15: Chapter 15 I don't want to die, but I don't want to kneel even more.

In the real world, at the Spark Interactive Entertainment headquarters building.

CEO Zhao violently smashed the expensive red wine glass onto the floor, the dark red liquid splashing everywhere, strongly resembling the bloody night in the game.

"What is the Public Relations Department doing, eating?!"

CEO Zhao pointed at the trending topics list on the big screen, his fingers trembling.

The paid commenters he had arranged were now like sandcastles submerged by a tsunami, unable to even make a ripple.

The so-called "experts" and "educational scholars" he bribed were still posting press releases online:

"Beware of the Psychological Trauma Caused by Violent Games to Teenagers"

"Who is Responsible for This Bloody Feast?"

"It is Recommended to Immediately Ban <ice and snow world>; The Imagery is Extremely Uncomfortable!"

However, the comment section spiraled out of control.

No parents echoed the sentiment, nor did any moral guardians give likes.

The comment section was filled only with unified counterattacks from countless young people who had just exited the live stream, their eyes still red.

"Trauma? You call this trauma? This is history!"

"My grandfather was blown up exactly like that back then! What, if you cover your eyes and pretend not to see it, does it mean it never happened?"

"Ban it? You try banning it! I'm putting it out there today: if this game disappears, it will be our disgrace!"

A comment with over a million likes was pushed to the very top:

"I used to think the bombings in American blockbusters were cool; explosions were art. Today I finally realized that when the bomb falls on your own head, it’s not called art, it’s called a massacre.

I don't want to be a superhero anymore; I want to be a soldier, even if it means dying on the other side of that river."

CEO Zhao slumped back into his office chair.

He couldn't understand.

What was wrong with the world? Didn't young people nowadays all like easy wins? Didn't they all like cheating and dominating? Why were they rushing into something that twisted one's heart and liver with pain?

...

Inside the rental room.

Su Yun looked at the soaring data backstage.

If he didn't count the Cloud Players who were still observing, the number of players online and ready to enter the next chapter at this moment had broken three hundred million.

This was a terrifying number.

No game in the entire world could achieve this.

"This isn't a game," Su Yun said softly, placing his grandfather's medal next to the keyboard.

"This is a conscription across time and space."

On the screen, the new interface had finished loading.

It was a temporary recruitment station by the Yalu River. The cold wind swept up snowflakes, making the military flags flutter loudly.

Jack, Brother Bao, Dai Dai.

The three stood there again.

Without their previous farmer attire, they were wearing the most common yellow military uniforms.

The padded jackets were not thick, even somewhat thin. What they held were not divine artifacts, but old rifles; some didn't even have guns, only being issued a few grenades.

Before them were three class options.

[Infantryman: Highest casualty rate, and the ones who charge to the very front. You need to face tanks and machine guns head-on.]

[Scout: A lone wolf. You need to infiltrate behind enemy lines; this requires not only skill but also a death-defying awakening.]

[Medic: This is the most desperate profession on the battlefield. You need to watch your comrades die in your arms, and you might not even have a roll of bandages in your hands.]

Dai Dai looked at the Medic option.

Although her leg was fine after the data reset, the phantom pain of the fracture seemed to linger in her nerves. She was afraid of pain; truly afraid. Since childhood, she cried for half a day just getting a shot.

"Dai Dai, don't go," a fan in the live stream said with heartache. "Just stay in the rear for logistics; this is too much suffering."

"Yeah, that pain feedback is too real; it will leave psychological scars."

Dai Dai didn't speak.

She took something out of her pocket.

It was the only item the system had allowed her to keep during the previous chapter's settlement—the piece of malt candy, still uneaten and stained with blood.

[Item: Second Girl's Candy]

[Attribute: None]

[Annotation: This is sweet. In order for future people to taste this sweetness, you must go and taste that bitterness.]

Dai Dai looked at the candy, then looked at the dark, vast river in the distance.

"I'm not afraid of pain."

Dai Dai's voice was soft, yet steady. She raised her hand, without the slightest hesitation, and heavily pressed the icon with the red cross.

"Compared to pain... I'm more afraid of seeing Second Girl die in front of me again and being completely unable to do anything."

A flash of light.

An old first-aid kit appeared on her shoulder. The box was heavy, making her shoulder tilt, but this time she didn't cry out in exhaustion; she just silently tightened the strap.

On the other side.

Brother Bao lit a cigarette. Of course, it was the cheap, harsh cigarette from the game.

"I choose Scout."

Brother Bao exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes as cold as a freshly sharpened knife.

"Since skill is useless in this physics engine, then I'll fill the gap with my life. I want to see where the command post of these American bastards is. As long as I can sneak over..."

He didn't say the consequences, only made a throat-slitting gesture.

Finally, Jack.

He stood there, still tightly clutching the deed in his hand.

"Lao Xie, Dai Dai, you two stay in the back."

Jack slung the rifle onto his back and pulled the bolt, making a crisp 'clack' sound.

"Someone has to draw fire; someone has to blow up the tanks."

Jack chose Infantryman.

This was the class with the most cannon fodder, and also the class that died the most miserably.

But he didn't care anymore.

At this moment, he wasn't the streamer Jack seeking traffic, nor was he a fan who idolized Captain Eagle Country.

He was Old Man Li's eldest son.

He was the farmer's son who had just lost his home, lost his father, and lost five acres of cornfields.

"Brothers,"

Jack turned around, facing the dense, endless formation of players behind him—three hundred million souls who had similarly chosen to enlist.

He raised the rifle in his hand and pointed toward the bridge, half destroyed but still standing over the river.

"Our land has been burned by others."

Jack's voice wasn't loud, but it carried far on the cold wind.

"Our fathers were blown up by others."

"Now, these bandits are across the river eating turkey and singing songs."

"Tell me, what should we do?!"

The reply he received was the unified roar of three hundred million people. The sound converged, even overpowering the roar of the river, shattering the falling snow.

"Kill!!!"

No mobilization order was more effective than this.

No reward was more tempting than revenge.

A long whistle tore through the night sky.

The boxcars, loaded with these three hundred million souls, began to slowly turn their wheels,

crushing the frost on the rails, rumbling toward the unknown darkness, toward the ice field that would soon be dyed red with blood.

Crossing the Yalu River.

Even if the path ahead was a mountain of blades and a sea of fire.

Even if this journey meant never returning.