98: Chapter 98 Past Events of Jinling

Chen Xi followed Old Long into a room.

It had no windows, and the lighting was dim.

The air was thick with the mixed scent of old paper and disinfectant.

An elderly man with white hair, wearing a Zhongshan suit, was already waiting there.

Qian Deguang.

A titan of the Longguo Historical Research Institute and also the head of the Historical Verification Group for Project 'Great Wall'.

His face showed no expression whatsoever.

Seeing them enter, Old Qian merely gave a slight nod, then pointed at the massive curved screen in front of him.

"Let's begin."

Old Long's voice was heavy.

The main screen lit up.

There was no preamble, no superfluous explanation.

Only a single line, typed in the most rigid Song font, a title in blood red.

"The Agony of Jinling: 1937.12.13 - 1938.1"

Chen Xi's pupils contracted slightly.

He knew this moment would come eventually.

But when it truly appeared before his eyes in this manner...

The overwhelming weight of history that crashed over him still made it almost impossible to breathe.

"Based on the currently declassified, highest-clearance archives."

Old Qian began to speak.

His voice sounded as if it came from an old typewriter—dry, raspy, devoid of any inflection.

"We have restored the complete picture of those six weeks of hell."

On the screen, the image changed.

A photocopy of a Japanese Central China Area Army operational order appeared.

On it were arrogantly and hastily scribbled Chinese characters, written with a brush.

"...The city of Nanjing is already in our grasp, you may act freely..."

The four characters for 'act freely' were heavily circled in red.

Like a pupil of a beast, dripping with blood.

The image changed again.

It was a detailed map of Nanjing City, marked with countless red arrows indicating the advance routes of various Japanese Army units.

Those arrows, like countless greedy venomous snakes, surged from all directions towards that ancient capital, utterly defenseless.

"On December 13th, Tani Hisao's 6th Division breached the city from Zhonghua Gate."

Old Qian's voice remained calm.

"The massacre officially began at that moment."

On the screen, a waveform of an audio recording appeared.

Immediately after, an elderly, heavily accented woman's voice began to speak, haltingly.

"...They rushed in... killing anyone they saw... I hid... behind the stove... I saw... my husband... they... with bayonets..."

The voice cut off abruptly.

Replaced by a piercing, harsh tone indicating the recording had ended.

The briefing room was deathly silent.

Only the sound of Chen Xi's steady, almost inaudible breathing.

His live stream was activated at this very moment.

One second ago, the barrage was filled with revelry and celebration over the great victory at Sihang Warehouse.

And the next second.

All the barrage comments vanished.

As if wiped away instantly by an invisible hand.

The screen changed.

There were no bloody photographs.

Nor any unbearable footage.

Only numbers.

Cold, objective, yet shocking numbers.

[Preliminary confirmed victims: 300,000+]

[Among them, identities confirmed: 12,144]

[Surrendered prisoners of war, collectively massacred: 90,000+]

[Documented cases of assaults against women: 20,000+]

A series of numbers flowed slowly past.

Like lines of an epitaph, written in blood.

Next, a satellite remote sensing image of Nanjing City appeared on the screen.

The map was marked with red dots of varying sizes.

Densely packed.

"Based on dual verification from geological surveys and survivor testimonies."

Old Qian's voice still held no fluctuation.

"Each red dot represents one, or multiple, mass graves."

"The largest one among them is located at Jiangdongmen."

"According to post-war excavations, this single pit alone yielded over ten thousand skeletons."

In the live stream.

Finally, a single barrage comment drifted past.

"...Fuck."

Then, a second one.

"I can't laugh anymore."

A third.

"System, I beg you, don't let it be here..."

On the screen, the image changed again.

It was a map showing the boundaries of the International Safety Zone.

That tiny Noah's Ark for refugees, established by humanitarians like Rabe and Vautrin.

On the map, its area was shown being compressed, day by day.

From initially covering more than half of the city area.

To, in the end, only the pitifully small area of Jinling Womens College of Arts and Sciences remained.

"Starting from December 15th, the Japanese Army no longer honored its promises."

Old Qian's voice finally carried a trace of a tremor, almost imperceptible.

"They began forcibly entering the Safety Zone under the pretext of 'screening for stragglers'."

"Every day, hundreds, thousands of young and able-bodied men were taken from here."

"And then, they never returned."

On the screen, a photocopy of a Japanese officer's field diary appeared.

On it, in crooked Japanese script, were recorded 'achievements'.

"Today held a Hundred-Man Killing Contest. Together with Comrade Noda, we beheaded one hundred and six, a draw. Truly regrettable. We will decide the winner tomorrow."

Beside that text was a photograph.

Two Japanese officers, leaning on their katana, facing the camera, wearing expressions of savage, self-satisfied grins.

In the live stream, it fell completely silent.

That silence was more suffocating than any uproar.

Rage accumulated wildly in the silence.

Old Long stood at Chen Xi's side.

He could clearly feel a cold, almost air-freezing killing intent slowly emanating from Chen Xi's body.

It wasn't a furious, explosive killing intent.

But a kind of tranquility, like ten-thousand-year-old ice, condensed, deathly still, the calm before judgment.

Chen Xi, from beginning to end, did not utter a single word.

He just stood there, like a statue carved from obsidian.

His eyes fixed unwaveringly on the screen, on those two devils laughing maniacally.

His hands, hanging by his sides, had at some point clenched into fists.

His knuckles made a slight, cracking sound from the excessive force.

The veins on the back of his hands bulged.

Like dormant, soon-to-be-devouring, vicious dragons.

The briefing continued.

But Chen Xi could no longer hear it.

His entire world was now only the scenes on the screen, that silent yet deafening ironclad evidence.

And the voice in his heart, growing clearer and clearer, a maddening voice.

Kill them all.

Leave not a single one.