Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Outside Nanjing city, at Xiaolingwei.

The morning mist, like a lament, enveloped this desolate land dotted with the tombs of early Ming emperors.

Outside a secluded farmhouse far from the main road, surrounded by a few bare locust trees, the atmosphere was completely out of place with the surrounding deathly silence.

The mud-brick walls of the farmhouse were riddled with bullet holes, and the makeshift power lines and antennas strung up in the yard resembled a spider web, indicating that this was no ordinary farmhouse.

Soldiers dressed in khaki uniforms and wearing military police armbands surrounded the area, with guards every five or ten steps.

Their eyes were sharp, and the Type 38 rifles in their hands had bayonets fixed, gleaming coldly in the faint morning light.

This was the temporary command post set up by the military police system on the Nanjing front, and also the first trial court that determined the fate of Matsui Iwane.

Inside the farmhouse courtyard, Shunsuke Nakamura stood with his hands behind his back, like a cold statue.

He was dressed in a crisp lieutenant colonel uniform, with a general's woolen overcoat draped over his shoulders, warding off the biting chill of winter in Jiangnan.

My gaze passed over the low walls of the farmhouse and turned toward the western city of Nanjing.

There, the intense gunfire that had lasted for several days was gradually becoming sparse and scattered, eventually turning into an unsettling silence.

This silence is not a symbol of peace, but rather a sign that a bloody internal struggle has temporarily come to a conclusion.

There was no joy of victory on Shunsuke Nakamura's face, only a deep and unfathomable solemnity and coldness.

He was waiting, waiting for that hot potato of a "goods" to be delivered.

When the muddy, unremarkable Type 95 passenger car, escorted by several escort motorcycles, bumped its way into the farmhouse, all eyes inside instantly turned to it.

The air seemed to freeze. The sound of wheels rolling over the frozen ground, the wheezing of the engine shutting down, and the creaking of the car doors opening were particularly jarring in the silent dawn.

Makarov was the first to jump out of the passenger seat. His movements were as agile and alert as a cheetah. His eyes quickly scanned the entire area, and only after confirming that it was safe did he make a hand gesture into the car.

Hammer and Sickle got out of the back seat, one on each side, and dragged the figure whose head was covered by a black hood out of the back seat.

Matsui Iwane was practically dragged and carried out. His legs were limp, and his magnificent general's uniform had long been replaced by a dirty soldier's overcoat. Even so, the barely maintained composure had been completely destroyed by the repeated dragging and fear, leaving only the struggle and whimpering of biological instinct.

Shunsuke Nakamura strode forward, his footsteps making a clear sound on the frozen ground.

Without any pleasantries, he reached out his white-gloved hand and yanked off the black hood from Matsui Iwane's head!

With a whoosh, the hood was thrown to the ground.

The stark white light of dawn was as blinding as needles to Matsui Iwane, who had been in absolute darkness for so long.

He instinctively squinted, his pupils contracted sharply, and tears welled up uncontrollably, mixing with the mud and sweat on his face, leaving dirty tear stains.

His true appearance was completely exposed to everyone; his face was as pale as paper, devoid of any color, as if all his life force had been drained away.

His eyes were unfocused and empty, filled with extreme fear, humiliation, and disbelief; his once meticulously combed gray hair was now tangled like a mess of weeds.

His mouth was stuffed with a wad of cloth, and there were still traces of blood from biting his lip during the struggle and some unknown stains at the corners of his mouth. His jaw trembled slightly uncontrollably.

The former "Imperial Army general" who once commanded troops in front of battle maps and gave orders without flinching has now vanished, reduced to his original form: a defeated, captured, disheveled, and collapsing old man.

After his eyes adjusted to the light, Matsui Iwane looked around blankly.

When he realized that the person standing in front of him was Shunsuke Nakamura, the "minor character" under Takuto Takasaki whom he might have once looked down upon, a huge sense of humiliation instantly overwhelmed him.

He made a strange, hoarse sound from his throat, like a broken bellows, as if trying to say something—perhaps a rebuke, perhaps a plea—but it all turned into meaningless syllables.

He instinctively tried to straighten his back and regain some of his former dignity, but the hammer and sickle gripping him suddenly tightened their grip, pressing him down like steel clamps, making any attempt to maintain his dignity a laughable futility.

Shunsuke Nakamura's cold gaze was like a scalpel, an appraising look that made Iwane Matsui's face flush red.

"General Matsui Iwane." Nakamura Shunsuke deliberately emphasized the rank of "General," a title that was about to become history: "Your appearance is truly unsightly."

You didn't expect this, did you? That I, whom you so brazenly imprisoned, would stand before you so openly.

Nakamura Shunsuke's sarcastic remarks turned Matsui Iwane's face from red to pale.

"Hmm, let me guess... Are you implying that we military police have no right to arrest you, and that your fate should be to face a military court?" Nakamura Shunsuke asked with a smirk.

Matsui Iwane was speechless, but his eyes were fixed on Nakamura Shunsuke with a fierce glint in them.

Being treated with such words by a mere lieutenant colonel, Matsui Iwane felt deeply insulted, something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"What a pity, General Matsui Iwane, tomorrow, no, perhaps today, a report will be on the desks of the Minister of the Army and the Prime Minister."

The report stated that General Matsui Iwane, commander of the Central China Expeditionary Army, had been unfortunately hit by artillery fire during the battle. Nakamura Shunsuke said softly, slowly adjusting Matsui Iwane's askew cap.

Matsui Iwane's pupils dilated, then a series of expressions flashed across his eyes: fear, anger, and disbelief.

No longer looking at the utterly defeated loser, Shunsuke Nakamura turned his gaze to Makarov, who remained as silent as a mountain.

His tone softened slightly: "Captain Makarov, you and your squad have done an excellent job. Commander Takasaki will remember your contributions."

He first gave a positive assessment, then took two steps closer, lowered his voice, and made sure that only Makarov and his closest team members could hear him: "Commander Takasaki's latest order is that your squad will escort you the entire way, and I will personally escort Matsui Iwane. We will set off immediately to return to Shanghai."

This place is not safe to linger. The remnants of the Central China Expeditionary Army, other factions, and even... the Kyoto authorities are likely all watching this area.

Makarov listened without any change in expression, only a very subtle understanding flashed in his ice-blue eyes.

He nodded and replied succinctly, "Understood. Route? Vehicle?"

"The route has been planned, going through Zhenjiang and Changzhou, trying to avoid main roads and combat zones."

The vehicles are ready—three Toyota KB trucks, camouflaged. You and I will ride in the command vehicle.” Nakamura had clearly made meticulous arrangements: “We’ll depart in ten minutes.”

We must return to Shanghai before the news spreads completely and before everyone reacts. The cleanup work in Nanjing can be handled by Yusuke Ichijo.

Makarov said no more, turned around and gave a few simple sign language signals to his team members.

The team members immediately sprang into action, checking the vehicles' fuel and ammunition, assigning seats, and making final preparations before departure.

Throughout the entire process, no one gave Matsui Iwane a second glance; he was as if he had become an ordinary piece of cargo about to be transported away.

Ten minutes later, a convoy of three dilapidated trucks covered in mud quietly drove away from the farmhouse in Xiaolingwei, disappearing into the last darkness before dawn and speeding eastward.

The atmosphere inside the modified cargo compartment of the middle truck was oppressive.

Matsui Iwane was bound hand and foot, blindfolded, and crammed into a fixed chair in a corner, where he was closely guarded by a hammer and a sickle on either side.

Shunsuke Nakamura and Makarov sat opposite him in silence.

Outside the carriage, there was the monotonous noise of wheels rolling over the bumpy road and the Jiangnan fields, still shrouded in the shadow of war, rushing past the window.

Matsui Iwane, the Japanese army general who once commanded tens of thousands of troops and held the power of life and death in the Chinese capital, is now a prisoner.