Industry began in 1937

The equipment of fifty "village-protecting spears" and ten thick-backed broadswords acted like a shot in the arm, injecting a much-needed dose of energy into the previously anxious blood of Gouzi Village.

In the following days, the threshing ground became a temporary training ground.

As dawn broke, Zhao Dachui's rough shouts rang out: "Line up! Grip tight! Spear tips forward! Yes, that's the stance! Remember, we're not going out to fight to the death, we're defending our home! Three people per group, shoulder to shoulder, spears thrust outwards, broadswords in the middle looking for opportunities to slash! Keep your steps steady, don't lose your composure!"

I don't know when this marksmanship was introduced to Gouzi Village.

It looks simple, but it's incredibly lethal. Just looking at the gleaming gun barrel tells you to keep them away.

Three people stabbed him, and he had no idea how many bloody holes he had.

Third Master and Wen Shizhou also spent almost all their time on the field.

Third Master squinted, stroking his beard, watching the young men practice their moves, gradually transforming from initial panic and clumsiness to a more coordinated and coordinated manner. The worry on his face lessened slightly.

Wen Shizhou mostly observed quietly from the sidelines, occasionally exchanging a few words with Third Master or Zhao Dachui in a low voice, pointing out details about formation coordination or terrain utilization.

He didn't talk much, but he always hit the nail on the head, even making experienced hunters like Zhao Dachui nod in agreement.

He clearly knows some tactics.

When asked, he simply said he learned it from books.

Chen Yuan did not participate in the daily training; he had more important things to do.

The five seamless steel pipes were carefully taken by Han Dahe, the best carpenter in the village. With his two apprentices, they began to work on the stock and basic structure of the gun, referring to the simple drawings provided by Chen Yuan and the flintlock gun used as a sample.

Chen Yuan also made a flintlock mechanism.

The flintlock platform didn't really consider this kind of musket as a firearm.

Chen Yuan then plunged back into the ravine.

He also needed auxiliary tools, such as more reliable lighting and steel supports, in preparation for moving the flint platform into the cave.

"Flint, using the remaining iron, manufacture the following items: 1. A portable, refillable iron-cased oil lamp; 2. Steel supports for the coal mine tunnels." He gave the order, choosing practical and relatively low-energy-consumption items whenever possible.

The light curtain responds and lists the total iron required, which is approximately 15 kg, with an energy consumption of 0.07%.

After confirming the manufacturing, Chen Yuan once again sat on the human-powered generator that had been with him the longest, and pedaled it with a less than pleasant feeling.

He considered moving the platform away as soon as possible, otherwise if the defeated soldiers attacked, Gouzi Village would not be able to defend it and his position might be exposed.

Just as Chen Yuan was preparing to explore the transfer platform, and Gouzi Village was just getting the hang of its self-defense drills, trouble struck unexpectedly.

It was a misty morning, and visibility was very low in the mountains.

Following Wen Shizhou's suggestion, the number of lookout posts in the village was increased to three. The furthest one was set up on a steep cliff next to the main road into the ravine, where the view was best and anomalies could be detected well in advance.

The lookouts were two young men, one named Shuanzhu and the other Tiedan, both nephews of Zhao Dachui, clever and daring.

As noon approached, the thick fog began to dissipate slightly.

Shuanzhu, who was lying behind the crevice in the rocks, rubbed his sore eyes. Suddenly, he yanked on Tiedan, who was dozing beside him, and said in a low, urgent voice, "Tiedan! Look! Over there! There's someone!"

Tie Dan was startled and looked in the direction he was pointing.

Below, on the winding mountain road, seven or eight figures could be vaguely seen, slowly moving towards Gouzi Village.

These people wore tattered yellow-green military uniforms, which were already filthy. Some had their hats askew, some had their guns slung diagonally, and they walked unsteadily, forming a loose and disorganized formation.

"They're soldiers! Wearing yellow uniforms!" Tie Dan's voice was strained.

"He doesn't look like a good person, he's all crooked and unsteady..." Shuanzhu squinted, examining him closely. "He's got a gun! He's a defeated soldier!"

The two looked at each other and saw the fear in each other's eyes.

Third Master and Mr. Wen had already instructed that if they saw any outsiders in military uniforms, especially stragglers, they should immediately call the police!

"You stay here and keep watch, I'll go back and report!" Shuanzhu shouted in a low voice, and like a startled rabbit, he turned around and scrambled along the steep path towards the village.

Tie Dan huddled tightly behind the crevice, barely daring to breathe, his eyes fixed on the approaching group of fleeing soldiers. He silently counted, "One, two, three… eight, eight in total. They all have long spears… and it looks like there's one with a hidden trap?"

He had been to the city and knew the soldiers' weapons.

The news was like a drop of cold water falling into a pot of boiling oil, causing an instant explosion.

The urgent sound of gongs rang out over Gouzi Village, accompanied by Zhao Dachui's thunderous roar: "Grab your weapons! Assemble at the village entrance! The routs are here! Eight! They have rifles!"

The villagers, who had just finished their morning drills and were having lunch, were thrown into chaos.

The woman and child were quickly ushered back inside and the door was bolted shut.

The men grabbed their new weapons, which they had barely gotten their hands on, and ran wildly toward the village entrance.

Fear was written on everyone's face, but this time, no one screamed or cried out; instead, there was a fierce look in their eyes and teeth.

The brand-new, heavy iron tools in their hands gave them some courage to face the danger.

Third Uncle, Old Man Han, Zhao Dachui, and Wen Shizhou quickly gathered around the millstone at the village entrance.

Wen Shizhou's expression was grave. He quickly said, "Eight men, with fast guns, we can't fight them head-on. Brother Da Chui, as we discussed, set up the first checkpoint at the bend by the crooked tree. The road there is narrow, with a stone wall on one side and a deep ditch on the other. We'll block it with spears and muskets."

The second line is at the millstone at the village entrance; the broadsword team is ready. Remember, don't panic. Wait until they get close before you attack, aim carefully and fire! Just thrust your spears forward, don't worry about anything else!

"Understood!" Zhao Dachui nodded emphatically, then turned and roared at the thirty or so young men who had hastily assembled, "Listen up! First team of the village protection squad, follow me up the crooked tree! Second team, follow Third Master to guard the millstone! Muskets! Brother Chen's musket, along with the five flintlock pistols and other muskets, go up to the earthen platform behind the millstone! Old Han, your homemade musket too! Load the powder and await orders!"

The crowd quickly dispersed.

Zhao Dachui, leading fourteen young men armed with new spears, crouched low and ran along the path outside the village toward the crooked-necked tree.

The remaining dozen or so men, armed with broadswords, machetes, and sticks, followed Third Master and Old Man Han, hiding behind the millstone and stone wall at the village entrance.

Chen Yuan was also dragged onto the earthen platform by Han Shitou without explanation. His flintlock musket was already loaded, and five other flintlock muskets, two old matchlock muskets, and Han Laoshuan's even older musket were also set up, their dark muzzles pointing towards the path leading into the village.

The air seemed to freeze, with only heavy breathing and the pounding of hearts.

Time passed by, and each second felt like a year.

In the distance, faint, noisy voices and footsteps could be heard, growing ever closer.

Chen Yuan's first battle began just like that.

He gripped the flintlock pistol, his palms sweaty, and he kept swallowing.

My heart was pounding.

But look at the others, they all look similar to him, except Han Laoshuan looks more composed.

This eased his somewhat ashamed heart a little.

This was the first time he had been dragged onto the battlefield like this, and he was completely unprepared.

At this point, he kept thinking about how to load the gun, as he needed to load it as quickly as possible after firing a shot.

At that moment, he felt that the obsolescence of muskets was inevitable, since nothing was as simple as pulling a bolt.

As he was lost in thought, he heard a sound coming from afar.

"Damn it, this godforsaken place, there's not a soul in sight..."

"Stop talking nonsense and hurry up and find something to eat, I'm starving..."

"Platoon leader, there seems to be a village ahead!"

"The village? Good! Let's see what we can take... Cheer up!"

The sound became clearer and clearer; one could even hear the gun butt hitting the stone.

Eight crooked figures appeared at the narrow bend of the crooked tree, heading towards the millstone at the village entrance.

They were clearly exhausted and not very alert; the one in the lead even had his rifle slung over his shoulder and was cursing.

On the earthen platform, the eight musketeers, including Chen Yuan, had their fingers on the triggers or matchlocks, and were involuntarily holding their breath.

Old Han muttered under his breath, "Closer, closer..."

Forty steps, thirty steps... The fleeing soldiers walked unnoticed into the relatively open but unobstructed gravel path in front of the millstone.

"Hit!" Wen Shizhou's fierce shout and Third Master's slashing arm fell at the same time!

"Bang!" "Bang! Bang! Bang—!"

In an instant, bursts of orange-red flames and thick white smoke erupted from the earthen platform! The crisp sound of flint striking, the hissing of the match being lit, and the roar of gunpowder exploding intertwined, making one's eardrums tingle!

Chen Yuan tried to aim at one person, but his eyes seemed to be blurred by sweat. Upon hearing the order, he didn't care whether he had aimed correctly or not and pulled the trigger.

He felt his shoulder being slammed backward by the flintlock pistol, the flames and smoke from the muzzle instantly obscuring his vision.

A strong, pungent smell of gunpowder permeated the air.

Almost simultaneously, several other muskets and shotguns also opened fire. Although their accuracy was poor, the combined fire of seven or eight muskets at close range was extremely frightening!

Lead pellets and iron shot were scattered out in a fan shape!

"Ah—!" A scream immediately rang out from the fleeing soldiers!

The two fleeing soldiers at the forefront were struck hard. One fell backward as blood gushed from his chest; the other was shot in the thigh and rolled around, screaming in agony as he clutched his wounded leg.

The remaining defeated soldiers were completely stunned by this sudden attack, and screams of terror and angry curses filled the air.

"An ambush!" "Musketeers! Muskets!"

"On the earthen platform! Attack!"

"Get cover! Fight back!"

They frantically tried to scatter, find cover, or pull the bolt to return fire.

But the narrow road and the sudden attack threw them into disarray, causing them to huddle together in a chaotic mess.

The smoke of battle had not yet cleared, and the musketeers on the earthen platform were frantically reloading their guns—which would take time.

Just as the routed soldiers were still in shock and trying to organize a resistance!

"Kill—!!!" Zhao Dachui's thunderous roar exploded from behind the rubble on the flank!

The fourteen spearmen, who had been poised for battle, burst forth from their hiding place beside the crooked tree like tigers released from their cages, led by Zhao Dachui! They formed small, crude but imposing formations of three men each, their gleaming, sharp "village-protecting spears" pointed straight ahead, carrying the fierceness honed through days of arduous training and the villagers' unwavering determination to defend their home. Like a moving thicket of steel thorns, they crashed into the chaotic ranks of the fleeing soldiers!

"Pfft!" "Ugh—!"

The dull thud of a sharp weapon piercing flesh and the piercing screams rang out once more!

The narrow terrain and the advantage of the spear's length were put to full use at this moment!

The fleeing soldiers didn't even have time to create distance and thrust their spears; they were overwhelmed by several spears thrusting at them simultaneously.

Just as a fleeing soldier managed to raise his gun, a spear thrust from the side pierced his ribs.

Another tried to retreat, but was stabbed in the thigh from behind by another group of spearmen who caught up with him, and fell to the ground screaming.

"Grab your weapons! Fight to the death!" The fleeing soldier, who seemed to be the leader, had bloodshot eyes. He yelled and used his bayonet to knock away the tip of an incoming spear, then turned to stab the villager in front of him.

But Zhao Dachui had already arrived like a whirlwind, his thick-backed broadsword slashing down with a whooshing sound! The fleeing soldier hurriedly raised his gun to block, and with a loud "crack," the wooden gunstock was split open by the broadsword. The enormous force made his arm go numb, and the blade slid down, cutting a deep, bone-revealing gash on his shoulder!

"Kill them!" Other villagers wielding broadswords rushed forward with bloodshot eyes, taking advantage of the chaos to hack and slash at the routed soldiers who were divided and stunned by the spear formation.

The newly forged broadsword was powerful and heavy, and although it lacked proper technique, it was incredibly effective in close-quarters combat.

Just as a fleeing soldier pulled back the bolt, he was struck on the arm by a broadsword slashing from the side, and his rifle flew out of his hand.

The battle broke out suddenly, with the musket attacks and the swift close combat of spears and broadswords seamlessly combined.

Eight exhausted and hungry soldiers, who had lost all will to fight and were first riddled with musket fire and then ambushed at close range, were completely incapacitated.

In the blink of an eye, four routed soldiers fell dead in pools of blood, while another was pierced through the abdomen by a spear and was on the verge of death.

The remaining two were terrified. Seeing their companion die tragically, with their paths blocked and the threat of muskets looming on the earthen platform, one of them cried out, "Spare me!" The other immediately dropped his rifle, knelt down, and kowtowed repeatedly.

"Don't kill us! We surrender! We surrender!"

"We'll give you all the food! We'll give you the guns! Spare our lives!"

Zhao Dachui was panting heavily, his broadsword still dripping blood. He stared with bloodshot eyes at the two defeated soldiers kneeling and begging for mercy, then looked at the corpses and wounded lying scattered on the ground, and was at a loss for what to do.

He turned to look at Third Master and Wen Shizhou, who were catching up from behind.

Third Master's face turned pale. He had lived most of his life, and this was the first time he had ever witnessed such a bloody battle.

Although he had joined others in making trouble when he was young, he had never actually fought on the battlefield.

Old Han's hand, which was holding a long spear, was also trembling slightly.

Only Wen Shizhou, though his face was serious, had a relatively calm look in his eyes. He quickly stepped forward, first signaling several young men to control the fleeing soldiers and wounded who were still able to move on the ground, disarm them, and then examine the corpses.

"Big Hammer Bro, let everyone tidy up first."

"Carry the bodies to the ditch over there and bury them. The wounded one..." He glanced at the groaning, badly wounded soldier, paused for a moment, and whispered.

"Give him a quick death, he can't be saved."

His abdomen was pierced; there was no way to save him in this day and age.

Zhao Dachui nodded silently and told a few people to handle it.

The air was thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder, and some of the more timid young men had already begun to gag.

Wen Shizhou walked up to the two trembling prisoners kneeling on the ground and asked in a deep voice, "Which unit are you from? Where did you come from? Where are you going?"

The two routed soldiers, already terrified, answered eagerly:

"Sir, sir, spare us! We are...we were straggling members of the 53rd Army, we retreated from Shimen..."

"We were scattered by the Japanese, couldn't find our unit, and just wandered aimlessly in the mountains..."

"I just wanted to find something to eat, I didn't mean to hurt anyone... really!"

"Just the eight of you? Are there any others behind you?" Wen Shizhou stared intently into their eyes.

"They're gone! Really gone! It was just the eight of us together! We don't know where the others went!"

Wen Shizhou carefully observed their expressions and, finding them genuine, breathed a slight sigh of relief. He turned to Third Master and Zhao Dachui: "Third Master, Dachui, tie them up first and lock them in the empty room next to the ancestral hall. Keep a close watch on them. We'll interrogate them later."

At this moment, Chen Yuan and the musketeers on the earthen platform also came down.

Chen Yuan glanced at the chaotic battlefield and felt a chill run down his spine.

This was the first time he had witnessed such a bloody and direct killing in the era of cold weapons up close.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and glanced at the spoils on the ground.

The two rifles, which were still in relatively good condition, were salvaged by the villagers.

Chen Yuan took one; it was heavy in his hand. The inscription on the gun was blurry, but he could tell it was a standard Hanyang-made rifle, which he had seen introduced on a military program.

However, this gun is in poor condition, and the bolt is somewhat stiff.

The other was an older Type 88 Commission rifle with a cracked stock.

Another rifle was damaged in the fight, with its stock and some parts broken by a broadsword, rendering it essentially unusable.

In addition to rifles, a machine gun, a bayonet, and loose bullets found on the fleeing soldiers, totaling more than forty rounds of various types, mainly 7.92mm Mauser round-nosed bullets and pistol bullets, were also seized.

"That's all." Zhao Dachui piled up the captured weapons, wiped the sweat and blood from his face, grinned, and tried to laugh, but didn't.

"Thank goodness Brother Chen's guys were effective, otherwise today..."

"Let's not talk about that now," Third Master interrupted him, his brows furrowed as he looked at the blood on the ground.

"Clean this up quickly. Big Hammer, arrange for men to continue the sentry duty, double the posts! Mr. Wen, what should we do with these two men?"

Wen Shizhou pondered for a moment and said, "Keep them locked up for now and find out what's going on outside the mountains. They might have information we need. As for the future... we'll see how they behave and whether we can tolerate them here. The most urgent thing is to guard the village and prevent them from having accomplices or the gunfire from causing other trouble."

Chen Yuan crouched down and looked at the fleeing soldiers he had aimed at; he had actually hit them.

The man had a small hole in his shirt, but blood was flowing all over the ground.

This location should be the lungs; there's also blood at the corner of his mouth, which must be from breathing.

He felt uneasy and decided not to go see it.

He picked up a bright yellow 7.92mm bullet from the ground and weighed it in his hand.

A cold, metallic touch came through.

This is no longer a toy gun, but a real weapon that has seen blood and can take lives.

He turned to look at the two tightly bound, ashen-faced defeated soldiers, then at the bullet in his hand. He knew in his heart that the direct confrontation between Gouzi Village and this chaotic world of blood and fire had officially begun today.

Peaceful times are gone forever.

His "flint" and the plans for the future in his heart must be accelerated, accelerated even more.