Chapter 237: Sakura Nation Stops Dabbling, Sets Its Sights on Europe!

Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtain seams, cutting a sharp beam across the oak long table. Chen Feng sat at the head seat, with seven telegrams from different sources spread on his left, and a cup of already cold Bi Luo Chun tea on his right. He lifted his wrist to glance at the Wilhelm II‑gifted Patek Philippe pocket watch—8:15 a. m.

"What day is it today?" he asked, his voice unusually clear in the spacious conference room.

Wang Wenwu looked up from the stack of files, pushing his gold‑rimmed glasses: "Counting from the Sakura Nation's first peace request through Switzerland, it's the fifty‑sixth day. At your request, we cited 'procedural time requirements' and postponed the formal reply for the third time."

"Fifty‑sixth day," Chen Feng repeated, his fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop, "has the battle report from Zhang Zhen arrived?"

"It arrived at three a. m.," Zhou Tieshan said, pulling a folder from his briefcase, the rustle of paper sharp in the silence. "In the past twenty‑four hours, our navy has sunk seven merchant ships over three thousand tons in the East Sea, Sea of Japan, and the Tsushima Strait, totaling 42,000 tons. The submarine force wounded the ten‑thousand‑ton cargo liner 'Fusang Maru' south of Kagoshima; the ship limped back to port but its hull is beyond repair."

Chen Feng gave a slight nod, saying nothing. He stood and walked to the massive East Asian map on the wall. Red pins marked Lanfang's control zones, blue denoted the Sakura Nation, and countless black crosses littered the Sakura Nation's coastline—each cross representing a sunken vessel.

"Cumulative figures?" he asked, his back to the two of them.

Wang Wenwu opened the statistics ledger, his voice steady as if reciting a financial report: "As of yesterday midnight, in the past two months we have confirmed the sinking of 217 merchant ships, totaling 798,000 tons. Based on pre‑war Japanese merchant tonnage of 1.6 million tons, that is a 49.8% loss. Moreover, twelve major ports—including Wu Port, Yokosuka, Sasebo, Nagasaki—have endured thirty‑four shellings, with port‑facility damage estimated between 40% and 70%."

"What about personnel?"

Zhou Tieshan paused: "The Sakura Nation has not released specific numbers. But based on shelling intensity, port‑worker density, and average crew per merchant ship, we estimate direct deaths between 48,000 and 53,000. Indirect effects… are hard to gauge."

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds. Only the floor clock in the corner ticked rhythmically.

Chen Feng finally turned, expression blank: "Any news from Switzerland today?"

"Yes." Wang Wenwu took a telegram from the top of the pile, "Received at six this morning, delivered personally by the Swiss consul in Dubai. The Sakura Nation's Foreign Ministry again earnestly requests the opening of peace talks, its tone… more urgent than before."

"Read it."

"To the President of the Lanfang Republic, His Excellency Chen Feng: The Imperial Government, with the utmost sincere desire for peace, once again earnestly asks you to consider cease‑fire negotiations. The tragedy in the East Sea has claimed far too many lives; further bloodshed serves no benefit to the welfare of both peoples. The Empire is prepared, with its greatest sincerity, to discuss a path to ending the state of hostility. Awaiting your reply. Prime Minister of the Sakura Nation Imperial Cabinet, Si Nei Zhengyi, October 17, Taishō Year 3."

Chen Feng walked to the window and drew back the curtains. October sunlight bathed Dubai, palm trees swayed in the breeze, and cargo ships crisscrossed the distant Persian Gulf. The city was growing at an unprecedented pace, crane arms cutting across the skyline, the faint thud of pile‑driving echoing from the construction sites.

"Greatest sincerity," he repeated, a barely perceptible curl at the corner of his mouth. "Minister Wang, what do you think constitutes the greatest sincerity?"

Wang Wenwu closed the folder, leaning slightly forward: "In international politics, so‑called sincerity is usually inversely proportional to strength. The weaker the power, the greater the sincerity. Japan's current sincerity is bought with fifty percent of its merchant‑ship tonnage, twelve crippled ports, and at least fifty thousand lives."

"Not enough," Chen Feng said softly but clearly, "Shanben Quanbei still sits as Navy Minister, and those army lunatics are still clamoring for a homeland showdown. Si Nei Zhengyi's 'greatest sincerity' has not yet reached the point of actually kneeling and begging for mercy."

Zhou Tieshan continued: "Intelligence shows the Sakura Nation's Army Ministry held an eight‑hour meeting yesterday. Gang Shi Zhi Zhu boasted of mobilizing three million civilian volunteers to build a 'Flesh Great Wall' along the coastline."

"Flesh Great Wall?" Chen Feng laughed, his smile cold. "Using flesh to resist 380 mm shells? Is Gang Shi Zhi Zhu insane?"

"It's less madness than desperate posturing," Wang Wenwu analyzed, "The army must project a hardline stance, otherwise it cannot answer domestically nor suppress the navy's 'humiliating peace‑seeking' voice. Yet such a stance… cannot alter reality."

Chen Feng walked back to his seat, his fingers sliding over the stack of telegrams: "Send a reply to Switzerland. Use template No. 3."

"Template No. 3?" Wang Wenwu confirmed, "The one titled 'Procedural Delay'?"

"Correct. State that… the Lanfang government places great importance on Japan's willingness to negotiate, and has initiated internal consultation procedures. Because multiple departments and legal clause reviews are involved, additional time is needed. Ask the Japanese side to be patient; we will reply at the first opportunity once the procedures are complete."

Zhou Tieshan frowned: "This is already the third time we've used this excuse. Will the Sakura people believe it?"

"Whether they believe it or not is irrelevant," Chen Feng lifted his cup of cold tea and took a sip. "What matters is that each day of delay allows Zhang Zhen to sink a few more ships and shell a few more ports. When Japan's economy collapses completely, when rice shops on the streets of Tokyo are emptied, when even the families of army soldiers are left starving—only then will they produce a true 'greatest sincerity'."

He paused, then added, "By the way, send a secret telegram to Zhang Zhen. Instruct him to adjust the focus of his strikes."

"Awaiting orders."

"In the first two months we targeted military ports and large merchant ships; now we can broaden the scope," Chen Feng said, his gaze landing on the medium‑sized ports on the map. "Chiba, Shimizu, Tsuruga… don't overlook these secondary ports. Also, tell the submarine force that any coastal cargo vessel under three thousand tons, even fishing boats, as long as they fly the Sakura Nation flag, are within attack range."

Wang Wenwu's pen halted: "Fishing boats too? That could spark international opinion…"

"Public opinion?" Chen Feng cut in, "The Yingguo blocked Deguo in the North Sea, even seizing hospital ships. During the American Civil War, the Union blockade starved countless Southern civilians. War has never had a 'civilized' method. We will make every Sakura Nation fisherman, every dockworker, every housewife feel that the cost of this war is one each must pay."

He stood, walked to the safe in the corner of the conference room, turned the dial, and retrieved another document.

"This is the projection from the Ministry of Finance," he spread the document on the table. "At the current rate, Japan's maritime capacity will drop to 30% of pre‑war levels in twenty‑one days. Then its coal imports will be short by 40%, iron ore by 60%, oil by 85%, grain… even accounting for supplies from Korea and Taiwan, rationing could barely hold. But if even coastal small‑scale transport is cut off—"

He looked up at the two of them: "Within a month, factories in Osaka will shut down entirely. Within two months, Tokyo will see people starving to death. Within three months, this country will crumble from within."