What the Hell Was in That Truckload?

On the bouncing truck, Dai Xiansheng's face was yellower than the dirt road outside. His lips trembled, and he could barely get the words out.

"Xue Ming... my dear nephew... where, where are we going? This direction... this isn't the road to Tianjin Wei, where we'd make a run for it!"

"Run? Why would we run?"

Zhang Xueming sat with his eyes closed, leaning against the rattling truck bed, while his consciousness sank into a blue data screen.

The money from tearing up the railway, after the system converted it, came to a full two million silver dollars.

[M1898 Springfield Rifle production blueprints, with 20 finished sample rifles included, priced at 900,000 silver dollars.]

[Boot Country 76/40 anti-aircraft gun production line, with 2 finished sample guns and 200 shells included, priced at 800,000 silver dollars.]

Buy!

He had to buy them!

These Springfield rifles were more than a whole tier above the Old Barrel and Hanyang Made rifles the Feng Army used now. Their effective range and accuracy were on a completely different level.

As for that anti-aircraft gun...

Heh, who said anti-aircraft guns could only shoot down planes?

Lower the barrel, and it became an invincible cannon! It was tailor-made for blasting tanks and smashing Fortifications.

Zhang Xueming clicked purchase without the slightest hesitation.

[Ding! The host has made a large purchase for the first time. To encourage the host to keep up the good work, you have been specially rewarded with one M1 Steel Helmet production line!]

Holy crap!

An unexpected bonus, too?

Zhang Xueming's eyes snapped open. He nearly burst out laughing.

System, you really are my thoughtful little sweetheart!

The M1 Steel Helmet was hailed as a treasure that had "saved a million lives." With it, his soldiers' chances of surviving the battlefield would jump an entire tier.

"Nephew? Nephew, what are you laughing at? Don't scare your uncle!" Dai Xiansheng watched him close his eyes one moment and grin foolishly the next, and nearly jumped out of his skin. "The Japanese have already attacked! How can you still laugh?"

"Uncle, don't panic." Zhang Xueming patted the big crate beneath him, which held sample rifles and artillery parts. "I've prepared a little treasure for you. I guarantee those little Shorties won't be making it back."

Fengtian, Great Green House.

The atmosphere was so oppressive you could wring water from it.

Zhang Yuting sat in the seat of honor, his face dark as thunder. He rolled two walnuts in his hand, the sharp clacks revealing just how unsettled he was.

"Marshal, we've got the facts. More than thirty kilometers of track along the South Manchuria Railway have been torn up..." Zhao Zhong stood below him, his voice trembling. "The Japanese are already in an uproar. Their vanguard, an entire regiment, is barreling toward Anshan. From the looks of it... they're planning to come straight to the gates of Fengtian City!"

"Bastards!"

Zhang Yuting hurled the walnuts in his hand to the ground. They shattered into pieces.

Fifth Concubine flinched, and Zhang Xueliang beside her didn't dare so much as breathe.

"Where's that little rebel? Have you found him or not?" Zhang Yuting roared.

"Second... Second Young Master, he... he took Platoon Leader Dai with him and hauled a truckload of who-knows-what toward... toward the southwest..."

"The southwest?" Zhang Yuting froze. Wasn't that exactly where the Japanese were coming from?

What was he planning?

To surrender?

No, that couldn't be right! With that bastard's fearless nature, would he ever surrender?

Zhang Yuting's mind raced.

A disgrace!

He, Zhang Yuting, had spent half his life bestriding the lands east of the Pass. When had he ever been driven into such a corner by a greenhorn? And his own son, no less!

But now, he couldn't afford to worry about family shame. The Japanese bayonets were practically at his forehead!

"Pass down my order!" Zhang Yuting sprang to his feet, an aura of a ruthless warlord crashing over the room. "Set up a defensive line twenty-five li southwest of Fengtian! Get my artillery battalion, my guards regiment, every last man who can move—send them all up there!"

"Tell Wu Junsheng to go hold the front in person!"

"The Japanese want a fight? Fine! I'll give them one!"

"Even if my son is a bastard, he's not for some Japanese Shorties to teach a lesson!"

Feng Army front lines.

Wu Junsheng had an unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth, his brows knotted tight.

The soldiers were digging trenches and hauling sandbags in a fever of activity. The tension was palpable.

Just then, a truck rumbled up from the rear and screeched to a halt behind the position.

The door opened, and Zhang Xueming jumped down from the cab.

"Second Uncle Wu!"

Wu Junsheng turned around and froze. "Xue Ming? What the hell are you doing here? Fooling around! This is the front line. Get your ass back there!"

Wu Junsheng was Zhang Yuting's sworn brother. He had watched Zhang Xueming grow up, and had never thought much of the nephew, who did nothing but eat, drink, and have fun.

"Second Uncle, saving a life is like fighting a fire. No time for talk." Zhang Xueming pointed toward the truck bed. "Hurry and get some men to haul the stuff in the truck over to the artillery position!"

"In the truck? What the hell have you hauled in there?" Wu Junsheng went over suspiciously and pulled back the canvas covering.

The next second, he froze solid.

In the truck bed sat several strangely shaped cannons, with long barrels that gleamed with fresh metal. Crates of brand-new rifles were piled beside them.

He had never seen rifles like those before, but their sleek lines and fine workmanship all gave off a murderous aura.

"Th-this is..." Wu Junsheng's eyes widened like copper bells.

"Don't ask. I couldn't explain it if I tried." Zhang Xueming jumped onto the truck and directed Dai Xiansheng and several soldiers, who were still gaping in shock. "Quick, get this gun set up!"