95: Chapter 95 Next Stop, Nanjing

The door leading to the gaming pod, crafted from a special alloy, slid open silently before Chen Xi.

It looked like the silent mouth of a giant beast, waiting for its sacrifice.

"Ghost, all external device connections are normal."

"Neural synchronization rate has been adjusted below the safety threshold."

"Medical monitoring team is in position."

In his headset, the calm and professional reporting voices of various department heads from the "Great Wall" project team came through.

Chen Xi did not respond.

He just stood there quietly.

Behind him was the Command Center of the entire "Great Wall" project.

It housed the nation's top minds and most advanced technology.

Countless data streams surged across circular screens, while hundreds of experts busied themselves at their respective posts.

All of this was for him, and for him alone.

For the next lonely war he was about to begin.

"Is there anything else you need?"

Old Man Long's voice sounded in the headset, carrying a hint of imperceptible concern.

Chen Xi slowly shook his head.

Everything that needed to be prepared was already ready.

The terrain of Nanjing, the organization of the Japanese Army, the distribution of key figures...

Every piece of information that could be unearthed from the dusty archives of history had already been ingrained into his mind.

He had even etched the photos of the Japanese Army generals who orchestrated the atrocities into his memory, one by one.

What remained was to face it.

To fight.

To... pass judgment.

He raised his hand and gently touched his chest pocket.

That blood-stained button from Little Chen was kept right there, close to his body.

Cold and hard.

Like a coordinate.

And like a wound that would never heal.

(It's time to go.)

(This time, there are no brothers by my side.)

(Only a cold list of people to be saved.)

The corner of Chen Xi's mouth curled into a cold, heatless arc.

He stepped forward and walked through that door.

The alloy door slowly closed behind him.

Isolating two different worlds.

He lay down in the cold gaming pod, and the familiar restraint devices secured his limbs and head one by one.

"Connection sequence, initiated."

Following the prompt of the system's female voice.

Darkness instantly submerged him.

It wasn't the gentle, sleep-like darkness.

But a kind of absolute nothingness, deprived of all senses.

Next came a dizzying sensation of weightlessness.

His consciousness felt as if it were being forcibly pulled from his body and thrown into a high-speed spinning vortex composed of countless streams of light and data.

The gunfire of Sihang Warehouse.

Little Chen's final smiling face.

Xie Jinyuan's solemn military salute.

And those countless despairing, numb faces in that living hell.

All memories and all emotions were repeatedly torn, kneaded, and crushed during this process.

Then, they were reassembled.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

Perhaps only a moment, or perhaps as long as a century.

All the clamor vanished.

Leaving only an absolute, eternal silence.

And that cold, emotionless system notification tone.

[Player detected as ready...]

[Matching next stage mission...]

The mechanical female voice echoed slowly in the empty space of his consciousness.

[Spatio-temporal beacon locked...]

Chen Xi's consciousness, like a speck of dust floating in the universe, waited quietly for the final judgment.

[Target location: Nanjing.]

It was here.

Chen Xi's consciousness didn't fluctuate in the slightest.

He had expected this result long ago.

But that wasn't all.

He knew that the most important thing was the temporal coordinate that determined his fate.

The system seemed to pause intentionally.

Like a cold executioner enjoying the final fear of a death row prisoner before the execution.

Then, it finally spat out that sentence, enough to freeze all of time and space.

[Target time: December 1937.]

Boom—

Chen Xi's mind went blank.

December.

Nanjing.

Every person of the Dragon Country knew what these two words meant when combined.

That wasn't just a month.

That was a scar of national memory, soaked in the blood and tears of three hundred thousand compatriots.

That wasn't a battle.

That was a one-sided massacre that lasted for six weeks.

An indescribable chill, penetrating to the bone, instantly pierced through his entire consciousness.

He felt as if he had been thrown into a bottomless abyss condensed from despair and blood.

(No...)

(It's not going to a battle.)

(It's going to... a slaughterhouse in operation.)

(System... you motherfucker...)

He wanted to roar, wanted to curse.

But he couldn't make a sound.

His consciousness was trembling violently.

[Teleportation ready.]

[Wishing you... a pleasant game.]

Amidst that final blessing, full of malice and mockery.

Chen Xi's consciousness was violently dragged by an irresistible force toward that living hell known as "Nanjing."