Chapter 753: Nothing Can Hold It Back!

In the conference room, the smoke was so thick it choked.

On both sides of the long table sat a full complement of people—Army Minister Herbert Kichinna, Navy Minister Jielike, Foreign Minister Edward Gray, Colonial Affairs Minister Walter Lang, Indian Affairs Minister Austin Zhangbolun, and a large crowd of generals, staff officers and secretaries whose names could not be recalled. In front of each person lay a thick stack of telegrams, and each face was as grim as if a loved one had died.

Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith sat in the chief seat, holding the telegram about the Sinai battle situation, which he had already read three times.

His hand trembled.

He tried to keep it under control, but his fingers still twitched involuntarily. The thin telegram paper now felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Four hundred thousand people. Four hundred thousand battle‑hardened veterans. Elite troops who had come down from the Somme, Verdun, and Passchendaele. And they were gone like that.

He set the telegram down and picked up another.

It was an urgent military report from Dhaka. After news of Allenbi's annihilation reached India, the garrison's morale collapsed. Indian troops began to flee, officers could not suppress them, and in several locations mutinies even broke out. The outer defenses of Dhaka loosened, and the Sakura Nation forces were gathering.

He set that one down as well.

The conference room was so quiet that the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.

Finally, Asquith spoke. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding steel.

"Gentlemen, you have all seen the Sinai battle report,"

No one said a word.

"Four hundred thousand men, the entire army annihilated. Allenbi surrendered,"

Still, no one spoke.

Asquith stood up and walked to the massive world map on the wall. He pointed to the location of the Sinai Peninsula, tapped it once, then slowly traced a line across the Mediterranean to the Indian subcontinent.

"Now it's India's turn,"

He turned and looked at the silent ministers.

"Who can tell me how long India can hold?"

Army Minister Kichinna rose. The veteran who had fought for years in Africa and India now wore a gray‑washed face, sunken eyes, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He walked to the map and pointed to Dhaka's location.

"Prime Minister, the Sakura Nation has gathered at least two hundred thousand troops around Dhaka. The Burmese independence army adds another twenty thousand. In total over two hundred thousand are advancing toward Dhaka,"

"How many do we have?"

Kichinna was silent for three seconds.

"Dhaka's garrison is fifty thousand. Across India we have two hundred thousand troops, but they are scattered, and the forces that can be mobilized… less than one hundred thousand,"

"Less than one hundred thousand," Asquith repeated. "Over two hundred thousand against less than one hundred thousand. How long can we hold?"

Kichinna lowered his head.

"Prime Minister, the outer defenses of Dhaka have already loosened. After the news from Sinai spread, Indian soldiers began fleeing in batches. Officers could not suppress them at all. Some units even mutinied; officers were beaten to death, and the soldiers dispersed in a riot,"

He lifted his head and looked at Asquith.

"If the Sakura Nation attacks now, Dhaka might not hold for more than a week,"

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Navy Minister Jielike suddenly spoke, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"Prime Minister, the Mumbai fleet…"

Asquith looked at him.

"What's wrong with Jielike's fleet?"

Jielike was his cousin, also called John Jielike, but the former was a civil official while the latter was an Admiral trapped in Mumbai.

"My cousin called and said the fleet's morale had collapsed. The sailors knew Sinai was lost, knew India could not be held, and were causing trouble every day. Some wanted to charge out and fight the Germans, some wanted to surrender, some simply deserted to the shore. My cousin could no longer keep them in check,"

Asquith closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It could not be restrained. No one could restrain it.

The army could not be restrained, the navy could not be restrained, India could not be restrained, nothing could be restrained.

He opened his eyes and looked at the world map on the wall. The territories that had once been painted large swaths of red as British colonies were now fading piece by piece. Singapore was gone, Burma was gone, Yilang was gone, Sinai was gone, and now it was India's turn.

One hundred years. The British Empire took a hundred years to paint so much land red.

Now? In a few months, it lost more than half.

The door was pushed open, and a page entered, whispering a few words into Asquith's ear.

Asquith's expression changed.

He waved his hand, and the page stepped back out.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "we have just received word. The Sakura Nation has begun its attack."

Outside Dhaka, deep in the jungle.

Yamamoto Kazuo stood beneath a massive banyan tree, holding a telescope to scan the faintly visible British Army positions in the distance. A thin mist coated the telescope's lenses; he brushed it away with his sleeve and kept watching.

Chief of Staff Tuhihara Kenda stood beside him, holding a reconnaissance report.

"General, the scouts have just returned. The British are indeed loosening. After the news from Sinai arrived, most of the Indian soldiers in their positions fled. The remaining British are also bickering, officers cannot control the troops, and morale has plummeted to rock bottom,"

Yamamoto Kazuo set the telescope down without speaking.

He recalled the telegram he had received three days earlier. It was from Chen Feng, containing only a single line:

"The Sinai campaign is over. The British Army's four hundred thousand men have been annihilated, Allenbi surrendered. India is not in a hurry,"

He read it three times, then folded it and slipped it into his pocket. He understood that Chen Feng said there was no hurry, but in his heart…

Four hundred thousand men. The entire army annihilated.

Allenbi, that veteran who had fought four years on the European front, surrendered.

He relayed the news to the corps commanders. No one cheered, no one was excited. Everyone simply remained silent, then turned and went back to tell the soldiers.

Then, a miracle occurred.

The soldiers who had been terrified by land mines, leeches, and malaria in the jungle suddenly found strength. The units that could only advance one or two kilometers a day, paying with a life for every meter, suddenly began to volunteer for battle.

The British collapsed. India could not hold.

As long as we charge forward, we can win. Beating a downed dog is something everyone knows how to do on their own!

"Tu Feiyuan," Shanben Yifu finally spoke, "What does the side that trusts him say?"

Tu Feiyuan Xian Da replied: "Sir Xin himself is leading the team. Two divisions of the Myanmar Independence Army have already deployed on the left wing. They are familiar with the terrain and can launch an attack at any time."

Shanben Yifu nodded.

He looked at the dense, impenetrable jungle in the distance, at the faintly visible British Army fortifications, and at the silhouettes of people walking back and forth in the trenches.

He recalled Bendalu Mountain from the Malayan campaign. In that battle, the Sakura Nation lost 12,000 people and captured a hill defended by 8,000 British Army troops.

He remembered the jungle from the Burma campaign. In that battle, the Sakura Nation lost 53,000 people!

Now, Dhaka lies ahead.

Over 200,000 Sakura Nation soldiers, 50,000 British Army troops.

A 4-to-1 force advantage.

But jungle warfare is not a numbers game. The mines the Yingguo plant are scarier than any manpower.