Zhou Weihua, a military researcher, unexpectedly transmigrated to the Pingxingguan battlefield in 1937 and became the commander of the Eighth Route Army’s Independent Regiment.
From the start, he was facing a hopeless situation: two Japanese companies were bearing down on them, two reconnaissance planes circled overhead, the regiment was nearly out of ammunition, and more than half its men were dead or wounded.
Everyone said they should retreat.
He picked up a Type 38 rifle, aimed at the planes above, and pulled the trigger.
“Bang!”
One enemy plane trailed black smoke as it plunged into the valley. The entire battlefield fell silent.
Itagaki Seishiro slammed the table and roared, “Find out who this Zhou Weihua is!”
Chu Longfei of the 358th Regiment came to meet him, having heard of his reputation. “You’re a friend I’m determined to make.”
Zhou Weihua merely wiped down his rifle barrel and looked toward the area on the map where Japanese troops were gathering in force. A cold smile tugged at his lips.
“This is just the beginning. Itagaki, I’ve already claimed your head.”
