Anti-Japanese War Espionage: I Have an Omniscient Perspective

August 29, 1937, Shanghai.

Thick black smoke enveloped this largest metropolis in the Far East.

The once bustling Nanjing Road and Jing'an Temple are now just ruins.

Burning roof beams trembled in the gunfire, broken bricks and charred wood were scattered in the streets and alleys, and turbid blood flowed through the cracks in the stone slabs, gathering in low-lying areas to form dark brown puddles.

The street fighting in the city had already reached a fever pitch. Every street and every building had become a battleground for life and death. Often, the positions that were being held one moment were razed to the ground by artillery fire the next. Shouts and desperate screams were intertwined and swallowed up by the dense gunfire.

Japanese naval guns continuously bombarded the city from the Huangpu River. The huge explosions shook the ground violently, and even brick and stone walls could not withstand the impact of the naval gun shells and collapsed.

In the air, Japanese warplanes flew low, their machine guns under the wings firing wildly. Soldiers on the ground fell like grass being cut down, and civilians who had no time to dodge were swept into the flames of war. Mutilated corpses and destroyed supplies were piled up haphazardly, and the air was filled with the nauseating smell of gunpowder, blood, and burnt matter.

The Chinese army was far inferior in equipment. The infantry were mostly equipped with old rifles, lacked ammunition, and had very few light and heavy machine guns. Faced with the Japanese tank formations and air support, they could only rely on courage and their own flesh and blood to fight.

It often takes the lives of several soldiers to kill one Japanese soldier, and dozens or even hundreds of people to destroy a single Japanese tank.

The only advantage they could rely on was urban warfare.

Using their familiarity with the terrain, they launched surprise attacks from behind ruins and through windows, engaging the Japanese army with rifles, grenades, and Molotov cocktails. Each counterattack was accompanied by heavy casualties.

The Battle of Shanghai has entered its twenty-third day. With its naval and air superiority and superior equipment, the Japanese army has gradually broken through the outer defenses of the National Army after suffering certain casualties, and its advance is approaching the city.

In this battle to defend Shanghai, hundreds of thousands of soldiers, from the elite Central Army to the troops supported by warlords from various regions, and even local security forces, poured into the battlefield one after another, building a defensive line with their flesh and blood, but were defeated one after another under the Japanese army's multi-dimensional offensive.

But the battle continues, and the Chinese soldiers persist.

...

The streets and alleys near Henan North Road had long been ravaged by artillery fire. The walls of the two-story buildings were riddled with bullet holes, the roofs were mostly collapsed, and the broken beams were exposed, like the withered arms of a dying person.

A Nationalist Army infantry company held out here for three hours. The company, which originally had more than 120 men, was now reduced to just over 30, most of whom were wounded. They built makeshift fortifications on the ruins, pointing their guns at the end of the street, wary of another Japanese attack.

In front of the company's position, a British-made Vickers tank stood alone in the middle of the road, its body riddled with bullet holes, blocking the road ahead.

This tank comes from the Central Army's armored corps. It lost contact with the main force during the previous blocking battle and has now become the last "fortress" of the infantry company.

To be precise, it's a bulletproof shield.

Inside the tank, the air was stifling, like a stuffy, airtight steamer. The smells of engine oil, blood, and gunpowder mingled together, thick enough to make one feel suffocated.

At the machine gun position on the turret, a young soldier lowered his head, blood streaming down his face and soaking his uniform. His hands hung limply at his sides; he was no longer breathing.

He was the tank's second-in-command. Ten minutes earlier, a Japanese mortar shell had landed not far from the tank, and the flying shrapnel had pierced through the hatch and hit him squarely in the head.

In the driver's seat, Lin Rui was unconscious, his brows furrowed, his face as pale as a sheet, and there was a wound on his forehead.

Consciousness floats and sinks in chaos.

He was not from this era. Just a few hours earlier, he was in a modern military museum, gazing at a restored Vickers tank, holding a model he had just bought, when suddenly he was enveloped by a sudden wave of dizziness. When he woke up, he was plunged into boundless darkness and noise.

"boom--!"

A violent explosion rang out not far from the tank, and the powerful shockwave made the tank shake violently.

Lin Rui suddenly opened his eyes. A severe headache made him groan. Through his blurred vision, he saw the corpse of his deputy beside him and the bulkhead riddled with bullet holes.

"Cough...cough cough..." He choked and sat up, his throat so dry it felt like it was on fire, his whole body ached and he felt weak. The environment was unfamiliar, and his military uniform was covered in blood.

He subconsciously touched his forehead, feeling a stinging pain from the wound, his fingertips covered in warm blood.

This is not a museum, nor is it a dream.

A flood of unfamiliar memories rushed into Lin Rui's mind—the original owner of this body was also named Lin Rui, a tank soldier in the Central Army Armored Corps, only nineteen years old. After graduating from military academy, he went to the Songhu battlefield, and this was the third battle he had participated in.

The original owner was stunned by the mortar attack and, coupled with the blood loss from her previous wounds, she died instantly, replaced by her future self.

"The Battle of Shanghai... Vickers tanks..." Lin Rui murmured to himself, his heart pounding wildly. He was all too familiar with this history, knew the ferocity of the battle, knew the ultimate fate of the Chinese army, and knew that he himself was currently on a hellish battlefield, where he could lose his life at any moment.

Just then, a burst of machine gun fire suddenly rang out. Dense bullets struck the side of the tank, making a crisp "clanging" sound. Some bullets entered through the previously breached opening, scattering sparks and metal fragments inside the compartment.

Fortunately, the bullet ricocheted and did not hit him.

He broke out in a cold sweat.

"Watch out! The Japanese are charging!" came the shouts of infantrymen from outside the tank, followed by explosions and screams of soldiers.

Lin Rui instantly snapped out of it; survival was now the only option!

He immediately focused his mind and, following the original owner's memories, familiarized himself with the tank's control mechanisms.

Suddenly, the perspective changed.

The next second, a clear three-dimensional view instantly appeared in his mind, as if he had opened a God's-eye view—the terrain of the entire street, the location of the Japanese troops in front, and the remaining infantry company behind him were all clearly visible.

He could clearly see that Japanese soldiers were hiding in a dilapidated building fifty meters ahead, and had set up two Type 11 machine guns on the second floor, firing wildly at the position. There were also a dozen Japanese soldiers with rifles advancing along the wall, trying to flank the infantry company.

Is this the ability I gained from time travel?

He immediately thought of what to do with this ability.

He then stood up from the driver's seat, crouched down and went to the gunner's position, dragged his dead comrade to the ground, and then adjusted the firing angle of the 47mm howitzer based on the results of his supernatural observations, and stepped on the firing pedal.