The expeditionary force began to dominate Southeast Asia by recruiting defeated soldiers

Chapter 697 Unrestricted Fighting Tournament in the Vegetable Market

While the arrest of war criminals began in the city, the operation also started in the suburbs of Fukuoka Prefecture.

Another squad, led by a lieutenant from Southeast Asia, and guided by Korean military police and local farmers willing to cooperate, arrived directly at a slightly dilapidated farmhouse on the edge of the village.

The man who opened the door was in his forties, with scars on his face and a gloomy look in his eyes.

The second lieutenant, through an interpreter, announced directly:

"Koji Sato, formerly a major in the Japanese Army Military Police Company stationed in Medan, Sumatra."

According to files intercepted by the South Pacific intelligence agency and testimonies from survivors of Borneo prisoner-of-war camps, you were responsible for guarding and abusing Allied prisoners of war and local resistance fighters from 42 to 44.

Evidence shows that you directly participated in and led the systematic mistreatment, torture, forced overwork, and ration deduction of prisoners of war and civilians, directly resulting in the deaths of at least five Allied prisoners of war and more than seventeen local civilians due to abuse, injury, and extreme malnutrition. Your actions constitute war crimes, crimes against humanity, and the mistreatment of prisoners of war.

You are accused of war crimes and mistreatment of prisoners of war. You are now under arrest in accordance with the law.

A fierce glint flashed in Sato Koji's eyes, and his hand instinctively reached for his lower back.

Seeing this, the Korean team member who had been keeping a close eye on him was eager to make a contribution. He shouted "Watch out!" and charged forward, brandishing his rubber baton.

However, the Nanyang soldiers behind him acted even faster, instantly drawing Browning pistols from their holsters and firing.

"Pah, pah, pah!"

Within seven steps, the gun is both accurate and fast.

Blood spurted from Sato Koji's shoulder, arm, and right chest. The short knife in his hand fell to the ground, and he screamed in agony.

He collapsed heavily on his own doorstep, the excruciating pain contorting his face, and blood quickly stained his clothes.

Even so, he still stared with bloodshot eyes and roared with all his might: "Beast, kill me, kill me now if you dare!"

He would rather die here than be brought to court, have his crimes exposed to the world, and be hanged like a stray dog.

The officer who fired the shot gave a slight snort and lowered his weapon.

"Hold him down and stop the bleeding. We can't let him die like this. Justice must be served. Those victims in the afterlife must be hoping that he will be brought to justice."

The South Korean team members swarmed him, pinned him to the ground, and handcuffed him.

The surrounding villagers watched from a distance, whispering among themselves, their faces showing fear as well as complex emotions.

-----

However, not all arrests went smoothly.

A few days later, at a rather large open-air market in Fukuoka.

Park Jung-soo, accompanied by five men, walked through the crowded and noisy market, carrying an arrest warrant with a blurry photo issued by the military control command.

Their target today is a thin, elderly man who uses the pseudonym "Old Man Hirata" and sells radishes and pickled vegetables at a market corner.

The old man looked to be at least sixty years old, with a hunched back, large and deformed finger joints, and wore a patched cotton coat. He always gave customers a cautious smile, looking like a poor old man from the lower class.

Park Jung-soo compared the photo to the man's. Although he had aged considerably, the outline was still largely the same. A flash of deep-seated hatred and pleasure crossed his eyes. With a wave of his hand, his men immediately surrounded the stall.

"Hirata? No, perhaps I should call you... Dr. Shiro Ishii's special assistant in his laboratory, the 'technician' of the Third Independent Mixed Brigade's Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Unit, Takahashi Katsumi?"

Park Jung-soo's voice wasn't loud, but it was icy cold.

The old man's body stiffened suddenly, and the radish in his hand fell to the ground.

He looked up, his cloudy eyes instantly filled with extreme terror, his face ashen, his lips trembling: "No...it wasn't me...you've mistaken me for someone else...I'm just a vegetable seller..."

"Admit your mistake?" Park Jung-soo sneered, pulling out another yellowed photocopy of a document from the folder and waving it in front of him.

"This is the evidence we collected. (It was actually sent from Northeast China.)"

Masaru Takahashi, MD, specializes in 'improving the efficiency of live sampling and cryopreservation'.

Do I need to read aloud here in public the details of your work in my home peninsula and Manchuria?

The vendors and customers around gradually gathered around, looking on with surprise and uncertainty.

The old man slumped to the ground, trembling all over, and incoherently denied, "Demons...they were all demons...I was just following orders...I had no choice..."

Just then, a young woman selling grains nearby, seeing the old man's pitiful, trembling appearance, felt her growing disgust and fear of the Korean militia reach its peak, and couldn't help but scream:

"Have you no conscience? He's so old, he can barely walk, what can he do? You people from the peninsula just want to bully us Japanese!"

That shout was like a spark splashing into a pan of oil.

The pent-up emotions in the market were ignited. Several middle-aged stall owners, who had long harbored resentment towards the Koreans, joined in the shouting:

"Yes, they did it on purpose."

"What war criminals? Those are just excuses! We arrest whoever we don't like!"

"We can't let these Peninsula dogs run wild on our turf."

The crowd began to stir, slowly gathering around Park Jung-soo and his group with hostile looks.

Park Jung-soo's men stood back to back, tense, raised their rubber batons, and shouted, "Dentist bastard, are you trying to rebel?"

The pushing and shoving began.

An excited fishmonger tried to snatch the baton from a Korean player, but was immediately struck hard and fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

This further enraged the crowd.

"They beat people up."

"Let's fight these traitors!"

The sounds of cursing, fighting, and women screaming filled the air.

Although Park Jung-soo and his group were fierce, they were outnumbered and quickly surrounded. They swung their sticks wildly, and the scene completely spiraled out of control, turning into an unrestricted fighting tournament.

The old man, Takahashi Masaru, who was slumped on the ground, took advantage of the chaos and tried to squeeze into the gaps between people by using both his hands and feet.

Sudden--

"boom!"

A deafening gunshot drowned out all the noise.

The crowd fell silent for a moment.

At the market entrance, a group of about twelve fully armed Nanyang soldiers, led by a second lieutenant, ran in, their bayonets gleaming. They quickly dispersed into tactical formation, their dark gun barrels pointed at the rioting crowd.

The lieutenant's face was ashen. His gaze swept over the chaotic scene and finally landed on Park Jung-soo, who was being protected by his men and whose forehead was bleeding, as well as the old man crawling on the ground.

"Stop! All of you, stay where you are!" the lieutenant shouted sternly in the Japanese language he had recently learned.

The Japanese soldiers and civilians were intimidated by the gun barrels and bayonets, and retreated hesitantly, their faces still showing anger but now filled with fear.

The lieutenant first had the old man, who was trying to escape, subdued, then walked up to Park Jung-soo and said sternly, "Captain Park, why did the arrest operation turn into a riot? Where is your control of the situation? Couldn't you have been a little more careful with the person who appeared to be elderly?"

Park Jung-soo covered his forehead, feeling both aggrieved and indignant. He stood at attention and argued, "Lieutenant Lin, this man is guilty of heinous crimes! These scoundrels are protecting a war criminal and even attacked our South Koreans..."

"That's enough," the lieutenant interrupted him. "Procedure is procedure. Causing a large-scale conflict is dereliction of duty. Go back and write a detailed report."

Park Jung-soo gritted his teeth and lowered his head: "Yes!"

The lieutenant then turned to the group of terrified Japanese civilians, his gaze cold and stern:

"Whether this person is a war criminal is based on evidence and a military court trial; you cannot make judgments based on appearances alone. If you have any objections to law enforcement actions, you may submit written materials to the Military Control Command Appeals Section in accordance with regulations. You must not gather crowds to provoke or violently resist law enforcement."

He pointed at the young woman who had spoken first, and several of the stall owners who had been the most aggressive earlier: "You, you, and you all, openly incited a riot and attacked law enforcement officers. Take them away, detain them for fifteen days, and sentence them to forced labor as a warning to others."

The Nanyang soldiers immediately stepped forward and took away the ashen-faced men and the limp old man.

The market was deathly silent.

The Japanese soldiers felt a twisted sense of pleasure as they watched the Koreans being reprimanded, but when they saw their own men being taken away without mercy, they felt a chill and a sense of powerlessness.

The people of Southeast Asia seem... not entirely biased towards those lackeys from the peninsula, but they are more powerful, ruthless, and unquestionable.

Park Jung-soo looked at the compatriots who were being taken away and the old man who was being closely guarded, touched the wound on his forehead, and suppressed his anger and confusion.

In the distance, Zhong Neigong, an Osaka merchant who had been watching the commotion in the crowd, quietly shrank back and slipped back to his stall.

He thought to himself that business was getting harder and harder in this place, and he needed to find a way to establish a more stable connection with the people in the Nanyang base.

These fighting and killing things are too dangerous; making money is more important.

He touched the whole carton of cigarettes he had just traded an old tea set for from a soldier from Southeast Asia, and felt a little more at ease.