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

Compared to the timeline before Lin Feng's transmigration, the defenses of the Sihang Warehouse have greatly increased.

Excluding logistics personnel and the wounded, Lin Feng had more than 7,000 soldiers who could still wield guns at this time.

Therefore, apart from the Sihang Warehouse, the surrounding sturdy buildings along the Suzhou Creek have now been converted into fortresses by Lin Feng's troops.

In addition, Lin Feng has the system as a cheat code, and his elite troops are far superior to ordinary Central Army German-equipped divisions in terms of both equipment and training.

Therefore, the defending troops delivered an excellent performance.

On the first day of fighting, only 112 people were killed and 189 were seriously wounded. Including those who were slightly wounded but did not leave the front line, the total casualties were no more than 600.

According to the kill logs on the system interface, the Japanese soldiers on the other side lost at least 500 lives, with the number of seriously wounded far exceeding those who died in action, and the number of lightly wounded was even greater.

That's an exchange ratio close to 1:5.

Due to its strategic location, the area surrounding the Sihang Warehouse effectively rendered the Japanese army's two most important means of firepower projection: naval guns and heavy artillery.

"This place is really a perfect spot to farm merit points."

Lin Feng held the aluminum lunchbox in one hand and used a spoon in the other to scoop up a spoonful of rice soaked in vegetable soup and stuff it into his mouth, chewing it heartily.

To replenish their salt intake, the cooks added plenty of soy sauce and salt when preparing the dishes, along with simply fried slices of canned ham. Lin Feng didn't find the flavor bland at all; on the contrary, he found it increasingly delicious with each bite.

While eating, he mentally summoned the system interface.

Current permission level: Level III (17839/20000)

I'm only 2000 merit points away from finishing.

Hopefully, after upgrading to Level IV, the system space will be greatly expanded.

At this moment, although the Japanese had stopped their large-scale offensive, the fighting had not completely ceased. Small-scale reconnaissance, infiltration, and sniping by the Japanese never stopped.

And every time there was contact, as long as the Japanese left behind corpses or equipment, Lin Feng's place would "ding".

This feeling was somewhat like a strategy game Lin Feng played in his previous life. He would arrange the defensive towers and troops, set up automatic attacks, and then switch to the background to eat while occasionally checking how much his merit points had increased.

After swallowing the last mouthful of rice, Lin Feng scrambled the remaining soup from his mess kit into his stomach.

In just this short time, I've gained over 20 more merit points.

He let out a burp, then walked to the window and looked out towards the south bank of the Suzhou Creek.

The area towards the concession was brightly lit, a stark contrast to the darkness and desolation of the north bank.

He could imagine that those foreign "gentlemen" must be anxiously negotiating and putting pressure on him at that moment.

It seems that he doesn't have much time left.

The Japanese have suffered such heavy losses and lost so many people in the past few days. Their patience and concern for international opinion are probably nearing their limit.

The next attack will probably not be a conventional infantry charge.

"Notify all units," Lin Feng turned around, "to take the time to rest, replenish ammunition, and reinforce fortifications. Especially the top and bottom floors, in case the Japanese resort to desperate measures."

Tell all officers and soldiers that the final, and most difficult, time is coming.

-----

Years later, when Major General Yoshitsu Akiyama faced trial by an Allied military tribunal, he was asked why he continued to send troops to Sihang Warehouse despite knowing that casualties were heavy and the attack was hopeless.

He will remember that distant morning when his father took him to the Nagasaki docks to see the early morning catch.

Now, as dawn breaks, he stands on the ruins of Zhabei, leveled by artillery fire, facing the real "catch".

Those were his troops, the soldiers of the 6th Brigade of the 9th Division of the Imperial Army.

Or rather, their remaining physical shells.

Dead body.

An endless stream of corpses.

The 7th Regiment, the 35th Regiment.

They are no longer human, or even complete in form.

They were just piles of things caught in a giant net called war and then carelessly discarded on the shore.

Like those bluish-gray sea fish in the dock fence back then.

Layer upon layer, pressing against each other.

One layer, and another.

The pile was almost half a person high.

Many of the Japanese soldiers' corpses were bloated and deformed, their uniforms stretched open to reveal the rotting flesh beneath, which was a strange color.

At the wound, white maggots looked just like rice grains, densely packed and constantly wriggling.

It's like dancing disco.

Huge, hollow fish eyes.

No, it was the unseeing eyes of those soldiers who died with their eyes wide open.

They just stared blankly at the gloomy sky over Shanghai.

Some of the "fish" don't seem to be completely dead.

Just like those fish that were thrown into the enclosure back then, their gill covers still opening and closing in vain.

High above the pile of corpses, a wounded soldier whose abdomen had been completely ripped open by shrapnel twitched intermittently. With each twitch, the dark red, dust-covered substance that had flowed out would wriggle.

His lips were also slightly parted, as if he were still breathing in the air that had long been polluted by gunpowder.

But Yoshitsu Akiyama knew that he was dead.

It was already a bad debt in the Empire's logistical and medical accounts.

save him?

The precious sulfonamides are needed, which may require surgery and will require expending already strained transportation capacity for transport.

The cost is too high.

What is the cost of a soldier?

A number popped precisely into Akiyama Yoshitsu's mind.

One mace and five li.

That's the price of the stamps needed to send a conscription notice out of Japan.

From Hokkaido in the far north to Kyushu in the south, from bustling cities to remote villages, a stamp worth 1.5 sen, along with a conscription letter, could recruit a healthy young man from Yamato into the army, send him on trains and ships, and transport him to the northeast and north of Great Xia.

Or, like now, they could be transported to Shanghai, this meat grinder.

Their value was determined the moment they were conscripted.

One mace and five li.

Train them, arm them, and send them to the battlefield.

If someone dies, they'll be piled up here, like this, waiting to be cremated, turned into a huge pile of ashes, then randomly divided, put into jars, and sent back to China.

Then, spend another 1.5 cents to send out a new conscription letter.

Indeed, in the eyes of the Japanese high command, these Japanese soldiers were worth only a penny and a half.

"Brigade Commander." The staff officer's call pulled him back from his icy thoughts. "The Division Commander just called. He has ordered us to resume the offensive before noon and not give those Chinese troops a chance to catch their breath."

Akiyama Yoshitsu took a deep breath of the air, which was filled with the stench of decay and gunpowder, and felt a stinging pain in his lungs.

He looked at the distant, gray, silent, colossal building that seemed to have crushed countless "one-cent and five-cent" coins like a reef.

Sihang Warehouse

What a simple name.

A mixture of helplessness, anger, and fear gripped him.

The opposing garrison commander is a devil.

He was not just resisting; he was efficiently and systematically destroying the empire's resources.

That warehouse was like a sophisticated shredder, constantly swallowing the "one and a half qian" (a unit of weight) that was put in, grinding it into a bloody mess and spitting it out.

And Yoshitaka Akiyama was the worker who kept feeding materials into the crusher.

Knowing it's futile, I still have to do it.

"Replying to your command, Division Commander," Akiyama Yoshitsu's voice was hoarse, "our casualties have been extremely heavy, and infantry assaults have proven to be costly and ineffective."

"Request...request more special ammunition support, or request heavy artillery for direct fire."

The staff officer took notes and left in a hurry.

Akiyama Yoshitsu took one last look at the wounded soldier on the pile of corpses who had finally stopped convulsing.

Flies had completely covered his face.

One and a half qian, that's it.