Zhang Yuting read the thin telegram paper over and over, his fingers trembling.
He suddenly looked up, slapped the telegram down on the table, and made a loud bang.
"Ha ha ha ha! Good! Good! Good!"
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound shaking dust from the rafters.
"Just what I'd expect from my own flesh and blood!"
"Someone!" He swept a hand through the air, brimming with confidence. "Pass down my orders! Every unit that's resting, march out at once! Move into Ulan! Make damn sure we occupy that land!"
He turned to Wu Junsheng, standing nearby.
"And you! Go tell those bastards at the Middle East Railway that if they want to talk, their masters can come to Fengtian in person!"
Meanwhile, outside Kulun City, a thousand miles away.
The smoke of war had yet to clear. The wrecks of armored vehicles, like the carcasses of monsters, lay scattered across the grassland.
A few bold wolves were chewing on Russian corpses that hadn't yet been cleared away.
Zhang Xueming was sitting on an Ammunition Box, holding an enamel bowl and slurping down steaming horse meat stew with potatoes.
Ma Xiufeng, covered in dust, strode over and dropped down opposite him.
"Brigade Commander, I'm back."
Zhang Xueming didn't even look up. He picked up another bowl from beside him and handed it over.
"How far did you get?"
Ma Xiufeng took the bowl and grinned, flashing a row of white teeth.
"Reporting to the Brigade Commander: if we'd gone a few dozen kilometers farther, I could've washed my feet in Lake Baikal!"
"Did you have enough fuel?" Zhang Xueming raised an eyebrow.
"Plenty! How could we not?" Ma Xiufeng took a big gulp of broth and said indistinctly, "The Russians' armored vehicles are our mobile gas stations! We chased them all the way, siphoning fuel from every vehicle we blew up!"
As the two were talking, Zhang Xueming's third uncle, Dai Xiansheng, hurried over.
"Xue Ming, there's something you should know."
"Uncle, sit down and tell me." Zhang Xueming pointed to an empty Ammunition Box beside him.
Dai Xiansheng waved him off, wearing a somewhat peculiar expression.
"A delegation's come from Inside the Passes. They say it was organized by civilians on their own, and they've reached the edge of our defensive zone. I figured the battle had just ended, so I didn't let them come any closer. What do you think—should we meet them?"
"A delegation?" Zhang Xueming looked surprised. "Why come all the way here now? Aren't they afraid of dying? Who's leading them?"
"Mr. Zhang Boling, the founder of Jinmen University. A great scholar of our time, with a very high reputation," Dai Xiansheng said. "He brought students with him and traveled all this way, full of sincerity. We can't just send them away."
"Zhang Boling?"
Zhang Xueming set down his bowl, his eyes lighting up.
"All right, let them come over. I'll meet them."
Twenty minutes later.
A strange procession appeared outside the Eighth Brigade's camp.
Some were in cars, some were on horseback, and there were even people pushing wheelbarrows.
Most of them were young people dressed in student uniforms. Their faces were weather-beaten and tired, but their eyes shone with unusual brightness.
At the head of the procession was a scholar in a long gown and round spectacles. It was Zhang Boling.
The moment he saw Zhang Xueming in his Military Uniform, he hurried forward and grasped his hand, overcome with excitement.
"Brigadier General Zhang! You're Brigade Commander Zhang Xueming?!"
The scholar's hands shook badly, and his eyes reddened.
"Pillar of our nation! This battle of yours has restored the glory our Chinese people haven't seen in a hundred years!"
Zhang Xueming was a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm and hurried to demur. "You're too kind, Mr. Zhang. I hardly deserve such praise. I only did my duty as a soldier."
As he looked at Zhang Boling, he tried to figure out how to bring up the idea of establishing a university.
But Zhang Boling wouldn't let go of his hand. Turning to point at the students behind him, he declared passionately, "Brigadier General Zhang! We haven't come just to offer our support! We've come to fight! These students and I are all willing to serve our country! We won't go back until we drive White Bear off our land!"
"That's right! Enlist us! We'll fight White Bear!"
"Brigadier General Zhang, take us in!"
The students were fired up, each one holding their chest high as they shouted.
Looking at these passionate young people, then at Zhang Boling's resolute expression, Zhang Xueming suddenly smiled.
He leisurely took the canteen his sentry offered him and had a drink before speaking.
"Mr. Zhang, everyone, Xue Ming appreciates your patriotic spirit."
He paused, looking around at their expectant faces.
"But... I'm afraid you're a little late."
"Late?" Zhang Boling stared at him. "What do you mean?"
Zhang Xueming grinned, flashing a row of white teeth.
"I mean the war ended three days ago."
"White Bear's Far East Armored Army, along with its Commander, has already been completely wiped out by my forces."
"Not a single one got away."
When Zhang Xueming finished speaking, an uncanny silence fell over the camp entrance.
The only sound in the air was the crackle of the bonfire.
Mr. Zhang Boling froze, still holding his hand.
The excitement and fervor on the students' faces froze too, leaving them with expressions more astonishing than the last.
Completely wiped out?
Not a single one got away?
What... what kind of international joke was this?
That was White Bear's Far East Armored Army!
An elite force of more than ten thousand men, equipped with the most advanced Steel Monsters of the era!
And he was saying he'd finished them off in just three days? Wiped them all out?
"Brigadier General Zhang."
A clear voice, tinged with a hint of coldness, broke the silence.