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

"What?!?!"

The Japanese corporal hadn't yet recovered from the shock.

The next second, his body was riddled with bullets from a burst of 7.62mm machine gun fire.

The Japanese corporal looked down at the bullet hole gushing blood in his chest, opened his mouth, and then fell headfirst out of the window, landing with a "thud" on the bluestone pavement of the alley.

With the death of this corporal, the alleyway pursuit officially began.

Inside the cabin of vehicle number 104, a three-dimensional map of the entire alleyway was clearly displayed on the screen in front of Bian Yun.

More than a dozen red humanoid heat sources were clearly marked—

Some hid behind the kitchen stoves of the houses on the left, some lay on the beams of the attic on the right, and some huddled in the woodpile at the end of the alley.

"Remote weapon station, automatic target acquisition mode. Threat level: High. Clear the alleyway," Bian Yun coldly ordered.

The twin-mounted 7.62mm machine gun and 40mm grenade launcher on the roof began to rotate simultaneously.

Bang bang bang bang bang-!

Da da da da da—!

Machine gun bullets and grenades seemed to have eyes, piercing through cracks in the walls, penetrating thin wooden partitions, and squeezing through gaps in the windows, precisely flying towards every red heat source.

"ah--!"

「private は死ぬのか.」

Screams echoed through the narrow alleyway, only to be drowned out by even more intense explosions and gunfire.

A Japanese soldier hid behind the earthen stove in the kitchen, thinking he was safe.

A 40mm grenade was fired through the window and exploded in front of the stove.

Shrapnel and shockwaves ricocheted repeatedly in the cramped kitchen. The soldier felt a jolt in his back, reached up to touch it, and found his hand covered in blood—a piece of hot shrapnel had entered him from behind, exited through his chest, and pierced his lung.

He slid down to the ground, leaning against the stove, blood gushing from his mouth and the hole in his chest, making a "hoarse" sound like a bellows, and his eyes quickly became unfocused.

There was also a Japanese soldier hiding in a water tank.

He thought the metal water tank could provide cover.

A 40mm grenade hit the water tank directly.

boom--!

The water vat exploded, scattering the water and the Japanese soldier inside. The soldier's upper body was blown to pieces, while his lower body remained curled up in the same position, his internal organs and blood mixed with the water in the vat, spilling onto the ground.

Meanwhile, Bian Yun, driving the No. 104 Qilin Tank, had advanced to the middle section of Luodian Alley.

This was the last stronghold of the Japanese 6th Regiment in the southern battlefield of Luodian.

In a bungalow on the right side of the alley, a young Japanese soldier was huddled behind a dilapidated wooden rice bin.

This Japanese soldier looked to be only seventeen or eighteen years old, with a youthful appearance on his face.

During the fight just now, a piece of shrapnel tore open a large gash in his left abdomen, and a small section of his intestines spilled out.

His face was deathly pale, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and he desperately tried to stuff his protruding intestines back into his stomach with trembling hands.

But when you put it back in, it leaks out again.

Stuff it again, let it flow again.

The warm, slippery texture of the sausage in his hand reminded him of the glutinous rice sausages his mother used to make back home.

"Mom..." he murmured in tearful Japanese as he futilely stuffed his intestines back in.

"Mom...it hurts so much...I'm so scared...I want to go home...I want to eat your rice balls..."

Tears mixed with cold sweat streamed down my face.

Just then, the heavy sound of tracks rolling approached.

The No. 104 Qilin slowly drove in, its massive body almost blocking the entire alleyway.

The young Japanese soldier looked up and, through the crack in the rice bin, saw the steel behemoth getting closer and closer.

The black armor gleamed coldly in the shadows of the alleyway, and the sensors on the turret that he couldn't understand looked down at him like icy eyes.

He forgot about stuffing his intestines and just stared blankly, unconsciously muttering, "Mommy..."

Inside the vehicle, Bian Yun used the camera at the front of the vehicle to see the young Japanese soldier behind the rice bin, his face streaked with tears and his intestines spilling out.

The young Japanese soldier's face still showed signs of immaturity.

But Bian Yun did not hesitate.

He gently pushed the joystick forward.

Then, they drove a tank over him.

The tracks ran over his head.

Click.

The sound was crisp...