Chapter 111: Northeast Arms Factory (End)

In September 1931, Jinling was deep into autumn. Inside the Central Party Committee conference hall, the crystal chandelier illuminated the participants' solemn faces with crystal clarity. A dark‑green velvet cloth covered the long table, and the "Urgent: Ten Thousand Fires" Northeast Situation Assessment Report was passed around repeatedly, its corners already curled and creased.

Chairman sat at the head seat, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the tabletop. His gaze swept over the military‑civil officials present: He Yingqin's fountain pen hovered over his notebook for a long moment, a tiny ink blot spreading on the paper. Dai Jitao's prayer beads spun rapidly in his hand, the sandalwood beads clacking softly against each other. Chen Lifu occasionally glanced at the Omega wall clock, as if timing how long the meeting was consuming.

"Everyone, speak up," the Chairman's voice was hoarse from fatigue, "the battle report from Shenyang—should we fight or halt?"

He Yingqin was the first to break the silence, pushing his gold‑rimmed glasses: "Chairman, although the Northeast Army has a small victory on the outskirts of Shenyang, the latest intelligence shows the Kwantung Army's 19th and 20th Divisions have already crossed the Yalu River in Chaoxian. With our forces in the Northeast, if we keep fighting, I'm afraid …"

His words were cut short by a long sigh from Dai Jitao. "Buddhism teaches to cease weapons for peace." Dai Jitao placed the prayer beads gently on the table, "perhaps we should submit this matter to League of Nations Mediation. Britain, America, France and others all have interests in the Northeast and will not stand by while Japan monopolizes it. As long as we hold the moral high ground, there will always be room for maneuver."

"Maneuver?" Fang Zhenwu, who was attending the meeting, sprang to his feet, the top button of his military uniform popping off and clattering onto the mahogany floor. "The bones from the May‑Third Tragedy haven't even chilled, Chairman—have you forgotten how the Japanese tore up the cease‑fire agreement? Letting the Northeast Army cease fire now would be tantamount to destroying the Great Wall!"

The Chairman suddenly slammed the table, the teacup toppled, spilling dark tea that stained the report. "You think I want to cease?" his voice trembled with agitation, "the Central Army's main forces are all in Jiangxi conducting Bandit Suppression—can we spare a single soldier?" He grabbed a document and slammed it onto the table, "This is the report just sent by Song Ziweng; the treasury has only thirty million dollars left—enough for how many months of fighting?"

The meeting lasted until midnight, and outside the window the parasol‑leaf trees' leaves rustled down in the autumn wind. The final resolution, like a cold piece of iron, struck the hearts of every resistance advocate—"No resistance, rely on League of Nations Mediation."

The next day at the Shenyang Arsenal, the autumn wind swirled coal ash above the plant. The telegraph room's windows buzzed from the shaking, and Li Yuxuan clenched the telegram from Jinling, his fingertips whitening from the strain. The telegram was brief, only six characters: "Deploy immediately and withdraw the unit."

"Chief, what's wrong?" the Adjutant asked, seeing his ashen complexion, his heart skipping a beat.

Li Yuxuan did not answer immediately. He walked to the window and stared at the towering smokestacks in the distance. Those smokestacks, spewing black smoke day and night, symbolized Northeast industry and Huaxia's hope for modernization. Now he had to destroy them with his own hands.

"The Chairman ordered us to retreat," he said after a long pause, his voice terrifyingly calm.

"What about the arsenal?" the Adjutant pressed, "and the steel plant at Anshan, the iron mine at Benxi… the Japanese Vanguard Unit is now less than a hundred li from Anshan!"

"Retreat? Fine," Li Yuxuan turned toward the battle map, his voice as cold as ice, "but we cannot leave even a grain of iron for the Japanese." He seized a red pencil and heavily circled the three points—Shenyang, Anshan, Benxi—"Relay my orders; commence action now."

The pencil scratched a harsh sound across the map, his command clear and decisive: "Blow up the Shenyang Arsenal, the Anshan steel plant, and the Benxi iron mine—also destroy the furnace tanks of the steel‑making furnace, dismantle the gears of the heavy‑duty machine tools, and demolish the hoisting equipment of the mine shafts. Burn all production blueprints and expansion plans; not a single sheet may remain."

The Adjutant's hand began to tremble, "Chief, this is the industrial foundation Huaxia spent ten years building …"

"Leave them for the Japanese to forge guns and fire at us?" Li Yuxuan snapped his head up, bloodshot eyes, "In the next ten days, sever the key bridges of the Jingfeng and South Manchuria Railways, bomb the power station of the Fushun coal mine, and block the ports of Dalian and Yingkou. I will prevent iron ore from being shipped out, deprive the factories of power, and cut the entire Northeast industrial chain completely!"

He paused, his voice a low roar, "Also the secondary iron mines and small factories—use artillery to tear up their foundations and evacuate the workers. Tell them that as long as people survive, there will be a day of reconstruction, but now, we must not leave any usable material for the Japanese!"

The Adjutant stared at the red‑circled points on the map, suddenly recalling the scorched earth outside Jinan, and said trembling, "Chief, this will earn us a bad reputation! Future generations will say we … destroyed our own foundation …"

"A bad reputation?" Li Yuxuan laughed, his laughter tinged with endless sorrow, "I don't seek to be recorded in glorious history, nor can I worry about that much." He pointed at the smokestacks of the arsenal outside, still billowing white smoke, "We have only ten days; the Japanese Vanguard Unit could arrive at any moment. Destroy everything that can be destroyed; I will bear all the guilt alone after."

"Yes, Chief!" the Adjutant snapped to attention, and as he turned, tears finally broke free.

That night, three red signal flares rose above the Shenyang Arsenal. Soldiers of the demolition squad clutched explosive packs and rushed toward the still‑rumbling steel‑making workshop. Veteran worker Wang Fugen clutched a young soldier's leg, "We can't blow it up! I watched this furnace being built brick by brick; it can forge the finest gun‑barrel steel!"

The soldier, tears in his eyes, pushed him aside, "Sir, if we leave it, it will become a knife that kills our own countrymen in the future!"

With a thunderous roar, the three‑meter‑wide steel furnace collapsed, pouring glowing red molten steel that streamed across the ground like a river of despair. Wherever the steel flowed, everything melted, even the concrete turned into glassy clumps.

At the Anshan steel plant, workers were dismantling the most precise German‑made machine tools. Young technician Xiao Li ran his hand over those cold steel beasts, his voice choked, "These machine tools were bought with real gold and silver from Krupp, and now we must destroy them with our own hands …"

"Remember this feeling," the senior engineer patted his shoulder, "One day, we will build something better."

Deep within the Benxi iron mine shaft, the demolition man was installing explosives. "These coal mines were developed with all the great marshal Zhang Zuolin's effort years ago," the mine manager muttered, gazing at the pitch‑black mouth, "Now they must be destroyed by our hands."

"As long as people survive, the mine remains," the demolition man said, lighting the fuse, "Let's go, mine manager."

Ten days of continuous sabotage shrouded the Northeast in smoke. The Luan River bridge of the Jingfeng Railway was blown up, its massive piers twisted and deformed, rebar exposed like the ribs of a dying beast. The power station of the Fushun coal mine turned into a sea of fire, thick black smoke blotting out the sky, visible for dozens of li. The crane at Dalian Port was smashed into the water, leaving burning oil slicks and wood chips floating on the surface.

The last evacuation train slowly pulled away, and Li Yuxuan stood at the carriage junction, watching the scorched earth flash by outside the window. The factories that once belched thick smoke were now reduced to broken walls and ruins. The bustling mines were now silent and still.

The Adjutant handed over a casualty report: "Thirty‑seven demolition squad soldiers failed to withdraw, the youngest being only twenty years old."

Li Yuxuan silently took the report, his gaze lingering on those young names. "Record their names," he said softly, "When reconstruction comes, erect a monument for them."

The train headed toward Shanhaiguan, the wheels' clatter on the rails monotonous and heavy. Li Yuxuan knew this scorched‑earth barrier might not stop the Japanese iron hooves, but at least it would make the enemy understand that the people of this land would rather shatter like jade than survive intact.

"Chief, Jinling sent another telegram," the Adjutant whispered, "Each time the tone grows harsher."

Li Yuxuan did not turn back, still staring out the window. "Let them press," he said, "At least we didn't let those machines become weapons for slaughtering our compatriots."

In the distant sky, the last wisp of smoke was dissipating. Above the scorched earth, sparks always remain. He believes this.

When the train passed Jinzhou, night had fallen. On the horizon, the setting sun was blood‑red, dyeing the weathered land a deep crimson. Li Yuxuan recalled the scene forty‑one years ago when he had traveled to this era. Back then he was full of ideals, hoping to build a powerful industrial base on this land. Now he had destroyed it all with his own hands.

"Chief, get some rest," the Adjutant urged, "When we reach Jinling, there will be more matters to handle."

Li Yuxuan shook his head, took out his diary, and by the flickering lamp wrote: "Today's destruction is for tomorrow's construction. Even if ten million people, I will go forward."

Outside the train window, the first stars appeared.