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

"Bang!"

The last bullet was fired from the old gun's barrel.

Fifty meters away, a Japanese soldier who had just rushed to the edge of the breach fell to the ground.

The echoes of gunfire reverberated among the ruins.

Then--

silence.

The squad leader, Lao Qiang, pulled back the bolt, and the gun made a hollow sound.

He looked down, then put the gun down.

"That's all," he said calmly.

The person next to him nodded.

They didn't have many rounds of ammunition to begin with.

Three days ago, the north bank of Luodian was in dire need of help, and they sent most of their ammunition up there.

The ten or so bullets I kept were for myself, to use in the final moments to either take a Japanese soldier down with me or to commit suicide.

Now, we've used them all up; we're completely out of ammo.

Twenty Japanese soldiers, bayonets at the ready, surged through the gap torn open by the grenade like mad dogs.

"Sudden——!!!"

"Take your own life!!!"

The Japanese troops rushed within ten meters.

Li Dajiang raised his knife.

The blade gleamed with a blinding bloody light.

He roared:

"kill--!!!"

Thirteen people roared simultaneously:

"kill--!!!"

Then they rushed out.

It's not about defense.

It was a counter-attack.

Dragging his broken body, gripping a shattered knife, and carrying a brick—

They charged toward thirty fully armed Japanese soldiers.

Like thirteen shooting stars aimed at a flame.

Knowing full well it would go out.

but--

It needs to be burned.

It needs to be bright.

Before it all goes out, let us illuminate this dark land.

In an instant!

Close combat!

Li Dashan stood at the very front.

His left arm was still bleeding, and every movement felt like being cut by a knife.

He gripped the knife in his right hand; the cloth strips wrapped around the hilt of the tiger-head blade were soaked in blood and slippery, but he held it tightly.

The first Japanese soldier rushed up to him.

He was a young private, with a chubby face, but his eyes were wild.

He held his Type 38 rifle straight, bayonet thrusting straight into Li Dajiang's chest.

Li Dashan did not back down.

He sidestepped the bayonet, simultaneously raising his own knife from below—

puff!

The blade cut into the Japanese soldier's chin and exited from the top of his head.

The private didn't even have time to scream before his body went limp, as if his bones had been removed.

Li Dashan drew his knife.

Blood splattered on his face; it was hot.

He didn't wipe it, and turned to greet the next person.

Further away, another battle is taking place.

A Japanese private first class crawled through the gap, staggered when he landed, but quickly regained his balance.

He froze for a moment.

It's not because of fear.

It was because he saw the person in front of him.

A Chinese veteran.

It has no arms.

The two sleeves were empty and fluttered gently in the wind.

His arms were blown off by grenades.

But he just stood there.

Like a nail driven into the ground.

He had a military knife in his mouth.

The blade is short and Japanese-style; it was probably a captured trophy.

He gripped the hilt of the knife tightly with his teeth, the blade facing outwards, gleaming coldly in the dim light.

The Japanese private first class paused for a moment, then grinned maliciously:

"The remnants of China!"

He raised his bayonet and roared:

"Leave no one alive—!"

He rushed over.

The veteran did not move.

He stood there, waiting for the Japanese soldier to charge at him, bayonet piercing his chest—

He just moved.

It's not about hiding.

It's about going to meet them.

Use your chest, use your ribs, to meet the bayonet.

puff-

The bayonet pierced his chest.

The sharp blade pierced the skin, penetrated the muscle, and finally got stuck in the gap between the ribs.

In that instant, the veteran's body suddenly leaned forward—

He used his body to block the knife.

The Japanese private first class was stunned.

His bayonet was stuck in the other man's ribs and he couldn't pull it out.

He wanted to let go, to back away, but it was too late.

Because the knife in the veteran's mouth was simultaneously thrust out.

It pierced the chin of a Japanese private first class from bottom to top.

The knife tip pierced the mouth, the palate, and the brain.

"Uh...uh..."

The Japanese private's eyes bulged out, and he made muffled sounds.

His body convulsed violently, but the bayonet was still stuck in the veteran's chest and could not be pulled out.

Two people stood facing each other.

The distance between them is less than ten centimeters.

three seconds.

Or five seconds.

The Chinese veteran suddenly moved.

The knife in his mouth was pushed in another inch.

The Japanese private's body stiffened abruptly, then went limp.

But he did not fall—because the bayonet was still lodged in the veteran's chest, keeping him hanging in place.

The old soldier loosened his grip on the knife handle.

The knife was still stuck in the Japanese soldier's chin. As the body fell, the soldier staggered.

But he held firm.

He looked down at the bayonet in his chest.

Blood was gushing from the wound, flowing down the blade and dripping onto the ground, drop by drop.

He smiled.

Blood gushed from his mouth, but he was still smiling.

He roared loudly:

"kill--!!!"

Amid the chaos, two figures stood out.

It's not because it's tall.

It's because it's incomplete.

Old Zhao leaned against the wall, his eye sockets dark and round, like two bottomless dry wells.

It was a poison gas bomb dropped by the Japanese army that exploded near him. He covered his mouth with a damp cloth and told his comrades to retreat first, but he himself was burned in the eyes by the poisonous smoke.

From then on, his world was filled with darkness.

But he still has ears.

You can hear the whistling of bullets, the hissing of artillery shells, and the breathing of your comrades.

At that moment, he heard a familiar voice.

"Old Zhao! Old Zhao!"

It is a stone pillar.

Old Zhao's lips twitched slightly: "Zhu Zi, he's not dead yet?"

"Die my ass!" came the voice from the stone pillar. "I've lost my leg, I won't die that quickly!"

Old Zhao groped his way towards the direction of the sound.

His hand touched a person, or more accurately, half a person.

The stone pillar's legs were gone from the knees down, blown off by Japanese mortar fire. The mangled limbs were tightly bound with leg wraps, barely stopping the bleeding.

But he is still alive.

Both hands are still there, and the eyes are still shining.

"Pillar..." Old Zhao's hand touched Shi Zhuzi's face, feeling the blood and sweat on his skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Pain my ass!" Stone Pillar grinned. "Your legs are gone, what pain could you possibly have? But you, does your eye still hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Old Zhao said, "but I can't see anything."

The two were silent for a second.

Then, the stone pillar suddenly said:

"Old Zhao, carry me on your back."

Old Zhao was stunned for a moment.

"Carry you? You don't even have legs, what would I do with you?"

"My eyesight is perfect!" Stone Pillar's voice held a stubborn edge. "You can't see, but I can! Carry me on your back, and I'll show you the way!"

"You've lost your legs, how can you give directions?"

"I'll point with my mouth!" Stone Pillar snapped. "Which way to go, which turn to, which Japanese soldier to kill—I'll shout it all out to you!"

"You have two legs, I have two eyes!"

"Let's team up—"

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:

"It's just a prank!"

Old Zhao looked at the stone pillar, and then he squatted down.

He groped around and picked up the stone pillar on his back.

The stone pillar's remains were still bleeding, the blood dripping onto Old Zhao's back, warm and sticky.

But he doesn't care.

He untied the leg bindings and tightly bound the stone pillar to his body.

"Tie it tighter!" said the stone pillar. "Don't let me fall!"

"Don't worry," Old Zhao tightened the cloth strip, "You won't fall."

Shizhuzi lay on Lao Zhao's back, his hands on Lao Zhao's shoulders, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

Inside the dark building, shadowy figures moved about, and the sounds of gunfire, knife strikes, and screams mingled together.

He saw it.

I saw those khaki-colored military uniforms.

I saw those Japanese soldiers with bayonets pointed at them.

I saw my comrades fighting a bloody battle.

"Old Zhao," Shi Zhuzi's voice suddenly turned somber, "the Japanese devils."

"several?"

"There are many. But one is closest to us—ten meters away, and it's rushing this way."

Old Zhao didn't move.

He simply stood quietly, listening intently.

ten meters.

Nine meters.

Seven meters.

five meters.

Two meters.

"Old Zhao!" Stone Pillar growled, "Turn left—quickly!"

Old Zhao suddenly turned to the left.

Just as he turned around, a bayonet pierced through the spot where he had just been standing, disappearing into thin air.

It was that Japanese soldier.

He charged too fast, his bayonet missed, and he staggered.

"Draw your sword—!" the stone pillar roared.

Old Zhao held a large knife in his hand.

Even though the blade is dull, it can still kill.

He has no eyes, but he has ears.

He heard the Japanese soldier's panting.

It's just to the left front, about two meters away.

He swung his knife and slashed horizontally.

puff-

What did the blade strike?

Soft, warm, and with bones.

It's the neck.

The Japanese soldier's scream was cut short as soon as it came out, like a chicken being choked.

The body fell down.

"You hit him!" Stone Pillar's voice was filled with ecstatic joy. "Old Zhao! You hit him! The neck! You've severed it completely!"

Old Zhao was panting heavily, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Pillar... next..."

"There they are!" Shi Zhuzi's eyes scanned the area. "Three o'clock! Two Japanese soldiers! They're attacking us!"

Old Zhao listened intently.

Gunshots, knife cries, screams—it was all too chaotic.

He couldn't tell which were his own people and which were the Japanese.

"Pillars... I can't tell them apart..."

"I'm telling you, eight meters to our left, the one with his back to us is one of ours! The two tan-colored guys in front of him are Japanese soldiers!"

Old Zhao nodded.

"Walk!"

He carried the stone pillar on his back and made his way towards the three o'clock position.

Without eyes, they could only rely on the stone pillars for guidance.

"Three steps forward... Stop... There are bricks on the right, be careful... Okay, continue..."

The two moved through the darkness like conjoined twins.

One step, two steps, three steps...

Nearly.

closer.

"Old Zhao!" Shi Zhuzi's voice suddenly tightened, "Those two Japanese soldiers have spotted us! One of them is turning around!"

"Location?"

"Four meters to the left front! They're raising their guns—!"

"Let's counter-charge!"

Old Zhao did not hesitate.

He charged forward suddenly.

Four meters.

three meters.

Two meters.

One meter —

He brandished his knife.

It's not a chop, it's a stab.

With the blade pointing forward, it thrusts out fiercely, using the momentum.

puff-

What was pierced?

Soft.

He heard screams.

Before the Japanese soldier could even fire his gun, he was stabbed through the stomach with a knife.

But another one—

"Old Zhao! To the right! To the right!"

The sound of the stone pillar changed.

Old Zhao didn't have time to draw his sword, so he could only loosen the hilt and turn to the right.

But he was a step too slow.

A bayonet pierced his left shoulder.

puff-

The knife tip pierced his shoulder, leaving him covered in blood.

Shi Zhuzi was lying on Lao Zhao's back. He could feel the cold blade tip piercing through Lao Zhao's body, almost reaching his chest.

"Old Zhao—!!!" he roared.

Old Zhao swayed, but did not fall down.

He didn't even scream.

He just let out a muffled groan.

Then, with his still-functioning right hand, he grabbed the blade of the bayonet.

The blade cut his palm, and blood flowed down between his fingers.

But he caught it.

Grasp it firmly.

That prevented the Japanese soldier from pulling out.

"Pillar..." Old Zhao's voice was hoarse, each word laced with blood, "Draw your blade..."

The stone pillar was stunned.

Draw your sword?

He didn't have a knife.

His knife had been lost long ago, when he lost both his legs.

But his gaze fell on Old Zhao's waist.

There, tucked away, was a bayonet—a Japanese bayonet, one of the ones captured earlier.

He reached out and pulled out the bayonet.

"Old Zhao... turn right... half a circle..."

Old Zhao gritted his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain in his shoulder, and turned to the right.

The stone pillar was seen.

I saw the face of that Japanese soldier.

It was less than a meter behind Lao Zhao.

He was desperately trying to pull out the bayonet, but Old Zhao's hand was gripping it tightly, and he couldn't pull it out.

"Turn it just a little bit more... Okay... Stop..."

Shi Zhu gripped his bayonet tightly.

He used all his strength to stab the knife out of Old Zhao's shoulder.

He stabbed at the Japanese soldier's face.

puff-

The tip of the knife pierced the eye socket.

It pierced the eyeball and entered the cranial cavity.

The Japanese soldier's body stiffened abruptly, then went limp.

He loosened his bayonet.

Old Zhao swayed and fell forward.

But he did not fall.

He braced himself against the wall with his left hand, which still had a bayonet stuck in it.

Blood gushed from the wound, flowing down the body and dripping onto the ground, forming a small puddle.

But he stood there.

Standing.

"Old Zhao..." Shi Zhuzi's voice trembled, "Are you...are you alright...?"

Old Zhao grinned.

Blood was flowing from the corner of his mouth.

"It's alright... I won't die..."

He looked down at the bayonet in his chest.

"Pillar……"

"Um?"

"How many...have we killed?"

The stone pillar looked up at the two Japanese soldiers' corpses.

"two."

"Two..." Old Zhao muttered, "Only two... not enough to cover the cost..."

"Enough!" Shi Zhuzi's voice choked with emotion. "Old Zhao, that's enough! You fucking said enough!"

Old Zhao shook his head.

"Not enough... we're one short..."

His body swayed, and he took a step forward.

But it didn't fall.

He gritted his teeth and continued walking forward.

Shi Zhuzi lay on his back, tears streaming down his face, mingling with Lao Zhao's blood.

"Old Zhao...where are you going...?"

"Looking for the Japanese devils..."

"There are still Japanese soldiers... kill one more..."

"Okay... Old Zhao... let's... move forward."

Shi Zhuzi saw a Japanese soldier with his back to them, fighting with a soldier from the Ninth Platoon.

"Old Zhao... five meters ahead... with his back to you..."

Old Zhao nodded.

He released his grip on the wall.

Hands empty—the knife was gone, the bayonet was gone too.

But he still has a body.

He took a step forward.

Four meters.

three meters.

Two meters.

One meter —

He pounced on it.

It's not with a knife, it's with the whole person.

With his broken, bleeding body, pierced by a bayonet, he lunged at the Japanese soldier.

The Japanese soldier was knocked forward and staggered, then turned around and raised his bayonet—

But it was too late.

Old Zhao had already hugged him.

They held each other tightly.

"Pillar—!!!" he roared, "Kill—!!!"

The stone pillar's eyes turned red.

He lay on Old Zhao's back, and through Old Zhao's shoulder, he could see the back of the Japanese soldier's neck.

It was white and thin, right where the bayonet could reach.

He gripped the bayonet tightly in his hand.

Stab it.

a bit.

Two times.

Three times.

The Japanese soldiers screamed and struggled, but Old Zhao held them too tightly.

It was so tight it felt like it was squeezing him into his bones.

Finally, the Japanese soldier stopped moving.

It slid down softly.

Old Zhao loosened his grip.

He knelt on the ground, panting heavily.

Blood gushed from his mouth, from his shoulder, from his chest.

But he was still smiling.

"Pillar...is that enough...?"

The stone pillar's tears dripped onto the back of his neck, burning him.

"Enough...enough...Old Zhao...enough..."

Old Zhao nodded.

"That's...that's good..."

His body swayed:

"Zhu Zi... if there's a next life... we'll still be brothers..."

"And together... we killed the Japanese devils..."

The stone pillar was perched on Old Zhao's back.

He didn't shout.

She didn't cry.

She simply pressed her face against the back of Lao Zhao's neck, closed her eyes, and let the tears flow.

The sounds of fighting continued in the distance.

But at this moment, in this corner, there are only two people.

A person without legs is lying on top of a person without eyes.

Like a complete, silent sculpture that will never fall.

They killed three Japanese soldiers.

With our broken bodies, with our last strength, with each other.

You are my eyes.

You are my legs.

Together—

It's just a prank.

He's just an unkillable Chinese soldier.

………………

Luodian Xiaolou: Twin Stars Battle Record

Soldier Zhao (blind) of the 9th Platoon, 7th Company, 3rd Battalion

Third Battalion, Seventh Company, Ninth Platoon, Junior Fourth: Stone Pillar (Missing Both Legs)

Combat method: Old Zhao carries a stone pillar on his back; the pillar guides the direction, and Old Zhao executes the attacks.

Coordinated kill: 3 Japanese soldiers (melee combat)

"They taught us: a true comrade is one who, when you lose your eyes, is your eyes; when you lose your legs, is your legs. Together, we are a complete and invincible warrior."

—Angel, after returning to the People's Republic of China, in her postwar memoirs…