I Want to Report My Safety to My Family

The rise of the Feng Army made Japan, which had viewed it as a mere pawn, deeply uneasy.

They had once supported Zhang Yuting, intending to swallow up the entire Guandong region without shedding blood. They never expected Zhang Yuting to be so stubborn; he took their benefits but did nothing, instead using the opportunity to push the Feng Army's strength to its peak.

This made the Japanese high command, especially the radical faction of the army, feel a sense of being toyed with, coupled with anxiety and anger.

On New Year's Day, the weather in Guandong Province was extremely gloomy.

General Matsui Shigeki, a fervent militarist, specifically organized a "New Year Artillery Exercise."

He not only brought out the Western-style mountain artillery that the Japanese Army was proud of but also "cordially" invited Zhang Xueliang to observe.

This was hardly an observation; it was a blatant show of military force.

Zhang Xueliang understood perfectly. His father, Zhang Yuting, played the good cop, so he, as the son, had to play the bad cop to the end.

He wore a sharp suit, a cigar in his mouth, and with a few attendants, swaggered onto the exercise grounds.

His dissolute demeanor only added to the contempt in Matsui Shigeki's eyes.

"Mr. Zhang, please look. This is our Great Neon Empire's latest Western-style mountain artillery. It has immense power and precise range!"

Matsui Shigeki puffed out his chest and introduced it with great pride.

Zhang Xueliang blew a smoke ring and lazily looked up.

Dozens of dark muzzles were lined up on the hillside, exuding a chilling aura.

But after just one glance, the laziness on his face instantly froze.

He threw away his cigar, rushed to the front lines in a few steps, pointed at the muzzles, and his voice suddenly turned cold.

"General Matsui, are those muzzles pointed towards Haicheng?"

Haicheng was their Zhang family's ancestral home, Zhang Yuting's hometown.

These Japs were trying to dig up their ancestral graves!

Matsui Shigeki's smile remained unchanged, but his tone carried a condescending arrogance.

"Mr. Zhang worries too much. This is just an exercise. We've calculated the trajectory and will absolutely not harm your ancestral graves, nor will we harm any civilians."

As soon as he finished speaking, a Japanese artillery captain in charge of command nearby let out a scoff, looking at Zhang Xueliang with undisguised disdain.

His expression clearly conveyed: A pampered young master who understands nothing dares to point fingers here?

Zhang Xueliang's fists clenched instantly, his knuckles turning white.

The guards behind him had already placed their hands on the hilts of their swords, and the atmosphere was tense.

"Oh my, a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding!"

Yamada Ichiro, standing nearby, quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

He raised the camera in his hand, a fawning smile on his face.

"General Matsui, Young Marshal Zhang, what a rare opportunity. Why don't we take a photo together to commemorate this friendly moment?"

Damn it, take a picture! Zhang Xueliang cursed inwardly, but his face regained its composure.

He waved his hand, ignoring Yamada Ichiro's suggestion, and turned to his subordinates.

"Go and find me a telephone. I need to report that I'm safe at home."

His subordinates immediately understood and quickly ran off to make contact.

Matsui Shigeki and Yamada Ichiro exchanged a glance, seeing the disdain in each other's eyes—As expected, a young master who can't leave his mother. They didn't try to stop him further.

Soon, a military hand-crank telephone was brought over.

Zhang Xueliang picked up the receiver, cranked the handle, and spoke in a low voice, but every word carried a hint of anger.

"It's me, Zhang Xueliang."

"The Japs invited me to watch a show, right at our ancestral home's doorstep, with Western-style mountain artillery as the star. They said they wanted to set off a big firecracker for me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, followed by a young but steady voice – his brother, Zhang Xueming.

"Oh? With their pile of scrap metal?"

Zhang Xueliang heard the disdain in Zhang Xueming's words and his heart stirred. Suppressing his excitement, he asked, "Have you... made it over there?"

"Something more powerful than their Western-style mountain artillery?"

A smiling reply came from the other end of the phone.

"Guess."

"Alright, I understand."

Zhang Xueliang hung up the phone. The gloom on his face vanished, replaced by a strange expression of someone watching a good show.

He turned around and smiled at Matsui Shigeki.

"General Matsui, that artillery demonstration just now was truly spectacular."

"But, can we rest for a bit first?"

"Also, I don't think the terrain of this hill is very good; our view is limited."

He pointed to a higher, more distant hill in the distance.

"Why don't we move over there to watch?"

"You can see further when you're higher up, right?"

Although Matsui Shigeki was a little confused, seeing Zhang Xueliang's sincere expression of "I'm really just here to better appreciate the might of your army," he agreed.

After all, in his opinion, Zhang Xueliang was just a rich kid who knew nothing about military matters.

The group majestically moved their position, heading towards that distant hill.

Zhang Xueliang deliberately lagged behind, inwardly delighted.

Fooled you, didn't I?

Your boy is leading you away from the danger zone!

By the time they huffed and puffed their way up the hill, the original artillery position had become a small dot in the distance.