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

Old Wu took the blueprints, and his brows immediately furrowed.

"This is cutting off our escape route."

“That’s right, they had already calculated our next move.” Qin Cang gritted his teeth, “but they didn’t expect us to act ahead of time.”

"You want to...?"

“I’m here to support you. Cut off their wagons from the south. They don’t want a frontal assault, but rather to deliver supplies and then block our supply lines. I’ll cut off their supply lines, and you wait for my movements on the hillside. Once I detonate the convoy, both the cannons and the supplies will be gone. Even if they have troops, they’ll have to hold out.”

Old Wu hesitated for a moment, "Are you alone?"

"I have enough for myself. Too much would alert the enemy."

A long silence filled the air.

"Okay." Old Wu finally nodded. "You came back alive."

Qin Cang didn't answer, but instead clutched his clothes tightly, his figure disappearing into the night like a ghost, not even looking back.

That night, the wind was cooler, the shadows denser, and the enemy camp's fires more distant. He was about to infiltrate the deepest part of the night, facing the very edge of death. But his steps did not falter.

Every step we take is for that little figure running through the weeds; every step we take is for those companions who have not yet fallen.

He didn't need the victory flag; what he wanted was the cry of "Brother, I'm back!"

The fire wasn't as intense as expected, and the patrolling soldiers were sparse, their steps unsteady—no, not relaxed, but deliberately feigned laxity. They were acting.

"They want to make people think the defense is weak, to lure us into attacking first." Qin Cang's brows furrowed even deeper, and a doubt he had never felt before rose in his heart.

This wasn't the first time he'd faced such a situation, nor the first time he'd encountered the enemy's trickery. But this time was different. The feeling was indescribable, like a chilling mist creeping up his spine from his feet. He had never seen the enemy prepare for an attack so 'quietly'.

His gaze remained fixed on the wagon parked on the east side of the camp. It was covered with a thick tarpaulin, seemingly containing supplies, but the angle from which the tarpaulin bulged suggested it contained more than just grain. More importantly, the number of soldiers guarding the wagon exceeded that of the main tent, and each position provided mutual cover. That formation didn't look like they were guarding supplies; it looked more like they were waiting for someone.

"They know we've got our eyes on them," Qin Cang thought to himself. "Or rather... they're waiting for us to make the first move."

His heart tightened, and he suddenly realized that this "surprise attack" might have been a trap from beginning to end. Their purpose was not to escort supplies, but to use the movement of supplies to lure the guerrillas down, and then to annihilate them with the prepared firepower.

"Damn it, I knew we'd make a move." Qin Cang's face was gloomy, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists.

He knew he had to make a decision immediately. It wasn't just a question of whether the operation would succeed; it was a matter of life and death for the entire team. He stared at the motionless Japanese soldiers, imagining the machine gun positions, snipers, and even underground mines that might be lying in ambush behind them.

A sudden jolt went through my heart.

"They might not be guarding the carriage, but rather watching my movements."

The thought, once it surfaced, felt like a red-hot iron bar piercing his chest. His hiding place was far too close; how could they not have anticipated it? Especially since he had just infiltrated to plant explosives; although it was supposed to be secluded, even the slightest sound—a dog barking, a tree rustling—could give him away.

He slowly retreated, his body almost blending into the soil, but his eyes never left the camp. He controlled each breath to the extreme, even delaying his blinks by two seconds.

Just as he retreated to a spot sheltered by a rock wall, he suddenly heard a very faint "click".

It sounded like the sound of a finger gliding across metal before pulling a trigger.

His body stiffened abruptly, his hand already touching the pistol at his waist.

Then, a figure quietly emerged from the woods behind, the movement all too familiar—it was Old Wu.

"You came quickly," Qin Cang said in a low voice, his voice almost touching the ground.

"We've received the signal from the mountaintop, and Lao Ma and the others are retreating westward. Why haven't you made a move yet?"

Qin Cang did not answer immediately, but slowly raised a finger and pointed to the side of the mountainside.

"Look over there."

Old Wu glanced in that direction, then immediately looked away, his expression changing slightly.

"Why does it look like... the main force is there?"

"It's not just 'like,' it is." Qin Cang's voice was chillingly cold. "In this entire area, only that place is truly making the biggest commotion. They're making people think the main force is at the camp to lure us into a trap. The carriages, the fires, and the patrols are all smoke and mirrors."

“Then let’s—” Old Wu frowned.

“We can’t fight according to plan. Some of your men need to be withdrawn, and I’ll stay behind to continue our covert operations and find their ambush points.” Qin Cang spoke very quickly, but his voice was as steady as a rock.

"You alone? No way."

“I know this mountain path better than any of you. I can evade their eyes and ears. If you send out your entire army, they will immediately detonate the ambush. Once the mountainside is blocked, no one will be able to get out alive.” Qin Cang’s eyes were extremely cold, as if he wouldn’t even flinch when a cold blade was pressed against his throat.

Old Wu gritted his teeth; he knew Qin Cang was absolutely right. If they continued with the original plan, their men would fall right into the enemy's trap, be surrounded and annihilated, with no chance of survival.

"If you stay behind alone, there won't be enough support once the fighting starts."

“I’m not going to fight them head-on.” Qin Cang’s eyes flashed, and he lowered his voice even further. “I’m going to flank them. I suspect they’re using a communication method we haven’t seen before.”

"You mean..."

“Whistles, light signals, and maybe even soldiers feigning death. Those people might be buried in the cracks in the ground that we can't see, just waiting for us to get close.” Qin Cang’s breathing became heavier. “I need to confirm how many of them haven’t shown themselves yet.”

After saying that, he turned around and slid off without looking back toward another path behind the mountain.

Old Wu didn't try to persuade him further; he knew he couldn't stop him. Besides, only Qin Cang could save the day. He silently clenched his fist in the direction Qin Cang's figure disappeared, then crouched down and disappeared into the woods, turning towards the mountainside to coordinate the team's movement.

At this moment, Qin Cang had already circled around to a rocky slope 300 meters away from the enemy's position.

Here was a natural cliff, next to which was a bottomless, wind-eroded crevice, with jagged rocks like knives. He crouched down, held his breath, and began to search among the rocks.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and stared intently at a gray-white rock.

There is blood.

It wasn't very obvious, but the color was definitely not the original color of the rock. It was dry and black, but there were extremely fine footprints on the edges, as if someone had rolled and struggled here.