Volume One, Chapter Seven: The Blade Drawn—The "Lin-Style" Submachine Gun Runs Blood Through the Valley!
The fragment of the "Metallurgy Handbook" stripped from a dead Japanese soldier was nearly worn to shreds by Lin Mo.
He locked himself in the research institute like a trapped beast, repeatedly comparing the analytical data of the grenade launcher fragments with the theories in the handbook.
The temperature of the earthen blast furnace would not rise, the air supply was unstable, the coke quality was poor—each problem loomed like a massive mountain, leaving him gasping for breath.
Late one night, the flame of the oil lamp sputtered, and Lin Mo’s eyes suddenly brightened.
A chapter in the handbook concerning "stratified proportioning and forced air blowing" flashed through his mind like lightning, cutting through the fog of his confusion.
"That's it!" He slapped his forehead hard.
He thought of the dilapidated diesel blower that the Independent Regiment’s logistics department had captured but had been left aside as scrap metal!
The next day, everyone at the research institute thought their Director Lin had gone mad.
He led Wang Gensheng and a few others to dismantle the hundred-pound blower completely, then hammered away to reassemble it.
He designed a crude set of pipes to connect to the base of the blast furnace and stubbornly insisted that the soldiers stack the coke and iron ore layer by layer with the precision of making a mille-feuille pastry.
Just as the research institute was buzzing with activity, Chu Yunfei’s "generous gift" arrived.
Staff Officer Sun Ming of the 358th Regiment, bearing medicine and cloth, stood at the entrance of the regimental headquarters with a beaming smile, specifically requesting to host Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang for a banquet, while also "earnestly requesting" that the Independent Regiment’s elusive "Advisor Lin" grace them with his presence.
"Damn it, a Hongmen Banquet!" Li Yunlong slammed the invitation onto the table and sneered. "When a weasel pays a New Year's call to a hen, it’s never with good intentions! This Chu wants to poach my men and see exactly which deity is helping me from behind the scenes!"
Zhao Gang adjusted his glasses, his expression calm. "Since they’ve set the banquet, if we don’t go, it will only make us look guilty. We must go, of course. As for Comrade Lin Mo..."
"Brother Lin is sick!" Li Yunlong’s eyes rolled, and he slapped his thigh. "Just say he’s not accustomed to the local water and soil, suffering from vomiting and diarrhea, and is stuck in bed unable to get up!"
The banquet was held in a town at the border of the two sides' defensive zones; Chu Yunfei’s men had booked the entire restaurant.
Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang brought a guard platoon to the banquet.
During the meal, Staff Officer Sun Ming toasted them repeatedly, his words flawless as he ceaselessly flattered Li Yunlong for his divine prowess in warfare.
After three rounds of drinks, a "reporter" carrying a camera approached them with a face full of smiles. "Regimental Commander Li, Political Commissar Zhao, you are both famous anti-Japanese generals. Could you pose for a photo for the *Jin-Sui Daily* to showcase your heroic bearing?"
The camera lens, however, kept inadvertently glancing toward the door, clearly waiting for the "ailing" Advisor Lin.
"Taking photos? That’s a good thing!" Li Yunlong acted as if he were drunk, his tongue thick, as he threw an arm around Zhao Gang’s shoulder and grinned broadly at the lens.
He stood up unsteadily, holding his wine bowl, and insisted on drinking with the "reporter."
"Come! Little brother, drink this bowl! If you don't, you're looking down on old Li!"
The "reporter" dared not drink and waved his hands repeatedly.
Li Yunlong "stumbled," and the wine bowl in his hand "inadvertently" splashed a full bowl of sweet potato liquor all over the expensive German-made camera.
"Oh!" Li Yunlong slapped his thigh, his face full of "regret." "Look at me... I’ve had too much, too much! Brother, this iron gadget of yours... it isn't broken, is it?"
The "reporter’s" face turned green as he clutched the dripping camera, wanting to cry but unable to shed a tear.
Staff Officer Sun Ming’s mouth twitched, cursing the "mud-legged peasant" under his breath, but he could only force a smile to smooth things over.
A carefully planned espionage attempt was ruined just like that by a bowl of wine from Li Yunlong.
While Li Yunlong was causing a scene at the restaurant, another thrilling event was unfolding at the research institute in the mountains behind the Independent Regiment.
The modified earthen blast furnace, under the forced air supply of the diesel blower, let out an unprecedented roar.
The flames inside the furnace changed from orange-red to a blinding, brilliant white, and the temperature reached a new height.
"Open the furnace!"
At Lin Mo’s command, a stream of molten steel, far clearer and more viscous than ever before, gushed out like golden lava, illuminating the tense and expectant faces of everyone present.
After repeated forging and quenching, the first batch of "special steel" samples, which barely met the standards for manufacturing gun barrels, was finally born!
Lin Mo touched the steel billet, which still retained its residual heat. His eyes were bloodshot from days of sleeplessness, but they were also filled with irrepressible ecstasy.
With steel, there is bone!
He immediately gathered everyone and spread out a blueprint he had drawn countless times.
"Brothers, let’s get to work! We’re going to build our own 'rapid-fire guns'!"
Utilizing the newly refined steel and combining the inspiration gained from dismantling and studying the Type 11 light machine guns and the MP18 submachine guns, Lin Mo simplified the design to the maximum extent.
The gun body was stamped from steel plates, the barrels were drilled and rifled with the new steel, and precision parts like the recoil springs were repeatedly tested through local tempering and quenching processes.
The entire research institute became a sleepless volcano.
Meanwhile, an invisible net was quietly tightening.
Japanese intelligence, through an internal mole, learned that the Independent Regiment would transport a batch of "important supplies" out of the mountains through a mountain path two nights later.
Hirata Ichiro judged that these supplies were highly likely to be the blueprints or finished products of that "secret weapon"!
He decided to take the risk and set an ambush to seize them!
This intelligence naturally landed on Zhao Gang’s desk as well.
"How dare they! Trying to pull a stunt on our turf!" After hearing the news, Li Yunlong wasn't nervous; instead, he excitedly slapped the table.
"Old Zhao, didn't Brother Lin just finish making a few of those 'rapid-fire guns'? Perfect! Let’s play along and give these bastard spies a big surprise!"
A "bait" plan was quickly formed.
The Independent Regiment deliberately spread the word that "the secret weapon blueprints developed by Advisor Lin would be escorted to the brigade headquarters by the guard platoon," and arranged a transport operation that appeared to be under "high alert."
At dusk before the departure, on the firing range.
Li Yunlong could no longer hold back and snatched the newly assembled "Lin-Type 1" (a simplified Type 56) submachine gun, still smelling of machine oil, from Lin Mo’s hands.
The gun looked somewhat rough, but its structure was compact, exuding a simple, practical ferocity.
Li Yunlong mimicked Lin Mo’s actions, pulled the bolt, rested the stock against his shoulder, and aimed at the target a hundred meters away, pulling the trigger hard!
"Da-da-da-da-da—!"
A rapid and violent roar erupted instantly!
The muzzle spat out a long tongue of fire, and shell casings jumped out with a "clinking" sound like rain.
The dull, rhythmic gunfire echoed through the valley like a beast awakened.
The wooden target in the distance was instantly riddled with holes, wood chips flying everywhere in the dense hail of bullets!
Li Yunlong froze, stunned for a full three seconds, before erupting into earth-shaking laughter. "Good lad! Good lad! Hahaha! This thing... it’s more satisfying than the damn Type 11s and submachine guns put together! It’s powerful! It’s damn powerful!"
Night, dark as pitch.
On the mountain path, the reinforced platoon led by Duan Peng walked unhurriedly, guarding several heavy wooden crates.
The seven or eight soldiers all wore a faint, subtle smile, each tightly clutching a brand-new "Lin-Type 1" submachine gun.
When they entered a narrow mountain valley, the eyes of a dozen Japanese spies and traitors hidden in the woods on both sides glowed with the ferocity of hungry wolves.
"Attack!" At the low command, several grenades whistled toward the transport team, and dense bullets sprayed from the darkness.
However, the scene of chaos they anticipated did not occur.
The moment the grenades hit the ground, Duan Peng let out a roar: "Get down! Fire!"
The soldiers, who had been prepared, scattered instantly. Almost at the same time, the new submachine guns in their arms let out a roar of revenge!
"Da-da-da-da-da—!"
Seven or eight chains of fire instantly tore through the darkness, completely enveloping the Japanese ambush positions!
The spies were stunned!
They could never have dreamed that in a unit of the Eighth Route Army, such fierce and dense automatic firepower could appear! Wasn't this equipment only available to German-trained divisions?!
In a close-quarters encounter, bolt-action rifles were nothing more than firewood against submachine guns!
A Japanese spy who had just thrown a grenade didn't even have time to pull his bolt before his chest was turned into a sieve by a burst of 7.62mm pistol rounds, falling without a sound.
The entire battle became a one-sided slaughter.
The "iron lumps" in the hands of Duan Peng and his men spat fire to their hearts' content, sweeping the panicked enemies to the ground one by one.
Just as the gunfire in the valley was at its most intense, a traitor spy responsible for peripheral support was terrified out of his wits.
He dared not get close, but from a distance, he tremblingly pressed the shutter of a miniature camera hidden on his person, aiming toward the fire-lit valley.
The photo was blurry, only vaguely showing a few figures holding strange short guns, flickering in the firelight.
Looking at this blurry photo, Hirata Ichiro was not discouraged; instead, he trembled with excitement!
He had finally confirmed it! The Independent Regiment possessed the ability to manufacture its own automatic weapons!
That "Mr. Lin" was in the Independent Regiment!
"Lord Yamamoto! Target confirmed! Requesting tactical guidance! Requesting support from special forces!" Hirata Ichiro shouted as he sent the telegram to Yamamoto Ichiki.
He intended to launch a devastating raid on Li Yunlong’s Independent Regiment, with the objective of capturing Mr. Lin alive and destroying Li Yunlong’s secret base!
...
Under the lights of the Independent Regiment’s research institute, the soldiers cheered for their victory.
Lin Mo, however, did not relax in the slightest. He was carefully wiping down the meritorious "Lin-Type 1," mentally reviewing every detail of the battle.
"The range is still too short, the accuracy isn't enough, and ammunition consumption is too fast..."
He put down the submachine gun and spread a new blueprint on the table.
In the dim, yellow light, a prototype of a brand-new weapon appeared on the paper—it centered around a thicker and longer barrel and possessed a unique drum magazine feeding structure. It was clearly... a light machine gun!
"The submachine gun was just an appetizer," the corner of Lin Mo’s mouth curled, his eyes flashing with a cold and sharp light. "The real harvest machine of the battlefield is about to appear..."