You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

"Slay them! Damn it, kill these little devils!"

A powerful roar pierced through the surrounding noise of gunfire.

He was an old squad leader from the 112th Division.

He looked like a demon that had just crawled out of hell.

His gray military cap had long since flown away, revealing a head of messy, graying hair. His face was covered in mud, gunpowder, and someone's blood, with only a pair of bloodshot eyes visible.

In his left hand he held a gleaming 20-shot Mauser pistol with the bolt fully extended; in his right hand he carried a heavy, blunt-bladed broadsword with a blade that was almost chipped.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

As Liu Tiezhu ran, he fired three shots.

He used the Mauser pistol's unique sweeping firing technique with unparalleled skill.

The bullets sprayed from the fan-shaped surface struck two Japanese soldiers who were trying to turn around and raise their guns, leaving them covered in blood and falling into the mud like two rotten potatoes.

"You son of a bitch, run? Where do you think you're going?!"

The old squad leader moved with incredible speed, treading through ankle-deep mud, running faster than a rabbit.

This drive wasn't due to his physical strength, but rather the energy he had been holding back for six whole years.

Six years!

From that tragic night of September 18th, from the retreat from Beidaying, this feeling of unease had been stuck in his chest, keeping him awake day and night, making him feel like he was living a life worse than death.

"Back then, the Young Marshal wouldn't allow us to fight, the officers wouldn't allow us to fight, they ordered us to retreat! Retreat! Retreat!"

He ran and howled, tears mingling with the blood on his face, leaving two white streaks.

"When we reached the Great Wall, we were ordered to retreat; when we reached Chang'an, we were ordered to retreat again."

"The whole world curses us as cowards, curses us as soldiers who don't resist their generals, curses us for handing over our homeland to others!"

Ahead, a Japanese sergeant, seeing that he couldn't escape, yelled and turned around to stab him with his bayonet.

"Die, die!"

Facing the gleaming bayonet, the old sergeant neither dodged nor flinched; the ferocity in his eyes was ten times greater than that of the Japanese soldiers.

Fuck you!

He swung his broadsword upwards with a sudden flick of his wrist, a move from the Northwest Army's classic "Eight Cuts to Break the Edge" technique. Although he was from the Northeast Army, he had learned all the life-saving tricks during his years of wandering in the interior of China.

"when!"

With a crisp sound, the Japanese soldier's Type 38 rifle was knocked away.

Immediately afterwards, the blade slashed downwards, accompanied by a whistling sound.

"Pfft!"

The helmeted head, along with half a shoulder, was cleaved off by this single strike.

Fresh blood splattered all over him like a fountain, and it was still warm.

The old squad leader didn't even blink, kicked the corpse aside, and continued charging forward.

"I did not give up!!"

He looked up to the sky and roared, his voice so mournful it was heartbreaking:

"I want to fight! I dream of fighting my way back to my hometown!!"

"Bang! Bang!"

The pistol in his left hand spat fire again, blowing the head off a Japanese soldier who had just poked his head out of a shell crater.

"Today, right today, nobody's stopping me!"

"Whoever gets in my way, I'll kill them!!"

Behind him, countless men from the Northeast Army, just like him, went mad as they listened to their old sergeant's cries.

They discarded their excess equipment, even their food bags, and, armed only with guns and knives, swept across the fields like madmen.

"Kill the Japanese devils! Go back to our hometown!"

"Kill them!!"

At this moment, this unit unleashed a fighting power that shook the heavens and the earth.

They were no longer the timid, ragtag army that people pointed fingers at and cursed behind their backs; they were a pack of vengeful wolves.

The old squad leader was at the forefront. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his throat was full of the taste of blood, and his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

But he couldn't stop.

Ahead, five Japanese soldiers were fleeing in disarray.

Those were five short, bow-legged guys who moved incredibly fast, even throwing away their guns, crawling on their hands and feet through the mud.

"Don't run! Stop right there, Grandpa!"

Liu Tiezhu raised his Mauser pistol and pulled the trigger.

"Click".

I'm currently holding no positions and the account is idle.

We're out of bullets.

He frantically reached for the magazine at his waist, only to find his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't reach it.

In that short delay, the Japanese soldiers had already run dozens of meters away and were about to disappear into a grove of trees ahead.

"Hold!"

Finally, he was so anxious and angry, and because he was running too fast, he couldn't catch his breath and twisted his side.

"Cough cough cough..."

He coughed violently, forcing him to stop, put his hands on his knees, bend over, and gasp for breath, tears and snot streaming down his face.

"Don't run...don't run...you beasts..."

He watched the backs of the Japanese soldiers in despair, his broadsword hanging limply in his hand.

Are we just going to let them get away like this?

Just then.

"Buzzing—creaking—creaking—"

A low, strange engine roar suddenly burst forth from the smoke.

Liu Tiezhu raised his head, and through his blurry, tear-filled eyes, he saw a strange, large creature.

That was not any tank he had ever seen before.

It had no turret, a low profile, and sloping armor plates all around, making it look like... a cypress coffin made of sheet metal and not yet painted.

That's the 38(t) Jagdpanzer 38 tank destroyer.

This "iron coffin" was extremely fast, its tracks kicking up clouds of mud, like a giant cockroach, a specialty of Guangdong and Guangxi, flying close to the ground, carrying an unstoppable momentum as it charged diagonally towards the fleeing Japanese soldiers.

"Yamete!!"

The Japanese soldiers heard the commotion behind them and turned around in fear.

What greeted them was the wide, heavy metal tracks covered in bits of flesh and dirt.

The hunter didn't even fire a shot, nor did it slow down.

The driver simply pushed the control lever away coldly.

"Yamete! Yamete!"

"Pfft—"

A muffled thud.

It's like a naughty child stomping on several ripe, rotten tomatoes.

The two Japanese soldiers' screams changed color as they were instantly pulled under the tracks.

"Crunch... crunch..."

The sickening sound of bones cracking and the twisting of metal as equipment was crushed reached the old sergeant's ears clearly.

The tanks rolled over the mud, leaving only a few red marks and thin pancakes on the ground.

He stared blankly at the scene.

The strange-looking "iron coffin" did not stop. It spewed out a plume of black smoke from its exhaust pipe, turned a corner, and continued to rush towards the fleeing Japanese soldiers.

"Okay...okay!"

The old squad leader suddenly plopped down in the muddy water, laughing and crying at the same time, slapping his thigh:

"Good for them! Crush these bastards to death!"

"Father, Mother! Did you see that? We didn't run away! We're killing the Japanese devils!"

The initial counter-offensive quickly turned into a sweeping pursuit across the land.

There was no mercy, no prisoners.

The best fate for these beasts who burned, killed, and looted on the land of Great Xia is to become fertilizer, nourishing this land they are not worthy to set foot on.