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

Bian Yun's voice still echoed in the air.

Like a ray of light.

Like a ball of fire.

Like a stream—

A warm current that has surged forth since 88 years ago.

That sound pierced through the smoke of gunpowder.

It pierced through the morning mist.

It penetrated—

The heart of every person.

The embroiderer stood next to the Qilin 102 car.

Her hand reached into her bosom.

They took something out.

A flag.

Red.

The five-star red flag.

She brought it from the new China.

I've always treasured it.

I've been reluctant to take it out.

His face was covered in black ash.

Oil stains.

Sweat stains.

Smoke and fire.

mixed together.

One line is black, the other is white.

Like a tabby cat.

But his eyes shone like red-hot iron.

He raised his fist.

He roared:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

The breacher jumped out of the Qilin 103 car.

His movements were swift.

Like a leopard.

He landed on the scorched earth.

Stand still.

Facing that red flag.

Shouting:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Chen Dashan stood there.

There was a glimmer of tears in that one eye.

Those tears were very bright.

It shines like a star.

But he didn't cry.

He held back.

He raised the large, blunt-bladed sword.

Raise it above your head.

That knife was already quite worn out.

The blade is bent.

The blade cracked.

The cloth strips on the knife handle had long since come undone.

But he held it very high.

Jude—

It's like holding up the most precious thing in the world.

He roared with all his might.

Hoarseness.

But it was very loud:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Li Dajiang stood beside him.

That tiger-headed broadsword was broken.

Only half remains.

It broke cleanly in the middle of the blade.

The break is uneven.

But he was still holding it. Still raising it.

He held up the broken half of the knife.

Shout with all your might:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Old Gun stood there.

His arm was in a sling.

The bandages were soaked in blood.

The blood had dried and formed a dark red scab.

But his back was ramrod straight.

It stands as straight as a pine tree.

He used his good arm to lift the rifle that had run out of bullets.

He shouted:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

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

His legs are gone.

Below the knees, it's empty.

The trouser legs were tied in knots.

Swaying in the wind.

But his upper body was standing straight.

It stands as straight as a benchmark.

He shouted with all his might:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Old Zhao can't see.

His eyes were blinded by poison.

Only two black holes remain.

But he can hear.

He heard those roars.

He heard those—

The sound that surged from the chest.

He shouted too.

Shout the loudest.

The sound cracked:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Old Zhou has no arms.

The two sleeves were empty and hanging there.

But he has a chest.

He straightened his chest.

It stands very tall.

With his whole body, he shouted:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Shuanzhu stood there.

This is a sixteen-year-old boy from Henan.

This child is clutching a brick.

this--

A child who had never seen a red flag.

He looked at the red flag.

Watching it flutter in the wind.

Look at those five stars.

Those five stars shone brightly in the sunlight.

Like five stars.

Like five lamps.

Like five—

Hope falling from the sky.

His tears flowed down.

It was all over his face.

It was mixed with the blood on his face.

It was mixed with dust and dirt.

White streaks appeared one after another.

But he didn't wipe it.

He doesn't care.

He was just shouting.

They shouted the loudest.

The loudest shout:

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Zhang Shitou is shouting.

Tian Dazhuang is shouting.

Liu Manzai is shouting.

Sun Tiezhu is shouting.

All the soldiers of the Seventh Company were shouting.

Those who have been here since day one.

Those who have been fighting since the very first battle.

Those ones--

A person covered in wounds, yet still fighting.

Everyone was shouting.

They're all yelling.

All here—

Scream with all your might.

All the remaining soldiers of the Ninth Platoon were shouting.

Those who have just crawled out of hell.

Those who almost died in that small building.

Those ones--

Those who held their ground with their lives

Everyone was shouting.

They're all yelling.

All here—

Scream with all your might.

All the soldiers from later generations were shouting.

Embroiderer.

Angel.

Fu Hao.

anvil.

The breacher.

Everyone was shouting.

They're all yelling.

All here—

Scream with all your might.

The sounds merged into one.

Huicheng—

A cry that welled up from the bottom of my heart.

Huicheng—

A vow made with one's life.

Huicheng—

A roar louder than a cannonball.

Huicheng—

A will harder than a tank.

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

Once.

One more time.

The sound was so powerful that the ground beneath our feet trembled.

The sound was so loud that it caused the clouds in the sky to disperse.

The sound made even the distant bugle calls of the Japanese army sound weak and powerless.

far away.

Inside the Japanese camp.

Fujita Susumu held up his binoculars.

He looked at the position.

Looking at that red flag.

Looking at those—

The person who is screaming.

His hands were trembling.

It's not because of the cold.

It's not because I'm afraid.

Yes--

A feeling I can't quite describe.

That feeling was called shock.

It's incomprehensible.

Call--

fear.

"Baka..."

He murmured.

"Aren't these Chinese people afraid...?"

No one could answer him.

Because nobody understands.

Those ones--

People who would rather die standing than live on their knees.

Those ones--

People who know they are going to die but still shout.

Those ones--

A person who values ​​the red flag more than his own life.

Those ones--

A person who has "China" etched into their very bones.

The chief of staff stood beside him, Fujita Susumu.

He was also holding up binoculars.

His hands were trembling too.

"Division Commander..." he began.

The voice was trembling:

"What...what are they shouting?"

Fujita Susumu did not answer.

He just watched.

Looking at that red flag.

Looking at those screaming people.

Looking at those—

The Chinese people who terrified him from the bottom of his heart.

North bank of Luodian.

On the Chinese front,

That red flag fluttered in the wind.

It rustled.

Like a ball of fire.

Like a sword.

picture--

The Chinese people's spirit will never yield.

The embroiderer stood on the turret.

Standing under that red flag.

Tears streamed down her face.

But she didn't wipe it.

Let them flow.

Flowing in this area—

She risked her life to protect this land.

Flowing in this area—

On the land in 1937.

Flowing in this area—

On the land eighty-eight years ago.

far away.

The bugle calls of the Japanese army continued to ring out.

"Buzz—Buzz—Buzz—"

Low-pitched.

long.

It was filled with murderous intent.

Twenty thousand Japanese troops began to move.

Like a yellowish-brown tsunami.

More than forty tanks began to advance.

Like a pack of steel beasts.

Hundreds of cannons began to be transported.

But the embroiderer was not afraid.

She just stared at the red flag.

Watching it flutter in the wind.

Look at those five stars.

Those five stars shone brightly in the sunlight.

Like five hopes.

Like five faiths.

Like five—

A flame that will never be extinguished.

Behind her, the roars continued.

"Kill the Japanese invaders—!!!"

"The People's Republic of China—!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

The sound echoed throughout the entire north bank of Luodian.

It spread to everyone—

The hearts of Chinese people are still beating.

It spread everywhere—

This land soaked in blood.

1937 years.

North bank of Luodian.

A red flag flutters atop the Qilin tank.

A group of Chinese soldiers roared under the red flag.

In the distance, 20,000 Japanese troops are approaching.

But no one was afraid.

because--

The red flag is there.

China is here.

Home is here.

That red flag represents their faith.

Those roars were their power.

Those who are standing are—

The backbone of this nation.

The morning light grew brighter and brighter.

It shines on that red flag.

The light shone on the faces of those who were screaming.

The light shines on this area—

On the land north of Luodian, where the final battle is about to take place...

P.S. Thank you for the milk tea from the low-pitched Aji and the update reminder from Xiaofang, who is from the 80s.

Next, I will quickly go through the plot, finish writing the first Eastern Military Region King of Soldiers Competition, write about Lei Gang in Liuxing, Liu Dachui in Yunzaobang, Dong Yi in Shixiangong Temple, and Lu Bei and his comrades' situation of defending and counterattacking against the Japanese in 1937.

These chapters cannot be omitted, after all, this is the outline.

If I don't write, I won't be able to express my emotions.

But this time it won't be too long; it will be concise and brilliant.

Please understand.

Then comes the satisfying plot of Bian Yun flying a J-16 fighter jet, leading the elite soldiers selected by the Eastern Military Region, to 1937, where he joins the Chinese soldiers there to recapture Luodian.

Stay tuned!