Chapter 236: War Approaches

"Hmph, a bunch of trash!" Nan Tian Yoichi snorted, tossed the copy of the secret directive from Yanjing aside, his tone dripping with contempt, "The Great Dry Court has rotted to its very bones! It can't even suppress a local warlord, yet still hopes to rely on Murong Qing of the northern region? How laughable!"

"Supreme Commander, this precisely illustrates our opportunity," Ishihara Shinichi adjusted his glasses, excitement flashing in his eyes, "The Great Dry Court's incompetence, and the latent conflicts among its internal warlords, are an ideal moment for the Empire to expand its continental influence. And Lin Yu's rise, though troublesome, also gives us a pretext to intervene in Great Dry affairs."

"Lin Yu…" Nan Tian Yoichi's gaze shifted to another report from the Kunshan intelligence outpost, his brows slightly furrowed, "Sato and his men rate this youngster highly, saying he's more dangerous than any Great Dry warlord before? Including the one entrenched in the seven northern provinces, Murong Qing?"

"Intelligence always likes to exaggerate," said the operations major beside him, Sakata Ryusuke, dismissively, "He's just a lucky, audacious upstart. He recruited some deserters, bought some modern weapons from the Foreigners, and now dares to claim kingship in Shen City? Does he really think a few tin trucks can stand up to the Imperial Royal Army?" His tone was filled with the typical militarist arrogance and absolute confidence in his own force.

"Sakata, we must not underestimate him," Ishihara Shinichi, though also disdainful of Great Dry warlords, was more cautious, "According to intelligence, Lin Yu's forces displayed high tactical competence and execution during the purge of the Green Gang and the takeover of Shen City's defenses. Moreover, he seems to possess intelligence and wealth far beyond a typical warlord. To have fully seized Shen City in a short time, driven back the British and French fleets, and even annihilated our Ninth Division, he is far from ordinary. His threat may indeed surpass that of the independently minded, scheming Murong Qing."

"So what?" Sakata Ryusuke remained disdainful, "Shen City may be a fortress, but it lacks depth. If the Imperial Navy blocks the port and cuts off its sea supply, then the Imperial Army's elite can land at a chosen point, coordinate inside and out, and taking Shen City will be a piece of cake! As for his so‑called elite troops, in the face of the Royal Army's artillery and bayonets, they're nothing but country chickens and ragged dogs!"

The other officers in the conference room also nodded in agreement, evidently most shared Sakata's view. To them, the Kwantung Army was the Empire's most elite ground force, unbeatable in battle and invincible in attack. A mere Lin Yu, even with some strength, could never be their opponent.

Nan Tian Yoichi listened to his subordinates' discussion, his fingers ceasing their tapping. Though not as blindly optimistic as Sakata, he also acknowledged the Imperial Royal Army's superiority. Lin Yu's rise had indeed disrupted the Empire's original deployments, especially threatening its interests in Central China.

"In any case," Nan Tian Yoichi said gravely, "Lin Yu's existence has seriously obstructed the Empire's continental policy. Allowing him to dominate the Far East's most important financial hub is utterly contrary to the Empire's interests."

He rose, walked to the massive map, his gaze landing on Shen City's location, his eyes turning sharp and icy.

"Chief of Staff," he ordered without turning, "immediately form a special operations research team targeting Shen City. Gather all intelligence on Lin Yu and his forces, assess their land and naval strength, defensive deployments, and logistical supply capability. Draft preliminary military action plans, including combined land‑sea assaults, special raids, and various schemes to subvert their interior."

"Hai!" Ishihara Shinichi snapped to attention, his eyes flashing with excitement.

"At the same time," Nan Tian Yoichi continued, "send our assessment and preliminary plans, together with the Great Dry Court's intelligence on Murong Qing's request for aid, up to the Tokyo Headquarters. Shen City's strategic location is vital, involving complex Great Powers' interests; any large‑scale military action must obtain headquarters' approval and unified deployment."

"Yes!"

"But," Nan Tian Yoichi turned, his gaze sweeping each officer present, his tone turning ominous, "while we await headquarters' orders, the Kwantung Army must not sit idle. Order the troops stationed in Korea and our garrison at Longjin Port to tighten security! If necessary, conduct some 'exercises' at sea! Give that clueless Lin Yu a taste of color, let him understand that what he faces will be the wrath of the entire Greater East Asian Empire!"

The officers in the conference room stood at attention in unison, shouting loudly, "Hai!"

A heavy war‑cloud began to drift from the cold Longjin Port fortress toward the distant southeast. Lin Yu may still be unaware that his sensational press conference not only enraged the Eastern intelligence agencies and diplomats, but also placed him on the Kwantung Army's list of targets to be eliminated. A larger‑scale, more direct military clash now seemed inevitable.

Great Dry Dynasty, the seven northern provinces, Feng Tian City, the Grand Marshal's Headquarters.

In deep autumn, Feng Tian had already received its first snow. Goose‑feather‑like flakes drifted silently from the lead‑gray sky, covering the northern stronghold without a sound. The Grand Marshal's tall courtyard walls, upturned eaves, and the barren branches in the yard were each dusted with a thin layer of white.

Between heaven and earth lay a vast, solemn desolation; the air was bitterly cold, bearing the distinctive sharp chill of the northern lands.

Amid the drifting snow, a slightly short yet unusually sturdy figure, cloaked in a thick sable overcoat, stood beneath the rear‑yard eaves of the Grand Marshal's residence.

He appeared about fifty, with broad ears, a dense whiskered beard on his chin, sharp eyes, and an unspoken aura of calm authority in his glances.

Though dressed in silk brocade, the lingering wild‑man aura in his brows hinted at his early days of roaming forests and raiding villages—this man was the current Kwantung Army Grand Marshal, Murong Qing, who commands the seven northern provinces with hundreds of thousands of troops.

A deputy in gray uniform braved the wind and snow, hurried over, and respectfully handed over a freshly translated telegram.

"Grand Marshal, an urgent telegram from Yanjing."

Murong Qing took the telegram, waved his hand casually to signal the aide to step back. Standing amid the swirling snow, he unfolded the thin telegram paper and read it carefully. Snowflakes landed on his sable coat and his whiskered chin, yet he seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed on every character of the telegram.

The telegram's content was the secret directive sent by Yelü Huafa, a "tear‑blood plea for aid"—detailing Lin Yu's actions in Shen City, the imperial envoy's "disappearance" (from the court's perspective), the Easterners' final ultimatum, and the court's earnest request for him to "turn the tide and dispatch troops to quell the unrest"—the "heavy entrustment."

As he read further, a complex yet clear brilliance began to flicker in Murong Qing's sharp eyes. His weather‑worn face showed little change, only a barely perceptible upward curl at the corner of his mouth.

When he finished the last character, the snowstorm seemed to intensify. He lifted his head, gazing at the gray‑hued sky, letting the icy flakes fall onto his face.

"Heh…"

A low, disdainful snort escaped his thick lips, shattering the courtyard's silence.

"Kill with a borrowed knife… divert disaster eastward…" Murong Qing crumpled the telegram into a ball and tossed it into the snow at his feet, his tone dripping with contempt for the Yanjing officials, "These worthless clerks can't handle that little lunatic Lin Yu themselves, nor can they bear the Easterners' pressure, yet they try to push me out as a cannon fodder? They want me to clash with Lin Yu to a mutual ruin so they can reap the fisherman's profit?"

He lifted his foot and stomped hard on the snow‑soaked telegram ball, as if to crush the court's pitiful scheming completely.

"What a damn spring‑and‑autumn fantasy!"