A cold sensation touches his cheek, mingling with the stench of dirt and a metallic, rusty smell. Li Hao knows that smell well: blood. He snaps his eyes open. As his vision clears, the first thing he sees is a sky scorched black by artillery fire, with wisps of smoke rising crookedly.
[Ding! The Host’s mental fluctuations meet the binding requirements...]
[Binding the Myriad Worlds Military Industry System... 1%... 50%... 100%!]
“It’s just a thousand Japanese soldiers. Kill them!”
