Chapter 393: Selling to Both Sides

The adjutant walked up to him: "Division commander, do you think… we can really get the soldiers to accept it?"

Chai Wulang looked up at the starry sky, remaining silent for a long time.

In these eight months on the Eastern Front, he had seen too much death, too many sacrifices. He had seen Sakura Nation soldiers freeze their fingers in Russia's bitter cold, had seen them fall in whole rows under Degjun artillery fire, had seen wounded men die painfully in field hospitals because of a lack of medicine.

And now, he must lead these people to an even harsher place.

"What can we do if they don't accept?" he muttered at last, "War is like that. An individual's will is insignificant, swept along by the torrent of the times. All we can do is try to make the process… less painful."

He turned and walked toward his own tent, his dark‑gray Degjun uniform blending almost indistinguishably with the night.

In the distance, a sentry on duty change shouted a command in German—this was the new regulation, all commands must be in German. The stiff pronunciation echoed in the night sky, awkward and unfamiliar.

Change has already occurred. Whether accepted or not, there is no turning back.

A week later, a train will carry these two hundred thousand people westward, toward Verdun, toward the battlefield that has devoured hundreds of thousands of lives.

And what they can bring back, no one knows.

June 26, Dubai Presidential Palace Strategic Room.

Chen Feng stood before a massive world map, a red marker in his hand. On the map, several new lines had just been added: a blue arrow from eastern Poland pointing to northeastern France, representing the Sakura Nation troops' westward route; a red dashed line from Dubai to Port William, representing the delivery route of the Bismarck Class battleship.

Wang Wenwu stood behind him, holding a thick stack of reports—the compiled intelligence from the past three days sent back from Berlin, Tokyo, and Port William.

"The Sakura Nation's eight divisions have completed re‑equipping; railway transport is expected to begin in three days," Wang Wenwu read from the report. "The Deguo side has mobilized all available freight cars and has also requisitioned some civilian trains. The entire transport will take four to five days, with resupply and rest at Frankfurt and Cologne en route. Arrival at the Verdun rear‑area assembly zone is expected around July 2."

Chen Feng marked a time point on the map: "The Deguo are so urgent; it shows Verdun's situation is worse than we imagined."

"According to our intelligence reports, Degjun casualties at Verdun have already exceeded 350,000, while the French have about 450,000. Both sides are near their limits, but Deguo is the first to falter," Wang Wenwu said. "Fa Jinhan assured William II that if this twenty‑thousand fresh force joins, he can launch a decisive offensive in mid‑July, a Breakthrough of the French second defensive line."

"Two hundred thousand…" Chen Feng drew a circle around Verdun on the map, "Can that change the course of the war?"

"In the short term perhaps, long term it's uncertain," Wang Wenwu said, moving to the other side of the map. "The fundamental problem on the Western Front is a tactical stalemate. Trenches, barbed wire, machine guns, artillery—these form a virtually unbreakable defensive system. Unless there is a new tactic or new weapon, pouring in more troops only raises the casualty numbers."

Chen Feng set down the marker and walked to the window. Outside, Dubai Port bustled under the afternoon sun. The long arms of cranes rose and fell, cargo ships came and went, and farther away, in the naval shipyard, two Bismarck Class battleships were undergoing final fitting‑out.

"So our tank project is perfectly timed," he said, turning. "How is Liu Yongfu's side progressing?"

"The chassis of the first prototype vehicle is complete, and the engine and transmission are being installed," Wang Wenwu pulled a photo from the folder. "This was taken yesterday."

In the photo, a strangely shaped vehicle sits inside a factory. It has a tracked chassis, a crude steel‑plate body, and a reserved space on top for a turret. Though still just a shell, its basic outline is already visible.

"Minister Liu said that if everything goes smoothly, the first complete vehicle can be finished within two weeks for initial testing. But there are many problems: insufficient engine power, the suspension is unstable in sand‑field tests, the steering mechanism is labor‑intensive…"

"These are all solvable issues," Chen Feng took the photo, studying it closely. "The key is to prove the concept works. As long as this vehicle can drive, move, climb slopes and overcome obstacles, we will have something to show the Deguo."

"Mr. President," Wang Wenwu hesitated, "Do you really think the Deguo will buy it?"

"They will," Chen Feng said confidently.

He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of water—since the war began, he has rarely drunk alcohol during the day.

"More importantly," he handed Wang Wenwu a glass, "the Deguo's current mindset. They've poured too much into Verdun to pull back, only able to keep adding reinforcements. Fresh troops are one card, new weapons another. When they find the troop card insufficient, they will urgently seek the new‑weapon card."

Wang Wenwu took the cup without drinking: "But do we really want to sell to the Deguo? If they achieve a Breakthrough on the Western Front, the war could be prolonged, perhaps even the Deguo could win. That wouldn't necessarily be good for us."

"Balance," Chen Feng said, walking to the map and pointing at the English Channel, "What we want is not a Deguo victory nor a Yingguo victory, but a stalemate. Both sides are exhausted, both need external aid, both are willing to pay a price to gain even a slight edge."

He turned to Wang Wenwu: "So we can sell the tank technology, but not all at once. First give them the basic design of Tank No. 1; after they taste success in combat, we sell the improved Tank No. 2. At the same time, through our channels in London, we hint that the Yingguo also need similar counter‑weapons…"

"Selling to both sides?" Wang Wenwu's eyes widened.

"Why not?" Chen Feng smiled. "War is a catalyst for technology. The First World War gave rise to tanks, aircraft, poison gas, submarines. These technologies were bound to appear; we merely make them appear sooner. In this process we can earn technology‑transfer fees, patent fees, production‑license fees, and most importantly—influence."

He walked to the sand table in the center of the strategic room. It was a miniature of the entire Southeast Asia region, from the Malay Peninsula to the Philippine islands, from Sumatra to New Guinea. On the table, Lanfang's territory was marked in red, while other colonies and independent nations were colored differently.

"Minister Wang, take a look," Chen Feng said, pointing at the sand table. "Ten years ago, this whole area was European powers' colonies. Now Lanfang has been established, but we are still surrounded. Yingguo is in Malaya and Burma, Faguo in Indochina, the Netherlands in the East Indies, the United States in the Philippines…"

His finger swept across the sand table: "We must survive, we must develop, so we have to find space in the gaps between the great powers. War gives us this chance—when the Europeans are busy killing each other, we can develop industry, build a navy, expand trade. When they need resources, we can supply them, but demand compensation. When they need technology, we can transfer it, but at a price."