Chapter 271: Concentrated Use

The fleet sailed at sea for fifteen days, from the East Sea to the South Sea, through the Strait of Malacca, into the Indian Ocean.

For the hundred‑thousand soldiers of Sakura Country, it was a long and agonizing journey. The cabins were cramped; although the conditions were better than expected, the prolonged voyage still made them restless. Each day, besides eating, sleeping and training, they just stared blankly at the endless sea.

In the mess of the Taishan Hao, Zhongcun Jirou and several officers ate together. The food was decent—rice, salted fish, vegetable soup, even fruit. It was supplied by Lanfang, far better than the rationed meals currently available in Sakura Country.

"Battalion Commander, where exactly are we going?" a young Lieutenant asked. "Where is Deguo? Where is Europe?"

Zhongcun spread a map on the table: "We are here now, in the Indian Ocean. After another twenty‑plus days of sailing we'll enter the Persian Gulf, then travel overland through the Osman Diguo into Europe. Finally we'll reach the Eastern Front battlefield—the border between Deguo and Russia."

"Russia…" another officer murmured. "We fought the Russians in the Russo‑Japanese War. I never expected we'd now go help Deguo fight the Russians."

"We're not helping Deguo," Zhongcun corrected. "It's a contract. We fight for Deguo, Deguo pays us. That's all there is to it."

"But why us?" the young Lieutenant protested. "Why not the Lanfang people? They're so rich, so powerful—why not them?"

Zhongcun looked at him, his gaze complicated: "Because Lanfang is clever. They let others bleed while they profit."

The mess fell silent. Everyone knew it was true, but voicing it still hurt.

"However," Zhongcun paused, "going to Europe isn't necessarily all bad. Deguo's equipment is better than ours, their tactics more advanced. We can learn, we can grow. When the war ends, returning home with experience and money might help rebuild Sakura Country."

The words were forced, but he had to say them. As a commander, he had to give his soldiers hope, however faint.

That night he couldn't sleep, so he went up on deck. The sea wind was strong, the night sky clear, a canopy of stars. In the distance, the escorting Lanfang destroyer appeared as a black silhouette, bobbing in the waves.

A Lanfang sailor on duty saw Zhongcun and nodded. Zhongcun returned the nod; the two stood side by side in silence, watching the stars.

"You're unlucky," the Lanfang sailor suddenly said in halting Japanese.

Zhongcun was startled: "What?"

"Going to Europe," the sailor said. "My brother studied in Deguo; his letters say it's a hell. Tens of thousands die each day."

Zhongcun fell silent. He knew it was true.

"But at least you earn money," the sailor continued. "It's better than starving to death."

"Indeed," Zhongcun forced a bitter smile. "Better than starving to death."

The two fell silent again. The waves lapped the hull, producing a rhythmic sound.

"Actually," the sailor said suddenly, "I admire you. Knowing it's a death march, you still go—for the country, for your families."

Zhongcun looked at him. The young sailor's eyes were sincere.

"Don't Lanfang people also fight for the country?" Zhongcun asked.

"It's different," the sailor shook his head. "We fight to protect our homes, to ensure Chinese are no longer bullied. You fight… for money."

The words were blunt and cruel. Zhongcun could not refute them.

"However," the sailor smiled, "when the war ends, if you're still alive, you're welcome to Lanfang. We lack labor, wages are high, food is plentiful."

Zhongcun also smiled: "Thank you. If the chance arises."

He looked up at the heavens. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like a massive ribbon of light. In Sakura Country, in Lanfang, in Deguo, in Russia, everyone saw the same starry sky.

Yet why must humanity slaughter each other beneath this shared sky?

He didn't know the answer. He only knew he must lead his soldiers to survive, as many as possible.

Even if only to be able to see this sky again in the future.

Berlin, Wuyou Palace. Weilian Ershi stood before a massive map of Europe, a telegram in hand, an excited smile spreading across his face.

"Excellent! One hundred thousand Sakura Country troops are on the way! They'll reach the Eastern Front within two months!"

Chief of Staff Xiao Maoqi stood beside him, his expression far less optimistic than the emperor's: "Your Majesty, the combat effectiveness of the Sakura Country army still needs assessment. The Russo‑Japanese War was a decade ago, and their equipment may now be quite outdated."

"We can supply the gear!" Weilian Ershi waved his arms. "Give them the finest rifles, the finest machine guns, the finest artillery! Sakura Country soldiers endure hardship, fear no death—that's exactly what we need!"

He moved to the map, pointing at the Eastern Front: "See, the Russians surge like tides, wave after wave. Our defensive line has already fallen back fifty kilometers. If these hundred thousand Sakura Country troops can hold the line, even for just three months, we can reorganize our defenses and launch a counter‑offensive!"

Xiao Maoqi nodded: "In theory, yes. In practice, language barriers, chaotic command structures, and difficult logistics… these are all problems."

"Then solve the problems!" Weilian Ershi said. "Establish a dedicated Liaison Command with translators. Sakura Country officers retain lower‑level command, but strategic control rests with our Deguo officers. Logistics… let the Lanfang handle it; they're good at that."

He paused, a shrewd glint in his eye: "Moreover, this isn't just a military issue, it's a Political Issue. If Sakura Country joins our side, even as mercenaries, it will have a huge international impact. How will the Yingguo think? How will the Faguo think? How will the America think?"

Xiao Maoqi understood: "You intend to use Sakura Country as a bargaining chip to exert diplomatic pressure?"

"Exactly!" Weilian Ershi laughed. "I want the world to see that Deguo not only has allies in Europe but also in Asia! Lanfang is our friend, Sakura Country is our… partner. The Yingguo's 'world empire' is already cracking!"

He walked to the wine cabinet, poured two glasses of champagne, and handed one to Xiao Maoqi: "To victory—cheers!"

Xiao Maoqi took the glass but didn't drink: "Your Majesty, one more question. Once the Sakura Country army arrives, how will they be deployed? Scattered across the fronts, or concentrated for use?"

"Concentrated use," Weilian Ershi replied without hesitation. "Organize them into a Group Army, place them in the central Eastern Front to strike the Russians' weakest point. Sakura Country defeated the Russians in the Russo‑Japanese War, giving them a psychological edge. Let them lead the charge while our Deguo forces support from behind."

"That will cause heavy casualties," Xiao Maoqi warned.

"That's the Sakura Country's problem," Weilian Ershi shrugged. "We paid, so they must give their lives. The contract is clear—casualties are their responsibility; we'll pay the compensation, but they must replenish their own manpower."

He took a sip of champagne, his gaze deepening: "Actually, I'm more curious about Chen Feng. A nation only ten years old can defeat Sakura Country and conduct such big business between Central Europe. He's no ordinary man."

"Indeed," Xiao Maoqi nodded. "Our intelligence shows Lanfang is developing rapidly; its navy already surpasses Sakura Country's, and its industry is catching up with Europe. If the war drags on for years, Lanfang could become Asia's hegemon."

"That's even better," Weilian Ershi said. "A strong Lanfang can check Yingguo's power in Asia. If Yingguo diverts its fleet to Asia, its European strength weakens. That works in our favor."

He walked to the window, gazing at Berlin's cityscape. Though the war had raged for half a year, Berlin remained bustling, at least on the surface.

"Xiao Maoqi, how do you think history will judge this war?" Weilian Ershi suddenly asked.

Xiao Maoqi thought for a moment: "If Deguo wins, history will say it was the inevitability of Deguo's rise. If we lose…"

"We won't lose," Weilian Ershi cut in. "With a hundred thousand Sakura Country militia and Lanfang's support, we cannot be defeated. Europe belongs to Deguo, Asia to Lanfang, the world… belongs to us nations daring to challenge the old order."

His words were lofty and impassioned, yet Xiao Maoqi felt uneasy. The war had just begun, already so brutal. When the Sakura Country army arrives, what will the Eastern Front look like? Can a hundred thousand Sakura Country troops alter the tide of war?

He didn't know. He only knew Deguo was now on a tiger's back and had to win, at any cost.

Including exploiting these far‑flung Eastern soldiers who might not even understand why they're fighting.

From outside the window came the chime of bells. The Berlin Cathedral's bells rang deep and long, as if sounding for a monumental era of change.

Weilian Ershi raised his glass toward the East: "To our Japanese friends—cheers. May their blood water the blossoms of our victory."

He drained the glass in one gulp. The champagne was sweet, but with a hint of bitterness.

Just like this deal, it seems win‑win, yet it is actually drenched in bloodshed.

But history never cares about bloodshed; history only cares about the result.