Wouldn't it have been better if it was like this earlier?

Yamada Ichiro's mind went blank.

He stared intently at Zhang Xueming—that young face, brimming with madness, sent a chill through his entire body.

This man wasn't an officer; he was a complete lunatic! A gambler who played by no rules!

He dared, in broad daylight, at Harbin City's highest-level banquet, to draw a blade on an Imperial officer!

Even more terrifying, Yamada Ichiro saw not a trace of hesitation or retreat in Zhang Xueming's eyes.

It was a pure, primal killing intent.

He would really kill Matsui!

Yamada Ichiro had no doubt about that.

He glanced around—those Feng Army officers who had been chatting and laughing moments ago now wore hostile expressions, their hands drifting toward their holsters.

This wasn't a banquet; this was a goddamn Hongmen Banquet!

If this wasn't handled well, the two of them might not even walk out that door.

Yamada Ichiro took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He knew Zhang Xueming's trump card.

That damned artillery position coordinate map was just a lead-in. What truly emboldened Zhang Xueming was what was happening up north.

Just this afternoon, he'd received an urgent intelligence report.

A regiment of the White Bear Road Protection Army on the Chinese Eastern Railway had suddenly appeared in the disputed zone north of Qingshan Field.

Those desperate White Bears would do anything.

Zhang Xueming had dug this pit long ago, just waiting for them to jump in!

First, he used the artillery threat to force them to the negotiating table. Then, he lured in the White Bears, cutting off any chance of reinforcements from headquarters.

One link after another, calculated to perfection!

Yamada Ichiro's back was instantly drenched in cold sweat.

He had lost.

From the moment Zhang Xueming pulled out that coordinate map, he had already lost completely.

"Colonel Zhang..." Yamada Ichiro's voice was bone-dry. "Your conditions are far too harsh."

He tried to make one last stand.

"The first one, I can agree to. The garrison can temporarily withdraw from Qingshan Field, pending high-level negotiations."

"But the second one, regarding judicial rights over overseas Chinese—this is a grave matter. I have no authority to decide; it must be reported back to the homeland..."

"The third one..." He glanced at Matsui Shigeki, curled up on the table, neck still bleeding, and his face twitched. "Matsui's words were inappropriate. I can have him apologize, but..."

"No buts."

Zhang Xueming cut him off coldly.

The blade pressed down another fraction, and Matsui Shigeki let out a stifled cry of pain.

"Yamada, I'm not negotiating with you."

Zhang Xueming's tone was flat, yet carried an undeniable pressure.

"I'm informing you."

"I'll give you ten seconds to decide. Either accept all my conditions, or I'll send him off first, then settle the full score with you."

"Ten."

"Nine."

The icy countdown—each number struck like a hammer against Yamada Ichiro's heart.

The air around them seemed to be sucked dry.

"Eight."

Yamada Ichiro's forehead veins bulged, his fists clenched tight.

Reason told him he should stand firm; the Empire's honor must not be tarnished.

But looking into Zhang Xueming's emotionless eyes, the courage in his body was being drained away bit by bit.

"Three!"

"I accept!"

In the instant before the countdown ended, Yamada Ichiro nearly roared out those two words.

His entire body went limp, as if all his vitality had been sapped away.

A playful curve tugged at the corner of Zhang Xueming's mouth.

He slowly lifted his eyes to look at Yamada Ichiro, his gaze filled with undisguised contempt.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to do this from the start?"

He sheathed his saber but did not let Matsui Shigeki rise.

"Old Chu!" Zhang Xueming called out to someone nearby.

Guard Brigade officer Chu Shixin immediately strode over, snapped to attention, and saluted.

"Brigade Commander!"

"You, take our men and follow this Yamada-san personally to Qingshan Field." Zhang Xueming pointed the tip of his saber at Yamada Ichiro. "I don't care what method you use. I want every last Japanese soldier at Qingshan Field gone before dawn."

"Remember, every last one."

"Yes sir!" Chu Shixin acknowledged with a clang, then led a squad of fully armed guards to stand "amiably" beside Yamada Ichiro.

Yamada Ichiro's face turned ashen. He knew Zhang Xueming was sending men to oversee the operation.

"As for you..." Zhang Xueming's gaze fell back on Matsui Shigeki. He used the flat of his blade to tap the man's face, twisted with pain and humiliation.

"Get up."

Matsui Shigeki trembled, and with the help of his servants, barely managed to rise from the mess on the floor. The searing pain in his abdomen kept him from straightening his back.

"Stand straight!" Zhang Xueming barked.

Matsui Shigeki jolted, forcing himself upright despite the agony.

"Bow and apologize to every one of our compatriots here." Zhang Xueming's voice was not loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire Banquet Hall.

Matsui Shigeki's face flushed a deep purple. This was an insult worse than death.

He glared at Zhang Xueming with venom, his teeth grinding audibly.

"Hm?" Zhang Xueming toyed with the saber in his hand, his eyes turning cold again.

Yamada Ichiro's heart tightened. He immediately hissed at Matsui Shigeki in Japanese: "Baka! Do you want to die?! Do as he says! Now!"