Chapter 778: Cypress Conference 2 (Continues a Bit More)

He picked up a document from the table and read aloud:

"The Permanent Council consists of five founding member states—Lanfang, Meilika, Faguo, Deguo, Yingguo. The five permanent members each hold a veto. Any major international matter must be discussed and approved by the Permanent Council. Any permanent member may veto any resolution that is unfavorable to itself."

He finished reading, set the document down, and looked at the five people present.

"Gentlemen, this is my proposal. Now, please each of you speak."

The conference room was extremely quiet. The wall clock ticked tick‑tock, and occasional soldiers' footsteps sounded outside the window, then quickly faded.

None of the five said a word.

After a long while, Kelei Mengsuo was the first to speak.

"Mr. President, France's position is clear—we support the concept of an International League. But there is a condition."

Wilson looked at him. "Please, go on."

Kelei Mengsuo stared into his eyes. "Deguo must accept the status of a defeated nation. It must sign the peace treaty. It must acknowledge war responsibility."

Tirpitz's complexion changed. He sprang to his feet, and his voice thundered through the conference room like a bomb.

"Defeated nation? Prime Minister Kelei Mengsuo, Deguo has not been defeated! Deguo has only ceased fighting! It simply cannot continue!"

Kelei Mengsuo also rose, giving no ground. "Being unable to continue is defeat! You fought on French soil for four years, and now you want to withdraw—what else is it if not defeat?"

The two faced each other, neither yielding.

Wilson raised his hand, signaling calm. "Both of you, please sit down. We are here to discuss peace today, not to argue."

Kelei Mengsuo and Tirpitz locked eyes for three seconds, then slowly sat down.

Wilson looked at Asikuisi. "Prime Minister Asikuisi, what is Yingguo's view?"

Asikuisi stood up.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back. The humiliation of last night, Xingdengbao's slap in Frankfurt, surged in his mind at this moment. He knew Yingguo had lost, he knew Yingguo must bow its head. Yet he was unwilling. He truly could not accept it.

He spoke. His voice was louder than usual, his tone harder.

"Yingguo supports the International League concept. But Yingguo has one condition—"

He paused, scanned the room, and finally his gaze fell on Tirpitz.

"Deguo must compensate Britain and France for war losses. One billion pounds, not a penny less. Moreover, Weilian must abdicate and leave Deguo!"

The conference room fell silent for a second.

Then someone laughed.

It wasn't a roar, but a light, throat‑born sneer. Everyone turned toward the voice—it was Chen Feng.

Chen Feng stood up and walked to Asikuisi's side.

His stride was neither fast nor slow, each step firm. He reached Asikuisi, stopped, and stared into those slightly panicked eyes.

"Prime Minister Asikuisi," his voice was soft, yet each word was as clear as carved in stone, "what did you just say? One billion pounds?"

Asikuisi's complexion changed. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Chen Feng continued, "You demand Deguo pay one billion pounds. Very well. Then may I ask, who should compensate Lanfang for its losses in Asia?"

He turned around, facing everyone.

"India—Yingguo ruled it for a hundred years. How much wealth did they take from India? Tens of billions? Hundreds of billions? Now India is independent; should Yingguo return that wealth to India?"

Asikuisi's face flushed bright red.

Chen Feng continued, "Burma—Yingguo ruled for fifty years. Malaya—Yingguo ruled for a hundred years. Australia—Yingguo seized indigenous lands, killed indigenous people; now these territories belong to Lanfang. How should this account be settled?"

The conference room was dead silent.

Chen Feng walked back to his seat but did not sit. He simply stood there, hands on the table edge, looking at Asikuisi.

"Prime Minister Asikuisi, you want to settle accounts. Fine, we will. You said Deguo should pay Yingguo one billion. Then how much should Yingguo compensate India? Compensate Burma? Compensate Malaya? Compensate Australia?"

Asikuisi stood there, his complexion as pale as paper. His hands trembled, gripping the table edge, his knuckles white.

Chen Feng's voice suddenly rose.

"Moreover, you just said Deguo must compensate Britain and France for losses. So, are Britain's losses in Asia also counted on Deguo's shoulders? India's loss—caused by Deguo? Australia's loss—caused by Deguo? No. It's you who lost the war against Lanfang!"

He stared directly into Asikuisi's eyes.

"Prime Minister Asikuisi, I'll ask you again—if Weilian abdicates, should Qiaozhi Wu Shi also abdicate?"

The sentence was like a knife, driving hard into Asikuisi's heart.

He staggered, nearly falling. His Chief of Staff Ge Lei hurriedly steadied him. Asikuisi pushed him away, stood there, his whole body trembling.

He looked at Wilson. Wilson's face was expressionless.

He looked at Kelei Mengsuo. Kelei Mengsuo averted his gaze.

He looked at Tirpitz. Tirpitz wore a cold sneer.

He looked at Chen Feng. Chen Feng's gaze was terrifyingly calm, like a bottomless pool.

Asikuisi opened his mouth, trying to speak, but nothing came out. He slowly sat down, head down, staring at the table. His shoulders trembled slightly.

Wilson finally spoke. His voice was soft, yet everyone heard it clearly.

"Prime Minister Asikuisi, do you have anything else to say?"

Asikuisi shook his head.

Wilson nodded. "Very well."

He stood up and scanned the room.

"Gentlemen, today's discussion was thorough. All parties have expressed their positions. Now, I propose an adjournment. We will continue tomorrow morning."

He paused.

"I hope everyone, after returning, will think carefully about what truly matters."

That evening, at Chen Feng's villa.

Tirpitz came again alone. This time, his face bore a smile.

"President, the slap today was harsher than the one I dealt in Frankfurt."

Chen Feng smiled. "It's not about being harsh; it's to make them see reality."

The two sat on the sofa. Wang Wenwu brought tea, then slipped away quietly.

Tirpitz lifted his teacup, took a sip, and set it down.

"President, Deguo thanks you for your righteous words today."

Chen Feng shook his head. "It's not about righteous words; it's a matter of interest."

He stared directly into Tirpitz's eyes.

"Marshal Tirpitz, do you know why I said that today?"

Tirpitz thought for a moment. "To keep the British in check?"

Chen Feng nodded. "Yes. To keep the British in check. But that's not all."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"The British are still resentful. They think, as the victors, they should take more and occupy more. I will make them know— a defeated nation has its own dignity, and a victorious nation also has its limits."

He turned and looked at Tirpitz.

"Moreover, I want everyone to know— Lanfang is not here to play a supporting role. Lanfang is here to be the player."

He paused.

"Marshal Tirpitz, do you know what the most crucial step tomorrow will be?"

Tirpitz shook his head.

Chen Feng looked at him, his gaze calm.

"It's the British attitude. I suppressed them today, but they'll jump again tomorrow. Wilson will do the work to make them accept reality. The key is— after they accept reality, Deguo must give them a way down."

Tirpitz was startled. "A way down?"

Chen Feng nodded. "Yes. A way down. The British can't return empty‑handed. They need something to report back home."

He lifted his teacup and took a sip.

"My suggestion is— Deguo announce that it is willing to release all British POWs. In exchange, Britain will drop its reparations demands."

Tirpitz's eyes lit up. "That's a good idea."

Chen Feng set down his teacup. "Moreover, it must be announced publicly. Let the whole world know that Deguo's voluntary release of POWs is out of humanitarianism, not because it is forced."

Tirpitz stood up and bowed deeply. "President, Deguo will not forget."

Chen Feng helped him up. "It's not friendship. It's interest. Interest lasts longer than friendship."