Chapter 412: We Sell Anything

Albe Station, chaos everywhere.

The train had just come to a halt when the carriage doors were ripped open. Soldiers staggered out and collapsed onto the platform. The three‑day, three‑night ride had been cramped in a stifling boxcar, with no hot water and only black bread as hard as stone. Many vomited from motion sickness, and even more suffered splitting headaches from oxygen deprivation.

Chai Wulang was the first to disembark. He forced himself to stand upright and walked toward the Degjun liaison officer who came to greet him.

"General Chai, welcome to the Somme River," the liaison officer said. He was a young Captain with blond hair and blue eyes, speaking fluent Japanese. "I am Captain Feng Shi Taiyin, ordered to receive your unit. General Bei Luo instructed: your unit may rest here for twenty‑four hours, then take over the second defensive line from B3 to B7."

"Map," Chai Wulang rasped.

Captain Shi Taiyin unfolded the map. The second defensive line lay five kilometres behind the first, built across a chain of low hills. The sector from B3 to B7 was an open wheat field with virtually no natural cover.

"The terrain here…" Chai Wulang frowned.

"Yes, General, not ideal," Shi Taiyin admitted. "But it is an order. Degjun troops guard areas with far more complex terrain; this spot… requires your unit's defensive resolve."

The implication was crystal clear: you are expendables, to be placed in the most lethal spot.

Chai Wulang made no argument—arguing was pointless. He turned to his troops: the soldiers huddled on the platform like refugees, some vomiting, some crying, and many simply staring blankly at the sky.

"Assemble the troops," he told Chief of Staff Matsumoto. "Find a place to settle them. Let them rest as much as possible."

"Division Commander, there aren't enough barracks…"

"Then have them sleep outdoors! It's better than the boxcar!"

In a grove east of the station, the Third Division barely settled. The soldiers cut branches to fashion crude shelters, dug latrines, and used mess tins to collect rainwater for boiling—this was the first hot water they'd had in three days.

Jin Cun's squad was assigned a spot beneath a large oak. The five of them sat back‑to‑back, unwilling to speak. Xiao Lin fished out the last bit of food from his pack: half a piece of chocolate, bartered at Verdun from a Degjun soldier. He broke it into five pieces and handed one to each.

The chocolate melted in their mouths, sweet to the point of bitterness.

"Sergeant," Xiao Lin said suddenly, "if we die here, will our bodies be shipped back to the Sakura Nation?"

Jin Cun looked at him, offering no reply.

"I want to be taken back," Xiao Lin continued, his voice calm. "I want to be buried on a hillside in my hometown, facing the sea. Then each morning, when the sun rises from the ocean, I could see the light."

Sergeant Ji Tian snorted, "Don't waste thoughts on that. People like us, dying here in foreign uniforms, won't even have our names remembered. At most we'll get an extra plaque at a shrine marked 'Overseas War Dead'—no one will know where or why you fell."

"But…"

"There is no but," Ji Tian bluntly cut him off. "Finish eating, then sleep. Tomorrow we have to build fortifications and wait for the Yingguo to arrive. Survive one day at a time; think of nothing else."

Night fell. A campfire was lit in the woods, but the Degjun patrol quickly put it out—flames would give away their position. The soldiers could only sit in the dark, listening to distant, faint artillery.

That was the British Army test‑firing. The battle was about to begin.

In Dubai, Chen Feng simultaneously received intelligence briefs from London and Berlin.

The London report detailed the British Army's Somme offensive preparations: over fifty divisions, 2,900 artillery pieces, with a full‑scale attack slated for July 28. The report concluded with an assessment from Intelligence Section Six: "If this battle is won, it could greatly relieve Verdun pressure and force Deguo on the Western Front into full defense."

The Berlin intelligence focused on Degjun's response: "Degjun employs a 'elastic defense' tactic, leaving only alert units on the first line. It has been confirmed that eight Sakura Nation divisions (about 150,000 troops) have been transferred to the Somme area, deployed at the most vulnerable sectors. Group 2 commander Bei Luo is 'cautiously optimistic' about the campaign, but privately notes 'severe manpower shortages, especially infantry.'"

The two reports lay on Chen Feng's desk. He picked up a red pen and drew two lines on the Western Front map: one northward from the Somme, indicating the British Army's main thrust; another northwest from Verdun, marking Degjun's reinforcement route. The lines intersected in the Somme region, forming a massive X.

"A perfect attrition point," Chen Feng murmured to himself.

Wang Wenwu stood behind him. "President, Minister Liu Yongfu's report has arrived. The 'Prototype No. 1' has completed all tests, revealing thirty‑seven issues, but its core functions have been validated. He asks whether a small‑batch trial production can begin?"

"Yes," Chen Feng nodded. "But the vehicles produced should not be equipped to troops yet. Seal them all and wait for the right moment."

"The timing is…"

"When the Somme becomes a second Verdun," Chen Feng said, moving to the window and gazing at Dubai Harbor's nightscape. "When the Deguo discover that no matter how many troops they commit, they cannot break the stalemate of trench warfare. Only then will they truly crave a weapon that can crush barbed wire, cross trenches, and pierce machine‑gun fire."

He turned, his eyes flashing a cool light in the lamplight. "Tell our contacts in Berlin we can now 'casually' leak some information. Say Lanfang has made 'exciting progress' in developing 'special vehicles'—vehicles capable of operating in 'the most complex terrain,' overcoming obstacles that 'traditional transport cannot surmount.'"

"With such vague wording, will the Deguo understand?"

"Those who truly need it will get it," Chen Feng smiled faintly. "Commanders at Verdun and the Somme confront barbed wire, trenches, and machine guns daily. Mention those terms and they'll make the connection. Once they do… they'll come to us on their own."

Wang Wenwu finished his notes, hesitating. "President, the Sakura Nation forces this time… are likely to suffer a devastating blow. One‑hundred‑fifteen‑thousand troops facing the British Army's 2,900 artillery…"

Chen Feng was silent for a few seconds, then walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of water—he had long given up drinking, but habitually lifted a cup when he thought.

"Minister Wang, do you remember what I told you war is?"

"You said it's mathematics."

"Yes, cruel mathematics," Chen Feng said, looking at the clear water in his cup. "The Sakura Nation's casualties are a known variable. Their sacrifice will push Deguo to more urgently seek a way out of the stalemate. That way lies in our warehouse, on our schematics."

He set the cup down, his voice as calm as a weather report: "Prepare the contract drafts. When the Somme battle reaches its bloodiest point, we'll head to Berlin. This time, we'll not only sell products, but also sell technology transfers, production licenses, and a ten‑year cooperation framework."