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As the darkness falls, one after another bonfire is lit up. The glaring yellow and red light rises into the dark green sky along with the smoke. The wilderness with one after another bush is dizzy at lit by the fire. The figures reflected by the fire bump into each other. The plantain leaves are swaying in the slow and fishy wind, whose exaggerated shade has swallowed one after another light. In the dark sky, the drizzle that hangs like a toxic mist is quite yet actually exists. The soldiers beside the bonfire are all soaked in the rain water, as if their bones are also soaked. The campsite that stretches for eight miles is silent. No one knows where they should go next. Since the No.1 Route has retreated here, the desperate atmosphere seems to be a miasma in the sub-tropical forest that shrouds the hearts of these soldiers. The Iron No.5 Troupe breaks down. They, the best-equipped group in the Myanmar expedition army, is intercepted in the Myanmar's northern mountainous regions by the Japanese army. The situation cannot get any worse. The British alliance army stationed in Myanmar has fallen completely.