Chapter 3: Summoned by the Military Intelligence Bureau

This limitless portable space is truly a marvelous thing. Anything Li Haibo touches with his hand can be stored inside it with just a thought. Over the past few days, during breaks in the fighting, Li Haibo took advantage of cleaning up the battlefield to toss plenty of valuable items into the space.

He gathered Japanese Type 38 rifles, Type 11 light machine guns, Type 14 pistols, binoculars, officer's sabers, bullets, grenades, military rations, canned food, steel helmets, leather boots, and various weapons used by his own forces such as the Chinese Nationalist standard rifles, Czech-made guns, submachine guns, and box cannons—nothing was left behind.

As a pseudo-military enthusiast from the future, he was delighted by his finds, even casually slipping four Japanese corpses into the space. However, his “Super Hearing” skill was somewhat of a mixed blessing. Though he could hear clearly and over long distances, it was rather useless. After all, he couldn’t spend every day eavesdropping on others’ secrets for profit!

At this moment, Li Haibo was staring enviously from afar at a Type 92 infantry cannon, drooling. “Damn it, the war’s over and they’re still guarding this thing so tightly—what are they afraid of, someone stealing it?”

Just then, a messenger from the battalion rushed over, shouting, “Who is Li Haibo? Report to the battalion headquarters immediately!”

Li Haibo’s heart skipped a beat. “Could it be someone reported me for scavenging on the battlefield? I’ve been so discreet about it! But whatever, even if they do search me, they won’t find anything.”

He followed the messenger to the battalion headquarters with a casual air.

Upon arrival, the messenger gestured for him to wait. Shortly after, two more soldiers arrived. Li Haibo didn’t recognize any of them; he had been at this battalion only a few days before being sent to the Wanjialing battlefield and had made few acquaintances.

Quick-witted as always, he offered cigarettes and struck up a conversation, learning that they were all from Shanghai.

After a short while, a truck arrived slowly. Li Haibo noticed that the accompanying officer was the intelligence staff officer from the regimental headquarters, which surprised him.

The staff officer invited them aboard, and the truck drove them to a mountain road where a dozen soldiers stood waiting. Li Haibo carefully observed them; they seemed to be battle-hardened veterans with excellent marksmanship.

The intelligence officer ordered everyone off the truck and handed a file folder to a slightly overweight, bald man standing in the center. The bald man nodded, and two men in Zhongshan suits quickly handed out parcels to each person.

With a smiling face, the bald man gently tapped the file folder and announced loudly, “I am Section Chief Liu from the Military Intelligence Bureau. From now on, you are officially discharged from the army and recruited into Military Intelligence. Inside the parcel is a set of civilian clothes and fifty silver dollars. Change into the civilian clothes immediately, then disperse and find your own way back to Shanghai by boat. Once you return to Shanghai, claim publicly that you deserted, then find your own livelihood. Regardless of whether you know each other, do not maintain contact. I have all your information—names, family members, addresses—I know it all. Once you’re back in Shanghai, someone will contact you.”

Li Haibo’s heart sank. Military Intelligence was once again recruiting cannon fodder.

The Military Intelligence Bureau, formerly the Lixing Society, was reorganized in August 1938 in the Republic of China and specialized in intelligence. Its members were mostly elite graduates from military and police academies, competent in their craft but lacking in combat effectiveness.

Hence, its operational teams were composed mainly of marksmen conscripted from the military—essentially cannon fodder with a high mortality rate.

Especially the Shanghai unit: the newly appointed boss in the mountainous city was very concerned with his reputation and harbored a deep hatred for traitors and collaborators. He assigned numerous assassination missions targeting them and demanded Military Intelligence carry out these tasks openly and aggressively.

In an effort to increase influence and create a spectacle to intimidate wavering elements, the Shanghai station primarily used public assassinations.

As a result, the outcome was grim: operatives rarely returned alive from missions.

When planning assassinations, the Shanghai unit didn’t even arrange escape routes; once gunfire erupted, survival was left to fate, and if the operatives died, they were simply replaced from the army.

Feigning calm, Li Haibo quietly changed into civilian clothes with the rest. Taking advantage of their distraction, he swiftly slipped his 98K rifle, marked with tally marks, into the portable space—and also tucked away a comrade’s 98K as well, out of habit.

Once dressed, he silently counted the silver dollars in his pocket. “Only thirty? Damn corrupt officials deserve no mercy!”

Li Haibo chose to return to Shanghai on foot instead of by boat.

The journey was not without gain; he developed a deeper understanding of his two awakened skills.

For example, the portable space, which he had already mastered fairly well, allowed him to store any independent object within reach with a single thought; however, it could not hold living things—if he wished to store a living being, he had to kill it first.

Also, time did not pass inside the space. A steamed bun he had stored days ago was still warm when retrieved.

Unfortunately, there was little to scavenge along the way—just some firewood and stones.

At one point, he poured over ten thousand cubic meters of water from a small river into the space, causing the river to dry up temporarily. Collecting such a volume at once made him feel suffocated, and he barely stopped in time to avoid collapsing.

It seemed the portable space had its limits—no more than ten thousand tons per day.

His other skill, the so-called super hearing, was powerful but mostly useless.

Once activated, it covered a radius of one hundred meters, allowing him to hear every sound within range: from conversations to heartbeats to earthworms burrowing underground. Focusing his willpower could extend this to two hundred meters.

Impressive, but what practical use was it? Truly a useless skill.

Fortunately, he could toggle it on and off at will; otherwise, constant noise would drive him mad.

Actually, Li Haibo felt little resistance about leaving the army and returning to Shanghai.

After long months of warfare, both his body and spirit were exhausted; a chance to rest at home was welcome, a way to fulfill filial duty to the original owner’s aging mother.

He had not lost his determination to resist the Japanese. Knowing history well, he understood the war of resistance would ultimately succeed but was unwilling to remain in the Nationalist army.

If he were to continue the fight, he believed joining the Eighth Route Army or the New Fourth Army was a better choice.

This was not to deny the Nationalist army’s contributions.

During the war of resistance, the Nationalist forces had indeed played an indispensable role on the front lines and produced many renowned generals.

However, Li Haibo, born a Red Party member, simply could not tolerate the atmosphere within the Nationalist ranks.

[Images of Japanese Type 11 and Type 14 weapons, colloquially known as “crooked handle” and “turtle shell box” respectively, sourced externally.]