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

"Zhu Qing'an, are you still holding on?"

A voice came from behind.

It's very light.

But it's very clear.

It's like traversing smoke and blood, just to reach her ear.

Upon hearing this title, the angel paused slightly in his movements.

The suture needle stopped in mid-air.

Only one second.

Then she continued.

The needle pierces the skin and flesh, pulls it tight, and ties it into a knot.

The movements remained precise and steady, as if nothing had happened.

She didn't turn around.

But the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

It curves into a shallow arc.

"When would be a good time?" she said softly, as if afraid of disturbing the injured person on the operating table.

"Looks like you've killed quite a few Japanese soldiers."

The smell of blood wafted from behind.

Intense.

fresh.

The kind that's still flowing down.

Fu Hao walked in from outside.

Covered in blood.

The black exoskeleton armor is so dark that its original color is no longer visible.

The Japanese soldiers' blood slowly trickled down the surface of the armor.

She walked to the angel's side.

He took a handkerchief from his waist.

The handkerchief was neatly folded and spotless, a stark contrast to her blood-stained body.

She brought it specifically for her.

Clean.

For the angels.

She bent down.

Gently raise your hand.

A handkerchief was placed over the angel's forehead.

Gently wipe away the fine beads of sweat.

The movements were very gentle.

The angel did not hide.

He didn't stop sewing.

She simply tilted her head slightly to make it easier for Fu Hao to wipe.

"I've wiped out the Japanese here," Fu Hao said softly, like a night breeze. "You can focus on your surgery."

The angel nodded.

Upon hearing those words, the tension in my nerves finally eased a little.

"How are the embroiderers and the anvil?" the angel asked, continuing his sewing. "What's the situation outside?"

"We can still hold out," Fu Hao said. "At least until the border troops return."

The angel did not ask any further questions.

She trusted Fu Hao's judgment.

Just like Fu Hao trusted her knife.

At this moment, Fu Hao put away her handkerchief.

One last look at the angel.

I glanced at her focused profile.

I glanced at the hands under the operating light.

Then, she turned around.

They left the makeshift operating room.

outside.

Staircase entrance.

Li Dajiang, Shizhuzi, Laoqiang, Lao Zhao, and Shuanzhu were guarding there.

They were covered in wounds.

He was covered in blood.

But they are all still alive.

Upon seeing Fu Hao emerge, Shuanzhu instinctively straightened his back.

This sixteen-year-old boy almost died under the bayonets of the Japanese.

It was this woman in front of him who saved him.

She descended from the sky and snapped the Japanese soldier's neck.

She pulled him out from under the knife.

He looked at her.

Looking at the blood still flowing down her body.

Looking into her calm eyes.

"Commander..." he stammered, unsure of what to call him.

"Call me comrade," Fu Hao said, sitting down next to him.

The movements were very natural.

It feels like sitting in my own home.

"Or you can call me 'sister'."

Shuanzhu was stunned for a moment.

Then, he grinned.

Two canine teeth were visible.

"sister!"

That "Sister" was called out very loudly.

The stone pillars laughed at the shouts.

"That kid has a sweet tongue!"

Fu Hao smiled too.

She leaned against the wall.

Looking out the window.

It's quiet here for now.

But further away, on the north bank of Luodian, artillery fire raged and gunfire was deafening.

The firelight turned half the sky a dark red.

Like the sunset.

Like blood.

"Sister..." Shuanzhu leaned closer and asked in a low voice.

He followed her gaze and saw the firelight.

"Are they still fighting over there?"

"Um."

"Can we win?"

Fu Hao turned her head away.

Looking at this child whose face was covered in blood.

Looking at the cautious expectation in his eyes.

She reached out her hand.

Through the armored gloves, she awkwardly ruffled his messy hair.

"able."

She only said that one word.

But Shuanzhu felt that it was more effective than anything else.

More reassuring than anything else.

It's warmer than anything else.

Li Dajiang sat down next to him.

He leaned against a pillar, panting heavily.

The wound on his left rib was still bleeding, but he couldn't care less.

He was still holding that tiger-headed broadsword in his hand.

The blade of this tiger-head broadsword was chipped in several places.

There was even a thin crack on the blade.

The strips of cloth wrapped around the hilt had long since come undone, and the exposed wooden handle was soaked in blood and slippery.

But he didn't let go.

I held it in my hand the whole time.

It was as if as long as he had that knife, he would not fall, and victory would surely come.

"Commander... no, comrade," he corrected himself, his voice hoarse, "did our soldiers wear this in your time...?"

He pointed to the armor on Fu Hao's body.

Black.

Streamlined.

It has a bluish-green light pattern.

"No," Fu Hao shook her head. "This is special equipment, and there aren't many of them. But the protection for ordinary soldiers is much better than in this era."

"How much better?"

Fu Hao thought about it.

She looked at the tattered shirt Li Dajiang was wearing.

Looking at Shuanzhu's bare feet.

Looking at Old Zhao's eyes covered with a rag,

"You're only wearing thin clothes and straw sandals right now," she said. "A single bullet could seriously injure you, or even kill you."

She paused.

"In our time, every soldier had a bulletproof vest, a helmet, and communication equipment."

"Bulletproof vests can stop bullets. Helmets can stop shrapnel. Communication equipment allows for faster command and more timely support."

"If you're wounded, there's professional battlefield medical care. If you're seriously wounded, you'll be airlifted directly to a rear hospital."

Li Dajiang fell silent.

He lowered his head and looked at the large knife in his hand.

The blood on the blade had dried.

It formed a dark red scab.

He wiped it with his hand.

It wasn't wiped off.

"That would cost so much..." he murmured.

"It's worth it no matter how much it costs," Fu Hao said.

Her voice was calm.

But I'm very determined.

"Human life is more valuable than money."

Li Dajiang raised his head.

Look at her.

Looking at that face covered in armor, its expression unreadable.

Looking into those eyes peering out from behind the goggles.

He opened his mouth.

What do you want to say?

But in the end, he just nodded.

"understood."

He lowered his head and looked at the knife again.

"At that time, the Chinese... had no choice," he said softly. "They could only use this."

"I know," Fu Hao said.

Her voice became even softer.

"So, here we come."

The stone pillar leaned against the door panel next to it.

It was a broken door panel, picked up from somewhere, placed under him so that he wouldn't fall directly onto the muddy ground.

His legs were gone from the knees down.

The cut was wrapped in rags and was still bleeding.

But his eyes were still very bright.

He looked at Fu Hao.

Looking at that suit of armor.

Looking at the blood still flowing down the armor.

Suddenly asked:

"Comrade, how many Japanese soldiers did you kill?"

Fu Hao thought about it.

"I don't know."

"Is that... a lot?"

"many."

The stone pillar grinned.

He was laughing very happily.

He revealed a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking.

"Good! The more the better! Kill as many as you can for us!"

Old Zhao was groping around nearby.

He heard the sound of the stone pillar, found its direction, and reached out to pat it.

"Stop joking, they just finished fighting a war, let them rest for a while."

The stone pillar was not convinced.

"What's wrong with me asking?"

"What are you asking? All you know is killing Japanese devils!"

"So you don't want to kill the Japanese soldiers?"

Old Zhao was stunned for a moment.

Then, he grinned.

"I want to! But I'm holding back!"

The two were arguing.

As usual.

Old Gun leaned against the corner of the wall.

He was holding the rifle that had run out of bullets.

The gun barrel was scorching hot.

The stock of the rifle is cracked.

The handguard was covered in bloodstains.

But he didn't let go.

I held him tightly.

He didn't say anything.

He just stared out the window.

Looking towards the north bank of Luodian.

There, the artillery fire intensified.

The firelight illuminated half the sky in red.

It was as red as blood.

It's as red as fire.

It's red like a revenge that will never be extinguished.

Explosions came one after another.

Like a muffled thunderclap.

It came rolling in from afar.

He listened to gunfire his whole life.

I can understand it.

Those were our people fighting.

Our people are bombarding the Japanese...