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

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当前军力：独立装甲旅（30辆二号坦克）、重炮团×2（48门105/150mm榴弹炮）、步兵师×3、MG42×200挺

Latest results: A complete victory in the annihilation battle on the Taihu Plain, with over 30000 enemy casualties and over 70000 prisoners.

System notification: [Host has completed the core achievement "Volume One: Reigning Supreme in Shanghai". New module unlocking in progress...]

The Taihu Plain, a battlefield.

The bleak and slightly chilly autumn rain finally stopped.

The autumn sun peeked through the cracks in the clouds, shining on the land riddled with craters and scorched earth.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder, blood, and dirt.

Zang Keping stood on the turret of the No. 2 tank, holding a battle results statistics sheet that had just been tallied.

He watched it three times.

Each time I look at it, the corners of my mouth turn up a little more.

"Young Marshal." He picked up the wireless telephone receiver. "The final results are in."

On the other end of the radio, Chen Zijun's voice remained as calm as a lake.

"read."

"More than 31,000 enemy soldiers were killed. 72,000 were captured. 67,000 Japanese Type 38 rifles, 42 mountain guns, 78 mortars, and more than 200 truckloads of various types of ammunition were seized."

Zang Keping paused for a moment.

"Our casualties... 117. Among them, 74 were killed in action, all of them were infantrymen guiding the tanks, who were trampled to death when they were scattered by their own fleeing soldiers."

There was a three-second silence on the radio.

"One hundred thousand against six thousand." Chen Zijun's tone remained completely unchanged. "This feat is textbook material."

Zang Keping grinned. "Young Marshal, that brat Zhang Jialiang has escaped. Should we give chase?"

"Don't chase."

"what?"

"It's good that they ran away, why chase them? If we catch them, that old bandit Zhang Xinmin will go crazy. The Fengtian clique is now the central government..."

Chen Zijun's voice carried a hint of laziness. "As for those 70,000 prisoners, give them a thorough screening."

"How do we screen?"

"Those under twenty and over thirty-five years old should all be dismissed and given three silver dollars for travel expenses before they are sent away. The remaining young and middle-aged men should be divided into two groups: those who can read should be organized into one group, and those who have carried guns and fought in battles should be organized into another group."

Zang Keping's heart skipped a beat. "Young Marshal, what are you going to do..."

"I can't afford to feed 70,000 people, nor do I have the time. But if we can find 20,000 usable soldiers among them, equip them with our own gear, and integrate them with the three newly formed divisions of the Wehrmacht, that would be three fully-equipped German-trained divisions. And the kind of troops that can be deployed and fight!"

Chen Zijun's voice suddenly turned cold.

"That neighbor to the east won't give me much time."

Zang Keping subconsciously turned his head to look at the east.

The Huangpu River.

That direction is the sea.

At the same time, in Shanghai, in the International Settlement, at No. 18 on the Bund.

The atmosphere in the gentlemen's club had turned from revelry into a funeral.

Just three hours earlier, they were still toasting to "divide Chen Zijun's estate".

Now, representatives from thirteen foreign firms and banks sat side by side on either side of the long table, their faces turning green.

A telegram was spread out on the table.

Battle report from the Taihu Lake front.

"The Fengtian Army... completely wiped out." The voice of the Citibank Shanghai manager sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat. "One hundred thousand men. Three hours. All gone."

No one spoke.

Three cases of celebratory champagne were still sitting in the corner, with ice water dripping from the bottles and spilling all over the floor.

Baldon sat on the leather sofa.

His face was expressionless.

He held the glass of Scotch whisky, but didn't drink a drop. The ice in the glass had already melted into water.

He was thinking about someone.

A blood-red cheongsam.

In a word.

"My young master never loses."

The door opened.

Everyone turned their heads at the same time.

Mo Huixin walked in.

She was still wearing that blood-red cheongsam. She was still wearing those black high heels. She was still wearing those jade earrings.

But she brought something with her today.

Four young men in black Zhongshan suits followed behind her. Each of them was carrying a black leather suitcase.

The suitcase was heavy. So heavy that the veins on the four young men's arms bulged.

Mo Huixin walked to the very center of the long table and stood still.

She glanced at everyone present.

"Gentlemen," her voice wasn't loud, but the entire hall fell silent. "Within three days, Chen Zijun will defeat the Fengtian Army. Option C. 1 to 10 odds."

She held up a finger and tapped the telegram on the table.

"The betting agreement is in black and white; I have all the signatures, stamps, and fingerprints you provided."

No one speaks.

The Citibank manager's hands were shaking.

The general manager of Jardine Matheson & Co. was deathly pale.

The Standard Chartered Bank representative was already sweating bullets.

Four million multiplied by ten.

Forty million pounds.

This money is enough to buy out the entire International Settlement. Enough to empty the entire fortune of everyone here three times over.

"Ms. Mo..." the representative from the Bank of France spoke first, his voice trembling. "Could we discuss this? Installment payments..."

"cannot."

Mo Huixin's answer was crisp and concise.

"How about... a discount?"

"I won't fight."

"But forty million pounds... that's no small sum! Where are we going to get that kind of money in such a short time..."

"If you can't come up with cash, you can use land deeds as collateral," Mo Huixin interrupted him. "I'll take any prime location from the Bund to Jing'an. I'll even take warehouses and wharves in the concessions. If all else fails, your trading company's shares will do."

"If that doesn't work, we'll use supplies, machinery, and technology!"

She smiled slightly.

"Don't worry, everyone, I'm not here to collect debts. I'm here to help you solve your problems."

Solve the problem?

A chill ran down the spine of everyone present.

They suddenly understood.

This woman was never there to gamble in the first place.

She's here to reap the rewards.

From the moment Mo Huixin stepped through that door, from the moment she slammed four million pounds on the table, she knew she would win.

Forty million pounds is not the goal.

The goal was to use the 40 million pounds to exchange the core assets of the entire International Settlement for the military scrip of Chen's army.

Baldon slowly put down his glass.

He stood up.

His knees were a little weak, but he still managed to stand up.

"Miss Mo," Bardon's voice was a little hoarse. "The British Consulate General in Shanghai acknowledges the payment. Whatever the amount, that's it."

He glanced at the foreign firm representatives who were still trying to make a comeback.

"Reputation has a price. Anyone who defaults on their debts can forget about ever working in the Far East again."

Thirteen hands, trembling, signed the liquidation documents.

Mo Huixin put away the last document and placed it in her handbag.

Forty million pounds.

In addition to existing funds and the exorbitant profits from sulfonamides.

From this day forward, the Chen family army's treasury will hold an astronomical sum enough to arm thirty German-equipped divisions.

Mo Huixin turned and walked towards the door.

She paused when she reached the door.

"Oh, right." She didn't turn around. "The young marshal asked me to pass on a message."

Everyone was watching her retreating figure.

He said, "Thank you all for your generosity."

The door closed.

In the lobby, a French banker slumped down in a chair with a thud.

"It's over," he muttered to himself. "We're all finished."

Barton walked to the window and looked down at the ships coming and going on the Huangpu River.

His hand rested on the cold window frame, his knuckles turning white.

He suddenly laughed.

His smile was bitter.

"This era," he said softly, "is no longer ours."

Evening. Wusongkou. Coastal defense fortifications.

Chen Zijun stood on the newly built breakwater.

The autumn wind blew in from the East China Sea, carrying the salty smell of the sea, making his general's uniform flutter in the wind.

Beneath our feet lie four concrete fortresses, like monsters crouching on the mudflats. The dark muzzles of the 280mm Krupp coastal defense guns point out to the sea, silently threatening any enemy who dares to approach this area.

Behind him stretched the entire Yangtze River Delta region, encompassing Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Shanghai, and Anhui.

It is his empire.

Mo Huixin stood three steps behind him, holding a thick stack of documents in her hands.

"Young Master," her voice was soft and gentle, "forty million has arrived. Adding to the laundered pounds and the sulfonamide project, our total disposable funds have exceeded..."

She turned a page.

"Fifty million eight hundred thousand pounds."

Chen Zijun did not turn around.

His eyes reflected the distant, hazy horizon. Waves upon waves stretched towards the far shores of the Pacific Ocean.

That direction.

It's Japan.

Suddenly, a line of golden text that only he could see appeared before his eyes.

[Unlimited Pay-to-Win System Notification]

The host has been detected to have completed all core achievement nodes for "Volume 1: Reigning Supreme in Shanghai".

Reward unlocked: [Large Sea and Air Area Template]

New redeemable items: shipborne torpedoes, seaplanes, basic submarine models...

Current available funds: £50,800,000

Chen Zijun narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at the line of gold characters.

Ships. Aircraft. Submarines.

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

"Huixin" (慧心).

"exist."

"Do you think forty million is enough to build a navy?"

Mo Huixin paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Young Master, are you planning to spend money again?"

"It's not about spending money." Chen Zijun turned around and looked at her. The autumn wind ruffled the stray hairs on his forehead. There was something in his eyes that Mo Huixin had never seen before.

It wasn't murderous intent, nor was it greed.

It is a very heavy and weighty thing.

"Seven years from now," he said, his voice very low. "There will be a battle right here on this sea."

"If we had lost that battle, the whole of China would have sunk."

Mo Huixin looked into his eyes, and her heart clenched suddenly.

She didn't know why the young master said seven years later.

But she knew he never said anything he wasn't sure of.

"Whatever Young Master wants to do, Huixin will do." She lowered her head, her voice gentle yet firm. "Even if it means spending every last penny of these fifty million."

Chen Zijun reached out and gently patted her head.

"Let's go. Let's go back."

He turned and walked toward the military vehicle parked beside the breakwater.

He took two steps and then stopped.

He turned his head and glanced at the sea to the east.

The setting sun cast a blood-red glow on the sea. The waves rose and fell, stretching all the way to the horizon.

Very beautiful.

It's also very dangerous.

"Wait for me."

He said something in a low voice. It was unclear whether he was speaking to the sea or to some island nation on the other side.

Then he opened the car door and got in.

The military vehicle started up, kicking up a cloud of dust, and drove along the coastal highway towards Shanghai.

There was no one on the breakwater.

Only four massive 280mm cannons remained, their dark muzzles pointing eastward.

Silence. Coldness. Waiting.

Just like their owners.

Three thousand kilometers away, in Tokyo, at the General Staff Headquarters.

In a brightly lit, secret room.

Three generals in woolen military uniforms sat around a huge map. The map was marked with red and blue arrows.

All the red arrows point in the same direction.

Shanghai.

Two battle reports were placed on the corner of the table.

First report: The armored cruiser Izumo and its escort fleet sank completely off the coast of Wusongkou, with no survivors.

The second account states that the Fengtian clique's 100,000-strong army suffered a devastating blow on the Taihu Plain, with its entire organization wiped out. Zhang Jialiang escaped north with only a hundred or so remaining soldiers.

An old man wearing the rank of a general emerged from the depths of the secret room.

He was holding a piece of silk paper in his hand.

A bright red seal was stamped on the silk paper.

Chrysanthemum pattern.

Imperial Seal

The old man placed the silk paper on the map.

The three officers stood up and bowed at a ninety-degree angle.

"Gentlemen," the old man's voice was aged and cold, "the Imperial Council has concluded."

He pointed to the words "Shanghai" on the map with his withered fingers.

"The Shanghai Expeditionary Army was formed. It was equipped with two standing divisions, the 6th and 11th Divisions, plus the 1st Air Fleet."

He raised his head.

"Starting today, head south."

The room was silent for three seconds.

Then the three officers roared in unison.

"Hi!"

The red arrows on the map, like three sharp knives, point straight towards Shanghai.