I started by watching videos, and I chose 10,000 combat power.

Luo Fei put the meteorite iron sword back into his ring.

He no longer looked at the khaki military uniforms on the ground; those once vibrant bodies had now turned into cold corpses, scattered on the scorched earth.

His gaze shifted from the now still bodies to the pale blue military uniforms on the ground.

Those were the uniforms of soldiers from the Dragon Kingdom, stained with mud and blood, yet still unable to conceal their solemnity.

He crouched down and gently brushed the dust off a young soldier's face.

The soldier was no more than twenty years old, his wide-open eyes still brimming with the passion of battle, and his stiff arms still held the posture of charging forward.

Luo Fei's fingertips touched the soldier's cold cheek, and an indescribable heaviness welled up in his heart.

Then, his figure vanished silently from the position. The next second, he reappeared in the sky above Shanghai.

From the air, the once bustling city below is now engulfed in flames of war.

Thick smoke billowed from the ruins, turning the sky gray.

On the street, armored vehicles rumbled over the broken pavement, and blue and khaki uniforms lay scattered among the ruins.

Luo Fei shifted his gaze from the city beneath his feet to the sky not far away.

There were dozens of small dots circling and chasing each other, accompanied by the deep rumble of engines.

That was a Chinese plane and a Japanese plane locked in aerial combat, their silver wings shimmering in the sunlight, drawing breathtaking arcs.

The planes of the Dragon Kingdom were mostly Hawk III fighters, with heavy bombs hanging under their wings and their fuselages covered with bullet holes of varying depths and temporary patches, each mark telling the story of the fierce battle.

Japan's planes, on the other hand, are painted with the bright Japanese flag and have a more streamlined fuselage. When they weave through the clouds, they are like cunning silver fish, faster and more agile in their climb.

Their numbers far exceeded those of the Chinese aircraft, and they were frantically chasing and intercepting them.

Luo Fei's gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, instantly locking onto a Chinese fighter jet that was rapidly climbing.

It was a Hawk III fighter jet with seven or eight bullet holes in its fuselage and a small piece missing from the left side of its tail, revealing the metal frame inside.

It had just pulled up with difficulty from a dive, its altitude was rapidly increasing, and its wings were trembling slightly from the force, like an eagle driven to the brink of despair, still looking for a chance to fight back at the last moment.

Just as it climbed to a certain altitude, the pilot suddenly turned the fuselage to the side, and the nose of the aircraft was precisely aimed at a Japanese fighter jet that was approaching from the side and rear.

The distance between the two aircraft rapidly decreased. The Hawk III spewed a tongue of fire from its nose, and bullets traced bright trajectories in the air, shooting towards the enemy aircraft like meteors.

The wing of the Japanese flag plane was hit instantly, emitting a thick plume of black smoke. The fuselage lost its balance and plummeted downwards at an angle, like a withered leaf torn apart by a gale.

However, the Hawk III pilots had no time to celebrate this hard-won victory.

Two more Japanese planes came from different directions to surround it, one on the left and one on the right, like two iron pincers closing, blocking all its escape routes.

The Hawk III pilot clearly sensed the deadly danger. He jerked the control stick, and the plane shot almost vertically upwards, the engine emitting a piercing roar as it tried to break free from the encirclement of death.

But the two Japanese planes were faster; they pursued relentlessly like hungry wolves, opening fire simultaneously.

A dense barrage of bullets crisscrossed the path of the Hawk III as it pulled up, instantly striking its wing.

Luo Fei clearly saw that the wings of the Chinese fighter jet were torn apart, and the aluminum sheeting was easily ripped open like paper, revealing the internal pipes and structure.

The entire plane began to go out of control, tumbling through the air and plummeting towards the ground like a kite with a broken string.

He stared intently at the crashing plane, but never saw the pilot parachute out.

Luo Fei slowly withdrew his gaze and landed on the Japanese flag planes that were still circling in the sky.

They continued to chase, swoop down, and fire recklessly, completely unaware that death was already approaching.

He extended his right index finger, aiming the tip at the nearest Japanese airplane. A golden beam shot out from his fingertip, moving so fast that it was invisible to the naked eye, as if it were just a fleeting streak of light.

The plane exploded in mid-air, a huge fireball illuminating the gray sky, and debris scattered in all directions like a shower of flowers.

The second beam, the third beam... His fingers moved rapidly in the air, each beam precisely targeting an enemy aircraft.

One after another, the Japanese planes exploded and disintegrated, turning into burning fragments, like fireworks bursting in the air during a festival, but carrying the scent of death.

They didn't even have time to react; none of them were able to evade it successfully because the speed of the beam had already exceeded their perception limits.

The pilots died without ever knowing what had happened to them; they only felt a sudden flash of light before plunging into eternal darkness.

The Chinese pilots watched in stunned silence as they witnessed this incredible scene.

They saw the enemy planes that had been chasing them suddenly turn into a ball of fire without warning, and they saw the enemy planes that were diving to bomb explode in the air as if they were being crushed by an invisible hand.

Their hands were still gripping the control sticks tightly, their eyes were fixed on the front, but their minds were blank, with only one thought remaining: Who is it?

Who is helping them? This person is not on the ground, not in friendly positions, and not in any place they know.

He seemed to come from the heavens above, using an incomprehensible power to clear away the threats in the air for them.

A pilot of a Chinese aircraft squinted through the cockpit window, carefully searching the sky.

Suddenly, he vaguely caught sight of a tiny black dot in a certain direction in the sky. It was so small, smaller than a bird, that it would be impossible to spot without careful observation.

But before he could get a good look at the black dot, he was drawn to another explosion.

The last Japanese plane was disintegrating in mid-air, thick black smoke obscuring the sky.

He snapped back to his senses and instinctively pushed the stick down, and the plane began to descend.

He wanted to go down to support the brothers' troops who were still fighting a bloody battle on the ground.

The threat from the sky has been eliminated; now it's their turn to protect this land.