Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

He Yuzhu stared at the stopped pocket watch on his wrist, silently counting in his mind.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

The tunnel was so quiet that only the sound of heartbeats could be heard, one after another, pounding so hard it made my eardrums throb. Wu Dayong squatted on the opposite side, his fingers unconsciously picking at the paint on the butt of his rifle, piece by piece, then another.

"Commander," his voice tightened, "time's up..."

Before he could finish speaking, a commotion came from outside.

It wasn't artillery fire—he knew the sound of artillery all too well, the sharp whistling followed by a deafening explosion. What came now, however, was a low, muffled rumble of thunder, rolling in from the distant horizon, as if dozens of heavy trucks were crushing through the clouds.

The sound grew closer and louder.

He Yuzhu stood up, took two steps to the entrance of the tunnel, and peered out through the cracks in the rocks. The sky was still dark, but a dark red halo shone through the clouds to the north, flashing intermittently.

Then he saw it.

The first aircraft emerged from the gap in the clouds, its massive, black fuselage so large it seemed to blot out half the sky. Without propellers or jet exhaust, it glided silently, like a black blade slicing through the night.

Then came the second one, the third one... He lost count. All he saw was a black array arranged in a neat formation, from north to south.

Too high. So high that the beams of ground-based searchlights couldn't reach their undersides. So high that by the time the roar reached the ground, it had transformed into heavy, muffled thunder, pressing down on everyone's head.

"Good heavens..." Wu Dayong squeezed through the crowd, mouth agape, "What...what is this thing?"

He Yuzhu didn't respond. He stared intently at the black wings, watching them reach the skies above Jixiong Mountain, watching several of them open their bellies—

There was no whistling sound of bombs falling.

There was nothing there.

In just a moment, the north slope of Jixiong Mountain lit up.

It wasn't firelight, it was light. A blinding white light exploded from the ground, instantly illuminating half the night sky. He Yuzhu instinctively closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw the white light rapidly expanding, transforming into a huge, rolling fireball.

The fireball devoured everything on the hillside—trees, rocks, the tanks and cannons he had seen through his binoculars during the day, and the ant-like figures of people crawling about. Everything was swept into that orange-red hell.

Then came the sound. Not an explosion, but a low, continuous rumble, like a mountain collapsing. When the shockwave hit, soil fell from the tunnel entrance, and He Yuzhu was jolted back two steps, his back slamming against the rock wall.

The second fireball exploded at Erqing Cave. The third, the fourth…

Along the entire enemy front, from Jixiong Mountain to Jinhua, a stretch of over ten kilometers, bursts of destructive white light simultaneously. Fireballs rose one after another, forming a sea of ​​fire that turned the night sky a dark red.

Everyone in the tunnel crowded to the entrance, staring blankly out. No one spoke; they even held their breath. Only the continuous low rumble from outside and the rustling of the rock walls trembling could be heard.

He Yuzhu's hands were trembling. He knew this thing was powerful, but he hadn't expected it to be this powerful. This was no longer a battle; it was erasure—the kind of erasure that would cut an entire region off the map.

The radio suddenly blared, and through the static came the hoarse roar of the Third Battalion Commander: "Regimental Commander! Did you see that?! The other side... the entire other side is gone! The whole hillside is burning! It's burning like hell!"

He Yuzhu grabbed the microphone: "I saw it. What's the situation with the troops?"

"Everyone stayed in the bunkers as ordered, it's alright! It's just... the tremors are making me dizzy." The battalion commander's voice trembled. "What was that? A new Soviet bomb?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He looked up at the sky, where the black wings had split into three groups: one group continued flying south, one group turned southeast, and the last group headed towards the eastern horizon.

He knew where they were going.

At the same moment, in Tokyo, Japan, above the Yasukuni Shrine.

The priest on night duty yawned as he walked out of the shrine, intending to make a round of inspections before resting. The night was cool, so he wrapped his robe tighter around himself and looked up at the sky.

Then, it froze.

There were things in the sky. Dark, enormous, and silent as ghosts. They hovered directly above the shrine, low enough to see the smooth skin beneath the wings and the unrecognizable, gleaming symbols.

There was no sound. Not a sound at all.

The priest opened his mouth to shout, but his throat felt as if it were being choked. He saw the abdomens of those black monsters open.

No bombs were dropped.

Only a fine white powder, like snowflakes, drifted down from the sky. The powder spread in the night wind, quickly covering the entire shrine and more than twenty surrounding streets and alleys.

The priest reached out and caught a bit. The powder landed in his palm; it was cool and tasteless.

He still hadn't figured out what this meant—

The world turned pure white.

It wasn't light, it was fire. But it wasn't ordinary fire. It was a white flame that ignited instantly, intensely hot enough to melt rock into ash. The moment the powder came into contact with the air, the entire area—a radius of twenty kilometers—ignited simultaneously.

The wooden structures of the shrine were even vaporized into fly ash without undergoing the combustion process. The stone torii gates cracked and melted under the high temperatures. The asphalt pavement boiled and bubbled, turning into a viscous liquid.

The priest's last sight was his own hand disappearing in the white flames—without even a chance to feel pain.

The shockwave spread outwards from the shrine. Wooden houses tore apart like paper, and the exterior walls of reinforced concrete buildings peeled and collapsed in the intense heat. The towering white pillar of fire was visible throughout Tokyo Bay, followed by a violent tremor that lasted for a full minute.

When the white flames finally died down, all that remained was a massive, charred crater, twenty kilometers in diameter. The Yasukuni Shrine, along with all the memorial tablets, war criminal lists, and related items enshrined within, was completely wiped from the world, leaving not a trace.

In the sky, the black wings turned and flew towards the depths of the Pacific Ocean, quickly disappearing into the night.

Only on the ground remained, half of Tokyo engulfed in flames and chaos. The air raid sirens finally sounded—but it was too late, all too late.

North Korean front, regimental command post tunnel.

A "ding" sounded in He Yuzhu's mind.

The system interface popped up abruptly, its blue light making him squint. Text scrolled rapidly:

[Main targets (enemy frontline assembly points and artillery groups) have been confirmed destroyed.]

Secondary objective 1 (Wonsan Port supply hub) destroyed.

Secondary target two (Yongdeungpo ammunition depot) destroyed.

[The maritime target (USS Valley Forge carrier strike group) has been confirmed to have suffered heavy damage.]

The partial destruction of the distant target (Yokosuka Naval Base) has been confirmed.

Hidden quest "Scars of History" completed.

[Mission Description: Eradicate the spiritual symbols that represent militarism and war crimes.]

[Mission Reward: 4,444,444 points of the Vow Power of the Diverse Chinese Race.]

[Overall Assessment: This bombing inflicted devastating damage on the enemy's military capabilities and caused significant harm to the enemy nation's war potential and psychological image.]

[Bonus points: +40,000,000 (based on a comprehensive assessment of destructive value and political significance).]

[Current total points: 44,489,444.]

He Yuzhu stared at the string of numbers, his thoughts slightly lingering.

Forty-four million points. He had fought for more than half a year to accumulate ten million, and in one night, a single bombardment brought him forty million.

Before I could think about it further, the system interface suddenly flickered, and the blue light became unstable, like a light bulb with a poor connection. Finally, a line of red text appeared:

[Warning: System overload.]

[A spatiotemporal disturbance exceeding the safety threshold has been detected.]

[Forced maintenance procedure initiated.]

Estimated maintenance time: 168 hours (7 days).

During the maintenance period, only the basic attribute panel and points viewing function will be retained. Functions such as resource extraction, task posting, and ability exchange will be temporarily locked.

[Countdown begins: 167:59:59...]

The interface darkened, turning gray and white, with only a small countdown number in the upper left corner still ticking.

The system... crashed.

He Yuzhu paused for two seconds, then suddenly burst into laughter. It started as a low chuckle, then grew louder until his eyes burned. Wu Dayong watched him from the side, his eyes wide as if he were a madman.

"Commander, are you... alright?"

"Very good." He Yuzhu wiped his face, took a deep breath, grabbed the microphone, and said, "Attention all battalions and companies, this is He Yuzhu."

His voice came through the telephone lines to every position still accessible: "Bombing over. Enemy forward positions have been largely destroyed. Now, listen to my orders—"

He paused, gazing at the still-burning sea of ​​fire outside the tunnel, and said, word by word:

"All troops, counterattack!"

"Take back all the positions we lost during the day."