Chapter 464: Do Not Go Through Chen Feng—He Wants a Commission, We Won

The "Revival Ship" and the "Restoration Ship" have already begun to weigh anchor, preparing to set sail. They will follow the "Malaya", cross the Indian Ocean, round the Cape of Good Hope, and head for Yingguo.

There, they will receive new names, join new battles, and witness another chapter of history.

Here, new history is being forged amid the clang of steel.

Chen Feng sat into the car and told the driver, "Back to the office. It's time to prepare the next step."

The vehicle left the port. Behind it, the whistle blared long, and two massive warships slowly steamed toward the sea, toward an unknown destiny.

Under the sky of Dubai Harbor, more ships are being built.

Never ceasing.

On the bridge of the battleship cruiser "Malaya", Asquith stared out the port window at the receding Dubai Harbor. The two newly received warships followed behind, maintaining a standard escort formation.

Bellford walked over and handed him a glass of whisky, "Have a sip; today has been enough."

Asquith took it but did not drink, "How sincere do you think Chen Feng's proposal is?"

"Zero," Bellford said bluntly, "He's playing a balancing game. Supplying Deguo tanks, giving us warships, and now wants to sell Sakura Nation troops. What he wants is for the war to keep going; the longer it lasts, the more he profits."

"I know," Asquith finally took a sip, the fire scorching his throat, "but we... might need this option."

Bellford widened his eyes, "Herbert, you can't seriously consider that, can you? Using Yazhou people as cannon fodder? That would ruin the empire's reputation!"

"Reputation?" Asquith chuckled bitterly, "Arthur, two months since the Somme opened, we've already lost two hundred thousand. You've seen the anti-war protests at home, women on Downing Street holding photos of their sons, miners striking for a ceasefire, even the church questioning the war's righteousness."

He turned, leaning against the port window, "If we can achieve a Breakthrough before Christmas, even a small one, domestic sentiment can stay stable. But if it drags to next spring... I don't know what will happen."

Bellford fell silent. He is the Navy Minister, but he also knows the army's situation—personnel resources are nearing the limit.

"But the Sakura people..." he still couldn't get past that mental hurdle.

"Chen Feng is right; Deguo can use them, why can't we?" Asquith walked to the chart table, "Moreover, this isn't necessarily bad. If the Sakura Nation sends troops to both sides, their performance on the battlefield will be... discounted. After all, who would truly give their life to the enemy?"

He paused, a calculating glint in his eyes, "More importantly, this drags the Sakura Nation deeper into the war mire. After the war, whoever wins, the Sakura Nation will be in a tough spot for offending both sides. Then... we'll have one fewer potential rival in the Far East."

Bellford inhaled a cold breath. For the first time he realized that this prime minister, famed for his mildness, also had such a cold side.

"So now we..."

"Back to London, report to the king," Asquith set down his glass, "then have the Foreign Ministry approach the Sakura Nation. But do not go through Chen Feng—he wants to take a commission, we won't let him."

"He'll be displeased."

"Then let him be displeased," Asquith sneered, "he's caused us so much trouble; why should we cater to him?"

He looked toward Dubai, the city already vanished beyond the horizon.

"Chen Feng is a clever man, but a man too clever often gets trapped by his own cleverness," he whispered, "He wants to play balance, to maneuver freely among all parties... but war... will end one day. Then all accounts must be settled."

Bellford recalled the ceremony's malfunction, the cold reception, and Chen Feng's unfathomable smile.

"What do you think, what does he actually want? Is it really just oil?"

Asquith pondered for a long while, slowly shaking his head, "Oil is a means, not an end. What he wants is... status. To turn Lanfang from a regional state into a world player. To turn Chen Feng from an exile into a figure equal with kings, emperors, presidents."

He stepped to the edge of the bridge, gazing at the endless sea, "A hundred years ago, Napoleon wanted this. Fifty years ago, Bismarck achieved it. Now... it's the turn of the Easterners."

The sea wind blew, carrying a salty, briny scent.

In distant Dubai, Chen Feng stood at the office window, also looking toward the sea.

Wang Wenwu delivered the latest report, "President, Asquith left before the luncheon. He seems... not pleased."

"He is of course not pleased," Chen Feng said without turning, "but that's fine. He will soon be even more displeased."

"Why?"

Chen Feng turned, a mysterious smile curling his lips, "Because over at the Sakura Nation... Xiyuan Si Gongwang won't easily accede to Yingguo's demands. And later, they'll have to come back to me."

He walked to the desk, spread a document, "Notify Liu Yongfu to accelerate production of the 'Jianghe-class' destroyers. The seven ships for Yingguo must be delivered on schedule, not a single screw missing. We must let them know—Lanfang does business, says it and does it."

"And the tank technology..."

"The simplified parameters will be 'leaked' to Yingguo intelligence tomorrow," Chen Feng sat down, beginning to review the documents, "We need them to think the Deguo have only a transitional model, the better one is in our hands. Only then... they'll keep negotiating with us."

Wang Wenwu finished recording, yet did not leave.

"Anything else?" Chen Feng looked up.

"President, I have a question," Wang Wenwu hesitated, "If we... do business with everyone simultaneously, won't we risk burning ourselves?"

Chen Feng set down his pen, looking seriously at the foreign minister, "Minister Wang, what do you think international politics is?"

"It's... the game of national interests?"

"It's a survival competition," Chen Feng corrected, "The law of the jungle has been the same from ancient times to now. The only difference is that before it relied on swords, now it relies on industry, finance, and diplomacy."

He stood, walked again to the window, "When Lanfang founded the nation, what did we have? A desert, tens of thousands of refugees, the whole world waiting to see us starve. Now? We have world‑class warships, a rising industry, forty million citizens. How did we achieve this?"

"Through your leadership, through everyone's effort..."

"Through opportunity," Chen Feng interrupted, "Europeans are fighting each other, can't attend to Yazhou. Americans are still watching, unwilling to intervene. Russians are struggling on the Eastern Front. This is a once‑in‑a‑century window—if we seize it, we can rise. If we miss it, we'll decay like the Ottoman, slowly rotting, awaiting partition."

His fingers tapped lightly on the glass, "Thus we must seize every deal, exploit every contradiction, grow in the cracks. When the war ends, when the great powers come to their senses, we will have become strong enough that they must face us."

"But doing so... won't it be too exhausting?"

Chen Feng smiled, a genuine smile, weary yet resolute, "Tired, but worth it. Because we are creating history—not passively enduring it, but actively writing it."

He looked out the window. The setting sun sank, Dubai Harbor bathed in golden afterglow. Cranes still worked, welding sparks flickered like stars.

On the other side of the planet, the war continued, people kept dying, the empire kept struggling.

Here, a new force was growing in silence.

Silent, yet unstoppable.