Chapter Three: Devoting Oneself to the Nation, Joining the Organization!

Chen Qingzhi lay on his back in the trench, gasping for breath. The Japanese assault was fierce, and the effort needed to counterattack had exhausted him, leaving even someone of his caliber drained. He greedily inhaled the acrid air, thick with battlefield smoke, burning his throat. Grabbing his canteen, he took a few sips, which eased him slightly.

Just then, Tiger ran over. “Commander, I just made a round. Our battalion started with more than seven hundred men, but now, barely two hundred are left breathing!”

Two hundred men!

The words shocked Chen Qingzhi. He looked around and saw the ranks were much thinner than before the battle, nearly a third of their men gone. This single Japanese attack had cost them at least a hundred or two.

He fell silent, reflecting. Truly, war was the cruelest thing. So many living souls lost in a single battle, dying quietly, some without even a name. Though Chen Qingzhi was the Republic’s finest soldier and had completed countless missions, those had always been small skirmishes. This was the first time he had witnessed such a large-scale war.

“Fewer than three hundred remain, with many wounded. Those fit to fight are just over two hundred. If the Japanese keep attacking, we won’t hold much longer,” Tiger said, frowning hesitantly. “Commander, should we request reinforcements from the regiment?”

“It’s useless,” Chen Qingzhi replied. “The regimental commander is leading the main force at the Zhonghua Gate. The fighting there is even fiercer, and all reserves are already thrown in. There’s no one left to spare for us.”

“So what do we do now?” Tiger asked anxiously. “With so few men, we can’t hold this position. If—”

He did not finish, but Chen Qingzhi understood. If the Japanese launched another massive attack, they would not be able to hold. If their position fell and Zhonghua Gate was breached, the entire defensive line would collapse.

“Damn it! Those bastard Japanese!” Tiger cursed aloud. “Commander, I say we should fight them to the end!”

“We have no reinforcements. If we’re going to die anyway, we may as well make it count and fight them!”

“We chose to be soldiers, to eat this grim bread. We must be prepared to sacrifice ourselves for the nation. Defending our homeland is our duty! If the Japanese want to take our capital, they’ll have to cross over our corpses! Even if I die, I’ll make them pay in blood!”

Tiger spat out his words fiercely.

“He’s right! Let’s fight them!” someone else echoed.

“Fight! If I kill one, it’s worth it; kill two, I profit!” others chimed in, their anger and resolve swelling.

These soldiers were honest men, unversed in lofty theories, but they understood the Japanese were no good. The enemy came to seize their homes and plunder their possessions. Such men must be fought with blade and bullet, driven away or destroyed.

Death was the worst that could happen; they did not fear it. Having chosen this path, they were ready to lose their heads at any moment. Death was frightening, but living as slaves was worse.

Better to fight than to live in disgrace!

“Good!” Seeing the soldiers’ passion, Chen Qingzhi declared resolutely, “Since that’s how it is, we’ll fight them! If the Japanese want to enter Nanjing, let’s see if we’ll allow it!”

“To defend our land and safeguard the nation is our duty! The Japanese covet our country, but let them witness the courage of Chinese sons!” Chen Qingzhi proclaimed, raising his arm and shouting, “We swear never to become slaves to a conquered nation!”

“We swear never to become slaves to a conquered nation!” All the soldiers stood, roaring their oath. Their voices swept across the battlefield, adding a somber note to the smoke-filled trenches.

“Brothers, rest while you can and gather your strength. Reinforce the defenses. When the Japanese come, we’ll fight them!” Chen Qingzhi ordered.

“Yes!” came the soldiers’ reply, loud and resolute.

Chen Qingzhi looked at them. On their faces, he saw no fear or cowardice—only courage, determination, and a fierce will to fight.

And their resolve.

They were ready to die for their country, to stand or fall with their position. With such men, what was there to fear?

When he first arrived in this world, Chen Qingzhi had resolved to do everything in his power to help his nation rise, to restore his people, and to ensure China would not again suffer oppression and invasion.

That was his mission, even if it meant giving his life.

He possessed the Iron-Blooded Resistance System; he could have chosen to retreat, develop himself quietly, and aid the Republic’s rise in the future—a safe path. But Chen Qingzhi could not do it.

In his previous life, as the Republic’s finest soldier, he believed that in the nation’s darkest hour, one must step forward.

As a soldier, to shrink back now would torment his conscience.

It was against everything he believed.

So, even knowing the road ahead led to death, Chen Qingzhi would walk it with unwavering resolve.

Nothing else mattered, only sacrifice and service to his country.

While these thoughts occupied his mind, a voice suddenly called out beside him, “Commander!”

The voice pulled Chen Qingzhi from his reverie. He looked up and immediately recognized the man—an infantryman from his battalion’s first company, named Luo Cheng, around thirty or forty, with a square face and a righteous air.

Luo Cheng came to Chen Qingzhi, saluted, glanced around to check they were alone, then crouched and spoke softly, “Qingzhi, have you thought about what I mentioned last time?”

Chen Qingzhi furrowed his brow, memories flooding his mind.

Seeing Chen Qingzhi’s unease, Luo Cheng continued, “Qingzhi, you know our Party’s platform. We are the people’s army, representing the poor masses. I know your family comes from humble origins, and you hate the Japanese to your core. Your hatred of evil made me eager to recruit you to join the Communist Party.”

“Remember, in these times, only the Communist Party can save China…”

After a long speech, Luo Cheng finally asked, “Qingzhi, what have you decided about joining the Party?”

Hearing this, Chen Qingzhi grew excited—he had not expected to meet a fellow Party member here, and it filled him with warmth. Since crossing over, even with the Iron-Blooded Resistance System, he had fought alone, with no sense of certainty. Now, seeing someone from the organization, he felt like a child reunited with a parent, finally anchored.

“At last, I’ve found the organization!” Chen Qingzhi said with emotion, gripping Luo Cheng’s hands. “Comrade Luo, I volunteer to join the Communist Party of China!”

Luo Cheng was surprised, his prepared words swallowed as he saw Chen Qingzhi’s genuine excitement. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, Luo Cheng was overjoyed.

He clasped Chen Qingzhi’s hands tightly. “Comrade Chen Qingzhi, welcome to the organization!”

“These are extraordinary times—we’re at war, so we’ll skip the formal induction ceremony and make it up later. For now, I’ll witness your pledge. From today, you are a proud member of the Communist Party of China!”

Their hands were locked together.

From that moment forward, Chen Qingzhi became a proud proletarian soldier under Communist leadership.

The two exchanged a few words, Chen Qingzhi briefly recounting his life story. Their conversation grew ever more passionate and lively.

Chen Qingzhi was thrilled to have found the Party, while Luo Cheng rejoiced at recruiting such a talent.

Through their talk, Luo Cheng learned that Chen Qingzhi was well versed in the Party’s platform, held it in high esteem, and claimed to be an overseas-educated military professional fluent in several languages.

This was, of course, a story Chen Qingzhi invented—not to deceive Luo Cheng, but to explain his unusual background as a transmigrant. After all, such a thing defied all logic.

Luo Cheng suspected nothing and was even more delighted, believing he had found a treasure.

Suddenly, Chen Qingzhi remembered something important.

He realized he had crossed over to December 12, 1937. Knowing history, he was aware that tomorrow—December 13, 1937—would be the day Nanjing fell.

The thought shocked him, his expression turning grim.

Luo Cheng noticed and asked, “Comrade Qingzhi, what’s wrong?”

“Comrade Luo, does our organization have an office in Nanjing?” Chen Qingzhi asked.

“There is one, but preparations are underway to evacuate. Some plan to stay and await instructions, since with the battle raging, everyone is uneasy,” Luo Cheng replied.

Hearing this, Chen Qingzhi was reassured, but then remembered the unprecedented massacre that was about to unfold. He hurriedly said, “Comrade Luo, I need the Party’s help with something! It’s urgent—concerning the safety of three hundred thousand civilians!”

Luo Cheng’s expression grew solemn. “Comrade Qingzhi, speak freely! If it can be done, the Party will help!”