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

"Support? Baka—!!!"

At the headquarters of the 11th Division of the Japanese Army, on the other end of the telephone line, Munetake Yamamuro's face had turned a deep purplish-red.

He gripped the field telephone, veins bulging from the back of his hand all the way to his neck.

The voice coming from the receiver made him want to smash the phone, pull the person on the other end out of the phone line, and kill them with his own hands.

"Namae, what the hell do you think you do! Support me! You can say it, you can't stand it!" (Who the hell do you think you are? Support? You deserve to say it, you loser!)

Munetake Yamamuro, holding the phone, paced back and forth in the command post.

"Just two Type 94 light armored vehicles, the deaths of over two hundred Imperial warriors—and you couldn't hold out? Naojiro, are you still an Imperial soldier? Shame on you!"

His voice came through the phone like knives, stabbing into Naoki's ears.

Naokijiro gripped the field phone, his face extremely grim. It wasn't the shame of being scolded, but the frustration of wanting to yell back but not daring to.

His lips trembled, his hands trembled, his whole body trembled. He cursed inwardly: Yamamuro Munetake, you beast! You're hiding in the division headquarters dozens of kilometers away from Liu Xing, drinking tea and eating canned food, and asking me if I'm a warrior of the empire?

You are a warrior of the empire, come forth!

You shall face the divine punishment that will fall from the sky!

You're going to face that monster that can blow up two tanks with a single shot!

You fucking come here!

But what came out of his mouth was something else entirely. His voice trembled, half from fear and half from anger, like a dog driven to the brink of despair whimpering.

"Commander, you are unaware that the Chinese soldiers possess divine punishment, and weapons we have never seen before! This divine punishment descends from the sky, killing every Imperial warrior equally, and the death is extremely painful and gruesome! Our 10th Brigade has not yet found a way to counter it!"

His voice grew increasingly urgent and trembling, like a string about to snap.

"Lord Yamamuro Munetake, please provide support to the 10th Brigade, or allow us to retreat! If this continues, our soldiers will only die in vain."

On the other end of the phone, Yamamuro Munetake's eyes narrowed. His triangular eyes were reduced to slits.

"Retreat? What do you say? Retreat?" (Retreat? You guy, what are you talking about? Retreat?)

His voice suddenly became very soft. Soft as a viper's flick, as soft as the footsteps of death, as soft as a knife slowly being drawn from its sheath.

There was no anger, no roar in that voice, only a chilling killing intent.

Naokijiro's pupils contracted sharply upon hearing this. He heard the soft tone and knew what it meant.

That was a premonition before Yamamuro Munetake killed someone; his mouth opened, as if he wanted to explain, beg for mercy, or take back his words. But it was too late.

"Bakayaro!!!" Yamamuro Munetake's roar exploded from the phone. The sound was like thunder, like an avalanche, like it was about to shatter the phone.

"Retreat? No mae, Imperial soldier's shame! Retreat! No mae no head! Flying ぶぞ! Family もDoren れだ!" (Retreat? What a disgrace to you Imperial soldier! If you retreat, you won't want your head! Your family will also be buried with you!)

Naokijiro's body stiffened abruptly. He heard the words "family" and "burial with them."

His mind flashed through the faces of his wife and son, Kenichi, and Mika.

He was afraid of dying, but he was even more afraid of his family dying because of him.

Yamamuro Munetake was still cursing loudly on the field phone:

「さっさと咃しろ! Liu Xingをtakeれ! Take れなかったら, お前も, お前の家も, みんな道连れだ! The Eleventh Division is a must-have!

(Charge now! Take Liu Xing! If you fail, you and your family will all be executed! The 11th Division has no need for cowards like you. Useless trash, either die or commit seppuku, choose one!)

"Hai... Hai..." Naojiro uttered a dying wail.

"Commander, I...I understand..."

On the other end of the phone, Munetake Yamamuro was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently.

After he finished cursing, he threw the phone to his adjutant and turned to walk towards the sand table.

"That piece of trash, Naojiro," he muttered, his voice filled with disdain, disgust, and a condescending contempt.

"Let him charge, he'll need support. Support? I'll give him support—want a bullet?"

Liu Xing moved forward from the position, into the shell craters.

Naokijiro held the phone, listening to the busy tone coming from the other end. Beep beep beep—the sound was like a death knell.

His hand slowly lowered, the phone fell into the dirt, and he lowered his head, sobbing.

"Beast...you beast..."