Chapter Sixty-One: Galloping Steeds and Cracking Whips—Vanquishing the Wokou

Although Xiao Fei had never piloted such a bomber before, nor had he ever fought on a battlefield of such immense scale against the enemies of two nations, it was solely out of love for his homeland and his people, driven by unyielding passion and a willingness to risk his very life, that he took control of an enemy bomber, threw one of the enemy soldiers out, and sat himself down in the pilot’s seat.

As a soldier, a gun should never be turned against innocent civilians. Yet, the bloodthirsty German and Japanese troops paid no heed, slaughtering countless unarmed Chinese civilians. Seated at the controls of the bomber, Xiao Fei witnessed the scenes below with painful clarity.

Local patriotic organizations and the stationed Beiyang Army could no longer endure the foreign invaders’ rampant trampling over Chinese soil. United by fervor and indignation, they fought back, but could only respond to the relentless barrage of enemy artillery with rifles and grenades. It was all too clear—the Beiyang Army was woefully outmatched.

Every checkpoint and corner house window was stuffed with straw mats by the local troops. Yet, smoke still seeped out as bullets tore through the walls. From the barricades, puppet-like heads would occasionally appear—a young man, not yet twenty, firing his rifle at the German and Japanese invaders. Suddenly, the barricade at his window collapsed; the defense was crumbling. The young gunner let out a cry as a bullet struck his brow, and between his two blue eyes a third, black hole appeared.

Destruction, chaos, the majestic spectacle of burning buildings, the wavering blue-white beams of searchlights, the deafening roar of bomber engines, and the newly begun pounding of anti-aircraft guns—on the riverbank, fresh flames sprang up, spreading in all directions, growing fiercer by the moment.

In the distance, the pitch-black surface of Jiaozhou Bay spat out more tongues of fire. A small bomber, engulfed in thick smoke, plummeted from the sky like a burning candle, caught in the crossing glare of two searchlights. Instantly, two more bombers fell—one, wrapped in flames, plunged straight down like a meteor; the other spiraled, trailing black smoke, finally exploding mid-air like a string of distant firecrackers.

Bombs rained down on the outer banks of Jiaozhou Bay, destroying many hotels and shops; corpses littered the area near the Jiaoji Railway. Amid the ruins, the wounded lay trapped, groaning in agony, while the dead were mangled and incomplete, their bodies torn apart.

As dawn approached, the intersection of Jining Road and Qingdao Road was also bombed. This district, one of the busiest in Jiaozhou Bay, had many refugees gathered along its streets. When the bombs fell, most of the nearby houses were demolished or collapsed from the blasts. Cars, bicycles, vegetable vendors’ carts and stalls all caught fire, and severed electrical cables sparked new blazes, worsening the calamity. The bodies and limbs of the dead were strewn everywhere, and the blood soaked the streets.

A young mother lay in a pool of blood, her child in her arms reduced to nothing but two bloody feet.

At daybreak, Japanese planes launched a frenzied bombardment of the Jiaoji Railway station. Refugees from Dawangzhuang and nearby areas flooded in, desperate to escape, causing chaos and suffocation. The station’s overpass, platforms, and tracks were blasted into ruin, the ground littered with charred, mutilated corpses. Bodies lay sprawled across the platform, covered with lead sheets and wooden planks. In the square, many women who’d been killed clutched headless, limbless children in their arms.

Incendiary bombs dropped by the Japanese set the station and the surrounding Out-Flag and Wangjia Bridge areas ablaze. Smoke and cries filled the air, devastation was everywhere, and the sight was unbearable.

War is ruled by iron laws, to the detriment of all sides. The Germans and Japanese together numbered over fifty thousand; more than thirty thousand perished in mutual slaughter, ten thousand were killed by Xiao Fei, and another ten thousand or so, having lost their commanders, became like headless sheep, killing indiscriminately—even innocent Chinese civilians suffered mercilessly at their hands.

The night wore on. Xiao Fei was drenched in blood—mostly his enemies’, but his own wounds were many—yet he never ceased fighting. He successively piloted Japanese and German aircraft to bomb the Japanese command and the German headquarters in Shandong.

No one had anticipated the war would last this long. All German forces in Shandong converged upon Jiaozhou Bay. News of this reached Japan, and the Japanese military quickly dispatched the Third Fleet, stationed less than fifty nautical miles from Qingdao in the Yellow Sea, rushing straight toward the Chinese coast.

Facing such military pressure, although Yuan Shikai had agreed not to interfere with the operations of Cai E and Hu Baiwan, repeated threats and enticements from the Japanese forced his hand. After receiving seven such telegrams, he had no choice but to order Duan Qirui’s troops in Anhui to march into Shandong, nominally to prevent the three sides from engaging, but in reality to help the Japanese expel the Germans.

Yet Yuan Shikai did not foresee that the German forces in Shandong had dwindled to fewer than five thousand. The German homeland, embroiled in successive wars in Europe, was unable to send reinforcements and could only surrender to the Japanese military.

Upon hearing this, Yuan Shikai was elated; a great burden had been lifted. He immediately ordered Duan Qirui’s troops to halt their advance into Shandong.

Meanwhile, Hu Baiwan and Jin Shaohua, leading five thousand troops, had secretly entered Shandong. They rallied under Xiao Fei’s banner, awaiting his command. Fearing that deploying a larger force would alert Duan Qirui in Anhui, only five thousand elite soldiers were sent.

“Listen up!” Xiao Fei commanded, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “Any soldier you see in a uniform different from ours, no matter what country they’re from—shoot, bury, burn, kill by any means! No surrenders accepted, no negotiations, no prisoners!”

Hu Baiwan and Jin Shaohua drew sharp breaths at this order—it flagrantly violated the laws of war. Seeing Xiao Fei covered in blood, disheveled and haggard, they couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.

Cautiously, Hu Baiwan said, “Master, the Germans have already surrendered. Shouldn’t we spare them?”

“Nonsense! If surrendered soldiers want to live, let them take up arms and die like soldiers! Have you seen how many innocent compatriots they’ve slaughtered, how much of our land they’ve trampled? Listen, especially when it comes to those Japanese dogs—show no mercy. Kill every one you see. Carry out the order!”

“Yes, I will obey to the death!” Hu Baiwan saluted.

A hundred thousand troops scoured the city for German and Japanese soldiers, following Xiao Fei’s orders to the letter—killing on sight, giving the fallen Chinese compatriots a burial of vengeance.

Xiao Fei himself led thirty thousand men to the Yellow Sea, deploying special forces trained extensively by Fujiwara Ichiro and Old Yang. These elite teams infiltrated the Yellow Sea, and even Fujiwara Ichiro was released to fight, despite knowing he was about to slaughter his own countrymen—yet he did not hesitate.

“Ling’er, I need your help now. Tell me, how many energy points do I have?” Xiao Fei asked his AI assistant.

“Master, you have saved your people and performed immeasurable deeds. You have earned one hundred thousand energy points. You may now advance to the rank of First Class War King. Congratulations, Master. Would you like to advance now?” the AI replied.

“No! I can’t think only of myself—I must save my country and my people. Exchange all my points for torpedoes and naval red-cannons at once!” Xiao Fei commanded.

“But, Master, this will use up all your energy points, and it will only provide three torpedoes and two red-cannons, each with just twenty shells,” the AI warned.

“Enough, execute the order immediately!” Xiao Fei replied without hesitation.

At this moment, his heart was filled with hatred for the Japanese. Since the outbreak of the First Sino-Japanese War, Japan’s naval fleet had pried open China’s gates, and ever since, this tiny nation had subjected China to endless humiliation. Xiao Fei’s father and several brothers had all died at the hands of Japanese invaders—this national and personal vendetta, Xiao Fei would avenge today!

“Done, Master,” the AI responded.

In an instant, three torpedoes and two red-cannons appeared beside his special forces. Other soldiers might not have known how to use such advanced weapons, but these men had trained for so long at Xiao Fei’s modern technological military base—they were no strangers to cutting-edge armaments.

August 15th, 1914—a day destined to be inscribed in bold in the history of Xiao Fei’s rebirth.

On this very day twenty years earlier, August 15th, 1894, on these same waters, the Qing government’s Beiyang Fleet—ten thousand men and thirty warships—had been utterly destroyed by the Japanese navy. Over ten thousand men were lost without a trace, swallowed by the sea. Six months later, the defeated Qing government was forced to sign the humiliating Treaty of Shimonoseki.

That treaty brought China an unprecedented national crisis, deepening the country’s semi-colonial status. It recognized Korea’s “complete independence,” which in truth handed Korea over to Japanese control—thus, from that day, Korea ceased to be a part of China. Had it not been for that, Korea might still be Chinese territory today.

Also from that moment, China ceded the Liaodong Peninsula, Taiwan, and all affiliated islands including the Penghu Islands to Japan; paid two hundred million taels of silver in “war reparations”; opened Shashi, Chongqing, Suzhou, and Hangzhou as treaty ports, where Japanese consuls would be stationed and Japanese ships could freely load and unload cargo; Japanese nationals could engage in all crafts and manufacture in these cities, bring in machinery without restriction or tax, and set up warehouses inland; Japan temporarily occupied Weihaiwei, with China paying fifty thousand taels of silver annually as occupation fees, and the Japanese garrison would not withdraw until all reparations were paid; after mutual ratification, all prisoners of war would be exchanged, and China was forbidden from prosecuting collaborators among the prisoners, immediately releasing all spies and traitors who had served the Japanese army, granting them complete amnesty.

In his previous life, reading this history had always filled Xiao Fei with rage. He had once sworn that, given the chance, he would one day ride forth and trample Japan beneath his feet. He never expected that today, his dream would come true.

With memories of his past life and the nation’s deep-seated hatred burning in his heart, Xiao Fei gave the order: “Fire!”

“Fire!”

“Fire!”

The setting sun was as red as blood, the Yellow Sea surged. Schools of sharks churned the waves, as if cheering for Xiao Fei’s army…