Republic of China: German-equipped divisions massacred as warlords guarded the nation's borders

December 24, 1925, late at night.

The study in the Chen Mansion in Shanghai.

Chen Zijun leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the desktop, calmly watching the system screen display.

[Host: Chen Zijun]

[Unlimited spending system in operation... Current fund acquisition speed: 1.5 pounds/second]

Current available funds: £3,645,800

[Status of core assets: Jiangnan Heavy Industry's Lishui base is currently conducting precision R&D on 150mm heavy artillery; the second batch of special steel smelting in Ma'anshan is progressing smoothly; the Jiangnan Shipyard's 10,000-ton dry dock is under expansion]

[Special Note: The fake military spending scheme has been deployed, and the target has taken the bait.]

Chen Zijun glanced at it, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The fish has taken the bait.

Mo Lanzhi strode into the study, a thin piece of paper clutched in her hand, and spoke three times faster than usual.

"Young Marshal, it bit him!"

"explain."

"This afternoon, that clerk contacted a middleman in a teahouse and handed over the fake route we had leaked out verbatim. An hour ago, the middleman sent a coded telegram from a secret radio station in the French Concession, directed towards Guangzhou."

Chen Zijun stood up, walked to the huge military map of Jiangsu and Zhejiang on the wall, and his gaze fell on the Shanghai-Hangzhou highway.

"They will take action."

"I agree with your assessment." Mo Lanzhi nodded. "The fake route indicates that at midnight tomorrow, two armored armored trucks will depart from the Shanghai Garrison Command, travel along the Shanghai-Hangzhou Highway, and then detour through Jiaxing to deliver the goods to the Jiangnan Shipyard. Only one platoon of escort troops is listed."

"Two million pounds sterling in a single bet," Chen Zijun sneered. "Anyone would think this is a golden opportunity."

"Then shall I proceed according to the plan?"

"Make the arrangements." Chen Zijun turned around, his eyes icy. "Move the entire special operations battalion out, fully equipped with heavy weaponry. I want them to have no chance to regret it the moment they open the car door."

A murderous glint flashed in Mo Lanzhi's eyes: "Young Marshal, shall we spare them?"

"Keep him." Chen Zijun held up one finger. "One is enough. The rest, execute them on the spot."

"yes!"

Mo Lanzhi turned and left, her footsteps crisp and clean.

Chen Zijun sat down again, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and muttered to himself.

"Principal Chang, I've accepted the person you sent. But this return gift... might give you indigestion."

……

The next day, late at night, at midnight.

Shanghai-Hangzhou Expressway, Songjiang section.

Two armored cash transport vehicles painted with military insignia drove slowly through the night, escorted by a military truck in front and behind. The convoy's lights were dim, deliberately keeping a low profile, as if it did not want to attract attention.

Just as the convoy passed through an abandoned cotton warehouse area, two overturned flatbed carts suddenly appeared across the road ahead, blocking their path.

"Stop the car! There's an obstacle ahead!"

The driver of the lead car slammed on the brakes, forcing the entire convoy to a stop.

Just then, dark figures emerged like ghosts from the woods and ditches on both sides of the road.

A dozen or so assassins dressed in black rushed out of the shadows, their pistols and grenades gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Leading them was a burly man with a face covered in scars; at his command, two grenades were hurled directly at the lead vehicle.

"Boom! Boom!"

The lead vehicle was overturned on the spot, and flames shot into the sky.

The suicide squad members roared and charged toward the armored truck in the middle.

The burly man with the scar blew out the lock on the armored truck with a single shot, grinning maliciously as he roared, "Brothers! Two million pounds in cash! I've never seen so much money in my life!"

Several assassins excitedly surrounded the carriage and together pulled open the heavy carriage door.

The door opened.

There were no silver dollars inside.

There are no banknotes.

Not a single penny.

Some had the dark muzzles of two MG34 heavy machine guns, and twelve fully armed elite special operations battalions.

The scarred, burly man's pupils suddenly dilated.

The last thing he saw in his life was the flames spitting from the muzzle of a gun.

"Da da da da da da!"

Two heavy machine guns roared simultaneously!

The crossfire created an impenetrable barrage within a ten-meter range!

In the first second, the three assassins at the forefront were riddled with bullets, their bodies flying backward like puppets with broken strings.

In the third second, seven or eight bullets pierced the chest of the scarred man simultaneously, pinning him to the ground by the barrage of bullets. He twitched twice and then remained motionless.

In the fifth second, the assassins lying in ambush in the woods on both sides of the road tried to retreat, only to find two armored trucks appearing on their way out, their searchlights illuminating the entire battlefield as bright as day.

"Bang bang bang bang!"

The heavy machine guns on the armored vehicles also opened fire.

Caught between two forces, there was nowhere to escape!

The entire massacre, from the first shot to the last person falling, lasted no more than ten seconds.

ten seconds.

Seventeen corpses.

Before the smoke of battle had even cleared, Moranzhi jumped off the command vehicle at the rear, her black trench coat fluttering in the night wind.

She glanced at the corpses scattered on the ground, her face expressionless.

"inventory!"

The deputy battalion commander of the special operations battalion jogged over: "Reporting, Chief! Seventeen dead, one captured alive! The one who escaped first was the one who was alive. You can tell he's smart. Smart people are usually afraid of death. His leg was broken, and he's screaming under the car!"

"Drag him out."

Two special operations battalion soldiers dragged a young man, his face covered in blood, from under the overturned cart, one on each side. His left shin was broken, the bone exposed, and he was trembling with pain, groaning incessantly.

Mo Lanzhi squatted down, picked up his collar, and spoke in a soft voice as if she were coaxing a child.

"Don't be afraid, I'll just ask you a few questions. If you answer honestly, I'll have the army doctor set your bones. If you don't..."

She tilted her head and gestured towards the seventeen corpses on the ground.

"You can go ask them what happens to those who are dishonest."

The survivor trembled violently, his eyes darting around.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything!"

"Who sent you?"

"It's...it's a man surnamed Zhou, Mr. Zhou! He's in Shanghai, he's in the fabric business! He's the only person we know!"

Mo Lanzhi narrowed her eyes: "Mr. Zhou? Which Mr. Zhou?"

"I don't know his full name! I really don't know! But... but he told our boss that he has someone in Chen's army, a very powerful person!"

How big?

The survivor swallowed hard, his voice trembling, "The boss said... that person can see directly where the military funds are going... can see the young marshal's schedule..."

Moran's fingers tightened slightly.

Can we see where military spending is going and even the young marshal's schedule?

This is not something a lowly finance clerk could accomplish.

"Where's your head?"

"Dead...dead. The one with the scar on his face..."

Moranzhi stood up, glanced back at the scarred man's corpse, and then ordered, "Search them! Search all the corpses! Collect every piece of paper and every coin!"

The special operations battalion immediately took action.

Five minutes later, the deputy battalion commander jogged back carrying an oil paper package, his hands trembling.

"Chief...Chief! We found this on Scarface!"

Moranzhi took the oil paper package, opened it, and found a neatly folded letter inside.

The letter contained only one line of text, written with a brush.

Her expression changed instantly after she read that line of text.

It wasn't shocking.

It was horrifying.

"Get the car ready!"

Mo Lanzhi carefully folded the letter and tucked it into her bosom, her voice carrying an urgency for the first time.

"I must go see the young master immediately!"

……

Three o'clock in the morning.

The study in the Chen Mansion.

Mo Lanzhi strode in and placed the letter in front of Chen Zijun.

Chen Zijun, who had just been woken up, rubbed his eyes without the slightest displeasure, because Mo Lanzhi was someone he absolutely trusted. Moreover, given Mo Lanzhi's rank, she wouldn't wake him up in the middle of the night unless it was something extremely important. He picked it up and glanced at it.

Just one glance.

His expression remained unchanged.

But Moranzhi noticed that the knuckles of the hand holding the letter were slightly white.

"Is it confirmed?"

"Further investigation is needed, but judging from the testimonies of the survivors and the contents of this letter, the clues are very clear." Moranzhi lowered her voice, "Young Marshal, this person's position... is much higher than we expected."

Chen Zijun slowly put the letter down.

The study was so quiet that you could hear the chirping of crickets outside the window.

He raised his head, his eyes icy cold.

That coldness wasn't anger.

It is the coldness of a hunter after locking onto his prey.

"High?" His voice was very soft, almost as if he were talking to himself. "Yes. The higher the better."

"It hurts most when you fall."

Mo Lanzhi felt a chill run down her spine and lowered her head.

"I await your orders, young master."

Chen Zijun stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the faint white light appearing on the eastern horizon.

"You have forty-eight hours."

"Forty-eight hours from now, I want all the details about this person, including which villages his ancestors farmed in for three generations."

"Then……"

He turned around, the smile on his lips colder than the chilly wind of the early morning.

"I'll do it myself."