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

The United States of America, the Pentagon.

Dead silence.

In the spacious oval conference room, no one spoke.

General Smith placed his hands on the solid wood conference table, staring intently at the holographic screen on the wall.

The screen freezes.

The 150-meter-tall Abyss Tyrant stands in the yellow sand, transformed into a black iron tower.

A nail covered in dark red rust was stuck in the very center of his chest.

Black blood flowed down the gaps in the scales, pooling into a small puddle on the sand.

The monster is dead.

He was pinned to death in mid-air by a 22-year-old Chinese youth using eight nails, and then his heartbeat was erased.

The veins on the back of Smith's hand were bulging.

fear.

A fear that could not be measured by objective data rushed up his spine to the back of his head.

In the first seven waves, China dispatched seven people.

Feng shui formations, millions of paper soldiers, corpse-driving techniques, identifying fatal weaknesses... For each of these methods, the Pentagon's think tank has built data models in an attempt to analyze them.

The conclusion is that it cannot be parsed or copied.

That is a power that transcends the dimensions of modern science and genetic mutation.

Smith had assumed that the feng shui master in the seventh wave, who could alter the terrain and reshape gravity, was the strongest fighter in the Chinese team.

He felt that the old man had directly interfered with celestial phenomena, which was the limit of Eastern metaphysics.

He's waiting for the eighth wave.

He believed that the 150-meter-tall Abyss Tyrant, possessing pure physical crushing power, could directly shatter China's defenses.

However, China sent its youngest representative.

A coffin maker holding a broken iron nail.

And the eight nails in his hand?

"He is not human."

Smith's throat bobbed, his voice dry and hoarse, "They...are not human!!!"

Beside him, the U.S. president slumped in a leather chair, his tie askew.

In order to deal with hundreds of the lowest-level Earthshakers, Jackson personally threw four of his compatriots out as bait, sacrificing his life to achieve a pyrrhic victory.

And ahead of China's defense line.

The enormous corpse of that abyss tyrant didn't even touch a single brick of the city wall.

Eight people.

The president spoke slowly and deliberately, his eyes bloodshot, "Eight waves of monsters, eight people taking turns attacking, all instantly killed. They didn't even have a scratch!"

"Cease all sanctions plans targeting China."

The president, clutching his hair, ordered his chief of staff, "Withdraw the Pacific Fleet and sever all private ties with Japan. Don't provoke them; we absolutely cannot anger China at this time!"

.........

Faced with overwhelming force, the inherent cowardice and bullying nature of Western politicians was fully revealed.

Japanese positions.

Black winds mixed with the stench of blood rain.

Yamamoto Itto lay in the mud.

His broken right leg had lost all feeling, and he was only kept alive by the holy light from the system in the previous rounds.

He turned his head with difficulty to look at the giant screen above him.

The giant screen was replaying the scene of Chen Xiao leaping 100 meters and striking down the last Soul-Suppressing Nail with a single palm strike.

Yamamoto Itto's pupils dilated.

His prized "Iaijutsu: Asura Slash" only managed to sever a dozen or so heads when facing three hundred Earthshaking Demons, despite his best efforts.

He felt that was the pinnacle of Japanese swordsmanship.

Now, he watched Chen Xiao's fluid and graceful movements.

There are no fancy sword energies, only a power that returns to its original simplicity.

"Baka..." Yamamoto Itto's lips trembled as he coughed up a mouthful of blood mixed with pieces of internal organs.

The faith and pride that had been built up over a long period of time collapsed at this moment.

He was unwilling to accept it; he was jealous.

Why is it that China possesses such a profound cultural heritage?

Why are those Easterners able to stand unharmed while he has to eke out a living in the mud, sacrificing civilians to gain a chance to survive?

But he can't change anything.

Those eight figures standing in the yellow sand became a mountain he could never cross.

.........

The space for national destiny.

Chen Xiao walked back to the black wooden coffin with steady steps.

He stopped beside Guan Shan and stood still.

Guan Shan didn't speak, but tightened his grip on the blood-patterned iron knife and nodded to Chen Xiao.

Ma Ling's remaining left hand gently shook the copper bell.

The bell rang crisply, its sound echoing across the wilderness.

Eight people stood in a row.

The wind and sand whipped up their clothes.

First place, Guan Shan.

Executioner.

With a single slash, ten thousand wolves were annihilated.

Second, the horse bell.

Corpse transporter.

A string of copper bells, a bone dragon with broken wings.

Third, Ji Yuan.

Papermaker.

A handful of yellow paper, a million ghost soldiers.

Fourth place: Jiang Chen.

Corpse retriever.

An iron chain, and the crocodile sinks in the water.

Fifth place: Su Qingyi.

Corpse sculptor.

A single silver needle, and the corpse puppet slays the ape.

Sixth place, Liu Bai.

Zuo Zuo.

A pair of ghostly eyes, able to see through fatal flaws.

The seventh is Blind Luo.

Feng shui master.

A compass, a purgatory of the eight trigrams.

Eighth place, Chen Xiao.

Coffin maker.

Eight iron nails, used to seal gods and bury demons.

The Eight Generals of Yin Gate gather in the space of national destiny.

Eight waves of attacks, eight abilities, eight instant kills.

Behind them, the black wooden coffin lay quietly on its side.

That was their master, and also the core of the entire Chinese national protection formation.

A steady, powerful heartbeat emanated from inside the coffin.

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

The heartbeats synchronized with the breathing rates of the eight people.

An ancient and vast aura hovered over the Chinese battlefield.

Global live stream.

After a brief pause, the bullet screen system experienced an unprecedented surge.

Western netizens' psychological defenses completely collapsed, and their arrogance, curses, and mockery were replaced by the purest reverence.

[God, that was the tyrant of the abyss, and he was just crucified like that?]

This is not magic, this is not supernatural ability, this is divine art from the East!

China is terrifying!

I take back what I said before. These eight people... are not human, they are gods!

We apologize to China for our previous arrogance and ask for your forgiveness for our ignorance.

[Eight waves of monsters, eight people taking turns attacking, all instantly killed, not a single brick on the city gate fell!]

I'm so lucky to be born in China! Is it still possible to apply for Chinese citizenship? I'm willing to donate all my assets!

[Get lost! China doesn't accept trash! Our ancestors belong to 1.4 billion people!]

The Eight Generals of Yin Gate gather in the National Destiny Space—this is the essence of our Chinese nation!

[Brothers, let's show our support in the chat and welcome back our eight seniors!]

【..........】

The comments from Chinese netizens were unanimously filled with pride.

They don't need sympathy or recognition; they only believe in their country's ancestors and in these eight pioneers who risked their lives to stand at the forefront.

An unprecedented sense of national pride connects the blood of every Chinese person.

..........

Yanjing, the strategic command center 100 meters underground.

The hall was brightly lit.

Zhou Yaoguo stood in front of the huge holographic screen, his back straight, his eyes red-rimmed.

He looked at the eight people standing side by side on the screen.

Just a few dozen minutes ago, the intelligence department had confirmed their identities.

Murderers, disabled abandoned infants, terminally ill patients, blind beggars...

Twenty years ago, these eight people were marginalized individuals abandoned by society.

They were in the deepest darkness, with no hope of surviving.

Then, Su Chen appeared.

The young man in blue clothes used a bowl of noodles and a promise to pull these eight unfortunate people out of the mire.

Twenty years later, the sky fell.

These eight people, who once struggled in the mud, stood in front of 1.4 billion Chinese people.

Not an inch will be conceded.

"Well done."

Zhou Yaoguo's voice was hoarse as he clapped his hands vigorously.

"Snapped!"

"Slap! Slap!"

In the entire command center hall, all the officers, staff officers, and technical personnel stood up.

Thunderous applause echoed throughout the hall, lasting for a long time.

Minister Chen stood to the side, wiping away the moisture from the corners of his eyes.

He turned to look at the communications officer behind him.

"Distribute the combat footage recorded on the front lines to every local TV station and every network terminal across the country."

"Let the people have a good look at these eight sections of the Great Wall of China!"

"yes!"

The correspondent responded loudly.

Within the realm of national destiny.

The crimson mist above the sky began to churn.

Mechanical sounds exploded across the globe.

[The eighth wave of monsters has ended.]

[Blue Star Survival Defense Line: Eighty-Six Nations.]

Another round of elimination.

Death and destruction are still unfolding in the small world.

But on the front lines of China, there was only silence and tranquility.