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

"Send a telegram to Tokyo—"

Fujita Susumu was panting like a dying old dog:

"Third Division, launch a general offensive against Luodian at dawn tomorrow."

He paused for a moment.

Added a sentence:

"If anything goes wrong—"

"Fujita Susumu should atone with his death."

Done.

Put down the microphone.

Stand there.

Not moving at all.

It looks like a stone statue.

The sun finally sank below the horizon.

The last glimmer of light was swallowed by darkness.

Darkness enveloped the camp in the northwest of Luodian.

It enveloped more than 20,000 Japanese soldiers.

There were no lights on in the camp.

No fire was lit.

Only darkness.

Utter darkness.

More than 20,000 Japanese soldiers stood silently in the darkness.

Some lay in the tents, eyes open, staring at the tent top.

Some sat on the ground, leaned against trees, and looked up at the sky.

Some were kneeling, hands clasped together, muttering prayers.

A young Japanese private, named Pianqu.

He lay in the tent.

With eyes open.

Looking at the top of the tent.

The top of the tent was pitch black; you couldn't see anything.

But he saw a lot.

I saw the snow in his hometown of Hokkaido.

I saw the rice balls his mother had made.

Katayama took a deep breath.

Sit up.

He took something out of his pocket.

That was a talisman.

His mother went to the temple to pray for it.

May he return home safely.

He clutched the amulet in his palm.

It was gripped very tightly.

The sharp edges on the amulet were so tight they hurt my palm.

He closed his eyes.

He said something very quietly:

"Mother……"

"Bless me."

far away.

Luodian direction.

Those few iron turtles are still lying there.

Those dark figures are still there.

The garrison troops are still there.

waiting.

Just like them.

Waiting for tomorrow's dawn.

Waiting for the final moment—

decisive battle……

Meanwhile, on the Chinese side...

After defeating the Japanese 5th Infantry Brigade.

It finally quieted down here.

But this quietness is strange.

It's not deathly silent.

It was a kind of... relieved silence.

Like after a storm.

Like waking up from a nightmare.

picture--

Those who are still alive can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Fu Hao stood before a pile of ruins.

The bloodstains on the black exoskeleton armor had dried.

Dark red, forming scabs.

From shoulder armor to breastplate, from arm guards to leg armor.

Every inch of it is stained with the enemy's blood.

She raised her hand.

Unfasten the helmet buckle.

"Click".

A crisp sound.

It stands out remarkably clearly amidst the quiet ruins.

She took off her helmet.

Tucked under the armpit.

Her long, jet-black hair fell down.

It sways gently in the morning breeze.

That hair was very long.

very dark.

Like a black waterfall.

Sweat dampened the stray hairs on her forehead, sticking to her smooth brow.

Her face was revealed.

A face without armor covering it.

Those eyes were revealed.

peaceful.

Clear.

Like a spring in the deep mountains.

It was as if it had never been touched by war.

And that "god of death" who just crushed the throat of a Japanese brigade commander with his bare hands—

It's just like two people.

Fu Hao looked up and saw the embroiderer jump down from the Qilin 102 carriage.

That familiar figure.

That familiar gesture.

Fu Hao's eyes instantly curved into crescent moons.

It is curved, like two crescent moons.

She quickly stepped forward.

He took the embroiderer's hand.

Those hands were just covered in the blood of Japanese soldiers.

She had already wiped it carefully.

So clean it looked as if it had never been tainted by killing.

"Sister Embroiderer."

Her voice was very soft.

It's very soft.

Just like when I first joined the reserve team five years ago.

The embroiderer looked at her.

Looking at her young face.

Looking into her clear eyes.

Looking at the stray hairs on her forehead damp with sweat.

His eyes were slightly red.

"The little girl back then..."

The embroiderer's voice was choked with emotion:

"Now we can go into battle and kill the Japanese devils."

Fu Hao lowered her head.

She smiled, pursing her lips.

That smile was very faint.

But it's very real.

She recalled when she first joined the task force reserve.

They don't understand anything.

It was the embroiderer who taught her step by step.

Teach her tactical maneuvers.

Teach her how to stay calm on the battlefield.

Teach her how to commit murder—

I can finally get a good night's sleep.

"Your sister taught me well," she said softly.

The embroiderer reached out her hand.

I tidied the stray hairs on her forehead.

The movement was very light.

Very soft.

Like an older sister to a younger sister.

Are you tired?

"Not tired."

Are you scared?

Fu Hao thought about it.

Shake his head.

"I'm not afraid."

she says.

The voice was very calm.

"Those Japanese devils deserve to die."

far away.

The anvil and the breacher jumped off their respective tanks.

Both of them were covered in oil and gunpowder.

His face was streaked with black and white.

Looks like he just crawled out of a coal mine.

But his eyes were surprisingly bright.

They were as bright as two lamps.

The anvil walked up to Fu Hao and the embroiderer.

He plopped down on a rock.

"Bang!"

The stones wobbled.

"I'm telling you, you two shouldn't reminisce."

His voice was hoarse, but full of energy:

"Let's quickly discuss what to do next."

The person who broke down the door also came over.

Squatting on the ground.

He used his bayonet to draw simple diagrams on the ground.

"The Japanese Third Division."

He said as he drew:

More than 20,000 people.

"Press down at dawn tomorrow."

He raised his head.

Looking at the embroiderer:

What do we have now?

The embroiderer's smile faded.

The softness on her face was instantly replaced by calmness.

Battlefield Commander mode activated.

She began to take inventory:

"Three Qilin tanks."

"Main gun ammunition—all used up."

She paused:

"Machine gun ammunition is left... one-third of its original quantity."

"Exoskeleton Armor—"

She looked at Fu Hao:

How much battery do you have left?

The woman glanced at the display screen on her wrist.

On that small screen, numbers were jumping around.

45%.

she says:

"We can fight another high-intensity battle."

The anvil slammed into the stone.

"Bang!"

A crack appeared in the stone.

"Damn it!"

He roared:

"If we had enough ammunition, 20,000 Japanese soldiers would be nothing!"

"I can kill a hundred with one shot!"

The person who broke down the door gave a wry smile.

That bitter smile was quite unsightly.

The problem is—

他 说:

"We're out of ammunition."

silence.

All four of them knew what this meant.

Tomorrow at dawn.

More than 20,000 Japanese troops pressed forward.

No ammunition.

No energy.

What did they use to block it?

With fists?

With bayonets?

Depend on--

Life?

Just then.

A hoarse voice rang out:

"The soldiers of later generations."

The four people turned their heads.

One-eyed company commander Chen Dashan walked over, leaning on his blunt-bladed tiger-head broadsword.

"What if we really run out of ammunition?" he said.

"I'm not afraid."

He paused.

Word by word:

"Let's fight the Japanese devils with bayonets."

His voice was hoarse.

But every word is like a nail.

It crashed to the ground.

"Anyway, until the last man in our 7th Company, 3rd Battalion dies—"

He took a deep breath:

"You will all be fine."

He turned his head and looked at his brothers behind him.

"Brothers, isn't that right?"

"yes--!"

Dozens of voices.

hoarse.

Broken.

But it was as firm as magma gushing from the earth.

The anvil was stunned.

The person who broke down the door was stunned.

The embroiderer was stunned.

Fu Hao was stunned.

They looked at these people.

Looking at these people in tattered military uniforms.

Looking at these people covered in injuries.

Looking at these men who had already used up all their ammunition.

Looking at the weapons in their hands—

A large, blunt-bladed sword.

A rifle that has run out of bullets.

brick.

bayonet.

Look into their eyes.

That kind of calm.

It's piping hot.

A look of fearlessness in the face of death.

That kind of—

A gaze that they would protect even at the cost of their lives.

The anvil's Adam's apple bobbed.

He stepped forward.

He put his arm around Chen Dashan's shoulder.

They were holding each other very tightly.

The person who broke down the door also stepped forward.

Hug the other side.

They were holding each other very tightly.

"brother."

The anvil said.

The voice was as hoarse as sandpaper grinding an iron bar.

"What are you saying?"

The door-breaker continued:

"If we're going to live, we'll live together."

He paused:

"I'm going to die—"

"Let's die together."

This time, it was Chen Dashan's turn to be stunned.

He looked at the anvil.

Looking at the person who broke in.

Looking at these two people who came from "the future".

Look at the light in their eyes.

His lips moved.

What do you want to say?

But he didn't say it out loud.

He just nodded vigorously.

Nod vigorously.

Something was gleaming in that single eye.

It wasn't tears.

It's something hotter than tears.

That thing is called—

brother.

That thing is called—

We'll face it together.

That thing is called—

No matter what era we come from, as long as we stand together, we are comrades-in-arms.

The embroiderer watched this scene unfold.

My eyes feel hot.

But she didn't let her emotions linger for too long.

She turned around.

Looking northwest towards Luodian.

That was the garrison of the Japanese Third Division.

More than 20,000 Japanese troops are assembling.

Preparations are underway.

Waiting—

Tomorrow's dawn.

At dawn tomorrow, they will come like a tide.

The embroiderer narrowed her eyes slightly.

Her voice was very soft.

But every word is like a nail:

"Twenty thousand people."

"It's a crisis."

She paused.

A slight upturn of the corners of his mouth:

"It's also an opportunity."

The anvil turned its head:

"What do you mean?"

The embroiderer spoke each word carefully:

"If we could annihilate the entire Japanese 3rd Division here—"

"The entire battle will be reversed."

silence.

Even their breathing stopped.

then.

The person who broke down the door slowly stood up.

His movements were slow.

But every step felt like stepping to the beat of a drum.

"You mean...?"

His voice trembled slightly:

"Instead...eat them?"

"right."

"But we're out of ammunition..."

"Bian Yun will be back soon."

"That's what the embroiderer said."

Her voice was very calm.

So calm, as if stating something that was already destined:

"The 7th time traveled."

"64 Kings of Soldiers"

64 cubic meters.

She looked eastward.

Looking at the rising sun:

"As long as he can get back in time—"

"We have a chance."

Chen Dashan didn't understand what "time travel" meant.

I don't understand what "cubic meter" means.

But he understood the last sentence.

There is a chance.

If given the chance, we should annihilate all 20,000 Japanese soldiers.

There is a chance to win this battle completely.

There is a chance—

May those brothers who died rest in peace.

He gripped the broadsword tightly.

My knuckles turned white from gripping so tightly:

"Then what are we waiting for?"

The embroiderer looked at him.

Looking at this one-eyed company commander.

Look at this face covered in blood.

Look into that eye that's burning with flames.

"Wait for Bian Yun to come back," she said.

"Wait for him to bring back reinforcements."

She turned around.

To everyone.

Facing the anvil.

Facing the goalkeeper.

Facing Fu Hao.

Facing Chen Dashan.

Facing every single remaining member of the 7th Company of the 3rd Battalion.

"From now until dawn tomorrow—"

Her voice suddenly rose in pitch:

"We will hold out to the death."

Not a single step back.

tomorrow.

Either Luodian will fall.

Everyone died here.

Alternatively, annihilate the entire Japanese 3rd Division.

There is no third way.

Chen Dashan looked up at the stars in the night sky.

He thought of his dead brothers.

His lips moved.

He said it very softly:

"Brothers, watch from heaven."

His voice was very soft.

But every single word is like magma gushing from the earth:

"This battle—"

"We will definitely win."

…………

Night had fallen, and Fu Hao was in charge of nighttime guard duty on the Chinese positions.

She sat on a rock.

It was a piece of bluestone shattered by artillery fire, half buried in the soil and half exposed.

Fu Hao lowered her head.

Look at your hands.

Those hands had just crushed someone's throat.

Those hands had just snapped a Japanese soldier's neck.

Those hands had just shattered an enemy's face with a single punch.

Those hands were stained with blood.

It's piping hot.

It has a fishy, ​​sweet taste.

Blood trickling down between his fingers.

But now, those hands have been carefully wiped.

It was as clean as if it had never been stained with blood.

Like a pair of ordinary girl's hands.

slim.

Fair-skinned.

The joints are clearly defined.

She looked at them.

Looked for a long time.

The embroiderer came over.

I sat down next to her.

The two people were standing very close together.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Just like many years ago at the training camp.

"What are you thinking about?" the embroiderer asked.

Fu Hao raised her head.

Look at her.

Looking at her familiar face.

Looking into her gentle eyes.

"Sister, you said..."

Fu Hao paused for a moment:

"Have I changed?"

The embroiderer was taken aback.

"Transform into what?"

"Become..."

Fu Hao lowered her head again.

Look at your hands.

"Cold-blooded."

she says.

"Back in the training camp, killing people was just about being targets, about numbers."

"The instructor said that killing one enemy is saving ten of our own people."

"We believe it."

"But back then, I never actually killed anyone."

"It's just training."

"It's just a simulation."

"only--"

She paused:

"imagine."

"Now someone has actually been killed."

"So many people."

Her voice grew softer and softer.

As light as a falling leaf.

"I thought I would be scared."

"I have nightmares."

"I won't be able to sleep."

"I can see those people's faces as soon as I close my eyes."

"I would close my eyes and hear those screams."

"meeting--"

She couldn't continue.

Take a deep breath.

Then continue:

"But not."

"I didn't feel anything."

"It's like...like killing a few animals."

"My heart was completely unmoved."

"I even felt like laughing a little."

After hearing this, the embroiderer reached out her hand.

He grasped Fu Hao's hand.

They held it very tightly.

"Laugh if you want to."

After saying that, the embroiderer laughed.

Fu Hao laughed along with her.

As she laughed, Fu Hao whispered:

"Those little Japanese devils deserve to die."

The embroiderer looked in the direction of the Japanese Third Division, her voice filled with chilling killing intent:

"Yes, it really is damn good."

"We know what these Japanese devils are here for."

"Do you know how many people they killed?"

"How many more people do we need to kill?"

There is a power in her voice.

"Know what they will do when they storm the village."

"What do they do when they catch a woman?"

"When they found out they had caught the child—"

She paused.

Take a deep breath.

Then continue:

"What can you do?"

"so……"

The embroiderer held Fu Hao's hand tightly.

They gripped it even tighter.

"We've come here to do only one thing—"

"Kill the Japanese devils."

"Kill the Japanese devils before they destroy your home."

"Before the Japanese devils ravage your land—"

"Kill them."

"Kill them until they're terrified."

"Kill them until they dare not come again."

"Charge!"

She paused:

"Not a single Japanese soldier can be seen on this land anymore."