After killing the Japanese soldier, Liu Lang quickly observed the surrounding situation, and did not pull out the big knife that was still inserted in the devil's body, but took off the katana captured from the Japanese lieutenant hanging on his waist.

Frankly speaking, although the katana is very sharp and tenacious enough, it is not Liu Lang's favorite knife.

However, the current Liu Lang is not the king of individual soldiers in the past, the sense of battle is still there, the muscle strength of this body is not much worse, and the katana that weighs only more than two catties is more suitable for the current Liu Lang.

I don't know how long the battle will last, it's no problem to cut one, two or even three with an eight-pound ring head knife, and if there are a few more, Liu Lang may not be able to do it.

It is carrying the slender command knife of the Japanese army, which is completely different from the ring head knife, dangling on the battlefield, and the light under the moonlight is of course far worse than during the day, and it is easy to be misjudged.

In less than two minutes, two soldiers of the 29th Army had already subconsciously wanted to attack him after seeing the command knife in his hand.

If it weren't for Liu Lang's quick response, revealing his identity loudly in advance, and that authentic northern dialect, I'm afraid it would not be easy to be believed.

Of course, there are two sides to everything, and there are disadvantages and advantages.

In a gloomy environment, Chinese soldiers can distinguish friend from foe by their accents and uniforms, but the Japanese have a hard time. Because Lang Fat is not a good bird, in his words, he has never been a decent man, as long as he can kill the enemy, he can do anything.

At this time, the illiteracy rate in China was extremely high due to economic and other reasons, and Japan was actually not much better, and those who joined the army were either peasants or fishermen or mountain people, and their Japanese dialect had local accents, not to mention Chinese, and some officers could speak a few words in the vernacular, but they still had a thick Japanese accent.

And the Japanese officers who can speak fluent northern Chinese dialect, I am afraid that Okamura Ninji and his ilk, who are known as China experts, can do it, and I know from the back seat that they will never come to this battlefield.

The Japanese army could not speak Chinese, and the Chinese soldiers naturally did not speak Japanese.

But there is one perhaps exception, the Chinese special forces from 90 years later, who have undergone strict and special language training, and their proficiency in Kyoto-accented Japanese and California cowboy English amazed linguistics professors.

Seeing the yellow, no matter whether it succeeds or not, the first meal is "multi-period Lhasama!" "Yikai!" Throw it over.

At a glance, although this body type and military uniform do not quite match the appearance of his colleagues, he has a command knife that can only be possessed by a lieutenant officer or above, and a pure Kyoto accent Japanese, and everyone has to be stunned.

No matter how unbelievable you are, at least you can't point it with a bright bayonet, but poke your head out and take a look first!

And Liu Lang needs such hesitation, even if it's 0.5 seconds? The time was short, but it was enough for the sharp and light katana to slash out in the moonlight with an incomparably desperate light.

Perhaps in Liu Lang's view, this kind of Japanese knife is just like Cheng Biting Jin relying on the sharpness of the first three knives, once it meets a real master, the ring-headed machete with a thicker back is definitely its nemesis.

But Liu Lang still has to admit that in this kind of battlefield where one or two moves can see life and death, it is an extremely suitable war knife.

The thin blade of the knife is very sharp, chopping a person's neck is like killing a chicken, and there is no need to cut off the skull so hard.

Ming Yu, who was more than ten meters behind Liu Lang, watched Liu Lang shout anxiously in Japanese while gasping for breath with an exaggerated mouth, and at the same time waving the katana more "anxiously" and slashing it down.

The five Japanese soldiers in a row even fell to the ground with their bloody necks spurted, and their eyes were still full of anger and unwillingness.

Anger naturally comes from the opponent's "no lower limit" deception, unwilling, I'm afraid still, why can that knife be so fast?

In fact, this night attack battle has long been a pot of porridge, distributed in several high-altitude battlefields with a radius of two square kilometers, and there are blue and yellow figures everywhere who catch the right pair and fight in infantry squads.

The soldiers can't find the general, the soldiers can't be found, everyone stares at the blood-red eyes only the enemy opposite them, and there is only one idea, kill the opponent, and they can live.

This is also the main reason why Liu Lang was able to kill ten Japanese soldiers in a row on the battlefield.

After being accustomed to seeing Liu Lang use deception, almost artistic violence, and sneak attacks hiding in the shadows to kill the lone Japanese soldiers, Mingyu, who had been following Liu Lang, seemed to have become numb.

She no longer had any emotions like amazement and fear.

Not only is she more skillful in following, Liu Lang only needs to make a gesture for her to know what to do, she even picked up the camera in her hand and quietly recorded everything on the battlefield in front of her.

In her shot, there are Chinese soldiers who are pierced through the chest by the 38 rifle but still hold on to the barrel of the gun and do not let go.

The young soldier, lying like that on the cold land of northern China, his already pale face quietly hung frost flowers, and the long bayonet of the Type 38 rifle still poked at his once thick chest, like a flag, and he himself was the pedestal.

That is the banner of life, and that is also the banner of indomitability!

The young Chinese soldier was lying quietly under the flag, his eyes wide with anger, and his hands clenched the "flagpole"!

Around him, there was a Japanese soldier in an earthy yellow military uniform, the Japanese soldier no longer had a gun in his hand, his neck was strangely twisted to one side, and the huge wound that was pale like dead pork was no longer bleeding.

Obviously, people who see this scene have a scene in their minds.

The bayonet of the brave Japanese soldier stabbed the young Chinese soldier in the chest, and if nothing else, he quickly drew his bayonet and did the same at another Chinese soldier.

But he miscalculated, and the Chinese soldiers, who were almost killed by a single blow, used their chests as shields and their hands as locks, depriving the Japanese of their sharpest weapons.

As a result, the tragic Japanese soldier died, and was almost cut off his entire neck by a ring-headed machete.

It's just that the Chinese soldier also died, and he exchanged his life for the life of his opponent and saved the lives of his comrades.

No one knows what happened to his comrades.

Because, when Ming Yu held back tears and moved the camera to the other side, only ten meters away from there, there was another body in a dark blue military uniform lying on the ground.

He had two gunshot wounds to his chest, which were his fatal wounds.

It's just that judging from the long blood marks on the ground, he wanted to crawl over at the last moment of his life.

Perhaps, he wanted to die with his comrades?

That way, the younger soldier who died in the previous battle will not be alone?

The ring-headed knife with red tassels still wrapped in it was in his hand, and it was stained with blood, proving that his master had let it taste the blood of his enemies before he died.

It's just that it can only lie quietly in the cold winter on the northern land of the motherland.

Frost!

Mingyu bit her lip and tried hard not to cry.

The young Chinese soldier may not be more than eighteen or nineteen years old, and the green hairs on his lips have just grown, but they have no chance to turn black and hard.

The soldier who fell not far from him must have been almost thirty years old, and his face was rough, because the dried blood was similar to the color of the black earth he was clinging to.

But looking at the eyes that have been completely solidified, there is pain, longing, and relief, but there is no fear.

Whose sons are they, and whose husbands are they?