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

Wusongkou.

This is the confluence of the Huangpu River and the Yangtze River, where the river is three kilometers wide and deep enough for ships of 10,000 tons to pass.

At this moment, a Japanese division is launching a full-scale attack on the 42nd Brigade's position.

This mudflat, which is less than two square kilometers in area, has been transformed into the surface of the moon.

As you can see, craters follow craters, not an inch of land remains intact. The trenches had long been flattened, and the soldiers hid in the craters, using the bodies of their fallen comrades to build shelters—not out of disrespect, but because there were simply no other materials available.

Guo Rugui, the acting brigade commander of the 42nd Brigade of the 87th Division, was lying at the bottom of a huge bomb crater.

He had been shot in the left arm, which was haphazardly wrapped with bandages, soaked with blood. His uniform was torn to shreds, and his face was covered in soot and bloodstains. Only his eyes were still shining—frighteningly bright, like the last embers in a burnt-out ember.

There were more than 1,200 people around him.

One brigade, four thousand men, fought until only a little over a thousand remained.

"Brigadier..." The messenger crawled over—it was a sixteen-year-old boy soldier named Xiaodouzi, his leg cut open by shrapnel, revealing bone, but he was still crawling, "East... Third Company position... no one's there..."

Guo Rugui closed her eyes.

The company commander of the Third Company was his classmate from the Whampoa Military Academy, a burly Shandong man who loved to drink. He said he would treat the entire brigade to drinks after the battle.

Now, there's no one left.

"What about the west side?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"The second battalion... the battalion commander said... they've run out of bullets..."

Guo Rugui opened her eyes and looked up at the sky.

The sky was a dazzling blue. Several Japanese bombers were circling, preparing for their next dive.

He reached for his waist—where the last two grenades were tucked. One for the Japanese, and one for himself.

"Brothers."

Guo Rugui spoke, his voice not loud, but in the deathly silence of the battlefield, everyone could hear him.

Those who could still move all looked at him.

"I am Guo Rugui, from Tongliang, Sichuan, a graduate of the fifth class of the Whampoa Military Academy."

He slowly stood up, leaning against the edge of the shell crater. The gunfire had temporarily ceased—the Japanese were reloading or waiting for the landing troops.

"Our 42nd Brigade was ordered to hold Wusongkou to the death. Hold it until reinforcements arrive, or... hold it until we die."

He paused, then looked around at each of the surviving soldiers:

"Now, reinforcements haven't arrived."

"We're going to die."

No one spoke. Only the mournful sound of the wind whistling through the ruins.

"But I want to tell you—" Guo Rugui raised her voice, each word like a stone squeezed from her chest:

"My eight thousand brave soldiers have all perished!"

"The enemy's offensive shows no signs of abating, and the future remains uncertain!"

He pointed behind him—that was the direction of Shanghai:

"If the position exists, I will live and die with it."

"If the position falls, I will die on the battlefield, my body smeared in the wild!"

He took a deep breath, and tears finally fell, mingling with the blood on his face.

"The day of victory in the War of Resistance—"

"If anyone were to pass through the Wusongkou by ship—"

"As if the waves were as high as mountains..."

His voice choked with emotion, but he mustered his last strength to shout:

"That's me, that's us!"

"Come see the new China!"

"Let's see what future generations will think—!!!"

At that moment, not a single one of the more than a thousand people in the entire brigade retreated.

They now only have one belief left!

Kill the Japanese invaders!

The second one, the third one...

The Japanese troops began their charge; there were planes in the sky and tanks on the ground.

The final moment has arrived.

Guo Rugui raised his gun and cocked it:

"Brothers—"

"We swear to defend our homeland, and we will never retreat—!!!"

"We will never retreat—!!!" More than 1,200 hoarse voices exploded on the ruins.

"kill!!!!"

Just as Guo Rugui was about to be the first to rush out of the position...

The Japanese bombers in the sky suddenly began to riot.

It wasn't a dive, it was an evasive maneuver—scattering in all directions as if startled by something.

Guo Rugui was stunned.

He saw a flock of... small things flying in from the southwest sky.

It's not an airplane, and it's not a bird.

It's a hovering "little flying insect" with four rotors.

Ten, twenty, ... densely packed, like a metallic cloud.

They flew extremely fast, heading straight for the Japanese bombers.

The first bomber attempted to fire, its machine guns spitting fire. But the "little flying insects" were too small and too agile, easily dodging the attacks.

Then, several of the "little flies" accelerated and crashed into the bomber's engine.

Boom boom boom—!!!

Three bombers exploded into fireballs in the air.

The rest fled in panic.

On the river, Japanese warships also noticed the anomaly.

On the other side, Lu Bei carried the last FN-6 tank, knelt behind the ruins, and locked his sights on a Japanese tank.

"Damn it...try this!"

Pull the trigger.

call out--!!!

The missile, trailing a plume of flame, flew straight toward its target.

The distance was 800 meters, and the flight time was less than two seconds.

The missile hit the tank.

It's not an ordinary explosion—it's a shaped charge, specifically designed to hit armor.

The Japanese commanders inside the tank were all dead.

Further away.

Lin Mo lay on the ruins of a water tower—the only remaining high point in Wusongkou.

His QBU-202 anti-materiel rifle, with the crosshairs of the scope pointing towards the Japanese commander at the front.

Distance: 1,500 meters.

Wind speed: Level 4 river wind, with waves.

Target: Moving.

Lin Mo's breathing was as steady as if he were asleep.

He pulled the trigger.

boom--! ! !

The 12.7mm armor-piercing round accurately shattered the head of the Japanese commander two seconds after it took off.

With the commander dead, the Japanese troops began to riot and were thrown into chaos.

Guo Rugui and the seventeen soldiers were all stunned.

They looked at the sky—those "little flying insects" were still chasing Japanese planes.

Looking at the river, the Japanese warships were in complete disarray, and a destroyer was listing with thick smoke billowing out.

Looking towards the shore—five people rushed out of the ruins to the southwest.

Five people dressed in strange military uniforms and equipped with weapons they had never seen before.

The young man in the lead was still giving orders while running:

"Lei Gang! Shoot down that Japanese plane in the very center of the sky above us."

"Su Yue! Drones are swarming and attacking the tanks!"

"Lu Bei! Suppress the remaining enemy forces on the shore!"

"Lin Mo! Continue calling roll!"

Five people, like five sharp knives, plunged into the battlefield...