Bright Sword: Conquer the monk at the beginning and take down Zhou Weiguo

"I'm not afraid," Xiao Hu said through gritted teeth, his eyes filled with a stubborn determination. "Brother Qin, you saved me once, I won't hold you back."

Qin Cang's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't reply. He knew that at this moment, words would be useless; getting out of there and surviving was more important than anything else.

But his success didn't last long. Deep in the forest, a faint sound of wind breaking suddenly came. He felt a chill run down his spine, and his body instinctively darted forward. An arrow grazed his shoulder and embedded itself in a tree trunk, its fletching still trembling slightly.

"Ambush." ​​He said coldly, then pressed Xiao Hu into the tree root with his backhand, before crawling on the ground himself, his eyes like those of a hawk, fixed on the shadows ahead.

In the darkness, the archer did not rush to fire a second arrow, but seemed to be waiting for someone to flank him.

“Little Tiger, listen to me.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll distract them for a while, and you take the opportunity to slip southwest. Don’t look back, don’t make a sound. When you get to the edge of the swamp, look for a hunting trail. Remember, don’t stop.”

Xiao Hu's face turned pale, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Qin Cang coldly said, "Listen to me."

At that moment, Xiao Hu suddenly understood that Qin Cang was forcing him to survive. He gritted his teeth, his face buried in the mud, and whispered, "Be careful."

Qin Cang chuckled lightly: "I'm tough, I won't die."

In the next instant, he sprang from behind the tree roots, his figure flashing like a ghost into the bushes on the other side, the short knife in his hand reflecting a cold light. A few exclamations of surprise came from the darkness, followed by the sound of wind breaking and footsteps, as people chased after him.

He stopped every few steps, tilting his ear to listen to the faint sounds in the wind. He wasn't patrolling the mountain; he was waiting for someone. To be precise, he was waiting for a child.

The boy, nicknamed "Little Tiger," was no more than fourteen years old, with thin arms and legs, but his eyes shone with an extraordinary brightness. Little Tiger was the newest link in the intelligence network, yet also the most crucial. He was small and thin, able to crawl through dog holes and climb rooftops, and was especially adept at listening to the wind and distinguishing sounds. His eyes were incredibly sharp, and he had an excellent memory. Once he memorized something, he wouldn't forget it for ten days or half a month.

"If we don't come soon, something might go wrong..." Qin Cang muttered to himself, but he didn't turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the distant mountain pass, motionless, like a stone tablet embedded in the earth.

Half an hour later, a soft rustling sound came from the weeds, as if a small animal was moving about. Qin Cang's toes snapped, and he instantly ducked down, the Browning pistol slipping silently into his palm.

He waited, without moving.

The sound grew closer and closer. Suddenly, a small, thin figure sprang out of the bushes, a smile on his lips. His face was covered in a mixture of mud and sweat, but it couldn't hide the excitement in his eyes.

"Brother! I'm here!" Xiao Hu lowered his voice, but couldn't hide the excitement in his tone, "I brought the things back!"

Qin Cang frowned, grabbed him, and pulled him under the tree. "Speak."

Panting, Xiao Hu pulled a map wrapped in oiled paper from his tattered cotton-padded coat. The map was crumpled, with a few burn marks still remaining on the corners of the paper. He held it in both hands, as if offering it to a deity, and carefully handed it to Qin Cang.

"I listened all night in the backyard of that Japanese command post. They are being relocated tomorrow and are heading north... There aren't many of them, about three hundred, but they are bringing two small cannons and a dozen horse-drawn carriages."

Qin Cang's expression changed slightly as he reached out and squeezed the map. The paper was hastily drawn, detailing routes, troop deployments, and outposts along the way. What caught his attention most was a symbol marked with a red circle—that was a transit point for supply convoys.

"Little Tiger, are you sure you've remembered all of this clearly?"

“I remember! I didn’t miss a single word they said. The squad leader even beat up two Japanese soldiers, saying that they would lose their heads if they were slow to march. They were cursing and swearing, and I heard it all.”

Has anyone seen you?

"No." Xiao Hu paused for a moment, a hint of hesitation in his eyes, "But... I heard a dog barking."

"A dog?" Qin Cang frowned.

"It was a wolfhound kept by the Japanese. When I was climbing up the wall, it suddenly barked, and I ran away as fast as I could. Maybe...maybe I wasn't discovered."

Qin Cang remained silent, his gaze darkening. He knew that in this situation, they were most likely exposed. The Japanese dogs, trained with an extremely keen sense of smell, would not bark without reason.

"Go back to the village entrance and hide there. Don't go east. Go around to the south slope and wait for me under the old elm tree."

"Brother, what about you?"

"I'll go and meet them." Qin Cang gripped the map tightly in his hand, his voice as low as the mountain wind blowing through the cracks in the rocks.

He knew that if this intelligence could be sent out, the Eighth Route Army detachment in the north, which was planning to cross enemy lines to carry out sabotage, could ambush them in advance and destroy the enemy's supply line in one fell swoop. But he also knew that if he turned around and left now, he might never see this child again.

Xiao Hu refused to leave, his clear black and white eyes fixed on Qin Cang, stubborn yet moist. But Qin Cang simply said coldly, "This is an order."

Little Tiger gritted his teeth, finally nodded, and in a flash disappeared into the tangled grass.

Qin Cang stood rooted to the spot, his gaze as firm as iron. He slowly rolled up the map, tucked it into his waistband, then drew his Browning pistol, pulled the slide, and a bullet fired into the chamber with a soft click.

Then, he bent down and began to sneak toward another path behind the mountain.

He remembered that when Xiao Hu talked about that small cannon, there was a hint of fear in his voice. It wasn't an ordinary cannon; it was a mortar, specifically designed to bombard mountain guerrillas. If that small detachment were surrounded, one shot from the Japanese would set the entire mountain forest ablaze.

He couldn't let Xiaohu's efforts go to waste. Nor could he let that team die in vain.

The shadows of the trees were dappled, and the mist had not yet dissipated. He moved through the dense forest like a hungry leopard. He knew the Japanese had begun their search, because from the valley not far away came faint barking of dogs and intermittent shouts in Japanese.

He wasn't flustered. He knew this mountain better than they did.

Qin Cang first wandered into an abandoned cemetery, where stone tablets lay fallen and weeds grew rampant. Seven years ago, he had hidden here for three days, witnessing firsthand how an entire platoon of soldiers was wiped out by the Japanese, their blood staining the soil. He remembered the location of every stone tablet and every crack where he could hide.

He waited.

Sure enough, the Japanese soldiers followed the sound and arrived. The leader was a sergeant, accompanied by three dogs and five infantrymen. The sergeant wore a leather hat, had a short sword at his waist, and looked around with a lewd expression.

Qin Cang lay prone behind a moss-covered tombstone, his breathing barely audible. He was waiting for the dog to approach first.

"Wang!"

The dog lunged forward, then stopped abruptly in front of the tombstone, sniffing the ground. A cold glint flashed in Qin Cang's eyes. He drew a gleaming dagger, gripped it with the tip reversed, and concealed it in his sleeve.

The dog finally circled around to his side, and as soon as it poked its head out, the dagger was already piercing its throat. Qin Cang grabbed the dog's muzzle with one hand and twisted the hilt of the knife with the other. The dog didn't even have time to bark before it went limp.

"Dog? Dog はどこ?" Japanese Sergeant raised his voice.