Chapter 114: Hand-to-Hand Combat, Rampaging Across the Battlefield

Previously established military base.

Erhu knelt beside the regiment commander, speaking with anguish, “Commander, I beg you, send troops. We can save them, please, I beg you.”

“Shut up.” The commander gritted his teeth. “This enemy’s terrifying operation is an unprecedented multi-front assault. If we send troops now, they’ll exploit the gap, and more innocent lives will be lost. Go back. I want to save them too, believe me.” As he spoke, this iron-willed man couldn’t help but shed tears.

“The Chinese army is invincible.”

“I will join the military. I will apply to serve at the frontier. I want to avenge them.”

“That’s the spirit of a soldier—this is where a man belongs. We must enlist and take revenge!”

As the enemy began to swarm in relentlessly—some wielding military sabers, others carrying makeshift clubs, some bare-handed—their wild eyes bore no trace of human emotion, each snarling as they charged forward.

“Fortunately, they have run out of ammunition and supplies.” Zhou Qi gripped his saber tightly, licking his lips with a grin. “I like hand-to-hand combat—it’s where I survive best.”

“Me too,” several others chuckled.

Qin Yang sneered, took a deep breath, and pulled Liu Xiaoyang aside. Coldly, he said, “The military will speed up reinforcements. Maybe it won’t take three hours. Remember this: we will fight for every single minute. During this time, if you’re a man, take this saber and kill any beast who dares to break in.”

“I can do it.” Liu Xiaoyang clenched the saber.

Qin Yang looked at the few strong men among the hostages and pointed to the fallen comrades’ sabers on the ground. “These weapons are the souls of our loyal brothers. Don’t disgrace them. Fulfill their last wish.”

“All right!”

They rose, seizing their weapons.

Qin Yang silently nodded and stepped out of the base, closing the gate firmly behind him. Liu Xiaoyang and others dragged tables, chairs, and heavy objects to barricade the gate—they were preparing for a desperate last stand. Outside, Qin Yang lit a cigarette, having already distributed the rest of the pack. He took a deep drag, watching nearly three hundred enemies slowly gathering, and exhaled smoke in a tight circle.

“I once killed twelve men in thirty-one seconds,” Qin Yang chuckled. “Looks like I really can survive.”

“Me too,” the others laughed.

Xie Chengyang gripped his knife tightly. “If we don’t die, we’ll surpass your War God Squad.”

“Surpass us?” The War God Squad laughed heartily.

Watching the enemy close in, Zhou Qi smiled. “Actually, the Five-Clawed Golden Dragon Special Squad salutes us respectfully when they see us—they call us ‘officer’ and then crouch obediently while we beat them up.”

“Qin Yang, the mission is complete. You may select a level-three undead skill from Hell’s roster. Given your current status, I recommend a combat skill,” the steward said softly.

Qin Yang’s joy soared as his consciousness sank into Hell’s realm.

Before him appeared a shadowy image of a dark-skinned, burly man—the steward explained, “I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.