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

Upon hearing this news, Bian Yun's throat tightened and his eyes reddened. Just as he was about to speak, General Wang Kangmei said gently:

"As for your situation, Comrade Lu Bei has already given a detailed report. The country will make all the necessary preparations for your second time travel."

"Believe me, a two-cubic-meter space, if planned well, can hold far more than you can imagine."

Bian Yun spoke with a hint of urgency: "I believe drones are a must..."

"No rush." ​​Wang Kangmei looked at the elderly man with thick glasses next to her. "Old Yuan, you ask first."

The old man almost jumped up.

"Comrade Bian Yun? This is Yuan An, specializing in space physics and weapons systems. There's a crucial question that needs to be confirmed now."

"You said your time travel and return are both growing exponentially?"

Bian Yun nodded: "Yes."

Yuan An took a deep breath and brought up a simple interface on the tablet:

1th time: 1 people, 1 cubic meters

2th time: 2 people, 2 cubic meters

3th time: 4 people, 4 cubic meters

8th time: 300 people, 300 cubic meters (this is the volume of the J-20 fighter jet).

20th time: 1048576 people, 1048576 cubic meters

"In other words—" Yuan An said, almost emphasizing each word, "you only need to travel through time 20 times, and you can even bring one of our modern army groups, as well as an aircraft carrier... directly to the mouth of the Yangtze River in 1937."

"There's something even more important," Yuan An said, wiping his eyes, his voice even hoarseer. "You can not only take people and things 'over there,' but you can also bring people 'back.'"

He turned to the last page of the notebook.

There was a black and white photograph posted there:

Several young soldiers are laughing with their arms around each other's shoulders. The background is blurry, but it's clear that it's a school building. Below the photo is a line of small print: "1936, Changsha, Group photo."

Yuan An's fingers gently touched the photograph:

"My eldest uncle, Yuan Zhenhua, was a graduate of the 14th class of the Whampoa Military Academy. He went to Shanghai in August 1937 and died in battle at Luodian in September. The family only received a death notice; they never found his body."

He looked up at Bian Yun, and then at everyone in the conference room:

"Based on this calculation, Bian Yun can bring back 1024 people on the 10th trip."

"The 15th time, 32768 people."

"The 20th time, one million people."

"Then could we... take those brothers who should have been sacrificed...?"

"Take it home?"

The old man couldn't continue speaking.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes hard with the back of his hand.

Bian Yun understood what Elder Yuan meant: if he could travel through time many times...

He could bring back those who should have died in 1937—a company, a regiment, a division.

Bring it to 2025, to this era they risked their lives for but never witnessed.

At this moment, Wang Kangmei spoke, her voice steady:

"Right now, let's focus on the present. All we have is a second chance to travel through time. Two cubic meters, two people."

"What a pity, she's still too young. If she were a little older, I'd love for you to take 'Miss Qiu' on a visit."

Bian Yun was stunned for a moment before realizing what "Miss Qiu" meant.

Wang Kangmei's smile deepened, but there was no real joy in her eyes: "Let Xiao Rizi taste this 'surprise' ahead of time."

At this moment, a middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and a refined demeanor, sitting on the other side of Wang Kangmei, spoke softly:

"Commander, there's another situation. The video that Comrade Bian Yun uploaded has gone viral on major platforms both domestically and internationally. The domestic reaction is strong; everyone is itching to go and kill the enemy."

"But abroad... especially in small countries, they say this is 'fake historical propaganda' and 'they never launched a war of aggression against China'."

"Our department anticipates that the other party may resort to diplomatic channels to lodge a protest..."

He didn't finish speaking.

Because Wang Kangmei raised her hand.

The old general's gentle smile slowly faded.

"They want to negotiate?"

"Sure. Let them come."

"Perfect timing. The Type 055 destroyer 'Anshan' formation from the North Sea Fleet will begin 'routine training' in the Sea of ​​Japan tomorrow. If they have any questions, they can send a ship over to ask them in person."

"The China of today is no longer the China of 1937."

"We would actually welcome some people—"

"Let's try touching it again."

No two words are repeated.

But when it hits the ground, it feels like steel falling to the ground.

"In 1945, we won. Now, in 2025—"

"We are not afraid of any demons or monsters."

Wang Kangmei looked at Bian Yun, her gaze softening once more:

"Comrade Bian Yun, remember this."

"Go ahead and travel through time, save people, do what you think you should do."

"Whether it's medicine, guns, or an aircraft carrier fleet."

"Whatever you did over there, whatever you encountered, and whatever the consequences were."

Wang Kangmei leaned forward, her eyes piercing:

"The country will take responsibility for you."

"The Chinese People's Liberation Army has the capability to clear all obstacles."