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

Lu Chuan and Lin Yun haven't finished fighting yet.

After being kicked backward, Lu Chuan took a step back. But he didn't stop; before the muddy water had even finished dripping from his trousers, he had already steadied his breathing.

He changed his playing style.

I'm not going to pursue it anymore.

He stood in the middle of the swamp, his feet planted deep in the mud, knees slightly bent, his center of gravity low. He looked like a stake driven into the ground.

Waiting for you to come.

Lin Yun circled around him.

Her steps were as light as a dragonfly skimming the water, each step creating only a small ripple on the muddy surface. She circled Lu Chuan halfway, positioning herself to his side and slightly behind, then suddenly accelerated—

He punched him in the side.

Lu Chuan did not turn around.

His left elbow slammed back, landing squarely on Lin Yun's fist.

"Bang."

Lin Yun's fist was knocked away.

She took a step back and shook her numb fingers.

Lu Chuan turned around and looked at her.

"You won't be allowed to play in the same spot a third time."

Lin Yun smiled and said,

"Really? So confident!"

"Then let's try this."

Lin Yun began to move again.

This isn't the circling movement from before. The previous circling was a probe, a cursory glance, an attempt to find a weakness. This movement is different.

Her pace suddenly quickened.

His feet splashed through the muddy water, creating a trail of fine sprays. He moved like a shuttle, weaving around Lu Chuan. Left, right, left, right—each change of direction was so fast it was dizzying.

She stirred up the mud and water, causing it to explode into black flowers at her feet.

Dogfighting in the Air Force.

Zhao Shu suddenly held his breath in the stands. He understood.

In aerial combat, when two fighter jets are locked in a dogfight, it's not a contest of who flies faster.

It's a contest of who gets to the other side's six o'clock position first—whoever gets the tail first gets to fire.

Lin Yun is currently trying to get the best angle.

She didn't mean to hit Lu Chuan.

She wanted to get behind Lu Chuan, to a place where he couldn't see her, to a position that would be most uncomfortable for him.

Lu Chuan followed her around.

But his footwork couldn't keep up. He was an army soldier, trained for frontal assaults and head-on collisions. He had never seen Lin Yun's elusive and unpredictable movement before.

He turned around three times and found himself always facing the enemy head-on—but Lin Yun was never directly in front of him.

She was always in the corner of his eye.

So close yet so distant.

You can see it, but you can't grasp it.

"What the hell is this footwork...?" Zhou Mu was dumbfounded.

Lin Yun's speed increased.

She circled Lu Chuan for the fourth time. This time, when she was behind and to the left of Lu Chuan, she suddenly stopped.

It was a very natural pause, like a fighter jet suddenly reducing throttle, pulling back on the stick, and recovering in mid-air. A small ripple spread across the muddy water at her feet before settling down.

Lu Chuan's gaze followed.

But Lin Yun is no longer in that position.

In that instant of pause, she darted off in the opposite direction.

Feint.

Feints in aerial combat.

Lu Chuan's center of gravity was momentarily deceiving him. His body leaned to the left, but Lin Yun had already circled around him from the right.

She is currently directly behind Lu Chuan.

The six o'clock direction.

It got stuck.

The Air Force has completely gone mad.

"Dogfight!!! That's a dogfight!!!"

Zhao Shu's voice exploded. He jumped up from the ground and stomped his foot into the mud puddle.

"Sister Yun has got his nail on at six o'clock!!! She's got it!!!"

The reed stalk in Qingniao's hand had long since broken. He was now clenching his fists, leaning forward, "Angle... I got the angle..."

Gao Tiange's water bottle was already dented by him; he threw it into the swamp.

"Sister Yun!!! Get him!!!"

"Once you've bitten, don't let go!!!"

"Air Force—Air Force—Air Force—"

Lin Yun moved again.

She pounced on Lu Chuan from directly behind.

He lowered his center of gravity, like a diving fighter jet, skimming across the water's surface.

Lu Chuan sensed movement behind him.

He turned around.

But it was too late.

Lin Yun has arrived.

She did not throw a punch.

Her body suddenly tilted to the side, and she glided past Lu Chuan like a fighter jet making a sharp turn.

Lu Chuan's fist flew out, grazing her shoulder. She could feel the wind, carrying Lu Chuan's heat, brushing against her training uniform.

But it missed.

The second principle of dogfighting is to never stay on the same straight line for more than a second.

As Lin Yun slid past Lu Chuan from the side, her hand reached out.

Her fingers gripped Lu Chuan's wrist, her fingertips like eagle claws, precisely finding that spot—the indentation between the two tendons on the inside of his wrist. Pressing it down made his entire arm go numb.

This is the pilot's joint lock.

In aerial combat, you've locked onto the enemy's six points, and the next step is to open fire. But on the ground, the way to fire isn't by pulling the trigger, but by locking the joint.

Lu Chuan's right arm went limp for a moment.

His fist loosened, and his fingers spread open uncontrollably.

Just this once.

Lin Yun's body sank down, turning herself to Lu Chuan's side. Her right foot hooked around Lu Chuan's ankle, and her left elbow pressed down on his shoulder.

She clung to Lu Chuan.

Like a lock.

He was locked up.

Lu Chuan is unable to move.

His right arm was restrained, his center of gravity was shifted by Lin Yun's body, and his ankle was hooked, preventing him from adjusting.

He tried to break free with brute force—his muscles tensed, the veins on his neck bulged, and his teeth clenched—but Lin Yun's locking technique was too skillful.

She wasn't trying to outmuscle him.

She blocked all his points of attack.

In aerial combat, you don't need to be faster than the enemy's fighter jet. You just need to gain the angle that prevents them from retaliating.

"fall."

Lin Yun squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth.

She twisted her whole body to the side, using her waist and abdomen to tighten it like a screw.

Lu Chuan's body turned to the side following her force.

He fell backward.

"boom--"

Mud and water splashed up to a height of more than one person.

Once the water droplets subsided, everyone saw it—

Lu Chuan lay in the mud, face up. Lin Yun was on top of him, one hand still holding his wrist, the other hand braced against the mud.

Her knee pressed against Lu Chuan's chest...

"We won!!!!!"

Zhao Shu sprang up from the ground.

Zhang Liang, shirtless, rushed over, slipped, and fell into the mud. But he didn't care; instead, he cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a long howl: "Wuhu—"