Spy war in the Republic of China, peak undercover

Chapter 598: On the Bell Tower of Yanyuan

The morning light begins to appear on the bell tower of Yanyuan.

The scholar's suit had lost its former luster, and his dark blue tie hung loosely around his neck. He had lowered the Colt pistol, his gaze fixed on the yellowed old photo.

"What exactly is the content of that coded message?" he whispered.

The old principal's gown fluttered gently in the morning breeze, the plum blossoms embroidered on the silk fabric faintly visible. His hand gently stroked the ancient telegraph, the brass gears gleaming warmly in the morning light.

"It's a warning," the old principal said, "about the Japanese plan."

Lu Yang stood aside, his torn suit covered in dust. In his hand, he held the faculty roster, the gold-stamped letters on the cover gleaming in the morning light.

"But why not speak out?" asked the 'scholar'.

“Because,” the old principal said, “anyone who tells the truth will die.”

Under the bell tower, Ye Wanru and Xu Chenxi had already evacuated all the students. The explosive packs were dismantled one by one, as if removing some kind of shackles of fate.

Nightingale's Tang sword still pressed against Scholar's back, the patterns on the blade shimmering like flowing water in the morning light. Her men's clothing was soaked with sweat, but her eyes remained sharp.

"Ten years ago," the old principal continued, "you received a mission."

"Infiltrate the Military Intelligence Bureau," the 'scholar' said, "and become a double agent."

“But what you don’t know,” the old principal said, “is that we have been waiting for you to come back.”

At this moment, Zhou Qing ran up from downstairs: "The Japanese have retreated!"

The scholar smiled bitterly: "It turns out everything is a setup."

“No,” Lu Yang said, “this is redemption.”

He opened the list and found a telegram inside. It was the secret message from twenty years ago. The paper had turned yellow, but the handwriting was still clear.

"This is..." The 'scholar's' hands were shaking.

"Your father's last words," the old principal said, "He died protecting you."

In the morning light, tears finally appeared in the scholar's eyes.

The spy who had been lurking in the dark for ten years finally regained his humanity.

"It's over," he said, handing the list to Lu Yang.

'Nightingale' put away the Tang sword, and the sharp blade that carried so many stories could finally rest.

And on this morning, the dawn finally arrived.

A story about betrayal and redemption has come to an end.

The old principal tapped the ground lightly with his bamboo stick, and the mechanism of the clock tower slowly closed.

This bell tower, carrying countless secrets, will continue to guard the story of Yanyuan.

"Let's go," Lu Yang said, "it's time to go home."

The city of Peking in the morning light was already dyed red with blood.

Lu Yang stood at the secret base of the Military Control Commission's Peking Station, a telegram just received. He took off his tattered suit and changed into a neat military uniform. The Browning pistol at his waist was polished to a shine, its holster made of fine cowhide.

"Clear the list," he ordered, his voice icy, "Leave no one behind."

Nightingale had changed back into her cheongsam, but beneath her lapels was a sharp dagger. In her hand was a list of all the insiders of the Japanese secret service.

"Thirty-six people," she said, "distributed throughout key departments in Peking."

Ye Wanru sorted her weapons, a row of Browning pistols gleaming coldly in the morning light. She had plenty of bullets hidden under her long, dark blue gown.

"Work in groups," Lu Yang said, "and it must be completed before dark."

Zhou Qing had changed into casual clothes and was holding several fake IDs specially made by the Military Control Commission, which allowed him to enter and exit various departments freely.

"The first target," he said, "is Chief Zhang of the police station."

Xu Chenxi was wiping the pistol in the bamboo broom, his eyes cold. "He goes to the same teahouse every morning."

The "scholar" was imprisoned in the basement, awaiting trial by the Military Control Commission. His suit was wrinkled, its once elegant appearance gone.

"Action," Lu Yang said.

A silent hunt suddenly began in every corner of the city of Peking.

In the teahouse, Section Chief Zhang took a last sip of tea and fell down next to the teacup forever.

In the bank's vault, a Japanese spy was found hanged from the beam.

There was a new body in a suit in the hospital morgue.

A businessman carrying a suitcase suddenly fell to the ground at the platform of the train station.

In the alley in front of the Drum Tower, gunshots rang out and then quickly disappeared.

Every goal fell quietly without anyone noticing.

This is the method used by the Military Control Commission: fast, accurate and ruthless.

"There's only one left," Ye Wanru's voice came from the radio.

"who?"

"The counselor of the Japanese consulate," she said, "is fleeing to the embassy district."

Lu Yang sneered: "That's their territory."

“Give up?”

“No,” he said, “the Military Control Commission wants to let them know that there is no safe place in Peking.”

As night fell, a gunshot was heard in the embassy area.

The counselor collapsed at the door of his own home, with blood still on the medal on his chest.

"Cleared," Nightingale reported. "No one left alive."

Lu Yang stood on the city wall, looking at the lights of the ancient city.

"Tell Chongqing," he said, "the account with the Peking Station has been settled."

And after this bloody dawn.

A new mission is waiting for them.

"Northeast," Lu Yang read the telegram, "it's time to close the net."

The wind was biting cold on the Fengtian platform.

Lu Yang, dressed in a grey gown and a mink coat, looked like a wealthy northern businessman. In his hands he carried a mahogany box with secret compartments, which contained guns and a radio.

"We're here," he said, looking at the Japanese sign on the platform. "We're half a day earlier than expected."

Ye Wanru had already changed into a cheongsam, with a fox fur shawl draped over it. Her hair was piled high in a bun, and she wore an elegant pearl hairpin, perfectly playing the role of a wealthy lady.

The military police of the "Manchukuo" are checking passers-by. They are wearing neat military uniforms, with sabers on their waists and their eyes are as sharp as eagles.

"Interesting," Zhou Qing said softly. He was dressed as a butler, but he had a Colt pistol hidden in his suit pocket.

At the end of the platform, a woman in a kimono was waiting.

"Ms. Fujita," Lu Yang greeted in Japanese, "Long time no see."

This is the new identity of Nightingale, a Japanese businesswoman doing business in Manchukuo. Her kimono is embroidered with delicate cherry blossoms, but she hides a sharp dagger in her obi.

"Mr. Lu," she responded in her standard Tokyo accent, "please follow me."

A black Citroën sedan, often used by the powerful in Manchukuo, was parked outside the station. Its body was shiny, but its windows were fitted with bulletproof glass.

"What's the situation?" Lu Yang asked after getting in the car.

"This is very bad," Nightingale said. "The Kwantung Army has made new moves."

She pulled out a piece of information from the sleeve of her kimono: "They are building a new factory."

“What factory?”

"On the surface it's a military factory," she said, "but in reality..."

Before he could finish his words, there was a knock on the car window.

A team of military police blocked the way.

"Routine inspection," the leading officer said in Japanese.

Just then, a loud noise was heard in the distance.

"The new factory," Nightingale said, "exploded."

Lu Yang checked his watch and said, "Xu Chenxi did a good job."

The military police immediately got into their cars and drove away, sirens blaring throughout the streets.

"The plan has begun," Lu Yang said, "How much time do we have?"

"Three days," Nightingale said, "the Kwantung Army's Unit 731 will be transferred."

The carriage suddenly became quiet.

It was a name that everyone knew, but no one dared to mention.

"I've finally waited," Lu Yang said in a cold voice, "It's time to settle the accounts."

The Citroën drove into Fengtian City and disappeared in the flying snowflakes.

And on this snowy afternoon.

An action of revenge and justice is about to begin.

"Tell Chongqing," Lu Yang said, "Operation Fox Hunt, start."

Outside Fengtian City, an abandoned military factory stands in the wind and snow.

Lu Yang stood in the shadows, gazing at the gray building. The factory's exterior walls were mottled, with exposed steel bars, but the faint roar of machinery could be heard from underground. His mink coat was dusted with snowflakes, and his binoculars were trained on the factory gate.

"What did you find?" Ye Wanru's voice came from the radio.

“Every morning at three in the morning,” he said, “there would be a military truck coming in and out.”

The truck was a Type 94 truck, standard issue for the Japanese Army, with a heavy waterproof sheet covering the cabin. Every time it entered or left, it was escorted by fully armed military police.

Nightingale, dressed in a kimono, stood in a nearby teahouse. The teacup in her hand steamed, but her eyes were cold. “Those trucks are carrying living people.”

"who?"

“Homeless people, prisoners,” she said, “even children.”

Zhou Qing disguised himself as a worker and mingled with people near the factory. He noticed a pungent smell coming from the underground sewer, like some kind of chemical.

“What’s even more terrifying,” he said, “is that no one who goes in ever comes out.”

Xu Chenxi had already sneaked into the factory and hid in the ventilation duct. She saw a large amount of experimental equipment in the basement, all of which were the latest German products.

"What are they researching?" Lu Yang asked.

"Biochemical weapons," Nightingale said. "The latest germ weapons."

Just then, an unusual car drove into the factory.

It was a Mercedes-Benz sedan with a license plate from the Kwantung Army Headquarters.

"Major General Ishii," Nightingale recognized the man in the car, "the head of Unit 731."

Lu Yang's eyes became sharp: "Why did he come here?"

The answer was quickly revealed.

Xu Chenxi passed the news from the ventilation duct: "They are moving tonight."

“Why the rush?”

“Because of this,” she sent a photo.

The photo shows an experimental report with the secret seal of the Kwantung Army.

"The Emperor," Lu Yang read the report, "is coming to inspect."