There are reeds, and blood and mud wrap around the trouser legs. Song Yiyuan's shell gun was pressed against the back of Liu Tiezhu's head, and the safety had been turned off. Forty-seven hours. This brother, who had carried him all the way from the Northeast through the Japanese blockade, lost contact for forty-seven hours. According to the iron law, in another sixty minutes, there will be no trial, the bullet will be the verdict. "Second brother, I have no idea." Liu Tiezhu grinned, with blood foaming between his teeth. "I just stole your watch and wanted to send it back to my hometown to show to my mother." Song Diyuan pressed his finger on the trigger. On the river in the distance, the Japanese gunboat's searchlight swept over the reed tips. There were 300 boxes of detonators and 120 wounded people hidden under the ferry. As long as the gunboat docked, the entire communication line would be exposed. He must make a decision within a stick of incense - kill his brother and save the ferry; or let him go and gamble on the one percent innocence. But he is no ordinary martial arts team member. The instinct of the special forces soldier led him to focus on the gunshot wound on Liu Tiezhu's left shoulder - the ballistic angle was 15 degrees off. That was not the Japanese Type 38, but an official rifle in the Chinese army. Song Yiyuan hung the dying puppet prisoner on a jujube tree and only asked three questions. The name given by the prisoner was on a stretcher three meters away. The real traitor is the health worker Lin Mubai. He exchanged morphine for Liu Tiezhu's life, and then exchanged Liu Tiezhu's life for ferry information. Keiko Sato had already led the gendarmerie into the mountainous area following the road signs left by the puppet troops. Tonight, Song Yiyuan wants the traitors to know that the bullets of the military workers never kill their own people. But the sharp knife platoon, whose members were all killed trying to lure the enemy into a feint attack, will never hear these words again.
