Warlords: Rising from the Northwest Border and Sweeping Across the Powers

Chapter 591: Massacre of Japanese Expatriates and Bloodbath in the Concession

The dense rain of bullets poured down like a torrential rain, and the cars in Yoshida's guard convoy were instantly riddled with holes. The bodies of the cars were covered with dense bullet holes, like a sieve pierced by countless steel needles. Sparks flew everywhere, and the fire and smoke intertwined, creating a chaotic scene.

Inside the car, the originally neat space had now become a mess. The soldiers' bodies were bloody and their clothes were stained with blood, some of which could not even be seen in their original color. Their eyes had lost focus and stared blankly ahead, as if they could no longer accept this sudden death.

The car was filled with a strong smell of blood and gunpowder, which was suffocating. The car's seats, carpets, dashboards, and even windows were all covered with blood and bullet holes. This was no longer a safe haven, but a living hell. The screams of the soldiers and the explosions of the vehicles intertwined to form a tragic symphony, announcing that their lives had come to an end.

Yoshida struggled to climb out of the car. He had been shot several times. His shirt was stained with blood. The bullet holes on his skin kept oozing blood, like red flowers that were cruelly torn apart. His face was as pale as paper, and his eyes were filled with fear and despair.

Yoshida used up all his strength, staggered and collapsed to the ground, his palms scratching the ground, but he couldn't stand up. He struggled to raise his head and looked at the soldiers with guns, his voice was weak and trembling: "Please... let me go... I... I don't want to die..." His voice was full of fear and pleading

Yoshida was no longer as arrogant as before. He lay dying on the cold road, blood gushing out of his wounds like a fountain, constantly soaking his once luxurious clothes. His nose was bleeding, and every breath was filled with the smell of blood. His eyes were filled with fear and despair, and he could no longer maintain the majesty he once had.

Yoshida raised his head with difficulty and looked at Liu Feihu. His voice was weak and trembling: "I... I want to see Su Zhengyang, I... I was wrong, I... I am willing to surrender. Please... please let me go, I... I can negotiate with China, everything... can be discussed." There was pleading in his voice and his eyes were full of desire for life.

However, Liu Feihu looked down at him indifferently, with a mocking smile on his lips: "Ambassador Yoshida, you know how to beg for mercy now? Unfortunately, it's too late. The grudge between China and Fuso can't be solved by your surrender?" He paused, his voice became colder: "Also, I want to tell you a piece of news. Soon, China's cavalry will ride on Tokyo and burn the war to Fuso's homeland. Do you think you are still qualified to see President Su?"

Yoshida had completely lost his life at this moment and was lying in a pool of blood, dying.

Liu Feihu squatted down and gently lifted Yoshida's chin with his sword. Yoshida's eyes were open, as if he was still telling the fear and despair in his life. Liu Feihu didn't hesitate at all. He swung the sword in his hand fiercely. With a "click", Yoshida's head fell off and rolled to the ground, blending into the pool of blood.

He stood up and looked around the battlefield. Soldiers were busy cleaning up the battlefield, clearing away debris and corpses. He spoke coldly, without a trace of emotion in his voice: "Feed the bodies of these Japanese devils to the dogs, don't leave any."

In the Fusang Concession in Beijing and Shanghai, the Chinese garrison troops had already started to move as soon as night fell. These soldiers were fully armed, their steps were firm and powerful, and their faces were full of determination and courage.

The Chinese garrison first surrounded the Fuso consulate, and the huge iron gate collapsed under the bombardment of heavy artillery, and smoke and dust rose up. Then, soldiers poured in like a tide, and the guns and artillery in their hands continued to spray flames, covering every inch of the consulate in smoke and fire.

The Fuso gendarmerie tried to resist, but their firepower seemed so insignificant under the fierce attack of the Chinese garrison. The sound of gunfire, artillery fire, and shouting intertwined to form a tragic symphony. In the light of the fire, the figures of the Fuso soldiers seemed extremely tragic and tragic, and their eyes were full of fear and despair.

The Chinese garrison's offensive was unstoppable, advancing all the way. The buildings in the consulate gradually collapsed under the destruction of artillery fire and turned into ruins. And those once proud Fuso soldiers also fell one by one in this war, and their blood dyed every inch of the ground under their feet red.

"Raze the Fusang Concession to the ground. Leave no Fusang expatriates alive. Burn down their chambers of commerce. Loot their money. Pay them back a thousandfold for the crimes they committed on Chinese soil!"

Under the ruthless orders of these troop commanders, the soldiers began to frantically carry out their tasks like wild beasts that had been released. They searched everywhere for traces of the Fuso expatriates in the Fuso Concession. On the streets, gunshots rang out one after another, and every gunshot was accompanied by the loss of a life.

The Fuso expatriates were terrified and fled in all directions, but their struggles seemed so powerless in the face of this ruthless massacre. Some people tried to hide in their homes, but the soldiers mercilessly smashed open the doors and windows, pulled them out one by one, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

A raging fire also ignited above the Chamber of Commerce, and the flames jumped in the night sky, illuminating the entire concession. Soldiers set fire to the Chamber of Commerce and warehouses, and the flames illuminated their grim faces.

In the concession at night, ruins and scorched earth interweave, and the streets are filled with thick smoke and the smell of blood. A trembling figure shuttles among the ruins. It is a Fusang merchant, his eyes are full of fear and despair. He holds his wife's hand tightly, trying to escape from this hellish place.

However, fate did not seem to favor them. Just as they quietly approached the street corner and prepared to find a hiding place, a group of Chinese soldiers appeared. They were holding rifles and searching the streets and alleys with vigilant eyes. Every slight movement could become their target of attack.

The businessman was shocked when he saw this. He knew he had been discovered. He quickly pulled his wife to her knees and begged for mercy in Japanese: "Please, let us go! We are just ordinary businessmen and have never done anything to hurt you."

However, one soldier in the team stopped. He was a young warrior from the northeast, and hatred flashed in his eyes. He clearly remembered that his family members were killed by the guns of the Fuso army. At that moment, he seemed to see the shadows of his family members and heard their wailing before death.

He slowly walked towards the businessman and responded in stiff Chinese: "None of you Fuso people is innocent! We will never forget the crimes you committed on Chinese territory!" His voice was full of anger and determination.

When the merchant heard this, he couldn't help but tremble even more. He knew he had no way to escape, so he could only continue to beg for mercy: "Please, let my wife go! She is just a woman, she knows nothing."

However, the soldier had no mercy. He raised his rifle and pointed it at the merchant's head. The merchant closed his eyes in despair, waiting for death to come.

"Bang!" A gunshot rang out, and the businessman fell in a pool of blood. His wife screamed in fear and tried to rush over to hug him, but the soldier stabbed her in the chest with the bayonet in his hand, and blood gushed out.

This scene seemed particularly glaring and cruel among the ruins, but it was insignificant compared to what Fuso had done in the past.