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

Chen Dashan was not the first to charge into the Japanese army.

He was a veteran from Shandong nicknamed "Stone".

In his right hand, he held a specially made demon-head dagger.

The blade was half a foot longer and three-tenths of an inch thicker than an ordinary broadsword, with a heavy ring on the back, which made a whistling sound when swung.

"You little devils—!!!"

Stone roared and swung his broadsword in a wide arc, like a whirlwind!

The first Japanese soldier charged forward with his bayonet, executing a standard thrusting motion.

The stone didn't move at all.

A sweeping attack with a broadsword!

"when--!!!"

The bayonet was knocked away.

The broadsword continued its momentum, slashing diagonally down on the Japanese soldier's shoulder!

Pfft—!

The sharp blade sliced ​​through military uniforms, through flesh, and through bones.

The Japanese soldier didn't even have time to scream before he was hacked to death.

Blood and entrails splattered everywhere, splashing all over the stones' faces and bodies.

But without even blinking, he swung his broadsword and slashed at the second Japanese soldier!

This Japanese soldier was a sergeant, experienced in his field. Instead of engaging in direct combat, he crouched down and thrust his bayonet into Shi Tou's abdomen.

Stone laughed loudly, neither dodging nor yielding, and suddenly stretched out his left hand—grabbing the bayonet that was thrust at him!

The sharp bayonet cut his palm, and blood flowed freely.

But he didn't care at all.

He raised his broadsword high in his right hand and brought it down fiercely!

"die--!!!"

The sergeant tried to draw his sword and retreat, but the bayonet was firmly held by the stone and he couldn't pull it out at all.

He could only watch helplessly as the large sword, stained with the blood of his comrades, rapidly magnified in his eyes.

Then--

puff!

The top of his head was split open, and red and white substances splattered everywhere.

Shi Tou released his left hand, letting the bayonet fall to the ground. He shook the blood off his hands, looked at the Japanese soldiers around him who were too intimidated by his ferocity to approach, grinned, revealing his blood-stained teeth:

"That feels great! That's fucking great!"

Not far behind the stone was the young soldier from Guangdong.

He was only seventeen years old, thin and small, with a face still bearing the innocence of childhood. He was the youngest soldier in the company, and everyone called him "Little Brother".

A few days ago, his squad leader, a fellow Cantonese who always saved the best rations for him, taught him how to shoot, and covered him with a blanket at night, was blown to pieces by a Japanese grenade launcher while covering his retreat.

At that moment, the young man, his eyes red, held a Type 24 rifle taller than himself, bayonet pointed at a Japanese sergeant major with a fierce face wielding a military sword, and charged forward without regard for anything else.

"Give me back my class monitor!!!"

His voice was choked with sobs, yet unusually sharp, like the mournful cry of a wounded animal.

With a sinister grin, the sergeant thrust his bayonet straight into the young man's chest.

This slash was swift and ruthless, a common tactic used by veterans to kill new recruits.

But the little boy didn't understand any blocking techniques at all.

He just went for it.

Just as the bayonet was about to pierce his chest, he suddenly turned to the side!

The bayonet grazed his ribs, its sharp tip tearing through his thin military uniform and slicing a deep, bone-revealing gash in his ribs!

A sharp pain shot through me.

But the younger brother seemed not to notice.

In his eyes, there was only the sergeant's ferocious face.

"ah--!!!"

He roared, and at the same time, the bayonet in his hand plunged into the sergeant's stomach!

Pfft—!

The sound of a bayonet piercing flesh was dull and wet.

The sergeant's sinister smile froze.

He looked down at the bayonet in his stomach, at the Chinese child whose face was covered in tears but whose eyes were as fierce as a wolf cub's, and his eyes were filled with disbelief.

Isn't this child... afraid of dying?

The young man twisted the bayonet forcefully, tears mingling with blood rolling down his filthy face.

"Squad leader... I... I avenged you..."

The young man pulled out his bayonet, staggered back two steps, blood gushing from the wound on his ribs, but he didn't care. He just looked at the sergeant's corpse, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Squad leader...did you see that...I avenged you..."

On the other side, the one-eyed company commander Chen Dashan was already in a bloodthirsty frenzy.

His single eye was bloodshot, and his face and body were splattered with the enemy's blood.

His rifle was long out of bullets, and his bayonet was broken. He was now wielding a military knife he had picked up from the corpses of Japanese soldiers, slashing left and right.

His left arm suffered another new wound, deep enough to expose the bone.

But he seemed not to feel any pain.

They just kept killing, killing, killing.

A Japanese lieutenant recognized him as an officer and charged at him, brandishing his samurai sword, intending to behead him and gain merit.

Chen Dashan sneered, neither dodging nor avoiding, and charged straight at the blade!

Just as the katana was about to strike his head, he suddenly turned to the side and swung his military sword upwards in a sweeping motion!

puff!

The Japanese lieutenant's samurai sword missed its mark, while Chen Dashan's military knife pierced through his chin and came out from the back of his head!

The lieutenant's eyes widened, a gurgling sound came from his throat, and he slowly collapsed.

Chen Dashan drew his military knife, kicked the corpse aside, and looked around, panting heavily.

There were not many Japanese soldiers left standing around.

The soldiers of the 7th Company of the 3rd Battalion covered each other and fought to the death.

Stab with a bayonet!

Use a big knife to chop!

Smash it with your fist!

Bite with your teeth!

When the last Japanese soldier was killed by a stone and a broadsword, when there was not a single tanned figure left standing on the battlefield—

Chen Dashan stood there, leaning on his military knife, swaying unsteadily.

He looked around.

The 7th Company of the 3rd Battalion, fifty-three men who rushed out.

Everyone was wounded, and everyone was covered in blood.

At the same time, the sunlight finally pierced through the smoke of battle and shone on this land soaked in blood.

It was sprinkled on these Chinese soldiers.

Chen Dashan grinned, trying to laugh, but the movement aggravated his wound, causing him to wince in pain.

But he eventually smiled.

His smile was ugly, yet incredibly proud.

He raised his head, looking towards the position, towards the three silent steel behemoths, and towards the young female officer standing beside the tank, looking in his direction.

Then, with his last ounce of strength, he roared hoarsely:

"Third Battalion, Seventh Company—"

"Mission accomplished!!!"

The roar echoed across the battlefield.

It was covered in blood.

With tears in my eyes.

Bearing the indelible dignity of the Chinese people...