Chapter 228: Xiongnu

On an October morning, the sunrise filtered through sparse parasol‑tree leaves, casting mottled shadows on a stone bench. Li Yuxuan held a newspaper in his hands and read it slowly.

The front page featured a statement titled "Resist the Enemy, Aid the Neighbors, Defend the Homeland." His eyes moved line by line, and he occasionally whispered a sentence or two: "…We love peace, but to protect peace we never, ever fear resisting invasion…."

"Jing Gong, good morning," Liu Guangzhi said, carrying breakfast over. "The sky is clear today."

Li Yuxuan lifted his eyes, his finger lightly tapping the paper: "This statement… means a decision has already been made?"

Liu Guangzhi set the tray down and nodded: "The Vanguard Unit has already crossed the river. Someone said, 'One punch to open, lest a hundred punches follow.'"

"One punch to open…," Li Yuxuan repeated, his expression complex. "Swinging that one punch means confronting the strongest nation head‑on. Are you truly ready?"

"We have no perfect preparation," Liu Guangzhi said calmly, "but we have no other choice. The enemy has already pressed up to the riverbank, and border towns have been bombed. Someone said this is 'Lips Gone, Teeth Cold.'"

Li Yuxuan fell silent for a moment, folded the newspaper and set it aside: "When I studied in Europe years ago, I read about World War I. The shot in Sarajevo seemed accidental but was inevitable—when great powers clash to that extent, a fuse is always needed. Today's Peninsula is the Sarajevo of its time."

"Do you think it will spark a World War?"

"It depends on how each side restrains itself," Li Yuxuan lifted his bowl of porridge. "The northern side is cautious and won't directly get involved. The western nation just ended a World War, and its people are war‑weary. The crux is… how far we can fight and what price we're willing to pay."

He took a sip of porridge, thoughtful: "Is it that general who is taking command?"

"Exactly."

"A suitable choice," Li Yuxuan nodded. "Steadfast character, good at hard fights. But the Peninsula's terrain and climate… are more complex than any battlefield at home. Winter is coming."

Liu Guangzhi looked surprised: "You know that side so well?"

"In the 1930s, when I was planning defenses in the Northeast, I studied the Peninsula's terrain," Li Yuxuan said. "Many mountains, few roads, so Mechanized Forces struggle to deploy. That becomes an opportunity for the side at an equipment disadvantage. Yet winter warfare… minus‑30 °C cold will be the most terrifying enemy."

Before he finished speaking, a broadcast crackled from afar. When he heard, "Our Volunteer Force crossed the river on the night of October 19," Li Yuxuan's hand twitched slightly.

"They've already crossed the river…" he whispered.

The broadcast continued: "The Volunteer Force commander declares we will resolutely resist aggression, protect the neighboring people, and safeguard the newborn homeland…"

Li Yuxuan closed his eyes. In that instant he seemed to see soldiers marching silently across the ice‑bound river under night, see rag‑tag units trudging through the harsh cold among towering peaks, and envision the looming blaze of blood and death.

"Guangzhi," he suddenly asked, "does the Management Office have a map of the Peninsula?"

That afternoon, a large map of the Peninsula was spread on Li Yuxuan's desk. It was borrowed by Liu Guangzhi, with the latest front lines marked in red and blue pencil.

When Chen Geng hurried in, he saw Li Yuxuan leaning over the map, a pencil in hand, his brows tightly knit.

"Chief!" Chen Geng saluted, "you called for me?"

"Come, look here." Li Yuxuan didn't look up, the pencil tip touching the map. "Qingchuan River, Changjin Lake. If I were the enemy commander, I'd place the main force on the western front to take Pyongyang directly. But the lake area on the eastern front…"

He circled an area with his pencil: "The terrain here is complex, mountain paths rugged, so Mechanized Forces can't deploy. If a unit skilled in mountain warfare could infiltrate here, it could cut off the enemy's rear."

Chen Geng's eyes lit up: "The commander is planning exactly this! Direct resistance on the western front, flank attack and maneuver on the eastern front. How did you…"

"The terrain dictates it," Li Yuxuan sat up straight. "Back in Germany I studied modern military geography. Every war ultimately hinges on terrain. The Peninsula's topography means this battle cannot be a large‑scale mechanized clash; it will be mountain mobile warfare at division, brigade, even company level."

He moved to the window, back to Chen Geng: "You'll face more than one nation's troops. The Allied Forces include units from England, Turkey, Canada and over a dozen other countries. Each nation's troops have different characteristics and tactics. It requires careful study."

Chen Geng wrote earnestly: "Yes, Chief. Anything else to watch for?"

Li Yuxuan turned, his gaze far‑seeing: "Logistics. Most of the Peninsula's railways and roads are destroyed; supplies must rely on people carrying them on backs and horses. Winter is coming, food, ammunition, winter clothing… these matter more than guns. Tell the front to prepare at least a thirty‑percent non‑combat attrition—frostbite, disease, hunger."

"That severe?"

"Back in Europe I saw winter combat on the Eastern Front with my own eyes," Li Yuxuan's voice sounded distant. "Minus 30 °C, the bolt freezes shut, soldiers' fingers stick to the barrel and tear off… that's not war, it's hell."

The room fell silent. After a while, Chen Geng asked softly, "Chief, you said… can we win?"

Li Yuxuan didn't answer directly; instead he walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a hefty notebook. Opening it, the pages were filled with densely drawn maps, tactical analyses, and unit organization tables.

"These are materials prepared back then for the anti‑war effort, the section on mountain operations," he handed the notebook to Chen Geng. "Take it; it might be useful."

Chen Geng took it with both hands, opened a page, and saw the neat script and precise terrain markings; his eyes suddenly welled: "Chief, this of yours…"

"I taught at the Military Academy, Sixth Class; you are First Class, Lin Hu is Fourth Class. The general isn't formally trained, but you're all Huaxia soldiers," Li Yuxuan said calmly. "Now you must guard this land; this is all I can do."

A few evenings later, Li Yuxuan was strolling in the courtyard when the sound of a car came from the gate. Soon after, Liu Guangzhi led a young man inside.

The young man looked twenty‑seven or twenty‑eight, his uniform crisp, his features bearing an indescribable familiarity. Li Yuxuan stopped, studying the newcomer closely.

"Jing Gong, this comrade wishes to see you," Liu Guangzhi introduced. "He is…"

"An Ying," the young man stood at attention and saluted. "Greetings, Grandfather Li."