Chapter 394: Bismarck Transfer

Wang Wenwu listened in silence. He had followed Chen Feng for years, watching with his own eyes how the man built a nation out of desert and swamp. Yet sometimes he was still struck by Chen Feng's ambition and composure.

"So this time the Sakura Nation troops are being redeployed west," Wang Wenwu said slowly, "it's not only a Deguo–Sakura Nation deal, it's also part of our strategic layout."

"Yes." Chen Feng nodded. "Xi Yuan Si agreed to the plan because we gave him a way out, gave him bargaining chips. The Deguo people get troops, the Sakura Nation gets money and technology, what do we get?"

He turned and looked at Wang Wenwu: "What we get is: first, Deguo owes us a favor—without our plan they couldn't mobilize those two hundred thousand troops. Second, the Sakura Nation owes us a favor—without our mediation they couldn't both get money and save face. Third, it proves our value—under a complex situation we can propose creative solutions."

"But if Yingguo and Faguo discover the truth and accuse us of helping Deguo…"

"They will discover it, but they won't publicly accuse us." Chen Feng said confidently. "Because Yingguo and Faguo now also need us—our rubber, tin ore, oil, our fleet to transport supplies, our ports as transshipment hubs. As long as we don't fight directly and don't take a visible side, they will turn a blind eye."

He walked to the desk and picked up a telegram—a private encrypted dispatch Xi Yuan Si had sent this morning.

"Look, Xi Yuan Si thanks me for my 'wise advice' in the message and promises to 'fully consider Lanfang's interests in East Asian affairs.' That's what we want: not direct money, but future political capital."

Wang Wenwu finally understood. This series of actions—from proposing the uniform plan, to facilitating the deal, to preparing tank technology—were not isolated events but part of a complete strategy. Every step accumulated bargaining chips, every step expanded Lanfang's maneuvering space in the complex international chessboard.

"Then what comes next," Wang Wenwu asked, "what do we need to do?"

"Three things." Chen Feng raised three fingers. "First, ensure the Bismarck Class battleship is delivered on schedule; that's our commitment to Deguo and a showcase of Lanfang's industrial capability. Second, accelerate the tank project to have finished models ready when the Deguo need them most. Third…"

He paused, his gaze deepening: "Third, prepare for contingencies. The Sakura Nation troops entering the western front will, regardless of outcome, alter the battlefield dynamics. We must anticipate every possibility and have response plans ready."

"What contingencies?"

"For example," Chen Feng walked back to the map, his finger pointing at Verdun, "if the Deguo people truly achieve a Breakthrough of the line, troops at the gates of Paris, Faguo could collapse. Then Yingguo would have to consider a separate peace. Or, if the Sakura Nation troops suffer heavy losses on the western front, Tokyo might change policy, even withdraw from the war."

He turned to Wang Wenwu: "These changes will trigger chain reactions, affecting the global balance of power. What we must do is see the trend before the change occurs and have options prepared."

Wang Wenwu felt a chill. Chen Feng's thinking had already far surpassed a single deal or agreement; it was the whole world's chessboard.

"I understand." He inhaled deeply, "I will have intelligence strengthen monitoring of the western front battlefield and the high‑level movements of all nations."

"Go." Chen Feng nodded. "Remember, in this era information is power. Whoever sees the change first holds the initiative."

After Wang Wenwu left, Chen Feng stood alone in the strategy room. The setting sun slanted west, sunlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows on the floor.

He walked to the world map, looking at the marked points, arrows, circled regions. Europe was burning, Yazhou was restless, the Americas were watching. And Lanfang, this emerging nation, was navigating the global storm with great caution.

Sometimes he recalled the history of "that world"—how the First World War reshaped the global order, how old empires fell, how new powers rose. Now he was changing that history in his own way.

The Bismarck Class battleship appeared twenty years early, the Sakura Nation troops in Degjun uniform showed up on the western front, Tank No. 1 and Tank No. 2 were about to be unveiled… each change was disturbing the original historical trajectory.

And all he could do was keep moving forward, keep laying plans, keep carving space for Lanfang's survival and development in this ruthless world.

Outside the Dubai port, a cargo ship was departing, its horn blowing long. It was bound for the United States, carrying rubber, tin ore and tea, exchanging them for machinery and industrial raw materials.

Trade continued, industry developed, the nation grew.

And the war still burned in the distance, like an unquenchable fire, illuminating the end of the old world and the beginning of the new.

Chen Feng picked up a red marker and lightly drew a circle in the Pacific area of the map.

July 1st, before dawn at Dubai port.

Two steel leviathans quietly moored at a dedicated deep‑water dock, their hulls showing deep‑gray outlines in the still‑darkening night, like two steel islands suddenly rising from the sea floor. The Bismarck Class battleships "Yangtze" and "Yellow River," both distinguished warships from the East Sea battle, had completed all final pre‑departure preparations; faint smoke rose from their funnels, boilers ran at low power, ready to set sail at any moment.

On the dock, a special send‑off squad stood silently.

Three hundred Lanfang navy personnel formed a neat square, dressed in dark‑blue naval dress uniforms without rank insignia on their shoulders or name tags on their chests—this was an unrecorded voyage, a non‑existent mission. At the front stood the commander of the operation, Navy Major General Li Te. The veteran naval officer wore a solemn expression, his hand tightly gripping a freshly signed handover document.

"All checked?" Zhang Yongfu asked the chief engineer behind him without turning around.

"Three times, General." the chief engineer whispered, "power systems, navigation equipment, weapon safety devices—every critical component has been inspected. According to the agreement, the Main Gun's elevation and traverse mechanisms are locked, the fire‑control radar has had its core components removed, the cipher machine and encrypted communications equipment are all taken out."

"What about the crew?"

"All three hundred crew members volunteered, passed three rounds of political review and psychological assessment. They know where they're going and understand the mission's risks."

Li Te nodded. He looked at the two giant ships, his gaze complex. As one of Lanfang navy's founders, he had watched those vessels go from blueprints to reality, from Keel laying to outfitting; every Rivet, every inch of steel plate held the nation's blood. Now he would personally deliver them into Deguo hands.

"General," a young Lieutenant ran up, telegram in hand, "the final order from the Presidential Office."

Li Te took the telegram and read it by the dim dock light. The message was short, only two sentences:

"Safety first. Remember, your value lies not in the ship but in your eyes and minds. — Chen Feng"

He read it three times, then carefully folded the telegram and slipped it into his uniform pocket. Chen Feng always did this, stating the core with the most concise words. The key to this mission was not the handover of the warship but observation—watching how the Deguo Navy receives new equipment, trains, plans its use, and… what their real dilemma is.