I Want to Let My Family Know I'm Safe

The Feng Army's rise had left Japan, which had once regarded it as a mere chess piece, deeply uneasy.

They had once supported Zhang Yuting, hoping to swallow all of Kanto without spilling a drop of blood. They hadn't expected Zhang Yuting to be made of iron: he took their benefits but wouldn't do their bidding, instead using the opportunity to push the Feng Army's strength to its peak.

This left Japan's leadership, especially the army's hardliners, feeling an anxious fury at having been toyed with.

On New Year's Day, the skies over Kanto Province were grim and overcast.

Army General Matsui Shigeki, a fanatical militarist, had specially organized a "New Year artillery drill."

Not only had he brought out the Western-style mountain artillery that the Neon Army was so proud of, he had also "graciously" invited Zhang Xueliang to observe.

This wasn't an observation at all. It was a blatant show of force.

Zhang Xueliang knew exactly what was going on. His father, Zhang Yuting, played the bad cop, so as his son, he had to play the good cop to the end.

Dressed in a crisp suit, a cigar dangling from his mouth, he showed up at the drill grounds with a few attendants, strolling in with a carefree swagger.

His spoiled young master act only deepened the contempt in the eyes of Matsui Shigeki and the others.

"Mr. Zhang, look! These are our Great Neon Empire's latest Western-style mountain guns. They're immensely powerful and have incredible range and accuracy!"

Matsui Shigeki stuck out his belly and introduced the guns with smug delight.

Zhang Xueliang blew out a ring of smoke and lazily raised his eyes.

Dozens of pitch-black muzzles stood in a row on the hillside, exuding a chilling menace.

But with just one look, the laziness on his face instantly froze.

He tossed aside his cigar, rushed several steps toward the firing line, and pointed at the muzzles. His voice suddenly turned cold.

"General Matsui, are your guns aimed toward Haicheng?"

Haicheng was the ancestral land of the Zhang family, Zhang Yuting's hometown.

Those little devils were trying to dig up his family's ancestral graves!

The smile on Matsui Shigeki's face didn't change, but his tone was full of condescending arrogance.

"Mr. Zhang, you're worrying too much. This is only an exercise. We've calculated the trajectory, and it absolutely won't hit your family's ancestral graves, nor will it harm a single civilian."

As soon as he finished speaking, a Neon artillery captain in charge of the drill snorted. His gaze was filled with undisguised contempt.

His expression clearly said: What does some clueless young master know? How dare he come here and tell us what to do?

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

The guards behind him had already put their hands on their gun grips. The air was taut with tension.

"Oh dear, it's all a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding!"

Yamada Ichiro hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over.

He raised the camera in his hands, his face wreathed in smiles.

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

"Take your damn photo!"

Zhang Xueliang cursed inwardly, but his expression had already returned to calm.

He waved away Yamada Ichiro's suggestion, then turned to his men and said,

"Go get me a phone. I want to let my family know I'm safe."

His subordinate understood at once and hurried off to make arrangements.

Matsui Shigeki and Yamada Ichiro exchanged glances. Both saw the same contempt in the other's eyes: So he really is an Eldest Young Master who can't bear to be away from home. Neither of them tried to stop him.

Soon, a military field telephone was brought over.

Zhang Xueliang picked up the receiver and cranked the handle. He kept his voice low, but every word seethed with anger.

"It's me, Zhang Xueliang."

"The little devils invited me to a show right outside our hometown. They've got Western-style mountain guns as the stars of the show, and say they're putting on a New Year's fireworks display for me."

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then a young, steady voice spoke. It was his brother, Zhang Xueming.

"Oh? With that pile of scrap metal?"

Hearing the disdain in Zhang Xueming's voice, Zhang Xueliang's heart stirred. Suppressing his excitement, he asked,

"You've... made it work?"

"Something even more powerful than their Western-style mountain guns?"

Zhang Xueming answered with a laugh in his voice.

"Take a guess."

"Fine, I get it."

Zhang Xueliang hung up. The gloom on his face vanished, replaced by a peculiar, expectant look, as if he were waiting to watch a good show.

He turned around and smiled at Matsui Shigeki.

"General Matsui, that artillery demonstration was truly impressive."

"But could we take a break first?"

"Also, I don't think this hill is in a very good position. The view is obstructed."

He pointed to a hill farther away, taller and more distant.

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

"The higher you stand, the farther you can see."

Matsui Shigeki was a little puzzled, but Zhang Xueliang's earnest expression seemed to say, I really just want to appreciate your army's might better. So he agreed.

After all, in his eyes, Zhang Xueliang was just a spoiled young master. What could he know about military affairs?

The group moved out in a grand procession, heading toward the distant hill.

Zhang Xueliang deliberately brought up the rear, laughing to himself.

Fools!

I'm taking you all on a little detour!

By the time they had climbed, panting, to the top of the hill, the artillery position they had left behind had shrunk to a tiny dot in the distance.