National Fate: Eight Yin Generals Guard China from Their Sleeping Coffins

Tanaka stomped hard on his newly fitted alloy right leg, splashing mud and water everywhere.

This cold, metallic sensation gave him great satisfaction.

Compared to the decades of hard-earned kendo training, the lower body reshaped from liquid metal brings an absolute power advantage.

Cyber ​​technology, combined with the rules imposed by the system, made him feel invincible at this moment.

Less than half an hour had passed since the last wave of giant mechanical attacks.

At the foot of the Japanese city wall, three newly teleported civilians were huddled together.

A middle-aged teacher in a wrinkled Brazilian suit, and two high school girls in sailor uniforms.

The teacher was clutching a military water bottle tightly in both hands, and several hundred points of credits were still lit up on the system light panel in front of him.

That's the minimum supplies the system provides to newly arrived substitutes.

Tanaka's metal feet made a clicking sound as they stepped on the gravel.

To the middle-aged teacher, the sound was even more chilling than the roars of the monsters outside.

Tanaka stopped in front of the three of them, bent down, and unceremoniously reached out to grab the water bottle from the teacher's arms.

"What are you doing!"

The middle-aged teacher shrank back in fright, clutching her chest with both hands to protect the kettle.

"Mr. Tanaka, the system also sent you supplies, why did you steal mine?"

Tanaka grinned, revealing a cruel smile.

"Transfer the points over as well. Add those two little girls' points to my account."

The middle-aged teacher's face flushed crimson, and his body trembled violently: "Why? Without points, we won't even have the money to buy the most basic hemostatic medicine if we encounter danger next time. You're sending us to our deaths!"

"You talk too much nonsense."

boom!

A powerful, heavy punch was thrown out.

Tanaka didn't use any weapons at all, relying entirely on the strength of his waist and abdomen after the mechanical modification to move his arms.

The fist landed squarely on the middle-aged teacher's left rib.

The crisp sound of bones breaking was clearly audible.

The middle-aged teacher screamed and flew backward, rolling twice in the mud, clutching his ribs and coughing up blood.

That punch broke at least three of his ribs, and the bone fragments even punctured his internal organs.

The two high school girls screamed in fright and hugged each other, crying with tears streaming down their faces.

Tanaka shook the rain off his fist.

"Why should I? Here, only the strong are allowed to live! Hand over all your points, or I'll be the first to push you out to feed the monsters in the next wave!"

These words were spoken very bluntly, completely tearing away the disguise of civilization.

The three newcomers were completely devastated.

The teacher struggled to turn over in the mud, in so much pain that he couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

The girls trembled as they opened the floating light panel and transferred all the hundreds of points to Tanaka's account, handing over the water bottle along with it.

Tanaka looked at the soaring numbers in his account, unscrewed the kettle, took a big gulp, and casually smashed the empty kettle on a nearby rock.

"Go crouch in the corner. When the monster comes, remember to shout loudly to attract my attention."

The scene switches to the real world in real time.

The official residence of the Prime Minister of Japan.

A group of high-ranking politicians stood silently in front of a large, rectangular mahogany table.

On the big screen, the scene of Tanaka robbing and injuring people was magnified infinitely.

The Prime Minister sat in the main seat, his face ashen, his hands clenched tightly on his knees.

This scene was broadcast live to the world through the sky screen, and the "etiquette" that the Yamato people value most on the surface was trampled into pieces.

The chief of staff wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and took two steps closer.

"Your Excellency Prime Minister, do we need to activate our weekly one-minute communication privileges to dissuade Tanaka? This is creating a terrible international impression. Netizens are already furious."

The Prime Minister stared at the swaggering cyborg on the screen and decisively shook his head.

"never mind."

"But what about the reaction of the domestic public..."

"What do the people know!"

The Prime Minister slammed his hand on the table.

"As long as he can survive and hold the city gate, everyone else is just expendable! Even if those three civilians save their points, they won't be able to withstand the next wave of attacks. Tanaka is our only remaining fighting force; concentrating our resources on him is the optimal solution. We can't afford a second breach of the city gates!"

In the live stream room dedicated to Japan, the comments section was completely divided.

A group of netizens completely lost their composure and frantically typed on their keyboards to vent their emotions.

[Beast! Those are our fellow Yamato people! How could he do such a thing!]

That middle-aged man was just a teacher; he was almost beaten to death!

Tanaka isn't a sword saint at all; he's a madman!

I'd rather our defenses be breached than be represented by someone like this!

[...]

The other faction is cold-blooded to the core.

[Shut up, Holy Mother!]

What else could those three people do besides cry?

Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures! If we don't concentrate resources on the strong, are we all just waiting to die?

[Even the Prime Minister isn't doing anything, so what are you all complaining about? Sacrificing the minority to protect the majority—Lord Tanaka did the right thing!]

[As long as they can survive, it's worth it, even if it means breaking their ribs, or even feeding them to the monsters!]

【..........】

At the same time.

At the front lines of the Chinese front.

The art style here is always out of place compared to other countries.

A campfire of dry wood burned on the ground, sparks crackling and popping.

The feedback from that spiritual rain has just ended.

Millions of awakened individuals have emerged across China's 9.6 million square kilometers of land.

The entire nation is currently in a state of over-excitement.

Chen Xiao sat cross-legged next to the black wooden coffin, holding a small piece of wood in his hand, slowly carving the edges with a carving knife.

A tactical tablet was placed on the ground next to it.

The tablet screen was currently displaying the global split-screen interface, with a live video feed from Japan playing in the middle.

Chinese netizens had already flocked to various foreign online channels. After watching the farce in Japan, they turned around and started spamming the chat in their own live streams.

See that? This is the true nature of the Japanese.

They're always bowing and apologizing, putting on a show of politeness that surpasses everyone else's, but when it comes to life and death, they'll tear off their masks faster than turning the pages of a book.

They showed the same attitude when they invaded us, turning their own people against us without hesitation, let alone outsiders.

[Hilarious! Stealing points from a few civilians and thinking they're so great. If they're so capable, why don't they go and take on a giant machine one-on-one like our Uncle Jiang?]

A team that relies on backstabbing its teammates to survive won't go far.

[Where's the guy who called Tanaka a cyber warrior? Come out here! He's more like a cyber robber!]

[This is a disgrace to humanity. I'd rather watch our Coffin Guy whittling wood.]

The disciples trained by our ancestors are all upright and honest, while those so-called advanced Western civilizations are all sophisticated egoists.

【……】

Chen Xiao stopped carving and blew away the wood chips.

He glanced at the distorted, half-human, half-machine appearance of Tanaka on the tablet screen.

There was no fluctuation.

After glancing at it once, Chen Xiao immediately looked away and focused his attention back on the wooden block in his hand.

He is carving a wooden wedge to support the coffin.

Beside him, Guan Shan, holding the blood-patterned iron sword, leaned against the city wall with his eyes closed.

"Eighth Brother, stop looking."

Guan Shan's voice was deep, carrying the ruggedness unique to men from Northwest China.

"We can't interfere in other people's business. Dogs fighting will only result in a mess. Just mind your own business."