Chapter Sixty: When Paths Cross, the Bravest Prevails

Duan Qirui, styled Zhiquan and known as the Old Man of the True Way, was truly a talented general, deeply trusted by Yuan Shikai and a renowned statesman during the Republic era, counted among the “Three Northern Titans.” He assisted Yuan Shikai in training the Beiyang Army and, leveraging this, held sway over the political arena for fifteen years, orchestrating the domestic and foreign affairs of the Beiyang Government after Yuan’s death. He earned the reputation of “Three-time Founder of the Republic.” Later, his favor towards Xu Shuzheng and his belief in unifying the nation by force led to his defeat by the Zhili clique and his subsequent resignation. He briefly returned to power through an alliance with Zhang Zuolin and Sun Yat-sen, but, having lost real authority, became a mere figurehead. Throughout his life, he was upright and principled, possessing a notable personal charisma and was nicknamed “the Premier Who Heeds Not Six Affairs.” He was also the first Minister of the Army and Commander of Artillery of China’s modern military and served as the head of Baoding Military Academy, the country’s first modern military school. He was the leader of the Anhui clique—the largest warlord faction in the early Republic—controlling Anhui, Shaanxi, Shandong, Zhejiang, Gansu, Fujian, and other regions. Yet the imperialist power behind him was Japan, which somewhat tarnished his reputation; this was precisely why Xiao Fei did not like him.

However, although Xiao Fei disliked the man, he did not dislike the military power he wielded. Duan Qirui controlled at least a million soldiers—a mighty force indeed—and Xiao Fei could not ignore his existence.

Especially now, should Xiao Fei dispatch troops to Shandong and declare war on Germany and Japan, this loyal lackey of Yuan Shikai would inevitably intervene. Xiao Fei was not worried about being unable to defeat him, but firmly believed that Chinese must never fire upon Chinese, except as a last resort.

After consulting with his military advisors, Xiao Fei found no consensus.

“Brother Xiao Fei, this is truly a difficult matter,” said Jin Shaohua. “You must know, Duan Qirui’s army is only fifty kilometers from Jiangning, while we are over six hundred kilometers from Jiaozhou Bay. To march on Shandong would stretch our forces thin—a grave military taboo.”

“Yes, Master,” said Hu Baifan. “Although I have submitted to you in truth, in name I am still under Yuan Shikai. Any movement by my troops, and Yuan will know. With the Japanese involved, and Yuan always backed by them, he will never allow us to interfere with the Japanese gaining benefits in China.”

Hearing Hu Baifan address Xiao Fei as master, Jin Shaohua found it amusing. He had long wondered how Xiao Fei had managed to win over Hu Baifan, but knowing Xiao Fei’s extraordinary abilities, he refrained from asking.

“You both make good points,” Xiao Fei responded. “But I have already made up my mind. You may return to your duties and manage your respective affairs well.”

“Yes, we take our leave,” replied Hu Baifan and the others, bowing out.

In truth, what Yuan Shikai feared most was simply the Japanese. Germany had already agreed to return its influence in Shandong to China; it was the Japanese who sought to profit as the fisherman between fighting rivals. Thus, as long as the Japanese could be dealt with first, all else would fall into place.

With this in mind, Xiao Fei quickly conceived a plan. He telegraphed General Cai E, instructing him to use the power of Yunnan to pressure Yuan Shikai, forcing him not to sign any humiliating, sovereignty-betraying agreements with the Japanese. This would inevitably bring Cai E into earlier conflict with Yuan Shikai, but confrontation was only a matter of time.

Cai E, already on edge, had gathered his forces and prepared for action upon learning that Yuan intended to hand German-held territory in Shandong to the Japanese. After receiving Xiao Fei’s telegram, he sprang into action, issuing a nationwide call to form an anti-Japanese salvation army, vowing to drive the Japanese from Shandong.

Yuan Shikai never expected that his most feared internal threat, Cai E, would finally break with him and openly oppose his policies. Enraged, Yuan immediately summoned the Senate, the House of Representatives, and his trusted ministers.

Upon learning that General Cai E was fighting for China’s sovereignty, all patriots united in support. Even the retired Sun Yat-sen made an impassioned appeal in Nanjing, raising his arm and calling for support of Cai E to expel German and Japanese armed forces from Shandong.

Yuan Shikai’s greatest dread was Sun Yat-sen. He knew perfectly well how he had usurped the fruits of the Xinhai Revolution. When Sun Yat-sen agreed to step aside, he had two conditions: to help the revolutionaries overthrow the Qing, and to take office as Provisional President in Nanjing. But Yuan’s military power was in the north, so he dared not go to Nanjing and instead found various excuses, secretly inciting mutiny among his subordinates, and thus succeeded in his schemes.

Thus, with Sun Yat-sen’s prestige and Cai E’s military pressure, Yuan was forced to reconsider. Yet he remained wary of the Japanese.

At this moment, Hu Baifan of Jiangning in Jiangsu Province announced his participation in the anti-Japanese National Protection movement. This greatly surprised Yuan Shikai—Hu Baifan had always been his obedient dog; what had happened?

Little did Yuan Shikai know that behind both Hu Baifan and Cai E stood an obscure figure—Xiao Fei—who had orchestrated this nationwide military upheaval.

Learning of Hu Baifan’s disobedience and his preparations to declare war on Germany and Japan, Yuan Shikai flew into a rage, slamming the table. “Damn it! Does Hu Baifan wish to die? Someone, send a telegram to Duan Qirui—order him to send half a million troops to destroy Hu Baifan and seize his command!”

At this, Yuan’s advisors stepped forward to offer counsel. “Mr. President, please calm yourself. We stationed Hu Baifan in Jiangning to guard against the revolutionary forces in Nanjing. If we start open war now, it will provoke public outrage across the country. Should Sun Yat-sen then return to the stage...”

Only then did Yuan realize his rashness. His position was not yet secure; any slip could be fatal. Moreover, Hu Baifan now reported that his declaration of war against Germany and Japan was forced by necessity—Jiangning, on Nanjing’s periphery, was where Yuan’s control was weakest. Thus Yuan could only accept his explanation.

Under mounting pressure, Yuan Shikai had no choice but to abandon signing an agreement with the Japanese.

However, this sudden reversal infuriated Japan, which threatened to seize Shandong by force if necessary.

Ultimately, caught between opposing forces, Yuan had to give in to Cai E and Hu Baifan, allowing their troops to enter Shandong at will and even declare war on Germany and Japan without interference or military obstruction.

This was precisely the outcome Xiao Fei had anticipated and desired. He knew forcing Yuan Shikai to concede thus far was already a significant achievement.

The sovereignty of China would not be trampled. Even if it meant bloodshed and sacrifice, no foreign power could be allowed to ravage Chinese soil with impunity. When two foes meet on a narrow path, the bravest prevails. Even in the face of defeat, one must draw their sword; even to die, one must die charging forward.

Thus, Xiao Fei resolved that, even at the cost of force, he would expel German and Japanese military forces from Shandong.

Japan’s military presence in Shandong was only thirty thousand strong. They believed that, with this small force, they could seize Jiaozhou Bay from the Germans, and with the Beiyang Army’s aid, take Shandong with ease. But Japan’s commanders never imagined that, at the moment of their supposed triumph, Yuan Shikai would turn his back on them, with Cai E in Yunnan and Hu Baifan in Jiangsu both poised for action. Least of all did they expect the emergence of their most troublesome adversary—Xiao Fei.

That night, Xiao Fei bade farewell to his companions and activated the Thunderwing, heading alone for Jiaozhou Bay. Yet he was not truly alone; Xiao Fei possessed a military base with three hundred warriors, trained in secret by Fujiwara Ichiro and Yang Laosi. Though few in number, each was a blade unsheathed.

Xiao Fei had already discovered that twenty-five thousand of the Japanese troops were stationed along the coast of Longkou, Shandong. As Japan had yet to formally declare war on Germany, and dared not engage Chinese forces directly, their troops idled there. If he could destroy them, half the battle would be won.

However, man proposes, heaven disposes. Perhaps Xiao Fei’s arrival truly altered the course of history. Originally, Japan would not declare war on Germany until September, with fierce battles raging in Shandong. Yet, as Xiao Fei prepared to declare war, hostilities between Germany and Japan erupted ahead of schedule, turning Shandong into a battlefield.

When Xiao Fei arrived at a village near the Jiaoji Railway in Shandong, he was stunned by the scene before him.

Nothing is more pitiable than a mass of terrified civilians. They scrambled for weapons, shouting and running in chaos—many falling as they fled. Germans, Japanese, and innocent Chinese peasants—these sturdy souls, victims of the attack, acted without understanding, firing at each other, some so frightened that they ran in and out of their homes in utter confusion, stumbling helplessly through the melee. Families called out to one another; women and children were caught in the carnage, as howling shells traced burning arcs through the darkness, bullets flashed from every shadow, smoke and chaos were everywhere. Supply carts and artillery wagons became entangled, deepening the disorder.

Horses reared in terror; people trampled the wounded underfoot. The ground was filled with groans. Some were panic-stricken, others fainted from fear. Soldiers and officers searched for each other amid the turmoil. Some, with grim detachment, clung to routine—a woman sat against a wall nursing her baby, while her husband, his leg broken and bleeding, calmly loaded his rifle and fired into the darkness. Others lay prone, firing from between wagon wheels, as sudden outbursts of shouting were drowned by the thunder of artillery. It was truly a scene of horror.

The dazzling artillery fire soon blocked Xiao Fei’s vision. The sky rang with the clamor of shattering iron above his head, as great fragments broke and crashed down. All was as dark as the coming of a storm. Shells cast gray-blue light in every direction, the fields seemed to shake, sink, and dissolve, the vast space trembled like the sea.

To the east, there were violent explosions; to the south, bullets flew wildly. Overhead burst shrapnel, like endless volcanic eruptions. Rain and darkness covered the boundless land; clouds above and smoke from the ground mingled and spread across the fields.

German machine guns swept the battlefield with frenzied fire, while columns of black smoke from explosions rose like whirlwinds from the cratered sand. The waves of attackers scattered and rolled, like spray beside the shell holes. The black smoke and fire of shellbursts battered the earth ever more closely, shrapnel screamed and fell upon the attackers, and the machine gun fire, hugging the ground, grew ever more merciless.

A Chinese girl, seemingly no more than four or five, staggered from her house as if just awoken from a dream. Seeing the chaos before her, she burst into tears, crying for her parents. She had taken only a few steps when a Japanese bomber struck and killed her.

This scene unfolded before Xiao Fei’s very eyes. He could not move, could not speak. In his heart, he cried, “Little sister, come here, come to your big brother.”

But the little girl’s body was blown to pieces...

For the first time, Xiao Fei felt the limitations of his own strength. It was his first time standing on a battlefield under fire, his first true understanding of the horrors of war, and his first visceral realization of the wickedness of fascist nations like Germany and Japan.

“Even if I, Xiao Fei, die in a pool of my own blood today, I will wipe out every one of you beasts!” he cursed bitterly, activating the Thunderwing and soaring into the sky, charging straight at a Japanese bomber.

The pilot saw only a flash, as if struck by a golden eagle. Before he could react, he was hurled from the cockpit, his body smashed to a bloody pulp on the ground.

The next moment, a Japanese bomber turned and unleashed a furious barrage on the Japanese command post.

“What the hell is going on?!” shouted the Japanese commander, Colonel Itada.

With a series of thunderous explosions, over a dozen senior Japanese officers were obliterated in an instant.

They could never have imagined that the pilot of that bomber was a young man from twenty-first-century China, whose name was Xiao Fei.