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

The first wave of Japanese infantrymen were mowed down by the coaxial machine guns of the Kirin tank.

The corpses covered the open area in front of the position.

A whole bunch.

Layer by layer.

Like harvested wheat.

But the embroiderer didn't look at these things.

Her eyes were fixed on something further away.

Staring behind those corpses.

In those seemingly desolate ruins.

Something is moving.

Her finger slid lightly across the control panel, zooming in on the transmitted image.

Behind the Japanese soldiers' corpses lying on the ground in the scene—

There is a gun barrel moving.

Short and stubby.

It comes with a heat dissipation sleeve.

The anvil took a deep breath.

His fingers slid rapidly across the control panel.

Enter the coordinate parameters.

Wind direction: Southeast, wind speed 2.3 m/s.

Target: Moving.

But it's very slow.

Entering the position.

In progress—

Waiting to be bombed.

The corners of the anvil's mouth slowly parted into a grin.

"Little devils."

He said softly:

"Grandpa has a big gift for you."