Chapter 7: The Strange Crossing of the Xiang River

Moonlight draped the walls of Daoxian like a veil of silver.

“Report, company commander, the troops are assembled,” Huang Musheng’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Wang Lin folded the map and stepped out of the temporary command post. Beneath the moonlight, over two hundred soldiers stood in neat formation. Though their clothes were tattered, their eyes shone with unwavering resolve. On his 3D map, each red dot bore a faint golden edge—an indication of the system’s “Loyalty Identification” feature, marking them as steadfast soldiers whose morale was three times that of ordinary troops.

“Comrades,” Wang Lin stood atop a stone, his voice low but clear, “starting tonight, we will march secretly to the Xiang River over the course of three nights. We hide by day and move by night. The reconnaissance platoon has already set out ahead to scout our path.”

He scanned every face before him. “I know you are all weary, but we must catch up with the Central Red Army. The Guangxi Army, Hunan Army, and local militias are hunting us, so this march must be absolutely silent—no fires, no loud talking. Any questions?”

“None!” the soldiers whispered in response.

“Good. First company will lead, reconnaissance platoon is already ahead, logistics and cooking squads in the middle, grenade platoon at the rear. Move out!”

The troops slipped into the forest like a silent black dragon. Wang Lin walked mid-column, occasionally checking the 3D map to adjust their route.

Militia outposts dotted the mountain paths like chess pieces, but they circled around by the “safe path” marked on the map. The tripled morale made the soldiers’ steps light and quiet, even the pack horses’ hoofbeats muffled.

Before dawn on the third day after leaving Daoxian, the reconnaissance platoon’s signal echoed along the trail. Wang Lin looked up and saw Zhang Hongtu emerge from the bushes, his uniform still damp with night dew.

“Company commander!” Zhang panted. “Five kilometers downstream from the Jieshou ferry crossing lies a sandbar. The water is shallow—0.4 to 0.8 meters deep—crossable by men and horses. But on both banks, a platoon of Guangxi troops is stationed, each side guarded by heavy machine guns and mortars.”

Wang Lin pondered briefly, then quickly issued orders. “Recon platoon will silently take the east bank position with knives. No gunfire means success; if shots ring out, we fight hard. Give all light machine guns to the recon platoon. After securing the east bank, they form the first wave to cross the river. Understood, Zhang Hongtu?”

“Rest assured, commander, the recon platoon will accomplish the mission,” Zhang saluted firmly.

“Good. The sharp edge of our entire battalion—that’s the spirit.”

“The sniper squad follows the recon platoon but won’t rush ashore. Their task is to target enemy fire points once shooting starts. Understood, Shui?”

“Yes, sir!” Zheng Shuisheng, never one to lag behind, replied.

“Next is first company, forming the third wave to cross, with logistics and grenade platoons at the rear.”

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