Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“This is not just a battlefield, Sam,” Wu Heng said softly. “This is a demonstration.”

Do you know what a demonstration is?

"It is to show Heaven, to Hell, and to all the supernatural beings who are still watching that humanity is no longer just a pawn on a chessboard."

"This will be a place of faith."

Wu Heng turned around and sat down at his desk, looking at the map in front of him: "During World War II, the German army launched a blitzkrieg against France, and the French army was quickly defeated. Under the leadership of Prime Minister Pétain, the country planned to surrender. At that time, the approval rate for surrender reached 85%."

The reason they surrendered was that World War I was too devastating. Although the French people won the war, 13% of the able-bodied men died in battle, which is equivalent to one in eight able-bodied men being killed. 40% of the entire able-bodied men population were either killed or wounded, so they began to fear war.

Charles de Gaulle, who was then serving as Under-Secretary of Defense and Army, was the only one who resolutely opposed surrender, but he was isolated and without support within the government.

Having foreseen France's defeat in this war, he warned the government in advance, but no one paid attention.

But he didn't give up.

Instead, when the French government decided to surrender to Nazi Germany, he fled France alone and went to a foreign land.

In London, England, he issued a call to the nation, declaring that "the flame of French resistance cannot be extinguished, nor will it ever be extinguished," and launched the "Free France" movement, continuing to carry the banner of French resistance against fascism.

It was precisely because of his core base of operations in London that he successfully ignited a spark large enough to start a prairie fire.

Wu Heng pointed to the ground beneath his feet as he spoke: "This place of balance is the same, except this time it's not for each country, but for the whole world. This is a war that doesn't require the participation of ordinary people, but is far more brutal."

"We need to set our own rules."

Upon hearing this, Sam became even more determined and nodded firmly.

Just then, the communicator rang again, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

This message came from Dean from Hell's Defense Line; in the background, faint, inhuman roars and the sounds of energy weapons firing could be heard.

"Lor, the 'guest' you sent has been received!"

"In addition, we just repelled a probing attack by a wave of lesser demons, about two hundred of them, who seemed to have been driven to scout ahead."

"Our defense system took out 80% of them, and the rest escaped."

"But something interesting happened. We captured a prisoner who was yelling something about 'the Demon Lord wanting to make a deal with winged beings.' You guys better be prepared; we might need reinforcements. I have a feeling something big is coming."

Wu Heng and Sam exchanged a glance.

“It seems,” Wu Heng replied, “that these guys are really eager to get on stage.”

He looked out the window at the darkening sky.

Above the isolation layer, the sun is setting; while below, in a state of constant temperature and equilibrium, the night for the Witcher is just beginning.

Hell, the edge of the Blood Plains.

Dean spat, expelling the lingering sulfurous smell and a stench reminiscent of rotting flesh from his mouth.

Although this behavior is useless, it will be sucked back in the next second.

"Damn it, even the air in this godforsaken place feels expired." He was standing on a watchtower with a newly poured concrete base, looking down at the busy construction site below.

The five hundred elite demon hunters were divided into three shifts: one shift on guard, one shift on construction, and one shift on rest.

The resting group wasn't idle either; most of them were checking equipment or conducting acclimatization training.

Below the watchtower, several young witchers who had just finished their shift and were resting were studying a dark red rock with honeycomb-like holes on its surface.

"Is this thing a stone or bone?" A young man named Josh poked at it with a dagger.

“According to page 47 of the Guide to Common Materials in Hell,” another bespectacled, clearly technically skilled demon hunter pushed up his glasses, “this should be ‘Bloodstone,’ a Hell specialty, formed from ordinary rock that has been exposed to high concentrations of demon blood for a long time. It is 1.3 times harder than granite, but only two-thirds the weight, making it suitable as a building material, if you don’t mind that it occasionally oozes a little red liquid.”

“Occasionally?” Josh looked at the slightly wriggling, dark red droplet on the tip of his dagger. “Is this thing alive?”

"It's semi-active, so I suggest avoiding direct skin contact, as it may cause mild hallucinations or rashes," the bespectacled man said seriously. "However, the guild's protective suits can block it, and immunity can also be obtained after injecting the enhancement potion."

An old witcher with a full beard next to him laughed loudly: "Come on, Josh, don't act like a greenhorn. This is nothing. I just peed by the lava pool, and the steam almost burned my dick. That's what you call hellish."

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.

Bobby walked out of the makeshift command post, holding a tablet in his hand, his brow slightly furrowed.

He heard the laughter, shook his head, but didn't stop it. In the high-pressure environment of hell, a little relaxation and dark humor are essential survival skills.

“Dean,” he called to the watchtower, “the foundation for the ‘Internet Addiction’ signal tower is finished, but the construction team reported that they detected abnormal energy fluctuations three meters underground, like a cavity, but echo detection shows that the structure is complex.”

Dean jumped down from the watchtower.

He landed lightly from a height of 2.8 meters, despite the hellish gravity: "Let's go take a look."

The signal tower was located 300 meters east of the defense line, serving as a crucial node connecting the Hell Defense Line to the real-world 'internet addiction' main server.

The construction team has dug a large pit with a diameter of five meters, revealing dark red soil and something that looks like a huge rib at the bottom.

"What is this??" Bobby crouched down and used his gloves to brush away the loose dirt from the bones.

The bones are curved, each as thick as an adult's thigh, half-buried in the ground, extending to both sides, and look like the ribcage of some giant creature.

“That’s not all,” the construction foreman, a middle-aged witcher with burn scars on his face, pointed to the pit wall, “as we dug down, we found these bones were connected, like some kind of creature’s nest, and…”

He lowered his voice: "We heard noises down below."

Dean and Bobby exchanged a glance.

"Everyone, retreat fifty meters and remain on alert."

Dean gave the order and drew a specially made pistol from his waist. The gun was engraved with balancing runes and the bullets were a mixture of angelic ash and sulfur crystals, specifically designed to target hellish creatures.

Dean closed his eyes and used the angelic energy to sense things for a while.

A moment later, he opened his eyes, his expression grave: "There's more than one thing down there. The energy signature is chaotic, but it's definitely not a rock." (End of Chapter)