Rise From Eight Hundred

Tang Dao, who jumped off his horse, not only dodged his blade, but also incredibly rolled up his huge body into a ball.

At the moment when he was about to be kicked by Fujihara's horse, he was like a big leather ball that was kicked hard and got into the horse's belly.

Then, Fujihara, who hadn't reacted completely, flew out.

Amid the shrill horse neigh, the big blue horse under Fujihara's horse shrunk, as if it had hit a wall, and fell to the ground sideways.

Fujihara didn't have the opportunity to install a 360-degree camera on his beloved horse, so he couldn't see what happened to his beloved horse, but the Chinese cavalrymen closest to Tang Dao saw it very clearly.

After rolling up his huge body into a ball to reduce the force surface and getting into the horse's belly, the human leather ball not only avoided the horse's trampling, but also used one hand to swing the cavalry rifle in his hand and swept across.

Good guy!

I guess the big eyes of several Chinese Mongolian horses couldn't help but shrink at that moment!

No matter how strong the horse's legs are, if they are hit like this at high speed, they will definitely break on the spot!

The Japanese horse with a broken leg staggered on the spot and fell forward fiercely.

The Japanese officer on the horse's back reacted quickly. At the moment the horse fell, his feet left the stirrups and flew off the horse's back by inertia. Otherwise, he would be crushed to death by the behemoth weighing nearly a thousand pounds. No matter how good his skills were, he would be crushed to death.

Being crushed to death by a horse weighing more than a thousand pounds is definitely not a good experience.

Fujihara was thrown seven or eight meters away by the out-of-control warhorse. It was just a warrior's instinct. It didn't mean that he could do a flat sand falling wild goose like the ancient Chinese masters. He turned several times in the air and landed steadily, and then took a few wrong steps to dissolve the forward force, and then turned around and looked at the opponent coldly with a knife.

The real scene is that the second generation of the rich man, who was praised by the sword master as having the potential to become the top sword master in Japan, fell hard, and with a sound of "bang!", he fell to the ground, splashing dust all over the floor, and rolled over for countless times.

If he hadn't wisely dropped the shining saber in his hand, he might have been killed by his own sword.

But it must be said that the guy who was valued by the elders and sent to the army for training is still quite capable. If it were an ordinary person, he would have been half-crippled or died from a fall like this.

But although this guy was also in a very embarrassed state, covered with dust, and his white face was also covered with blood and flesh, looking like an unlucky child who had just been beaten by a gangster, he still stood up very agilely.

Unarmed, he looked fiercely at the Chinese cavalrymen who surrounded him.

Of course, the focus of his eyes was still in front of him.

The guy who broke the leg of the green horse under him with a shot also stood up from the ground, letting his own cavalry whiz by him, and looked coldly at the Japanese officer who was getting up from the ground.

At this time, the battlefield was nearing its end.

The six Japanese cavalrymen who followed the Japanese officer into the formation did not kill through the cavalry formation like in the last round.

First, their speed could not be increased to the highest speed in a space of more than 100 meters; second, there were only six of them, while the Chinese cavalry was as high as 100.

When a Japanese cavalryman swung a knife, at least two or three knife lights would slash at him.

For the proud Japanese cavalry, they still didn't want to die in their subconscious.

However, on the battlefield, those who died often didn't want to die.

Whether he dodged or blocked, he dodged and blocked the first knife, the second knife, and the third knife. Could he dodge the fourth knife, the fifth knife, and the sixth knife that followed?

The ending was obvious.

The proud Japanese cavalry were chopped off the horse one after another.

Even the young cavalryman who had just been extremely upset that he had implicated the squad leader had made military achievements in this round of fighting. The Japanese soldier who had continuously blocked the blades of five Chinese cavalrymen who passed by him was slashed in the belly by his high-speed blade.

The sharp blade directly cut through the military uniform, cut through the thick subcutaneous fat and cut off the cartilage. A bunch of steaming organs rushed out of the huge wound. The Japanese cavalryman howled in pain and dropped the saber, plugged the wound with his hands and tried to stuff the organs that were steaming and bleeding back.

A strange smell spread in the air.

It was not the smell of blood.

Perhaps, people who have been to the slaughterhouse can recall that smell.

That might be a scene that would give normal people nightmares.

Soon, another Chinese cavalryman who rushed over ended this horrible scene.

A knife was swung away.

The howling Japanese soldiers were quiet.

The seemingly hard cervical vertebrae were as fragile as straw in front of the saber, and were cut off with one knife.

The head rolled on the ground like a kicked ball, until it was unfortunately stepped on by a horse hoof.

Until then, blood suddenly spurted out from the neck cavity without a head, two or three meters high.

The blood mist drifted in the southeast autumn wind.

From a distance, it looked like a blooming flower.

The cruel and gorgeous flower of life.

However, no one appreciated it. The cavalrymen who rushed past pulled the reins to slow down, turned their horses around and prepared to fight again.

Dozens of meters away, two people who were a little dusty after landing were looking at each other.

Then, Tang Dao and his lance strode towards the Japanese officer.

"My name is Fujiwarahara Ichi, and I am a direct descendant of the Fujiwara family in Kyoto. If you can let me go today, my Fujiwara family will definitely reward you." Fujiwarahara Ichi, who found his sword that fell on the ground, looked at the Tang Dao approaching him, and then looked at the more than a hundred Chinese cavalrymen who were slowing down in front of him. There was no arrogance on his face, but he introduced himself in Chinese, which was not very fluent.

"The Fujiwara family in Kyoto, Japan? A great noble! I didn't expect that there would be a big fish among these small shrimps." Tang Dao, who strode over, was surprised.

"Yes, my Fujiwara family is an indispensable force in the imperial political arena, and it has been passed down for a thousand years." Fujiwarahara Ichi was excited when he heard Tang Dao say this, and he worked hard to promote his background.

What he was most worried about finally didn't happen. If he met someone who didn't know the goods, I'm afraid it would be useless for him to say that he was the son of His Majesty the Emperor.

Fortunately, the Chinese man in front of him was not.

"I don't need your introduction. I certainly know what kind of influence your Fujiwara family has in Japan. Including this invasion of China, your family has also played a role in fueling the flames." Tang Dao stood five meters away from Fujiwara Haraichi and said coldly.

"That is a matter at the national level. We are just the masters. If you can let me go back or exchange prisoners, I promise you on behalf of our division commander Shigeharu Suematsu to release one hundred, no, five hundred Chinese prisoners." Fujiwara Haraichi heard the strong murderous aura in Tang Dao's understatement and hurriedly took out his own chips.

"Exchange prisoners?" Tang Dao's eyes were grim.

He took a deep breath, held the gun with both hands, and approached Fujiwara Haraichi directly.

"Why?" Fujiwara Haraichi asked in surprise, holding the sword with both hands.

However, Tang Dao did not give him a chance.

Although the cavalry rifle is shorter than the long gun used by the infantry, it is much longer than the saber.

Fujiwara Haraichi's sword is fast, but Tang Dao's gun is more fierce.

The so-called Japanese sword technique, Ichidori, only made one strike in front of a fierce man like Tang Dao, who was the culmination of national martial arts. The sword was blocked by the murderous Tang Dao with the gun body, and then the bayonet stabbed and pierced the heart.

A fierce move killed the enemy.

The Chinese cavalrymen who rode over were numbed.

In the previous cavalry battle, this Japanese officer had sharp sword skills and had killed at least four opponents who fought with him.

But unexpectedly, in front of Deputy Director Tang, who had amazing gun skills, he didn't even make a single move.

"Why?" Fujihara Ichi's sword fell lightly, and rose-colored blood foam came out of his mouth. He stared at Tang Dao blankly, wanting to know the answer.

The chips he gave were obviously very tempting! Isn't it enough to exchange one for five hundred?

Fujimotohara Ichi, of course, didn't know that if he put forward other conditions, Tang Dao might consider it. After all, he might be able to exchange this Japanese noble for something good. At worst, he could tie him to the top of the city wall and use him as a human sandbag during the war.

But when he mentioned prisoners of war, it aroused Tang Dao's anger.

In the early days of the war, did the Japanese keep prisoners of war?

Did the 10th Army, the culprit of the Nanjing Massacre, spare the Chinese who begged them to live?

No.

"Do you want to know the answer?" Tang Dao said coldly, looking at the Japanese officer whose life was already in the countdown.

"Unfortunately, I have no obligation to answer questions for the beast."

Fujimotohara Ichi, dead!

In this battle, all 98 members of the 1st Cavalry Squadron of the 28th Cavalry Regiment of the 114th Division, from Major Fujimotohara Ichi and below, died in battle.

On the Chinese side, 19 people were killed, 13 were seriously injured, and no one was slightly injured...

PS: On the last day of the month, I reiterate that the monthly tickets are only 100 short of 2,000. Brothers, clear out the inventory quickly! There are also subscriptions. Book friends who read pirated books for free, if you don't subscribe, the author's performance is not good, the editor does not recommend, and the author is depressed, how can good works be produced? This is how a vicious cycle is formed! Calling for subscriptions, only five or six yuan a month, are you reluctant to support a single and miserable old father raising a child? Ahem, I accidentally sold a pitiful picture, forgive me! In fact, Fengyue still has money to eat steamed buns, and occasionally dips in soy sauce and pickles.