Not enough Japanese devils to kill? 1.4 billion people volunteer for the Battle of Shanghai.

The smoke and dust in the northwest direction have not yet dissipated.

On the main battlefield, the Japanese 5th Infantry Brigade, with more than 5,000 soldiers, was like a swarm of bloodthirsty ants, still charging towards the Chinese positions.

"Banzai—!!!"

"Kill all the Chinese—!!!"

The embroiderer calmly observed the surging, earthy-yellow tide through the panoramic viewing system.

Her fingers rested lightly on the control lever of the remote weapon station.

The 7.62mm coaxial machine gun and 12.7mm heavy machine gun of the "Kirin 102" were slightly adjusted to point towards the area with the densest tide.

But the embroiderer did not start firing immediately.

She is waiting.

Waiting for the best opportunity...

The Japanese army is getting closer and closer.

500 meters.

Four hundred meters.

Three hundred meters.

The figures of Japanese soldiers were already clearly visible through the scope.

The embroiderer took a deep breath.

Then, he pulled the trigger.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—! ! !

It wasn't strafing.

It's a burst shot.

Short, precise, and deadly.

A second lieutenant, leading the charge and brandishing a military knife.

A 7.62mm bullet struck him precisely in the chest.

The immense kinetic energy instantly tore his heart and lungs apart, blood gushing from his mouth as his body fell backward, his saber flying out of his hand, arcing through the air before embedding itself in the scorched earth.

Further on, a machine gun crew attempted to set up a Type 92 heavy machine gun.

The bullets from the 12.7mm heavy machine gun are like invitations from the Grim Reaper.

boom!

The bullets whistled and cut the machine gunner in half at the waist.

boom!

The second bullet blew the assistant gunner's head off, splattering red and white bullets all over the face of the ammunition handler next to him.

boom!

The third bullet pierced the ammunition box, triggering a small-scale secondary explosion, turning the entire machine gun crew into a fireball.

The fourth bullet: a sniper hiding on the edge of a crater, secretly raising his gun to aim.

The embroiderer noticed the faint glint of light from the muzzle of his gun.

The 7.62mm coaxial machine gun speaks directly.

boom!

The bullet pierced through the broken bricks at the edge of the crater and hit the sniper's hiding spot.

With a muffled groan, the sniper's body rolled out of the shell crater, his head smashed open.

The embroiderer was like a top hunter, patiently, calmly, and methodically targeting each exposed enemy.

She does not pursue a high number of kills.

What she seeks is to create panic.

This meant that every time these Japanese soldiers peeked out, raised their guns, or attempted to launch an attack, they would be met with precise and fatal blows.

It was to let them know that on that front, there was a pair of eyes coldly watching them.

There are two hands that are steadily holding the trigger of death.

The effects are beginning to appear.

The Japanese soldiers charging at the front subconsciously slowed their pace and began to look for cover.

The officers waving their sabers instinctively shrank back and hid behind the soldiers.

The squads attempting to set up heavy firepower became hesitant and indecisive.

Fear, like a plague, spread among the five thousand wild beasts.

but……

Five thousand heads, but still only five thousand heads.

Even with its formidable firepower, the "Kirin" only has three vehicles.

No matter how accurate a embroiderer's marksmanship is, it can only cover a limited area.

There will always be some... who slip through the net.

On the far right of the battle line.

A ruined area, repeatedly ravaged by previous artillery fire, with extremely complex terrain, and riddled with huge shell craters and collapsed buildings.

About two squads, totaling more than sixty Japanese soldiers, took advantage of the smoke and terrain to silently bypass the main firing range of "Kirin".

They crouched low and moved quickly through the ruins.

The movements were skillful and concealed.

Clearly, these were the elite troops of the Japanese army, specially selected to carry out flanking infiltration and surprise attack missions.

They were getting closer and closer to the forward trenches of the Chinese positions.

One hundred meters.

Eighty meters.

Fifty meters!

On the position, although the one-eyed company commander Chen Dashan could only see with one eye, he felt an unusual sense of oppression coming from his right side almost immediately.

He turned his head sharply, his one eye fixed on the ruins.

Then, he saw it.

I saw those earthen-yellow figures that appeared and disappeared in the shadows of the ruins.

I saw the cold, gleaming light reflected from the bayonets in their hands.

"Small group of Japanese troops spotted!"

Chen Dashan roared hoarsely, his voice trembling with excitement:

"To the right! At two o'clock!"

"Ruins area! More than sixty people! Approaching rapidly!"

In the trenches, the soldiers immediately became alert, and their gun barrels all turned to the right.

The embroiderer also heard Chen Dashan's warning.

She immediately turned the scope of the "Kirin 102" and looked at that area.

but……

late.

The terrain of that ruin was too complex.

The massive craters formed natural cover, and the collapsed building debris blocked most of the view.

Just as the embroiderer was getting anxious, the one-eyed company commander spoke up loudly.

The voice was calm, firm, and even... carried an indescribable sense of relief and pride.

"The girl from later generations, and those soldiers from later generations—"

"You...have done very well."

He paused, as if smiling:

"Really, that's great."

"They helped us hold the front, blew up the Japanese artillery, destroyed their tanks, and even set off several huge fireworks for us."

Then, his voice suddenly rose, carrying a resolute force:

"But this group of Japanese devils who crept in—"

"There's no need to trouble you."

"Our 3rd Battalion, 7th Company—"

"Take it."

After he finished speaking, the one-eyed company commander didn't raise his voice again.

Only in the distance could one hear the roars of the charging Japanese soldiers and the increasingly close metallic scraping of bayonets.

The embroiderer's hand, gripping the control lever, trembled slightly.

She looked at the ruins, and at the approaching, earthen-yellow figures.

Finally, she slowly released her grip.

"Trust them," she whispered to herself.

In the trenches.

Chen Dashan looked at the fifty-odd wounded soldiers in the trench, whose eyes still burned with fire.

Sunlight streamed down from behind them, illuminating their tattered uniforms, their blood-soaked bandages, and the bayonets and broadswords they gripped tightly in their hands.

It also illuminated... the resolute determination in their eyes, as if they were facing death without fear.

"Brothers—"

Chen Dashan spoke, his voice not loud, but like red-hot iron, burning into everyone's hearts:

"Our company, the 7th Company, the 3rd Battalion."

"Those who can still stand here now—"

"There are only fifty-three of you left."

The trenches were deathly silent.

Only heavy breathing could be heard, along with the approaching footsteps of the Japanese troops in the distance.

Everyone remembered their fallen brothers.

I remembered the old sergeant who blocked the gun barrel with his body.

I was reminded of that "Little Hubei" who rushed towards the tank with a cluster grenade.

I remembered the platoon leader who was stabbed through the chest by a Japanese bayonet while covering the retreat of new recruits.

So many things came to mind... my brother who has closed his eyes forever.

Chen Dashan pointed to the blood-soaked ground beneath his feet, then suddenly pulled out the large sword stained with dark red blood from his back. The blade reflected a cold and resolute light in the sunlight.

"Now--"

Chen Dashan's single eye swept across every face, young or no longer young, across their wounds, and across the fire in their eyes:

"More than sixty Japanese devils have arrived."

"They want to sneak past us."

"They want to poke our asses."

"You say—"

He paused, then his voice boomed like thunder:

"Will you say yes?!"

"No way—!!!" Fifty-three voices exploded simultaneously, like a mountain collapsing.

"What should we do then?!"

"Kill—!!!" The roar shook the heavens, tearing through the smoke and the sky.

"good!"

Chen Dashan nodded emphatically and grinned.

That smile was ferocious, tragic, yet filled with unparalleled pride.

He slowly raised his broadsword, the tip pointing to the ruins on his right, and to the menacing, yellowish-brown figures that had already rushed thirty meters away.

"Third Battalion, Seventh Company—"

His voice, like the final war drum, resounded across this blood-soaked land:

"Follow me—"

Chen Dashan was the first to leap out of the trench!

This one-eyed company commander, whose left eye was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, whose body was covered in wounds, and whose uniform was tattered like that of a beggar, was now like an enraged, wounded but still proud lion looking down on all others!

He held his bayonet-fixed rifle, facing more than sixty ferocious Japanese soldiers—

Counter-charge!

"kill--!!!"

Before his roar had even faded, fifty-three wounded soldiers behind him surged out of the trenches like a flood bursting its banks or moths drawn to a flame!

No tactics!

There's no method to it!

There wasn't even... a fear of death!

Only the simplest, most primitive, and bloodiest—

Melee combat!