In 1938, on the scorched earth of the Taierzhuang battlefield, Jing Jiahang suddenly sat up from the pile of corpses. The severe pain in his chest still retained the residual warmth of the blasting in modern military exercises, but his eyes were filled with gunpowder smoke and broken walls. He was originally a tactical instructor of a special operations brigade. He encountered an accident during a cross-regional exercise. When he opened his eyes again, his digital camouflage had been replaced by a gray cloth military uniform. He had a rusty Hanyang-made weapon on his waist, and he was surrounded by a group of defeated soldiers with disheveled faces and frightened eyes.
"Run! The little Japs are coming again!" A hoarse cry brought him back to reality, and the Japanese army's 38-cap bullets whizzed past his ears. Jing Jiahang almost instinctively threw down the soldiers around him, and using the cover of the bomb crater, his eyes quickly swept across the battlefield - a Japanese squad was advancing in a fan shape, with fierce firepower, but his own remaining soldiers were less than twenty and lacked ammunition.
