54: Chapter 55 Van Fleet's "Gift" and the Flattened Hilltop

Iron Field, this basin located in central Korea, was heavily circled in red pen by Su Yun on the map.

It was a transportation hub, the throat for the Volunteer Army's retreat, and the meat grinder where the US military intended to achieve a decisive victory.

Jack stood on the muddy slope, his rubber boots already soaked through, each step emitting a heavy sucking sound.

Behind him were Brother Bao and Dai Dai, along with tens of thousands of players who had just had their hair shaved into buzz cuts.

The silence they held at the Andong Railway Station transformed, at this moment, into a kind of suppressed explosive power.

"Hurry! If you don't have enough trenching shovels, use bayonets to dig; if the bayonets break, use your hands!"

The company commander's voice echoed in the cold, damp air after the rain.

The defensive positions were constructed extremely hastily.

Hill 207.4 on the outskirts of Iron Field had soft soil due to days of continuous rain, yet it was interspersed with hard rock layers deep down.

Jack swung the shovel, his hand-knuckles vibrating until they went numb, but he could only scrape out a shallow pit on the slope.

Dai Dai crouched in a temporary shelter behind them, organizing the medical kit.

She looked at the bloody scratches on the back of her hand without saying a word.

"Van Fleet..."

Dai Dai softly murmured after seeing the enemy commander's information pop up on the system panel, "That name sounds a bit familiar."

Brother Bao was burying several anti-tank mines at a bend in the road. He looked up when he heard her: "Do you know this foreign devil?"

"No," Dai Dai shook her head, "When I used to follow that Korean boy band, I heard fans in the group say they won something called the 'Van Fleet Award,' and it seemed like a big deal."

The shovel in Jack's hand stopped.

He turned around, wiped the mud from his face, and a coldness flashed in his eyes: "An award? Giving an award named after this mass murderer? This South Chosun dog's country even has its American daddy invent the names for their awards. So damn hypocritical!"

"It's to recognize people who have contributed to US-Korea relations," Brother Bao sneered, refilling the dirt over the mine, "But in Iron Field, that name only represents one thing—artillery shells."

Su Yun sat in the control room, his fingers dancing rapidly over the virtual keyboard.

He pulled up historical data, the craziest records from the summer of 1951.

"System, set the firepower density to 100% restoration," Su Yun's voice had no fluctuation, "Let these kids see what the arrogance of an industrialized superpower looks like."

The first shriek came from the sky.

It wasn't a single shelling, but a tsunami formed by hundreds upon thousands of shells tearing through the air.

Jack felt as if a red-hot iron spike had violently pierced his eardrums, and immediately, the entire world lost sound.

The first volley landed on the front of the hill.

Dirt was no longer dirt; it turned into flying powder under the intense heat and shockwaves.

The hilltop, once covered in bushes, was stripped of its green shell within seconds, revealing charred rock layers.

"Get in the hole! Get into the spider holes!"

The company commander's roar exploded near Jack's ear, but he could only see the commander's moving lips; he couldn't hear a thing.

Jack dragged Dai Dai, scrambling and crawling into a shallow pit less than a meter deep.

It was their only refuge.

The US military's artillery fire did not cease.

According to infantry doctrine at the time, shelling usually had a fixed frequency and duration.

But now, Xie Dabao stared at the dial and found that the calculations were completely invalid.

The density of the falling shells had already surpassed human comprehension of 'war.'

Dozens of 105mm and 155mm shells slammed onto Hill 207.4 every second.

The earth trembled violently, this vibration conducting through the soil layer into Jack's chest cavity.

He felt the air in his lungs being squeezed out bit by bit, every breath carrying the heavy smell of gunpowder smoke and raw earth.

Dai Dai curled up in Jack's arms, tightly covering her ears with both hands.

Her vision began to blur, the edges turning the blood-red color of the damaged position.

System prompts flashed continuously: [Suffered severe shock, internal organs damaged, health continuously decreasing].

Jack saw a player near the edge of the shelter who failed to take cover being directly thrown away by the nearby blast wave.

That person's body was torn into pieces mid-air, not even managing a scream.

This was the "Van Fleet tonnage."

In Iron Field, the amount of artillery shells consumed by the US military was more than five times their prescribed limit.

They did not intend to charge; they only wanted to completely flatten these few hills with steel.

In the real world, in the live broadcast rooms of Western media, commentators were pontificating while pointing at satellite simulation maps.

"This is the victory of modern firepower," a retired US general said casually while holding coffee, "Under the coverage of tens of thousands of shells per hour, no carbon-based life form can survive. Those Chinese defenses are now just a pile of scorched earth full of radioactive dust."

The comments on foreign websites refreshed frantically.

"This is the gap! This is the difference in civilization!"

"Look, those young men with buzz cuts should all be fertilizer by now, right?"

Su Yun looked at these comments, his gaze growing colder.

He switched the view, aiming the camera at the scorched earth shrouded in gunpowder smoke.

The bombardment lasted for an hour.

The elevation of Hill 207.4 was forcibly shaved down by two meters during this hour.

When the artillery fire finally began to extend backward, the entire hilltop no longer resembled its original shape.

Trees became burning torches, rocks were blasted into powder, and the thick layer of loose earth submerged their ankles.

The US M46 "Patton" tank column began to move.

The roar of the engines came from below the hill, accompanied by the screeching sound of treads crushing scorched wood.

"They're all dead," the US tank company commander ordered over the radio, "Full speed ahead, capture the high ground."

The tanks formed a combat formation, arrogantly advancing toward the dead-silent scorched earth.

In their view, no living thing could possibly remain there.

However, beneath half a meter of loose soil, a blood-stained hand suddenly reached out.

Jack pushed away the half-charred log pressing on him.

His ears were still bleeding, and his vision was overlapped with double images.

He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva; his buzz cut was covered in ash, making him look particularly grim.

He turned his head and saw Brother Bao also crawling out of the dirt.

Half of Brother Bao's face was torn by gravel, his flesh peeling back, but he still tightly clutched the detonator in his hand.

"Dai Dai... are you alive?"

Jack's voice was as hoarse as if it had been rubbed on sandpaper.

"Cough, cough..." A weak cough came from the pile of mud.

Dai Dai crawled out, covered in dirt and ash. Half of her medical kit had been blown away, but she immediately grabbed a grenade.

On the position, figures one after another stood up from the scorched earth.

Their faces were black with ash, and their eyes held no fear, only a kind of almost insane ferocity.

The tanks had already advanced to less than fifty meters from the position.

The US tank commander had even opened his hatch, ready to admire the wasteland they had personally created.

Jack stared at the leading M46 tank, his finger resting on the detonator handle.

"Van Fleet..." Jack muttered the name softly, his gaze locked firmly on the enemy's treads, "Go to hell with your award."

He slammed it down.

A deafening explosion erupted.

The cluster of anti-tank mines buried at the road bend detonated in sequence.

The leading tank's left track was directly blown off by the massive shockwave.

The entire steel behemoth lost its balance, tilting precariously toward the deep ditch by the roadside.

"Fire!"

The company commander's roar became the signal for the counterattack.

The previously silent hilltop instantly revived.

The surviving heavy machine guns extended from the entrances of the tunnels buried under the loose soil, sweeping wildly toward the US Infantry behind them.

Su Yun watched the emotional value soar wildly in the backend; it was the shock erupting from hundreds of millions of global viewers at that moment.

"Steel can flatten hills," Su Yun said into the microphone, his voice spreading across the entire server, "But it cannot flatten the backbone of the Chinese people."

He clicked open the system panel and unlocked a brand new tactical guide.

[System Prompt: Tunnel Warfare Tactics Tutorial Activated.]

"Tell them, since they can't stay on the surface, we'll dig this mountain hollow," Su Yun's fingers swept across every ridge of Iron Field, "From now on, every inch of land will be their tomb."

Jack crouched, quickly weaving through the wreckage of the trenches.

He saw the US military's second wave of shelling brewing, but he was no longer afraid.

Because behind him, more players were holding trenching shovels, digging an abyss leading to victory beneath the charred rock layers.

The US tank company commander below the hill watched in terror as soldiers emerged from the 'dead ground.'

He couldn't understand how these men could still fight after that level of artillery fire.

Jack picked up an anti-tank grenade, aimed it at the arrogant steel monsters below the hill, and revealed a blood-soaked smile.

"Van Fleet, this time it's my turn to give you an award."

He pulled the pin, his body like a fully drawn bow, and sprang out.

Down the slope, more US tanks were roaring closer, and Jack's figure, amidst the swirling smoke of gunpowder, appeared solitary yet unshakeable.