Eagle Sauce: The 055 destroyer was launched into the sea just after the founding of the country?

A few hours later, in Dexing City's commanding heights - a twelve-story government building, Major Nicholas and more than twenty surviving Russian soldiers crowded into a conference room on the top floor.

This was their only remaining stronghold in the entire city, and the streets, squares, and buildings outside were filled with mechanical hounds playing folk songs.

The windows had been sealed with wooden boards and metal sheets, leaving only small observation holes through which several soldiers took turns monitoring the movements outside.

A city map was spread out on the long table in the conference room, with every breakout route they had attempted and every location where they had encountered mechanical hounds marked on it in red pen.

The entire map is covered with dense red dots, as if some kind of disease is spreading.

Nicholas' right leg had been bandaged briefly, but blood still seeped through the bandage, leaving a small pool of dark red on the floor.

His face was pale, his lips were cracked, and his eyes were bloodshot, but he still stood stubbornly in front of the map analyzing the situation.

"Ivan, is the radio fixed?"

Nikolai asked hoarsely, his voice full of fatigue and tension.

A radio operator huddled in a corner shook his head. "No, Major. All the channels are jammed, even the most basic military channels. These damn machines must be transmitting some kind of interference signal."

"Then we're completely isolated," Nikolay whispered, clenching his right hand into a fist until his knuckles turned white from the strain. "Headquarters doesn't know we're here, so help won't come. We won't even receive orders to retreat."

A young soldier—perhaps in his early twenties—huddled by the window, clutching his rifle tightly, staring blankly ahead.

His uniform was stained with dust and blood, and a wound on his right arm had scabbed over.

When he spoke, the sound was almost squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Major, we clearly hit that thing several times... Its metal shell was penetrated, and smoke was coming out of it..."

“But it still killed Leonid and Mikhail… It was as if… It was as if it felt no pain at all…”

"Because they are not alive, Petrov,"

Another old soldier interrupted him gruffly,

"They are machines. They don't feel pain, fear, or fatigue. They just follow orders until they are completely destroyed."

“Our bullets can penetrate them, but unless they hit those critical parts, there’s no way to stop them.”

Nikolai nodded, his eyes scanning every exhausted face in the room.

Some of these people are old comrades he has trained with for many years, and some are young people who have just graduated from military academies.

They were members of an elite unit that should have been invincible in conventional warfare.

But now, they were as helpless as children before these steel hounds.

"I participated in urban street fighting during World War II,"

An older sergeant spoke up, his white hair and wrinkled face telling of his seniority.

"We used this tactic to repel German tanks and machine guns at Stalingrad."

"But this... this is completely different. The Germans need to rest, they need supplies, they will retreat out of fear."

“But these machines…”

He shook his head, a fear in his eyes that Nicholas had never seen on the veteran's face. "They're like demons crawling out of hell."

“Here they come! They come again!”

A soldier who was watching outside the window suddenly shouted in a low voice, his voice trembling with fear.

Everyone immediately became nervous, grabbed their weapons in an orderly manner, and checked their ammunition skillfully.

Nicholas dragged his injured leg to the observation hole and looked out.

In the square downstairs, at least a dozen mechanical hounds were moving slowly and orderly.

They seemed to be patrolling, or searching.

Each one plays a different bear folk song, and the music echoes in the empty city streets, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Suddenly, one of them stopped, raised its "head" slightly, and its red electronic eyes seemed to lock directly on Nikola's position.

“Damn it, they found us!”

Nicholas cursed under his breath and quickly left the window.

"Prepare for battle! Mount the heavy machine gun in the west window, which has the best view. Save the grenades for when they get close to the stairwell."

The soldiers moved quickly, but there was a kind of mechanical desperation in each of their movements, as if they already knew the outcome of the battle.

Several soldiers brought some tables and piled them up at the door to form a makeshift roadblock, while others dispersed around the room with weapons, looking for favorable shooting angles.

Soon, the sound of metal clashing was heard in the stairwell—the mechanical hound was coming upstairs.

Their movements were incredibly fast, and the sound of their metal claws scratching the ground was unusually clear in the quiet corridor.

What's even more bizarre is that those folk songs are still playing, "Katyusha", "Moscow Evenings", "Holy War" -

These songs, which were supposed to inspire patriotism, now became a prelude to death.

Nikolay drew his pistol and looked at the remaining ammunition—only the last magazine left.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady.

"Everyone remember, aim for their heads or chests and abdomens, where the core components should be. Don't waste bullets on their limbs."

The footsteps of the mechanical hounds were getting closer, and the melody of the folk song was becoming clearer and clearer.

Nicholas could feel the tense nerves and rapid breathing of everyone in the room.

These veterans and young soldiers who had experienced real wars were now facing an enemy they had never learned to fight in their training.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise at the end of the corridor and the door was kicked open.

The first mechanical hound appeared at the door, its red electronic eyes standing out in the dim light.

It paused there for a second, seemingly scanning the room, then rushed in at incredible speed.

"Fire!" Nikolay shouted.

In an instant, the whole room was filled with gunshots and flames.

The bullet hit the metal shell of the mechanical hound, emitting dazzling sparks.

But it still rushed forward, dodging the deadly trajectory and pouncing accurately at the nearest soldier.

Before the soldier could react, he was knocked to the ground by the mechanical hound.

There was a shrill scream, and blood gushed out from his throat.

More mechanical hounds poured into the room, and the soldiers engaged in chaotic hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of gunfire, screams and the melody of "Katyusha" mixed together to form a hellish picture.

Nicholas aimed at a mechanical hound that pounced on him and fired three shots in a row, finally hitting its "eye" with the third shot.

The mechanical hound paused for a moment, then accelerated towards him.

“Back off! Everyone back off to the balcony!”

Nikolai shouted as he continued to shoot at the mechanical hound.

But it was too late. The entire room had become a chaotic battleground of flesh and steel.

A soldier ran out of bullets and desperately swung his rifle like a club, but was knocked down by two mechanical hounds at the same time.

Another soldier successfully detonated a grenade, destroying a mechanical hound, but the blast also lacerated his own face.

Nicholas was forced to the window, watching as the mechanical hounds tore his men to pieces.

There were only a few bullets left in his gun, and behind him was the height of a twelve-story building.

At this moment, a mechanical hound playing "Moscow Evenings" slowly walked towards him, its red electronic eyes seemed to be provoking, and at the same time, a small speaker popped out from its side again.

"Attention, Mao Xiong army, you are surrounded."

"Those who lay down their weapons and surrender will be treated humanely. Resistance will lead to total annihilation..."

Nicholas looked at the pistol in his hand, which had only one bullet left, and then looked at the city outside the window.

It was once a battlefield that they thought they could easily take, but now it has become their grave.

He slowly raised his hands and dropped the weapon.

At this moment, he finally understood: this was no longer a war between people, but the crushing of one era over another.

They had already lost, not just the battle, but the entire war...