That Was Just Drunken Rambling!

The lively atmosphere in the air seemed to cool by several degrees because of his words.

Zhang Xueming didn't avoid his gaze, nodding calmly.

"Uncle Wu, I need a fierce general who truly understands horses and dares to charge and fight, to help me lead a new unit."

Wu Junsheng snorted, picked up his glass, and downed it in one gulp.

He neither agreed nor disagreed, just waved at an adjutant not far away.

"Go, call Ma Xiufeng, stationed in Hailun, over here!"

The adjutant accepted the order and left.

Only then did Wu Junsheng turn his gaze back to Zhang Xueming, his eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny and amusement.

"This kid Ma Xiufeng is the wildest horse under my command, a real thorn. If you can't tame him, don't say I didn't warn you."

Zhang Xueming smiled but didn't reply.

He knew Wu Junsheng was testing him, probing him.

Soon, a burly, dark-skinned officer followed the adjutant, striding over quickly.

His gait was peculiar—legs slightly apart, steps steady and powerful, a clear sign of a man who spent years with horses.

He still carried a lingering smell of gunpowder and dust, clashing with the banquet hall filled with perfume and cigar smoke.

It was Ma Xiufeng.

"Governor-General, you called for me?"

Ma Xiufeng saluted, his voice loud and rough, with the coarseness of a northern man.

His eyes swept over Zhang Xueming, carrying a barely noticeable scrutiny.

Clearly, he too had heard about this Young Marshal who had wreaked havoc on the bandit-suppression battlefield.

Wu Junsheng pointed at Zhang Xueming and spoke in an unquestioning tone.

"Ma Xiufeng, from today onward, you and your regiment are transferred to Fengtian, attached to the Independent Guard Brigade, under Brigadier General Zhang's command."

"This is an order!"

The expression on Ma Xiufeng's face froze instantly.

He jerked his head to look at Wu Junsheng, then at the calm Zhang Xueming beside him, his eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of offended anger.

"Governor-General!"

His voice shot up an octave.

"I'm a man who leads troops into battle, not some bodyguard for a young master!"

"This Independent Guard Brigade is just the Young Marshal's personal guard, isn't it? I won't go! If you want, shoot me!"

At these words, the air around them nearly froze.

Wu Junsheng's face darkened on the spot, and his large, fan-like hand rose, ready to slap Ma Xiufeng across the face.

"You scoundrel! Have you lost your mind!"

"Governor-General Wu!"

Zhang Xueming was quick, grabbing Wu Junsheng's wrist.

His face still held a calm smile, as if he hadn't heard Ma Xiufeng's offensive words at all.

"Uncle Wu, don't get angry. Why raise a hand against your own brother?"

He turned to look at Ma Xiufeng, who stood stubbornly with his neck craned, ready to take the hit.

"Regiment Commander Ma, let me ask you something."

"Last time you faced off against the White Bear Army at the border, did you see their Austin armored cars?"

Ma Xiufeng was startled, wondering why he suddenly brought that up.

He nodded instinctively.

"Yeah, I saw them. Those Iron Turtles have hard shells, move fast, and their machine guns are pretty scary when they rattle."

Zhang Xueming continued.

"I heard that after you came back, you kept muttering about it for days while drinking with people, saying that if our Feng Army had those things, you'd have beaten those White Bears into the ground long ago."

Ma Xiufeng's face flushed red instantly, turning from dark to purple.

He had only bragged about that to his closest brothers under his command—how did this Young Marshal get wind of it?

He rubbed his hands awkwardly, stubbornly retorting.

"I... I was just drunk!"

"Drunk?"

Zhang Xueming's smile deepened.

"Well, now I'm giving you a chance to stop talking drunk and start talking truth."

"I didn't transfer you here to be some kind of guard—I brought you to help me build our Feng Army's very own Armored Corps!"

"I brought you here to play with real Iron Turtles, ones a hundred times better than White Bear's!"

Armored Corps!

Those four words made Ma Xiufeng's pupils contract instantly.

His heart, which had been filled with resistance over the transfer, began to pound violently.

"You... you're serious?"

Ma Xiufeng's voice trembled slightly.

"You really want to mess with that thing?"

"Of course I'm serious." Zhang Xueming's tone brimmed with unshakable confidence. "And what I'm building isn't some little toy like White Bear's that can only scare people."

In his mind, he was tallying up his private stash.

This bandit-suppression campaign had dug up quite a haul from the chieftains' treasure caves—gold bars, Silver Dollars, antiques, and calligraphy. Converted into Silver Dollars, it was enough to fund a big move.

In the system, that shabby Prussian tank production line had been tempting him for a long time.

After World War I ended, they were dirt poor and desperate to cash in on those outdated military technologies in the system. Even if they were obsolete, in this era—especially on this Eastern land—they were a Dimensional Strike.

Spend small, achieve big—this move was absolutely not a loss.

"What I'm getting for you is the Germans' latest tech, a true Land Battleship." Zhang Xueming looked at Ma Xiufeng and threw out the final bait. "When the time comes, you'll be the first regiment commander in our Kwantung Army to drive a tank. So, Commander Ma, this job—are you taking it or not?"