Modern Forces! Strike Down the Invaders!

The eerie wail sent a chill down everyone's spine, and before the soldiers could react, a pale, ghostly figure floated through the door—a servant, missing both an arm and an ear. It crawled across the floor, sobbing and wailing before the ancient corpse, screeching, "Master! Run! They're here! They're coming, in droves!"

"They're carrying their heads! They want to kill! They want to kill us!"

"It's the Japanese!"

The female corpse leapt up, revealing her dismembered legs below the knees, severed cleanly as if sliced by a blade. Blackish-red blood clung to her thighs like dried ink.

"Commander! Commander!"

Ignoring the soldiers' confused looks, the ghostly woman rushed toward the captain. Her disheveled hair and pale face, eyes as black as the void, made her appear more monstrous than tragic. But her voice was full of desperation and pleading, "Commander! Save my family! Please, save my family!"

Before the captain could respond, a gust of cold wind howled from outside the hall. A biting chill surged into the room, causing a young soldier to rush to the door. He peeked outside and saw the old mansion's gates had collapsed, black-red flames licking the air, burning in an unnatural, freezing glow. The flames surged upward without warmth, sending an eerie, bone-chilling sensation through the air.

From within the flames, a group of soldiers in faded yellow uniforms emerged. They were short and menacing, their faces twisted in cruel sneers, with rusted modern rifles slung across their backs.

"Is… is this the Japanese?"

The young soldier, unfamiliar with the sight, hesitated for a brief moment before hearing a gunshot.

"Bang!"

A searing pain shot through his chest. Reflexively, he dove back into the room, looking down at his uniform. A patch of blackened, oily skin had appeared on his chest, and his bulletproof vest was dented inward as though struck by a peculiar bullet. It wasn't a lethal blow, but the pain was excruciating.

"Captain! I've been hit!"

He called out without looking back, swiftly rearming himself, moving to a new vantage point. From the window, he gazed out to see the leader of the invaders, a man tucking away an old revolver, smoke still rising from the barrel. Around him, others muttered in a low, foreign language.

The soldier couldn't understand them, but the tone was unmistakably hostile.

The captain, seeing the young soldier's injury, locked eyes with him, his expression hardening. "Prepare for battle, everyone!"

No matter whether these invaders could be killed with regular bullets, they would not remain passive in the face of attack!

At the captain's command, six soldiers quickly took up key positions throughout the hall. Each soldier assumed a modern tactical stance, immediately securing the best positions for defense. One at each window, one by the left and right doors, and another soldier at the rear, ready to ambush. In seconds, the soldiers had occupied the most advantageous points, forming a modern tactical grid of defense.

The scout soldier took out a specialized reconnaissance lens, peering around the corner of the window. Through the mist, he saw a group of thirty to forty soldiers moving toward the building.

"Captain! The enemy has over thirty men, all armed! They'll be here in thirty seconds!"

The scout quickly relayed the intel. "They're within range, and their formation is tight!"

"Three o'clock and six o'clock, alternate fire!" the captain ordered.

One soldier at the window steadied his rifle, aiming just his arm and barrel out of the frame, opening fire on the advancing enemies.

"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!"

The modern rifle sent a burst of bullets spinning toward the enemy. The soldier seemed to fire at random, but his aim was precise, targeting vital points even as he emptied half a magazine in mere seconds. When he ducked back down, he could see through the corner of his eye how the invaders fell, some of them writhing in agony from the gunshots.

"Boom! Boom! Boom, boom, boom!"

Just as the soldier lowered his head, several enemy bullets slammed into the window frame, sending bits of blackened liquid flying.

"Captain! Regular bullets don't kill them—headshots don't work!"

Without missing a beat, the soldier changed magazines and reported, his voice calm yet urgent.

As he gave the update, another soldier at the six o'clock position emerged, steadying his aim and opening fire. The invaders were so focused on the three o'clock window that they didn't expect the attack from the other side, eating another round of gunfire.

When the invaders finally adjusted, the soldier at six o'clock was already back down, changing magazines again. The coordination between the soldiers was flawless, and the tactical advantage they held was overwhelming. Even though the invaders' weapons were outdated, they could do little to stop the modern soldiers.

"Captain, the intel is confirmed—headshots don't stop them!" the soldier at six o'clock reported loudly. "I can see them trying to find cover!"

"Good!" the captain responded coldly, signaling, "Twelve o'clock, prepare to fire!"

As the captain spoke, the enemy soldiers adjusted their aim at the twelve o'clock position, evidently realizing that some of them could understand Chinese. But just as they adjusted, two black objects were tossed into the midst of their ranks.

"Boom! Boom!"

The sound of two tactical grenades exploded with devastating force. Several invaders hidden behind cover were blown apart, their limbs scattered in the chaos. The destruction was immense, and the remaining invaders scattered in panic.

"Effective!" the scout reported.

"Well done," the captain said coldly, knowing that the enemy would now be wary of another surprise attack. The grenades had achieved exactly what was needed, catching them off guard.

As the soldiers resumed their fire, it was clear that the invaders, though once formidable, were no match for the modern tactics and weapons employed by the soldiers. In less than ten minutes, more than half of the enemy soldiers had been wiped out.

The battle raged on for only a short time, but the invaders were helpless against the precise, overwhelming assault. The soldiers' modern gear, their unmatched coordination, and the sheer power of their weaponry made them a force the invaders could not contend with.

Mike, watching intently, couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. "Damn, if only we had this equipment back in the day, Tokyo would've been flattened!"

As Mike mused, the final push came. The remaining invaders tried to retreat, but they didn't stand a chance. The remaining soldiers had already set their ambush at the mansion's front door. And when the last grenades went off, the invaders were torn apart, their bodies shattered into pieces.

The captain gave a cold smile. "Just like I thought. They're already outclassed. No more tricks left."

The remaining invaders had no choice but to retreat, utterly defeated by modern soldiers wielding the latest tactics and weapons—truly a case of "dimensional suppression."