76: Chapter 77 Two bodies, a steel nail

The American Second Lieutenant's cigar was long gone.

He hid behind the side and rear of the tank, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

The 'monster' opposite had run out of bullets; this was clearly common sense, the inevitable result of tactical simulation.

Two carbines, four magazines—when they were empty, they were empty.

But the monster hadn't fallen.

That blind man was still carrying the legless soldier on his back, standing in the cold wind like a bizarre statue cast in cement upon the scorched earth.

"Fuck... Kill them! They're out of bullets!" The Second Lieutenant waved his pistol, his voice cracking.

The surrounding soldiers exchanged glances. No one dared to poke their heads out first.

That last round of impossibly accurate point shooting had given these pampered soldiers, who believed in overwhelming firepower, a psychological shadow.

The turret of the M46 tank rotated into position.

The black muzzle was less than fifty meters from the two men.

At this distance, there was no need to aim.

One high-explosive shell, and not even bone fragments would remain.

Jack lay in the mud pit, the system's recording red dot still flashing.

He wanted to shout, but his throat was choked with a wad of bloody cotton.

It was over.

This was the ending.

Flesh and blood, in the end, could not withstand the crushing force of an industrial machine.

Just then, the legless soldier lying on the blind man's back moved.

Xue Zhigao threw the empty carbine in his hand onto the ground.

He fumbled around his body and pulled out something wrapped in oil paper from the blood-stained lining of his padded coat.

It was a bundle of pre-made cluster grenades.

The fuse was short; it was the glorious final-moment charge meant for mutual destruction.

"Old Wang."

Xue Zhigao lowered his head, his chin resting on Wang Heliang's sweat-soaked head.

"It's a steep downhill slope ahead."

Wang Heliang couldn't see, but he felt the tension in his comrade's muscles on his back.

"How steep?"

"Seventy degrees, all loose gravel. Rolling down could spill out your guts."

"What's below?"

"American tanks, and about a hundred American soldiers."

Wang Heliang's soot-blackened face twitched at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn't a smile; it was relief.

"That's perfect, saves us the trouble of walking."

Xue Zhigao violently pulled the fuse of his left hand.

Hiss—!

White smoke rose.

No hesitation, no wasted words.

Wang Heliang suddenly lunged forward.

The two men, like a heavy log sawed off a mountain, locked together and smashed fiercely down the seventy-degree slope toward the American formation.

"My God! What is that!?"

An American spotter screamed in terror.

In his scope, that wasn't a person at all.

It was a fireball mixed with blood, dirt, and gunpowder smoke.

The two men were tightly locked together, using gravitational potential energy to achieve astonishing speed.

Gravel splashed.

Xue Zhigao fiercely shielded the bundle of sizzling grenades between their chests, using his back to strike the sharp rocks.

Wang Heliang, in turn, used his only remaining arm to loop around Xue Zhigao's waist, making himself the base for this 'human cannonball'.

The tank driver panicked.

He frantically engaged reverse gear, trying to make the massive steel beast retreat.

The tracks churned up large patches of mud, emitting a harsh grinding sound.

But against the acceleration of gravity, steel seemed so clumsy.

Fifty meters.

Thirty meters.

Ten meters.

Jack's eyes widened.

In his field of vision, the two figures were already indistinguishable amidst the high-speed tumbling.

He only saw a ball of fire.

A fire that was determined to burn the enemy, even if it meant shattering bones and smashing organs.

The American Infantrymen descended into chaos.

Some fired their weapons, some turned and ran, and some were even paralyzed by fear.

They couldn't understand.

The textbooks at West Point hadn't covered this lesson.

Hollywood movies hadn't shown this scene.

Why?

Why didn't these two disabled men surrender?

Why could they still launch an attack?

Rumble—!

The two figures crashed heavily into the midst of the American troops, lodging right beneath the tank's tracks.

The next second.

The world fell silent.

A dark red mushroom cloud rose halfway up the mountain.

The shockwave, mixed with tank fragments and severed limbs, swept over everything within a twenty-meter radius.

The side armor of the M46 tank was torn open by a large gap.

The ammunition detonated in a secondary explosion, and the massive turret was violently blown off, tumbling through the air like a bottle cap.

Dozens of American soldiers were instantly vaporized, not even having time to let out a scream.

Dirt was thrown into the air and then fell like a torrential rain.

Jack was knocked over by the blast wave and slammed hard against the pit wall.

His vision was filled with gray.

That suffocating silence lasted for a full ten seconds.

The wind blew.

The smoke dispersed.

That once-arrogant M46 tank had become a pile of burning scrap metal.

All around were American corpses.

The Second Lieutenant who had been so arrogant moments before was now nothing more than half a body hanging from a charred tree branch.

And Xue Zhigao and Wang Heliang...

They were gone.

On the ground, there was only a huge, smoking crater.

These two men had turned themselves into a nail.

At the cost of their complete annihilation, they pinned this American company firmly at the forefront of Hill 207.4, making them unable to advance an inch.

Jack knelt in the muddy water, and the system recording interface in his hand automatically stopped.

Video generated.

The title bar flashed automatically, waiting for input.

Jack's fingers trembled, but he didn't need to input anything.

Because at this moment, Su Yun took over the global server announcement.

In the sky, giant red characters pierced through the smoke, hovering before every online player and every spectator watching the livestream.

Su Yun sat in his pitch-black studio and hit the Enter key.

A line of text slowly emerged on the screen:

"You believe in steel; we believe in will."

"This is why, in this parallel world, no matter how many times you restart, no matter how much you upgrade your equipment, you will never defeat these farmers wearing only single layers of clothing."

The livestream exploded.

No bullet comments. No gift effects.

Only a heart-stopping void.

That shock wasn't sensory; it struck directly into the depths of the soul.

Five hundred million viewers watched that still-smoking crater.

They looked at those red words.

So, this is what Chinese soldiers are.

These were the Chinese soldiers they had always mocked, always looked down upon, always thought only knew how to die using 'human wave tactics'.

To hell with human wave tactics.

This was two men holding back an entire company!

...

The real world.

North America, New York Times Square.

This was the world's largest holographic advertising zone.

At this moment, the massive screens were simultaneously broadcasting the footage from the ice and snow world.

The enormous sound of the explosion seemed to penetrate the screen, echoing through the bustling streets.

A group of young Americans wearing hoodies and carrying skateboards were gathered in the center of the square.

They were originally fans of Jack, loyal supporters of this game.

Just a few minutes ago, they had been cheering for the American army's advance and mocking the futile resistance of those two crippled soldiers.

Now, they were silent.

Someone took off the 'Captain America' baseball cap from his head, looked at it in his hand, and then suddenly, as if holding something dirty, threw it fiercely onto the ground.

"Liar."

A young Black man with dirty dreadlocks cursed.

He looked up at the iconic Captain Eagle Country statue in the square.

That was the symbol of freedom, the totem of strength, the myth they had heard since childhood.

That superhero in a tight suit, holding a shield, forever bright and glamorous, was looking down upon the masses with that unchanging confident smile.

"It's all fake."

The young man pulled a can of red spray paint from his backpack.

He walked toward the statue.

No one stopped him.

The surrounding police officers were also captivated by the scene on the large screen, watching intently.

Hiss—!

The pungent smell of paint spread.

The originally smooth shield was sprayed with a shocking streak of blood-red.

It wasn't graffiti, nor was it profanity.

He had simply painted the spot that originally represented the 'star' a solid, bright red.

It was the color of blood.

The color of the last drop of blood shed by Xue Zhigao and Wang Heliang.

"Now, *that's* a hero."

The young man dropped the spray can and, facing the defaced statue, awkwardly imitated the salute of the Volunteer Army from the game, offering a far from standard military gesture.

The strong wind in Times Square blew.

A corner of a giant poster advertising 'American Superheroes' was torn loose by the wind, revealing the mottled wall surface beneath.

The wall of faith had collapsed.