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

The Japanese front rank, infantry, began to advance.

That wasn't a charge.

It is about advancement.

Slow, heavy, and unstoppable progress.

Like a yellowish-brown tsunami, it slowly rose from the horizon and then gradually rolled over the north bank of Luodian.

"Thump."

"Thump."

"Thump."

That sound wasn't footsteps.

It's a drumbeat.

Every blow struck the hearts of the Chinese defenders.

Each strike made the air feel heavier.

These were rifles with bayonets fixed.

The second row consists of light and heavy machine gunners.

The Type 92 heavy machine gun and the Type 91 light machine gun were carried on the shoulder or pushed on a cart.

The gun barrels gleamed coldly in the morning light.

Those gun barrels were pointed directly at Luodian.

Facing the Chinese defenders.

Facing those three Qilin tanks.

The third row consists of grenade launcher and mortar operators.

They bent over, carrying those short, stubby cannon barrels.

Those cannon barrels, like hungry wild beasts, were waiting to be fed.

Waiting to devour life.

Wait—

Blow up this wasteland completely.

They lined up from left to right.

It covered the entire field of vision.

From east to west.

He had a blade of grass in his mouth, chewed it, and then spat it out.

"Embroiderer," his voice came through the communication channel, "when are you opening fire?"

The embroiderer did not answer.

She continued to watch the Japanese soldiers.

Watching them approach step by step.

1200 meters.

One kilometer.

800 meters.

She could see the soldiers' eyes clearly now.

Those eyes—some were fanatical, some were empty, some were—

I'm trembling.

"The embroiderer?" Iron Anvil asked again.

"Wait a little longer," the embroiderer said.

One thousand and one hundred meters.

800 meters.

700 meters.

At this distance, a rifle can already be fired.

But the embroiderer did not give the order.

She just watched.

Watching that yellowish-brown tsunami approach little by little.

500 meters.

Four hundred meters.

Three hundred and fifty meters.

At this distance, the rust on the bayonet is already visible.

You can clearly see the terrified expressions on the soldiers' faces.

Can see clearly—

Death is approaching.

"Embroiderer—!" The anvil's voice was urgent.

The embroiderer put down her binoculars.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Fire."

she says.

Inside the Qilin 101 car.

The anvil had been waiting impatiently for a long time.

His eyes lit up when he heard those two words.

"That's exactly what I've been waiting to hear!"

He gripped the handle of the coaxial machine gun with both hands.

The index finger rests on the trigger.

Through the scope, those tan figures, densely packed, filled the entire field of vision.

Like a herd of pigs waiting to be slaughtered.

This is a group of—

You deserve to go to hell.

"Little devils—"

The anvil grinned.

That smile was as ferocious as a demon crawling out of hell:

"Grandpa is seeing you off on your journey!"

He pulled the trigger.

"Da da da da da—!!!"

The parallel machine guns began to speak.

Flames erupted from beneath the turret of the Qilin 101.

More than half a meter long.

Scorching hot.

It's blinding.

Like a burning whip.

Drawn towards that yellowish-brown ocean.

The Japanese soldiers in the first row hadn't even reacted yet.

The bullets have arrived.

"Puff puff puff puff—!!!"

That was the sound of a bullet hitting flesh.

Dull.

Continuous.

Like raindrops hitting mud.

The first row of several hundred Japanese soldiers fell down in unison, like wheat being cut down.

A row.

Another row.

Another row.

Fresh blood gushed from the fallen bodies.

The ground beneath their feet was instantly stained red.

Some people weren't quite dead yet; they were rolling on the ground screaming in agony.

Someone was clutching their stomach, their intestines spilling out from between their fingers.

Someone opened their mouth, trying to shout, but only managed a hissing sound.

But many more people are still rushing forward.

Stepping over the corpses of his comrades.

Stepping on those still convulsing bodies.

Inside the Qilin 103 car.

The breacher is calmer than the anvil.

He didn't grin.

His face was expressionless.

He was just staring at the scope.

He stared at the figures of the Japanese soldiers.

He heard the fire start from the anvil.

I heard those screams.

Hear those—

The sound of death.

Then, he pulled the trigger.

"Da da da da da—!!!"

The second line of fire erupted from beneath the turret of the Kirin 103.

From another perspective.

Drawn towards that yellowish-brown ocean.

Crossfire.

Death Cross.

The Japanese soldiers in the second row were instantly torn to shreds.

Some people were hit in two, their upper bodies still crawling forward while their lower bodies remained three meters away.

Someone was shot in the head, and their head exploded, splattering red and white matter all over the ground.

Someone was shot through the chest, and blood gushed out of their back like a fountain.

But they are still rushing.

Still pushing forward.

Because there is a supervisory team behind them.

Because retreating also means death.

because--

They are no longer human.

It's a wild beast.

It's a machine.

Yes--

dead.

Two machine guns, mounted side by side, roared simultaneously.

Two lines of fire, like two burning whips.

It whipped that yellowish-brown ocean.

Where will I be drawn?

They fell down wherever they were.

Japanese soldiers fell in droves.

Like harvested wheat.

Like an ant being crushed.

Fresh blood gushed from the fallen bodies.

They converge into countless streams.

Small streams converge to form a river.

The stream flows between the craters.

The entire position was dyed a shocking dark red.

The number of corpses is increasing.

A whole bunch.

Layer by layer.

Some lay face down, their faces buried in pools of blood.

Some were tilted back, their eyes wide open, staring at the hazy sky.

Some are distorted to angles that are impossible for humans to reach.

But more Japanese troops were still charging forward.

They are not brave.

They've gone mad.

They are beasts driven mad by war.

He was driven mad by orders—

Tools that consume ammunition.

Inside the Qilin 102 car.

The embroiderer did not start the fire.

She just watched.

Watching that yellowish-brown ocean being torn apart by two machine guns.

Watching those Japanese soldiers fall down in droves.

Look at the blood, staining the earth red.

Her face was expressionless.

Just watching.

Like watching a movie that has nothing to do with me.

But her hand clenched tightly.

They held it very tightly.

Because she knew—

This is just the beginning.

How many people can be killed by two machine guns?

one thousand?

two thousand?

Three thousand?

What about the rest?

We will continue to push forward.

They will rush to the front of the position.

They will rush into the ruins.

They would use bayonets, their teeth, and anything else they could get their hands on.

Kill them.

They killed everyone.

"Anvil," she said.

"exist!"

"Reload belt."

"clear!"

The gunfire from the Kirin 101 stopped.

Only the gunfire from the Kirin 103 continued.

Three seconds later.

The gunshots from the Kirin 101 rang out again.

Two lines of fire continued to lash that yellowish-brown ocean.

Continue to reap lives.

continue--

kill.

On the Japanese positions, screams of agony rose and fell.

Not just once or twice.

It is countless sounds.

It was thousands upon thousands of sounds.

Yes--

The sound of hell.

"Suke Yu——!!!"

(Help--!!!)

「お马さん——!!!」

(Mother--!!!)

"It hurts——!!!"

(pain--!!!)

"Die no Nana——!!!"

(I don't want to die—!!!)

Those voices were shrill and mournful.

despair.

It doesn't sound like a human.

Like a dying beast.

Like a pig being slaughtered.

picture--

A ghost being burned alive.

Some Japanese soldiers knelt on the ground, clasped their hands together, and kowtowed towards the east.

He was muttering something about Amaterasu protecting him.

But before he could finish reading, the bullets arrived.

My head exploded.

Some Japanese soldiers lay on the ground, burying their faces in pools of blood, pretending to be dead.

But playing dead won't help.

Because those machine guns were still firing.

Because those bullets are still flying.

because--

Today is their death day.

But more Japanese troops were still in Okinawa.

Stepping on corpses.

Stepping on pools of blood.

They trampled over the Japanese soldiers who were still screaming in agony.

Their faces were expressionless.

It's just empty.

Only numbness.

only--

Eyes utterly ravaged by war.

They only know how to move forward.

All I know is how to rush.

Like a herd of livestock being driven away.

The embroiderer watched all of this.

Looking at that yellowish-brown ocean, a small hole had been torn in it.

Watching those soldiers die like ants.

Look at the blood, staining the earth red.

Her eyes remained calm.

But her heart—

It is also bleeding.

It wasn't out of sympathy for those Japanese soldiers.

It really breaks my heart to see all that ammunition.

In 2026, the new China will have plenty of ammunition.

But in 1937, they received no supplies...