Lin Tiejun's roar echoed over the square.
Every word struck like a sledgehammer, slamming into Ito Yūgorō's chest and the hearts of viewers around the world.
In the livestream chat, the jokes and jeers had vanished.
Only tears filled the screen.
Only messages of "Salute."
So this was no mere Patchwork Garment.
This was a monument worn on a man's body!
This was a walking history of blood and tears!
Yue Qinhu seemed to understand Lin Tiejun's words, yet also seemed lost in his own world.
He lowered his head, his rough fingers gently stroking the patches on his clothes, as tenderly as if he were caressing a lover's face.
"Da Lei..."
"Tie Zhu..."
"Er Gouzi..."
He began calling the roll.
Each time he touched a patch, he spoke a name.
His voice was quiet, but it reached Ito Yūgorō's ears with piercing clarity.
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Here!"
Though no one answered, everyone present seemed to hear those replies rising from the void.
They seemed to see young faces emerging from the patches, taking their places behind Yue Qinhu in a perfectly ordered formation.
Even with arms and legs missing!
Even drenched in blood!
Their backs remained ramrod straight!
Their guns remained aimed at the enemy!
"No..."
Ito Yūgorō broke down completely.
He stared at the empty air behind Yue Qinhu, as though he truly saw an army thousands strong.
The wronged souls he had murdered, the bones he had trampled underfoot-all came alive at that moment, lunging at him with bloody maws gaping wide.
Yue Xiaofei said nothing.
He silently stepped back, leaving this bloodstained stage entirely to the old men.
This was a reckoning that belonged to the previous generation!
This was a blood debt spanning eighty years!
They had to settle it with their own hands.
Xu