56: Chapter 57 Island Horror

An American pilot leaned halfway out of his hatch,

holding binoculars in his hand,

chewing gum,

looking extremely impatient.

In his view, the recent explosion was just an accident,

and these 'rats' who only knew how to hide in the dirt had long been scared out of their wits.

Arrogance.

Arrogance carved into the bone.

Jack slowly adjusted his breathing.

The air in his lungs was squeezed out bit by bit, and his heartbeat drummed against his eardrums.

The old rifle in his hand had a somewhat rusty bolt, but he trusted it implicitly.

"In your next life, don't chew gum."

The trigger was pulled.

Bang!

The gunshot wasn't loud in the heavy rain, sounding like a dry twig snapping.

In the distance, the head chewing gum suddenly snapped backward, and a cloud of blood mist exploded in the curtain of rain.

The American pilot didn't even have time to pull his body back in; he hung limply by the edge of the turret.

"Nicely done!"

The channel instantly erupted,

the suppressed fear torn open by that single shot.

But the excitement lasted less than three seconds,

before Brother Bao's distorted roar came over the line.

"Stop shouting! Everyone stop shouting!"

Brother Bao clutched the walkie-talkie handset, his face as pale as a sheet of white paper.

He knelt in the muddy water, frantically slapping the old radio box, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"What happened?" Jack crawled over through the slippery communication trench.

"No signal... just static."

Brother Bao's hands were trembling.

"I've been trying to connect for twenty minutes; all channels are just static."

"Maybe it's just interference..."

"It's not interference!"

"The 64th Army on the left flank is pinned down by the British 29th Brigade at the Imjin River; they can't move an inch."

Brother Bao's voice cracked with a sob,

"The right flank... the 180th Division on the right flank..."

"The 180th Division's retreat route has been cut off by the US 24th Division and they are completely surrounded. The main force of the 9th Army Group is blocked at Dongchon by the UN forces and can't get over here at all!"

Brother Bao looked up, rain streaming down his buzz cut and into his mouth, tasting incomparably bitter.

"Jack, there are no reinforcements coming."

"Our 63rd Army is now an isolated island on this battlefield."

"A cliff on the left, an abyss on the right, and in front of us are Van Fleet's tens of thousands of troops and thousands of artillery pieces. We... have been abandoned here."

At this moment, the hundreds of millions of viewers in the live broadcast room felt their scalps tingle.

Was this the cruelty of history?

No sudden divine intervention, no desperate last-minute counterattack.

There was only a severed supply line, a divided battlefield,

and a group of mortals armed with light weapons and wearing single layers of clothing, forced to stand firm against a torrent of steel.

In the real world, across the ocean.

The live broadcast rooms of major Western media were filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

A retired US four-star general sat in the studio, pointing at the large screen behind him,

wearing a smile that suggested he had seen through everything.

"This is a very realistic game; I must admit, the designer named Su Yun has some talent."

The general took a sip of coffee,

"But he made a fatal tactical mistake. He set up a dead end on the map."

On the screen, red arrows, like sharp blades,

were firmly pressed against the small blue dot representing the 63rd Army.

"This is the so-called 'Iron Field Defense Line'?"

Another military commentator sneered,

"This isn't a defense line; it's minced meat in a grinder.

According to my calculations, this unit's supplies won't last 12 hours, and their ammunition reserves will be depleted in the first round of contact."

"This is a completely meaningless suicide deployment."

The general concluded,

"They think willpower alone can stop mechanized forces? Don't make me laugh. Against absolute firepower density, willpower isn't stronger than a piece of toilet paper."

"I bet Iron Field will break within twenty-four hours."

On Twitter, mocking posts flooded the platform.

"Is this Chinese tactics? Using human flesh to fill tank tracks?"

"Poor children, tricked into sacrificing themselves by that designer."

"Is Su Yun trying to get all these players killed in the game?"

The domestic audience watched these comments,

shaking with anger,

their fingers clattering on the keyboards,

yet feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.

Because they knew,

even in the game,

this hellish opening was real.

The ancestors of that era,

truly faced such despair.

Inside the game.

"Sizzle—sizzle—sizzle—"

Just as everyone fell into despairing silence,

the dark clouds in the sky seemed to be torn apart by an invisible giant hand.

A massive, semi-transparent system panel,

stretched across the sky above the Iron Field battlefield.

It was the 'Oracle' visible to all players.

It was Su Yun's operation interface.

[Server-wide Announcement: Historical Fidelity Calibration set to 100%]

This line of text struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

Immediately following were a series of shocking red scrolling lines:

[Friendly Unit Status Update: 64th Army's resistance is difficult; unable to provide support.]

[Friendly Unit Status Update: 180th Division communications interrupted; classified as missing.]

[Friendly Unit Status Update: 9th Army Group is blocked; unable to provide support.]

[Our Unit Status Update: 63rd Army has been fighting continuously without rest; 'Extreme Fatigue' status applied to all personnel.]

[Our Unit Status Update: Provisions cut off; 'Severe Hunger' status applied to all personnel.]

[Our Unit Status Update: Ammunition supply interrupted; 'Out of Ammunition and Provisions' status applied to all personnel.]

With the application of each status,

the players felt their bodies grow heavier.

Bodies that could barely hold up moments before,

suddenly felt as if they were filled with lead.

The hunger in their stomachs was no longer vague,

but felt like a fire burning their guts, causing them to break out in a cold sweat.

No reinforcements.

No miracle.

Only this solitary hilltop,

and the heavily armed enemy below.

"Su Yun..."

Jack looked up, letting the rain wash over his face.

He activated the server-wide microphone,

his voice hoarse,

carrying an indescribable sense of sorrow.

"The ancestors back then... did they really hold the line without any support?"

He was asking Su Yun.

He was also asking this world.

This was fundamentally an impossible task for human beings.

In the control room, Su Yun looked at the young man covered in mud on the screen,

and observed the emotional value of tens of millions of players instantly plummeting to rock bottom.

He didn't give a long speech, nor did he play rousing background music.

He typed only one word on the server-wide public chat.

[Hold]

Just one word.

Weighty as a thousand mountains.

There was no need to explain why,

no need to explain how.

Because behind them was their homeland.

Because stepping back meant the nation and home would be destroyed.

Therefore, even if it was an isolated island,

even if it was a death trap, they had to hold it.

Dai Dai huddled in the corner of the trench,

clutching the small cloth bag containing flower seeds.

The bag had a small tear.

A few dark brown seeds slipped out through the hole,

falling into the pitch-black muddy water.

She frantically tried to pick them up, but in that instant,

she saw the seeds did not rot in the mud.

Instead, as if they had found their destination, they lay quietly there.

"Seeds buried in the soil aren't dead,"

Dai Dai wiped the mud from her face, fiercely protecting the remaining seeds against her chest, light finally appearing in her eyes for the first time.

"They are preparing to grow stronger."

"Time's up."

Down the mountain, inside the US command vehicle,

Van Fleet glanced at the gold watch on his wrist.

He elegantly closed his copy of the 'Bible',

and calmly issued the order into the radio:

"I do not wish to see any upright-walking creatures on that mountain by morning."

"Begin."

The next second.

Puff! Puff! Puff!

Muffled launch sounds erupted in quick succession.

Jack looked up sharply.

He saw countless white points of light suddenly rise from the dark horizon in the distance.

They rose unsteadily into the sky, then suddenly burst into brilliant light.

Hundreds of flares.

Illuminating the dark, rainy night as if it were bright daylight.

Under the stark white light, the entire Hill 207.4 was exposed.

Every broken tree, every trench,

even every player lying in a muddy pit, was clearly illuminated.

"They're coming again..."

Brother Bao looked down the mountain in despair.

The earth began to tremble.

No longer just a few tanks.

But a dense, overwhelming mass,

like moving walls of steel,

accompanied by the footsteps of thousands of Infantrymen,

crushing toward this isolated island.

It was Van Fleet's general offensive.

It would be the most insane downpour of firepower in the history of human industry.