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

Just before dawn...

A knock came at the door.

The door opened.

Three people walked in.

The first person was of medium build and had an ordinary appearance; he was the type of person you wouldn't notice if you threw him into a crowd.

"Lin Mo," he said, his voice calm. "Western Theater Command, 'Snow Leopard' Commando, Sniper Instructor."

He carried a long, black box on his back. It wasn't a gun case; it looked more like some kind of precision instrument case.

"Specialties: Sniping at ultra-long range of 3,000 meters, environmental camouflage, and solo infiltration." Lin Mo looked at Bian Yun.

"During my third time crossing over, I was responsible for eliminating the Japanese artillery observers, heavy machine gunners, and... high-ranking commanders."

He paused:

"Lu Bei is a soldier I trained. It's quite impressive that he could achieve that kind of result in the bank building."

The second person was completely different.

Tall and muscular, at least 1.9 meters tall, with shoulders broad enough to fill a door frame. He had a scar on his face, running diagonally from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, making him look as fierce as a bear.

But he was smiling.

That kind of honest and genuine smile.

"My name is Lei Gang!" His voice boomed, carrying a thick Northeastern accent. "Northern Theater Command, 'Northeast Tiger' Special Operations Brigade, demolition expert!"

He was carrying two suitcases—not carrying them, but lifting them as easily as plastic bags. Bian Yun estimated that each suitcase weighed at least fifty kilograms.

"Specialties: Explosive yield calculation, directional blasting, fortification destruction, and—" He grinned, revealing his white teeth, "Dismantling Japanese tanks is like opening a can."

He patted the box:

"These are my 'toys'. Thermobaric bombs, fuel-air explosive bombs, shaped charge anti-tank bombs... Oh, and four improved versions of the 'flying crossbow,' man-portable air defense missiles. I heard the Japanese have airplanes? Hehe, I'm just waiting for them to arrive."

The third person surprised Bian Yun.

It's a woman.

She wasn't tall, about 1.65 meters, with a slender figure and a neat short ponytail. She was wearing combat uniform, but not a military cap, revealing a delicate and even somewhat quiet face.

But the way she walked in—like a sword half-drawn from its sheath. Reserved, yet ready to deliver a fatal blow at any moment.

"Su Yue." Her voice was cold and clear. "Eastern Theater Command, 'Jiaolong' Amphibious Reconnaissance Team, electronic warfare and communications expert."

She was only holding a tablet computer.

"Specialties: battlefield communication establishment and jamming, drone swarm control, electronic reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance." Su Yue looked at Bian Yun, "I participated in the design of Academician Yuan An's cross-temporal communication system."

She paused:

"My mission for this third time travel is to enable stable, real-time, two-way communication between 1937 and 2025."

"And—" A sharp glint flashed in her eyes, "If there are Japanese radio signals, I can block them across the entire frequency band. I'll make them deaf and blind."

Three people, three completely different temperaments.

But they had one thing in common—their eyes when they looked at Bian Yun held no curiosity, no doubt, only a pure and unwavering focus.

That was the look in a soldier's eyes when he received a mission.

Bian Yun looked at them, at Lin Mo's calmness, Lei Gang's boldness, and Su Yue's sharpness.

He suddenly understood what Wang Kangmei meant when he said, "Each one is no worse than Lu Bei."

These are not three soldiers.

These are the three sharp blades that the Chinese military will wield to the extreme in their respective fields by 2025.

Now, these three sharp blades will follow him back to 1937.

"The coordinates are here." Bian Yun took Su Yue's tablet and marked the location of the bank building. "The Japanese army's main equipment at present is: Type 89 medium tank, Type 95 light tank, Type 92 heavy machine gun, and Type 89 grenade launcher. Their infantry tactics focus on frontal assaults and rely on firepower suppression."

He paused:

"But the most dangerous thing was their bombers. The Type 96 land-based bombers."

Lei Gang laughed heartily: "Bombers? I've been waiting for them!"

He opened a box.

Inside, four dark green launch tubes are neatly arranged. The tubes are printed with simple white lettering: "FN-6 Modified, Man-portable Air Defense Missile".

"Effective range of 6,000 meters, maximum altitude of 3,500 meters." Lei Gang stroked the launch tube as if caressing a lover.

"Lock-on means destruction. Forget the Type 96, even if the Type 0 comes, it'll take me down."

Supplies preparation area.

The 4-cubic-meter space has been planned to its fullest potential.

"This is..." Bian Yun picked up a straw and asked.

"Water from wild sources is safe to drink directly, filtering out bacteria and parasites," Su Yue explained.

"In 1937, many soldiers died not from fighting, but from drinking unclean water and contracting dysentery."

Bian Yun gripped the straw tightly.

See, that's what professionalism looks like.

One hour before departure.

General Wang Kangmei has reappeared.

He looked at the four people who were already fully prepared and ready to go, his gaze sweeping over each of them.

"Lin Mo".

"arrive!"

"Your grandfather, Lin Zhendong, died in the Battle of Wuhan in 1938, but Wuhan eventually fell."

Wang Kangmei's voice was low and deep. "Today, you will finish what they failed to do."

Lin Mo stood at attention, her eyes slightly red: "Yes!"

"Lei Gang".

"arrive!"

"Your great-grandfather, Lei Tieshan, was a member of the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army. In Changbai Mountain, he single-handedly held off a small Japanese squad before finally detonating a grenade." Wang Kangmei patted him on the shoulder. "He used grenades to blow up tanks. You—use missiles. Don't embarrass him."

Lei Gang roared, "I will never disgrace my ancestors!!!"

"Su Yue".

"arrive!"

"You're a girl," Wang Kangmei said, looking at her. "But the battlefield doesn't discriminate between men and women. Your great-grandmother, Su Xiuying, was an underground liaison for the Eighth Route Army. She was captured by the Japanese but refused to surrender even in the face of death. Today, you're fighting that war in a different way—with technology."

Su Yue bit her lip and nodded emphatically.

Finally, Wang Kangmei looked at Bian Yun.

He didn't say anything.

He simply walked up to the young man and gave him a tight hug...