in the middle of the street, like giant beasts that had been torn apart.

The two escort vehicles had been blown beyond recognition by grenades, their frames twisted and deformed, their wheels flying several meters away. The burning wreckage emitted billowing black smoke, and orange flames licked at the cold bodies, scorching the surrounding air.

On the ground, the frozen soil was soaked with blood, which meandered along the cracks in the road. The bodies of the puppet government's guards were scattered haphazardly, some with their chests riddled with bullet holes, their clothes stained red with blood.

Some skulls were pierced by bullets, and brain matter mixed with blood splattered on the base of the wall.

Others huddled under the car, their hands clutching their wounds, already lifeless, yet their fingertips still gripping the cold guns.

Only a handful of guards survived, no more than five or six. They huddled behind the Buick sedan in the middle, their bodies pressed tightly against the cold car body, their hands trembling as they raised their guns and fired wildly at both sides of the street.

Their eyes were filled with barely concealed fear, their lips trembled, and they failed to snap the magazines into the gun several times while changing magazines. Some even got so nervous that their fingers got stuck on the trigger, making a hollow sound.

In stark contrast to them were the Kuomintang secret agents launching a fierce attack from both sides of the street.

More than a dozen Thompson submachine guns, like fire-breathing behemoths, fired in unison, bullets raining down on the Buick sedan in the middle.

A hail of bullets struck the Buick's body, making a series of crisp "clanging" sounds. The once gleaming black body was instantly covered with a dense network of bullet holes, the bullet marks crisscrossing like a menacing net.

The bulletproof glass in front of the car had already been blasted open by a grenade, with glass shards scattered all over the ground, their edges still stained with dark red blood. Faint but painful groans could be heard coming from inside the car—it was Wang Kemin's voice, filled with undisguised fear and despair.

"Quick! Guard the side of the vehicle! Don't let them get close!"

A squad leader of the puppet government's guards roared as a bullet struck his left arm, blood dripping from his sleeve. Despite the pain, he gritted his teeth and fired wildly at the alleyway to the left, temporarily suppressing the attack of two Kuomintang agents.

Before he could even catch his breath, a grenade suddenly flew out from the other side of the alley.

With a deafening roar, the grenade exploded behind the vehicle where the puppet government's guards were hiding, sending rubble and metal fragments flying like sharp blades.

The squad leader couldn't dodge in time and was hit in the chest by a shard of metal. He groaned and fell to the ground, his pistol slipping from his hand, and blood instantly stained the frozen ground beneath him.

The remaining guards were terrified, their firing rhythm completely disrupted, and most of the bullets hit the wall, sending brick fragments flying everywhere.

Zhou Zhengqing's gaze swept across the buildings on both sides of the street, and he quickly caught sight of several key figures.

At the entrance of the bungalow on the north side, a tall, middle-aged man leaned against the door frame, calmly directing his team's attack.

He wore a dark cotton coat with the collar open, revealing a dark shirt underneath, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's, and every gesture he made carried an undeniable air of authority.

It's Chen Gongshu! Why is he back in Beiping again!

Zhou Zhengqing's heart sank slightly; he had seen his photo before.

Well, that's right. For a major operation like assassinating Wang Kemin, it wouldn't be surprising if Dai Li sent out top assassins from the Military Intelligence Bureau.

Given the current situation, can Chen Gongshu escape this time?

At this moment, Chen Gongshu was whispering instructions to his team members. His tone was urgent but calm. Even when he saw the Japanese reinforcements arriving, he showed no panic. He simply adjusted the attack plan quickly.