You told me to stop at the right time?

After sending off the Germans, who were so excited they could barely string words together, Zhang Xueming stood in the empty shooting range. The evening breeze blew past, but it couldn't dispel the heat in his heart.

He'd won big.

This was the ultimate lesson in getting something for nothing—a textbook case.

One outdated Number One tank production line had traded for the rare metal ores the Fengtian Arsenal desperately needed, plus he'd freeloaded the Germans' most closely guarded armored tactics.

Where else could you find a deal like this?

Once the German instructors turned his soldiers into armored elites, once those rare metals flowed steadily into the Fengtian Arsenal...

By then, Number Two, Number Three, Panther, Tiger...

Cough, he was thinking too far ahead.

But as long as he was on the right path, anything was possible.

Just as Zhang Xueming was happily calculating his gains, a guard jogged over, snapped to attention, and saluted.

"Reporting to the Brigadier, the Marshal requests your presence."

"Understood."

Zhang Xueming nodded and straightened his military uniform.

What had to come would come.

If his father, Zhang Yuting, had no reaction after the big stir he'd caused today, that would be the real surprise.

Marshal Mansion, study.

Zhang Yuting stood with his hands behind his back before a massive military map, brows tightly furrowed.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around. The usual imposing authority on his face was now mixed with an irrepressible excitement.

He strode quickly to Zhang Xueming and gave his shoulder a firm slap with a hand as big as a winnowing fan.

"Good kid, you've got it!"

Zhang Yuting's voice brimmed with pride.

"That Iron Turtle you cooked up—I saw it through the binoculars. Hell of a thing. Runs faster than a horse, smashes through walls without blinking. If we get more of these, that damn Shou-Feng War, I'll flatten them all!"

Zhang Xueming grinned, letting his father keep patting him.

"Father, it's called a tank, not an Iron Turtle."

"Call it whatever, as long as it works!" Zhang Yuting waved a hand grandly, but his tone suddenly shifted, and the smile on his face faded a bit. "Still, kid, you made too big a splash this time."

"The Neon Overseas Chinese chamber of commerce over at Qingshan Field has already filed a complaint with me."

"Saying you forcibly occupied their land, made a mess, disrupted their business, and that our soldiers... had a very bad attitude."

By the end, Zhang Yuting's tone had turned serious. He stared into Zhang Xueming's eyes.

"Xueming, I know you're in a hurry to train troops and develop new equipment. But the Japanese have complicated ties. Now's not the time to burn bridges with them. In everything... know when to stop."

The smile faded from Zhang Xueming's face.

"Know when to stop?"

He repeated those two words, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Father, you're telling me to know when to stop?"

"Have you forgotten how Qingshan Field ended up in their hands? Back then, they traded a few crates of rotten canned goods with some clueless prince from the Qing dynasty for hundreds of acres of land!"

"Have you forgotten how, in recent years, they've opened factories on our soil, squeezed our workers, made a fortune, and never paid a single cent in taxes?"

"They smuggle weapons south and minerals north—every single thing they do is undermining the Feng Army!"

"Now I'm just running drills on our own land, and they dare come crying to you?"

Zhang Xueming stepped closer, his voice rising, his emotions boiling over.

"Everything they eat, drink, and earn—they've scraped it all off our Fengtian! Now that I'm making them spit back a little, they start howling?"

"Father! This isn't burning bridges—this is taking back what's ours!"

"If they don't like it, let them get the hell out!"

The barrage of questions left Zhang Yuting's face cycling through pale and red.

He opened his mouth but found he couldn't utter a single word in rebuttal.

The air in the study froze solid.

After a long silence, Zhang Yuting let out a deep breath, sank back into his chair, picked up his teacup, and took a sip—only to find the tea had gone cold.

He waved a hand, his tone weary.

"Alright, I've got a handle on this. Do what you need to do. If the sky falls, I'll hold it up for you."

Zhang Xueming's emotions settled as well. He knew he'd convinced his father.

Zhang Yuting set down the teacup and switched topics, a probing look in his eyes.

"You kid, tell me the truth. What's really going on between you and that Gu family girl?"

"A few days ago, the Gu family sent over the dowry—thirty-six full chests, piled up half the Marshal Mansion. If you dare wrong that girl, I'll break your legs."

Zhang Xueming sighed inwardly at this.

The Gu family was a great clan from the Qing dynasty. Though they had declined now, a centipede dies but never stiffens.

"Father, where has your mind wandered?"

Zhang Xueming explained, "The Gu family may have little military or financial power now, but their former students and old connections are spread across every province Inside the Passes. If our Feng Army wants to enter the Passes, we can't rely on guns and cannons alone—we need the people's hearts as well."

"The Gu family's network is the best channel for us to win over those hearts. Gu Ruiyu marrying me is the Gu family handing over their pledge of allegiance to our Feng Army, to you, the Marshal."

Hearing his son's analysis, Zhang Yuting froze for a moment, then burst into loud laughter.