You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

The second floor of the Sihang Warehouse, an empty warehouse, has been converted into a temporary kitchen.

A peculiar aroma filled the air—the smoky scent of toasted flour mixed with the distinctive fattiness of meat.

In the lobby on the first floor, Lin Feng held a baked bun that was much larger than his fist and took a big bite.

"Click."

The crust was golden and crispy, leaving crumbs all over the table.

This is a pancake made fresh from the mountain of "Bingchuan" brand flour in the warehouse, filled with plenty of meat filling.

That wasn't pork or beef, but the meat of Japanese warhorses that had been killed in previous battles.

Previously, they were all stored in his system space, keeping them completely fresh.

This time he released quite a lot and handed it over to the kitchen.

The horse meat was chopped into small pieces, mixed with chopped green onions, and topped with a spoonful of bright red, glistening chili oil.

"call--"

As Lin Feng chewed, he kept inhaling from the spiciness, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Although horse meat has coarse fibers, a slightly tough texture, and an indescribable sour taste, the chili oil is really potent. After one bite, he felt like every pore on his body opened up.

"Cousin, this is way too spicy!"

Zhao Yushu, standing next to him, was gulping down water from a kettle, his face turning a deep liver color.

He was a native of Zhejiang Province, and at that moment he was sticking out his tongue and breathing heavily.

"And this horse meat, it's a bit sour, and it gets stuck in your teeth."

"It's good enough to have something to eat, why all the nonsense?"

Lin Feng let out a burp, casually picked up a toothpick and started picking at the bits of meat stuck between his teeth, looking at his cousin with disgust. He thought back to his past life when the media exposed that a famous donkey meat sandwich in a certain place was actually made with horse meat instead of donkey meat.

"That's not bad. Normally, this would be a proper 'donkey meat sandwich'..."

Although this donkey is a bit big, it's of Japanese descent.

"Hey, it's just that the shredded meat is a bit thicker; it's not as authentic as the donkey meat sandwiches from northern China."

He looked around.

In the warehouse hall, thousands of officers and soldiers were sitting on the ground, each with a large flatbread in hand, eating with their mouths full of oil.

Besides the system soldiers and regimental soldiers of the Honor Brigade, there were also nearly two thousand stragglers he had taken in from the city in the past two days.

There were scattered remnants of the Central Army, police and local ragtag troops from Zhabei who hadn't had time to evacuate, passionate students carrying old-fashioned rifles they'd picked up from who-knows-where, and of course, Xie Zhongmin's reinforced regiment.

Including his honorary brigade, this made up an army of nearly nine thousand men.

"Eat up, eat as much as you want!"

Lin Feng stood up and shouted:

"I ate everything edible in the warehouse—flour, canned goods, cured meat. What I couldn't take, I ate to turn into strength."

We'd rather die of overeating than leave it to the Japanese as supplies.

This is called scorched earth policy, understand?!

"Understand!!"

The soldiers burst into laughter and chewed even more enthusiastically.

At this critical moment when they were about to face a life-or-death battle, being able to eat a full meal, even with meat, was the greatest happiness for these soldiers who were risking their lives.

After eating and drinking his fill, Lin Feng wiped his mouth.

Zhao Dashan and Lin Peiji took away all the wounded soldiers, and now he felt relaxed and ready to make a big splash.

I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

"It's almost time."

"Dashan, pass the word down, everyone to your positions."

"The Japanese devils are coming to their deaths."

-----

North of Sihang Warehouse, the main road.

A Japanese army unit dressed in dark blue sailor suits and wearing steel helmets was marching in orderly steps, approaching menacingly.

This is the Xth Battalion of the Japanese Navy's Special Landing Force.

Leading the group was Major Yokoyama, the battalion commander.

The major was in a very good mood at the moment.

He was wearing a crisply pressed naval uniform, his medals gleaming on his chest, an ancestral samurai sword at his waist, and even a pair of pristine white cotton gloves.

That demeanor wasn't like someone commanding a charge on the battlefield, but more like someone patrolling the streets of Ginza.

"Hmph, those army idiots."

Major Yokoyama glanced at the still-smoking ruins in the distance, a disdainful sneer curling at the corner of his lips:

"After fighting for so long, we can't even take down a small North Station, and we've even lost a regiment. We've truly disgraced the Empire."

"You have to look to our Marine Corps. Our individual soldier skills and our weaponry are far superior to those country bumpkins in the army."

He waved his hand, the sword in his hand gleaming in the sunlight:

"Pass down the order: maintain formation and pay attention to appearance."

We must take over that warehouse in the most graceful manner.

Let those idiots in the army and those white devils in the concessions see what the true elite of the Empire is like!

"Hai."

The Japanese soldiers responded in unison, carrying their MP18 submachine guns, and advanced arrogantly.

Because the army and navy dislike each other and even undermine each other, there is a serious intelligence gap between them.

This resulted in Major Yokoyama having no idea what kind of troops were on the other side, only that they seemed to be good at making explosions and had a lot of explosives.

He was unaware that the Xia garrison on the other side had a large number of snipers.

This meant that the Japanese navy had to pay a huge price to relearn the lessons that the Japanese army had already learned through bloodshed.

Sure enough, the junior officers of the Marine Corps still maintain that rigid and deadly style.

With their sabers hanging at their waists, pistols tucked into their holsters, and rank insignia gleaming on their shoulders, they looked like walking neon lights against the backdrop of the gray ruins.

"Snapped!"

A sharp gunshot shattered the tranquility of the street.

The Japanese company commander at the front suddenly jerked his head back, his helmet flew off, and red and white substances splattered all over the face of the squad leader next to him.

"What?!"

Before the squad leader could react...

"Snapped!"

Another gunshot rang out.

The squad leader clutched his chest and slowly collapsed, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"Sniper! There's a sniper!"

"Take cover, quickly take cover!"

The Japanese troops were thrown into chaos instantly.

Major Yokoyama was also startled and instinctively wanted to draw his sword to give orders.

"Captain, be careful."

The adjutant next to him suddenly pounced on him and pinned him behind a broken wall.

"Snapped!"

A bullet grazed Major Yokoyama's scalp, struck the wall, and sent up a cloud of lime dust.

"Baka! The Chinese are despicable!"

Major Yokoyama rubbed his burning scalp and roared in exasperation.

Just then, a Japanese sergeant, oblivious to his own mortality, ran over and gave Major Yokoyama a standing salute:

"Reporting to the captain..."

"Snapped!"

Gunshots rang out again.

Before the sergeant could finish his salute, a bloody hole appeared between his eyebrows, and he collapsed straight down at Major Yokoyama's feet.

Major Yokoyama stared at those unseeing, lifeless eyes, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

He finally realized what was happening.

Those sharpshooters on the other side are calling out names.

Whoever is saluted dies.

Whoever acts like an official will die.

"Baka yarou, don't salute me."

Major Yokoyama roared hysterically, grabbing the collar of the messenger who was about to salute:

"Are you trying to kill me?! You idiot."

As he cursed, he frantically tore at the rank insignia on his shoulders, even taking off his command sword, a symbol of honor, and throwing it aside.

What elegance? What appearance?

You're about to die, what are you pretending for?