Chapter 270: The Volunteer Corps Sets Out

He paused, his tone softened a bit: "Moreover, from a strategic standpoint, when these one hundred thousand Sakura Nation people go to Europe, the Sakura Nation loses one hundred thousand mouths to feed, one hundred thousand unstable elements. For us, that's a good thing."

Chen Qiming gave a wry smile: "I understand the reasoning. It's just that seeing those soldiers… many are still very young, perhaps don't even know where Europe is, yet they're being sent to die."

"War is like that," Zhang Zhen said, "Either they die, or our people die. Which do you choose?"

Chen Qiming fell silent. Of course he chose the Sakura Nation's people to die. Yet seeing with his own eyes a hundred thousand living people march toward death still stirred compassion.

"Order all ships," Zhang Zhen returned to the command post, "maintain a speed of twelve knots, follow the predetermined course. Keep tight surveillance of the surrounding waters, especially the movements of the British fleet. Although we have an agreement, the British might still make small moves."

"Understood."

The orders were relayed. The massive hull of the Chang Jiang turned, leading the fleet toward the southwest. Sunlight spilled onto the sea, reflecting dazzling golden light.

Zhang Zhen watched the fleet, a complex surge of emotions rising within him. This was the strangest mission of his military career—not a battle, not an exercise, but escorting a mercenary force to a battlefield thousands of miles away.

Yet he knew the political significance of this mission was no less than a naval battle. If successful, Lanfang would cement its hegemony in Asia, reap huge profits, and further weaken potential rivals.

If it fails… no, it cannot fail.

He walked to the communications desk and sent the report himself:

"To the Dubai Presidential Office: The fleet has set sail, all is proceeding smoothly. Expected arrival at the Persian Gulf on February 25. Zhang Zhen."

The radio waves crossed sea and sky, flying toward Dubai thousands of miles away.

There, someone is playing an even larger game of chess.

Dubai, Presidential Office Strategic Room. Chen Feng stood before a massive world map, holding several chess pieces in his hand—red representing Lanfang, blue representing Deguo, black representing the Sakura Nation, white representing Yingguo.

He moved a black piece from the Sakura Nation to Europe, placing it at the position of the Eastern Front battlefield.

"The first batch: four divisions, one hundred thousand men," Wang Wenwu reported from beside him, "the contract is for two years, total amount five hundred thirty million marks, equivalent to twenty‑four million yen. Our cut is ten percent, that is five point three million marks. Transportation fees are separate, estimated two million marks. Regarding equipment procurement, Japan has ordered military supplies worth five million yen from Lanfang."

Chen Feng nodded with satisfaction: "Not bad. This is only the first batch. If it goes well, Deguo may request a second, a third batch. Japan, having tasted the benefits, will also be willing to continue sending troops."

Zhou Tieshan took over: "Intelligence shows that within the Sakura Nation, reactions to this deployment are complex. There are dissenting voices in the army, but they were suppressed by Da Dao Jianyi. As for the navy… Dong Xiang Pingbalo burned all related documents yesterday, telling his aide, 'Tell Xiyuan Si—Empire, we are now walking on a tightrope.'"

Chen Feng smiled: "Dong Xiang is a clear‑sighted man. He knows this is drinking poison to quench thirst, but he has to drink."

He walked to the window, looking at Dubai's bustling streets outside. In ten years, this place has transformed from a small fishing village into a modern city, skyscrapers towering, ports busy, the oil industry flourishing.

"Do you know," Chen Feng suddenly said, "ten years ago, when I announced the founding of the nation here, many mocked us, saying we were a government in exile, daydreamers. And now? We control Borneo, have defeated the Sakura Nation, and now we act as middlemen in the European war."

He turned, a sharp glint in his eyes: "Why? Because we seized the pulse of the times. Europe is waging a world war, the great powers have no time to look east, and that's our opportunity. After the Russo‑Japanese War, the Sakura Nation expanded, thinking itself invincible, only to run into us. That's also an opportunity."

"So that's why you proposed this mercenary plan?" Wang Wenwu asked.

"Correct." Chen Feng walked back to the map, "This plan has five objectives: first, earn foreign exchange; second, weaken the Sakura Nation; third, court Deguo; fourth, test Yingguo; fifth… also the most important, establish Lanfang's leading position in Asian affairs."

He tapped the Sakura Nation islands with his finger: "The Sakura Nation now is like a wounded wolf, hungry and in pain. We give it a piece of poisoned meat; it knows it's toxic, yet it will eat. After eating, either the poison kills it, or it becomes a waste dependent on the toxin. Either way, it benefits us."

Zhou Tieshan hesitated: "President, aren't you worried the Sakura Nation might retaliate in the future?"

"I am concerned," Chen Feng admitted calmly, "but retaliation requires strength. The Sakura Nation's navy has been neutered by us, its army sent to Europe to be consumed, its economy crippled by reparations. By the time they recover, at least ten years will have passed. In ten years, what will Lanfang become? How many people will the Sakura Nation still have?"

He pointed to Lanfang's territories on the map—Borneo, Malaya, and the infiltrating Java and the Philippines: "In ten years, we will have a more complete industrial system, a powerful navy, solid allies. Then, even if the Sakura Nation wishes to retaliate, it will have the will but lack the strength."

Wang Wenwu recorded, then suddenly recalled: "By the way, the German ambassador Mu Le visited this morning, saying His Majesty Wilhelm II wishes you to visit Berlin to discuss further cooperation in person."

"Tell Mu Le I'm happy to, but the timing must be arranged," Chen Feng said, "perhaps around the turn of spring and summer this year, once the European battlefield situation clarifies."

He looked back at the map, his gaze landing on Europe. There, Deguo, Yingguo, Faguo, and Russia were slaughtering each other, rivers of blood. Yet Lanfang, a nascent nation far in Asia, could maneuver within their war, reaping profit.

This is the essence of geopolitics—leveraging others' conflicts to strengthen oneself.

"Send a report to Zhang Zhen," Chen Feng concluded, "tell him the fleet's safety is paramount. If necessary, we can display our flag, informing any force that might intercept—this is Lanfang's fleet, protected by the Lanfang navy."

"Understood."

The order was issued. Chen Feng remained alone in the strategic room, watching the black piece that had been moved to Europe.

One hundred thousand Sakura Nation soldiers. How many of them will return alive? Half? One third? Or even fewer?

He didn't know, nor care. In the nation's chessboard, soldiers are merely pieces, calculable numbers, tradable resources.

Cold? Yes. But this is politics, this is governance. Mercy and sentiment can't save a nation; they only doom more people.