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

8:10 a.m.

South bank of the Yangtze River, mudflat positions.

The simulated machine gun that had been blocking the entire landing area finally fell silent.

The gun barrel slowly rose to a forty-five-degree angle, pointing towards the morning sky.

An eerie silence fell over the entire mudflat position.

Only the river water continues to flow tirelessly, splashing and gurgling.

Only the heavy, labored breathing, like a broken bellows, came from the direction of the river's center.

The five members of the Thunder Bear team were still struggling in the water.

Their movements were so slow it was agonizing.

They are human too, and humans get tired.

I was so tired that my vision started to blur, and I could see figures moving on the opposite bank.

But they are still moving.

Little by little, inch by inch, slowly but stubbornly, they struggled forward toward the shore, toward the direction of their comrades.

Those figures, on the wide and indifferent river, were so small that they brought tears to one's eyes, yet so tenacious that they commanded respect.

Below the gun barrel, on the mudflat position, a young soldier with his face covered in paint, sweat, and mud stood up.

He had a red cloth band tied around his left arm to indicate that he had been shot, and he was still holding a gun in his right hand, but the muzzle was pointing downwards towards the ground.

Then he raised his right hand and saluted.

Beside him, another soldier, "shot in the leg," struggled to prop himself up on his elbows and also raised his hand.

The third.

The fourth one...

Like wheat fields blown down by the wind but stubbornly rising again, all the "enemy" soldiers on the position who could still move, whether standing, kneeling, or lying down, raised their arms.

No command was given.

There were no slogans.

It is a spontaneous, silent, and fervent tribute.

A tribute to the two-meter-tall giant in Jiang Xinli who chose to rush towards Xu Le alone to cover his teammates' landing.

A salute to those crazy guys who had already successfully reached the shore, but then went back into the water without hesitation to help their captain.

A salute to those foolish people who, knowing they might be eliminated before the deadline, still "never give up" and "never abandon."

It also pays tribute to that... the most primal romance that belongs to soldiers.

Lei Xiong's left foot finally stepped onto the mud and sand of the tidal flats.

The soaked combat boots sank half an inch in, making a slight "plop" sound.

He looked up and saw the silent forest of salutations.

He wanted to say something, like "thank you," but his throat felt like it was stuffed with a wad of waterlogged cotton, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.

He could only straighten his aching back.

Then, raise your right hand.

Return gift.

Behind him, Jin Sheng, Li Huai, Wang Jin, and Tan Ming supported each other, but at this moment they all struggled to raise their arms.

Even Xu Le, who was still standing in waist-deep river water, slowly raised his hand.

Five people salute, in response to the salute of dozens of people on the front lines.

On the observation platform, a young staff officer hesitated before speaking, "Is this considered deliberately letting them pass? According to the rules..."

General Wang Kangmei stood ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back. The old man gazed at the silent scene on the mudflats for a long time.

Then, he slowly shook his head:

"This is not leniency."

"This is out of respect."

"The respect between soldiers is sometimes more important than rules."

He paused, his voice low but clear:

"On the battlefield, winning or losing is very important."

"But some things are more important than winning or losing."

"For example, taking responsibility."

"For example, loyalty and affection."

"For example...not abandoning any brother."

On the landing beach...

The respect is for the Thunder Bears team.

It is for that kind of hot, bloody, and heart-wrenching blood and sacrifice that makes people's noses sting just by looking at it.

The anger, however, is reserved for the other team.

Just as the Thunder Bear team, supporting each other and escorted by countless gazes, stumbled towards the referee registration point—

About 300 meters downstream.

Flanking mudflats.

A simple boat gently bumped into the shore.

"Sizzle—"

Lin Yun was the first to jump down.

His movements were relaxed, his posture... even a little leisurely.

Behind her, five air force members jumped off the raft one by one.

Everyone was in good condition. Although they were wet, their complexions were normal and their breathing was steady.

Compared to the other team members who had been soaking in the river for forty or fifty minutes, their lips were purple, their bodies were trembling, and they were almost exhausted, they looked like they had just finished a warm-up exercise.

The contrast is striking.

It was so intense it was blinding.

It was so intense...it made me furious.

On the mudflats, the reinforced company of soldiers, who had just endured a fierce battle, lost many of their brothers, and were exhausted to the point of collapse, all turned their gazes toward this place.

They had just witnessed the tragic moment of the Thunder Bears.

Now, we see Lin Yun's team looking "relaxed" again.

An extremely complex emotion spread across the battlefield like wildfire.

There was surprise—they had actually drifted this boat over?

Some people are not convinced – why do we fight so hard while they take such shortcuts?

It was frustrating—our bullets were blanks, so they were completely useless when they hit the raft!

There is also a kind of anger that comes from being "played".

"Hold……"

Behind the machine gun position, a soldier with green paint on his face and his neck red from being hit by blank rounds at close range squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth.

He stared at the raft, at Lin Yun's cool and calm face, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"That's impressive..." another soldier muttered beside him, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

"Cut down a few trees, tie them together, make a boat, and they come across like it's nothing... We've been firing our machine guns all morning, are we shooting at thin air?"

"The young masters and ladies of the Air Force are certainly clever," a soldier sneered sarcastically.

"Knowing we're using blanks and won't sink the ship, they might as well take a sightseeing trip. Smart, fucking smart."

"The Thunder Bears are fighting with their lives on the line! And what about them? They're just using their brains to find loopholes!" someone said indignantly.

"To put it nicely, it's wisdom; to put it bluntly, it's being cunning!" The voice grew louder and louder.

"Why should I?!"

The last two words, I don't know who shouted them, but they instantly resonated with everyone.

"Why should I?!"

Discontented whispers, angry murmurs, suppressed questions... like countless tiny sparks crackling on the battlefield, ready to ignite at any moment.

Who are they?

They are the elite of the 3rd Company of a special operations brigade in the Eastern Theater Command.

He was a soldier who missed this epic selection due to injuries, mission conflicts, or various other reasons.

They were forced to play the role of "enemy troops" here, watching helplessly as others had the opportunity to go to 1937, and they were already harboring a burning anger with nowhere to vent it.

Now, the fire has been completely ignited.

My respect was ignited by the tragic heroism of the Thunder Bears.

Lin Yun's team's "tricks" ignited his anger.

A figure stood up from the center of the position.

He was not tall, about 1.75 meters, with dark skin and sharp eyes like two sharp daggers.

Deputy Company Commander, He Cong.

When Xu Le is away, he is the de facto commander of the position. A famous martial arts expert, nicknamed "Iron Fist".

He remained silent.

He simply strode across the position and walked straight to the path that Lin Yun's team would inevitably take to land.

Stand still.

Then, he raised his eyelids, his gaze like a cold searchlight, and shone on Lin Yun's face.

Lin Yun had just finished arranging the signal flags when he felt that gaze upon him.

She looked up and met He Cong's gaze.

The two were about fifteen meters apart.

The air suddenly tensed up at that moment.

Chen Fei and the others behind Lin Yun immediately felt the pressure and subconsciously spread out into a loose defensive formation, their fingers slightly close to the tactical daggers at their waists.

Although I knew it was just an assessment, the undisguised hostility and oppressive aura emanating from He Cong was very real.

Lin Yun raised his hand and made a "calm down" gesture.

She took a few steps forward and stopped about five meters away from He Cong.

This distance allows for both offense and defense; it is a standard warning distance.

"Deputy Company Commander He," Lin Yun said, his voice calm and devoid of emotion.

He crossed his arms and looked Lin Yun up and down. His gaze lingered for a moment on her epaulets, her slightly clean combat uniform, and her overly delicate and calm face. A cold smile appeared on his lips.

"Captain Lin," he replied, his voice not loud, but with a distinct angularity, "Air Force Special Operations Academy, tactical instructor. I've heard so much about you."

He paused, then added, his tone almost undisguisedly sarcastic:

"The scenery on the river was quite nice, wasn't it?"

The smell of gunpowder was so strong it was pungent.

Chen Fei, standing behind Lin Yun, frowned and was about to step forward to argue when Zhang Liang grabbed him.

Lin Yun's face remained expressionless; he simply patted the mud and sand off his sleeve, which he had picked up when he jumped off the raft.

"It's definitely more comfortable than fighting with bayonets in 16-degree water," she said calmly.

She admitted it.

They admitted it readily, almost as if it were a matter of course.

This attitude made He Conghe and the soldiers behind him who were listening intently even uglier.

"Smart." He Cong nodded, but his tone was even colder, as if it contained shards of ice. "You made full use of the rules. No wonder you're a top student, your mind works really well and you're quick to react."

These words sound like a compliment, but they are actually a blatant sarcasm, mocking them for only knowing how to be clever and take shortcuts.

Lin Yun suddenly smiled, a very faint smile:

"In war," she said, enunciating each word clearly, "you're not going to use your brain, are you going to rely on sheer willpower? Or just brute force?"

He Cong's eyes suddenly sharpened:

"There's a way to fight with a stubborn head!" He took a sudden step forward, like an enraged cheetah. "At least unlike some people who only know how to use petty tricks and exploit loopholes! At least—"

He whirled around, waving his arm to point behind him at the soldiers who were either sitting or lying down, exhausted, marked with "killed" signs or wounded, and also vaguely pointing to the Thunder Bear team being helped up by their comrades further away:

"At least they were really fighting! They were really fighting! They swam here, bleeding and sweating!"

His voice grew louder and louder, exploding across the silent mudflats, carrying long-suppressed anger and resentment:

"And you?!"

"Find a loophole, build a boat, and drift downstream!"

"Like a spring outing! Like sightseeing! We got ashore so easily?!"

"Why should I?!"

He shouted the last three words.

Then, a deathly silence fell over the mudflats.

Only the river wind howled by, stirring up fine dust.

All eyes were fixed on Lin Yun.

Waiting for her reply.

Lin Yun stood quietly, and after listening to He Cong's roar, the cold smile on his face slowly disappeared.

She did not immediately refute it.

Instead, he first turned his gaze and took a serious look at the reinforced company soldiers who were covered in grime but still had stubborn and defiant eyes.

Those eyes, which were always as calm as a lake and seemed unconcerned with anything, now gradually ignited with a clear and sharp fire.

The firelight was neither scorching nor violent; rather, it was icy cold, like the aurora borealis dancing in the Arctic night—beautiful, yet deadly.

"It seems—"

She spoke, her voice soft, yet like ice pellets hitting a metal plate:

"It's because the Air Force has been flying these planes for too long."

"We've been at high altitudes for too long."

"Let you—"

Lin Yun slowly removed the tactical glove from his right hand. The movement was deliberate and methodical, yet it inexplicably gave people a sense of oppressiveness, like a beast retracting its claws and preparing to pounce.

The gloves were removed, revealing a hand with long, slender fingers, distinct knuckles, and fair skin covered in tiny calluses—the marks left by long hours of gripping joysticks and performing precision operations.

She tucked her gloves into the pocket on her left breast and then began to move her wrists, the slender wrist bones making a slight "click" sound as they turned.

After doing all this, she finally raised her eyelids, looked directly into He Cong's eyes burning with anger, and finished the second half of her sentence:

"—They all mistakenly believed."

"The Air Force, all they know how to do is fly planes."

He Cong's pupils suddenly contracted.

His intuition, honed from years of walking on the edge of danger, rang like an alarm bell in his mind.

The aura emanating from the seemingly thin, even frail, female officer in front of me had changed.

No longer the calm, aloof, and superior demeanor of a pilot.

Rather, it was a... almost tangible, cold, dangerous aura belonging to apex predators.

The aura was neither ostentatious nor violent, but like an iceberg hidden in deep water, only a corner of it was visible, yet it was enough to send chills down one's spine.

"What do you mean?" He Cong's voice deepened, and he leaned forward slightly, assuming a fighting stance.

"The meaning is very simple." Lin Yun took two steps forward, shortening the distance between the two to less than three meters.

This distance is already a deadly range that can be reached in an instant for a master.

"You think we cheated, you're not convinced. You think our victory was unfair, and you don't deserve to be compared to the Thunder Bears. Is that right?"

"So what if it is?" He Cong said without backing down, raising his chin slightly.

"Not bad." Lin Yun's tone remained indifferent.

"The selection rules are clearly written down, and we haven't violated a single one. If you have any objections, that's your business; it's your emotion, and you need to process it yourselves."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across He Cong's face like a scalpel, slicing through the undisguised fighting spirit in his eyes:

"But since you've put your 'dissatisfaction' on the table..."

"Emotions were turned into actions that blocked the way."

"Then I—"

Lin Yun raised his right hand, extended his index finger, first pointing at He Cong's chest, then slowly moved it to his own chest:

"I'll give you a chance."

"It also gives our Air Force a chance to prove itself."

Her words echoed clearly across the silent mudflats:

"You, me."

"One-on-one".

"Fighting."

"No guns, no knives, no tools or instruments needed."

"Just use your fists."

"Just the joints."

"On the ground."

"I'll beat you until you submit."

"Or, beat me until I can't get up."

The entire venue was deathly silent.

For a full three seconds, no one made a sound.

Everyone was stunned, their minds buzzing.

What did she say?

Fight He Cong?

One-on-one? Martial arts?

That He Cong? The three-time consecutive combat champion of the special operations brigade? The He Cong nicknamed "Iron Fist" who once took down three reconnaissance soldiers with his bare hands in an exercise?

A flight instructor? A female military officer?

Are you crazy?!

That's absolutely insane!

"Captain Lin!!" Chen Fei was the first to react, exclaiming in shock and trying to rush forward.

Zhang Liang's expression also changed drastically, and he took a step forward almost simultaneously.

Lin Yun didn't turn his head, but simply waved his hand behind him. The gesture was small, but it carried an undeniable sense of restraint.

Her eyes remained fixed on He Cong.

He Cong was also stunned.

He genuinely didn't expect the other party to make such a request.

But then, a surge of anger, fueled by provocation, mixed with a strange curiosity and a fighting spirit, suddenly rose up.

He was so angry that he laughed instead.

"Captain Lin, are you serious? Do you know how many 'enemies' have died by my hands?"

He emphasized the word "enemy," referring to opponents in exercises and competitions.

"I know." Lin Yun nodded, his tone as calm as if he were stating a weather forecast.

"So, defeating you is the most convincing way, isn't it?"

"Good!" He roared, his voice like a muffled thunderclap.

"Since Captain Lin is in such high spirits, I, He Cong, will gladly oblige!"

He looked around, his voice booming so that everyone could hear him:

"Listen carefully! This is a personal duel between me, He Cong, and Captain Lin Yun! It's voluntary and has nothing to do with the assessment!"

"but--"

He turned around abruptly and stared intently at Lin Yun:

"If I win, Captain Lin, I want you and your air force to go back to where you came from! Dismantle this lousy ship! Launch it again! Use your air force's 'skills' to swim over here!"

ruthless

He Cong was determined to completely crush the achievements and dignity that Lin Yun's team had obtained through "tricks".

They need to admit that without that raft, they are nothing.

Lin Yun didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Okay," she agreed readily, "if I win—"

Her gaze swept across the entire reinforced company position, over every face that displayed anger, curiosity, or disdain, before finally settling on He Cong's face:

"You and all your brothers in the Third Company, from now on, when you see our Air Force, be polite and greet us loudly."

"besides……"

She paused, then added the last, and most crucial, point:

"and--"

"You have to say it three times loudly in front of everyone here—"

Lin Yun tilted her head slightly, the morning light reflecting a cold yet dazzling light in her eyes:

"The Air Force is not just about flying planes."

"Deal!" He Cong practically roared, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

The open space was quickly cleared.

A large circle with a radius of ten meters centered on the two people.

Inside the circle was damp, muddy ground, littered with messy footprints and spent cartridges.

Outside the circle, a dense crowd of people had gathered.

The reinforced company of soldiers all rushed to the front line, crowding behind the sandbags, their eyes wide open.

The other soldiers from various teams who had already landed and were resting also gathered around, craning their necks.

On the observation platform, all the telescopes and cameras were pointed at this small beach.

Even General Wang Kangmei had somehow walked to the front of the railing, placed his hands on it, and leaned forward slightly.

He was really looking forward to the show that was about to begin...

A battle for dignity between the Army and the Air Force!