Great Power Reclamation

Headquarters of the East African National Defence Force, "Kilimanjaro Fortress".

This fortress, built entirely of black basalt and composite armor plates, lies prostrate on the cliffs of the northern foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro, like a sleeping behemoth.

Its designer—General Yang San, Commander-in-Chief of the three armed forces—insisted on building the headquarters here: "The eyes of the army must always be fixed on the highest place."

It was 5 a.m., 48 hours before the fifth anniversary celebration.

Yang San stood in front of the giant floor-to-ceiling window of the command center. He was 1.95 meters tall and, despite being in his early thirties, had the physique of a twenty-year-old professional athlete.

His dark green general's uniform stood ramrod straight, supported by his broad shoulders and muscular chest. On his epaulets, five stars surrounded the coat of arms of the East African Republic—a design he had personally chosen during the unification process.
On the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, an eagle holds an olive branch and a longsword in its talons.

"General," the chief of staff reported softly, "'Unification Shield' joint exercise, the first phase data collection is complete. The reorganization completion rate of the five countries' former armies: 98.7%."

A holographic sand table unfolded before Yang San. The red, blue, yellow, green, and purple dots that originally represented the armies of the five former nations had all transformed into a uniform dark blue.

Only a few scattered, flashing orange dots mark a small number of units that are not yet fully integrated—all border defense battalions in remote areas.

“These seven orange dots,” Yang San’s voice was deep, with a texture like the friction of sand and gravel, “explain.”

"Colonel Jamal, the former commander of the 4th Border Guard Battalion of Tanzania, refused to change the regimental flag, claiming that 'the history of the Tanzanian Army cannot be erased.'"

The chief of staff pulled up detailed information, "The other six cases are similar, they are all..."

“They’re all remnants of the old era.” Yang San interrupted him, typing a series of commands on the control panel:
"Transfer Colonel Jamal and his entire battalion to the Lake Victoria Naval Base. Have them serve on ships for three months."

"General?" The chief of staff was taken aback. "They are from the army, and most of them are soldiers from inland areas..."

“So we need to learn.” Yang San turned around, his face was sharply defined, and there was a bullet mark on his right eyebrow bone from twenty years ago, a souvenir from a certain operation.

"On the ship, they will wake up every day not to see the mountains of their homeland, but to the boundless lake. They will understand that the border of the East African Republic is not the land beneath their feet, but the future of the entire country."

He paused, then emphasized, "Three months from now, if Colonel Jamal still wants to keep the old flag, I will speak with him personally. Now, the next topic."

"Security deployment during the celebrations." The operations chief switched the screen, and a 3D model of Kilimanjaro floated in the air.

"As requested by Her Majesties the Queen, the celebrations were to be 'open, accessible, and transparent,' but intelligence indicates that at least four external forces and three internal remnants may be attempting to sabotage them."

Yang San walked to the sand table, his shadow almost covering the entire city model.

“First line of defense.” He traced his finger across the hills surrounding the city. “The 101st Air Assault Brigade, disperse and disguise yourselves as mountaineers and scientific expedition teams. Carry portable air defense systems and signal jammers. Any unauthorized aircraft entering within fifty kilometers will be warned once; if ignored, shoot it down.”

"The second layer." The finger moved to the city entrance, "The 7th Armored Brigade's 'Gepard' light tanks are all painted as engineering vehicles and mixed in with the machinery at the construction sites. Four tanks are deployed on each main road into the city, and they can form roadblocks within thirty seconds of receiving orders."

“The third level.” His fingertip pointed to the main venue of the celebration—the newly completed “Unity Square.” “Below the Queen’s viewing platform, I personally designed the armored shelter. It’s a full titanium alloy structure, capable of withstanding a direct hit from a 500-kilogram bomb. The shelter has three escape routes, leading to the fortress, the underground command center, and the secret airfield.”

The Chief of Operations, sweat beading on his forehead, took notes: "General, aren't these deployments... a bit too forceful? Her Majesty the Queen hopes the celebrations will showcase the nation's prosperity and openness."

Yang San slowly turned around. The lights in the command center cast deep shadows on his face, and his eyes were like the glaciers on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, cold and clear.

Five years ago, the armies of five countries confronted each other on the border, with the muzzles of their tanks aimed at their future compatriots.

His voice wasn't loud, but it made everyone in the command center hold their breath. "It's me, leading thirty suicide squad members, piloting an unarmed helicopter, landing right in the middle of the standoff line."

He walked to the wall, where an enlarged photograph was hanging: young Yang San stood among five generals, with a dense array of tanks and soldiers behind him, all with their guns pointed at the ground.

“That day, I said to them: ‘Either shoot me today and your children and grandchildren continue to point at each other on the border; or put down your guns and work with me to build a country where all children can go to school safely.’”

The command center was deathly silent.

“They put down their guns,” Yang San continued, “not because of my eloquence, but because behind me stood two queens—two young women willing to spend their lives proving that unity is better than division, building is harder than destroying, and faith is more precious than doubt.”

He walked back to the sand table, his fingers gently tracing the light spots on the city model that represented schools, hospitals, and libraries.

"I deployed these weapons not to show off my military might, but to protect what they protect. Openness is based on security, people-friendlyness is based on order, and transparency is based on strength."

He looked at the Minister of War and said, slowly and deliberately, “Tell Her Majesty that during the celebrations, the people can cheer to their hearts’ content, children can run freely, and the elderly can smile with peace of mind—because Yang San and his army will stand between all dangers and the people, building an invisible wall.”

The operations chief straightened his back: "Yes, General!"

Yang San nodded and looked out the window. The morning light had already illuminated the snow on the mountaintop, and on the mountainside, an armored convoy was winding its way forward, the dust kicked up by the tracks resembling a golden mist in the light.

“There’s one more thing,” he suddenly said. “My old brother, Ye Fei, the fourth son of the Ye family, arrived at noon today. He’s an intelligence analysis expert from the Russian General Staff. I want him to see for himself what the army in East Africa is like.”

The chief of staff understood: "Arrange a visit to the 'Black Panther' Special Operations Brigade's counter-terrorism drills?"

“No.” For the first time, a smile appeared on Yang San’s lips. “Let him come with me to the ‘Steel Seventh Company.’ The soldiers in that company come from five former countries, twelve ethnic groups, and six religions. I want him to see that a truly unified army is not about erasing differences, but about building a shared honor upon those differences.”
-
Noon, military airfield.

When Ye Fei stepped off the private jet, the first thing he saw was Yang San. Even among a group of tall officers, Yang San was like a lion in a pride—not by roaring, but by his quiet presence.

"Fourth Brother." Yang San stepped forward and the two clasped hands. Ye Fei could feel the calluses on that hand, marks left from years of holding guns and operating armored vehicles.

"Third Brother," Ye Fei addressed him using the family title. He looked at the five general stars on Yang San's shoulder and said, "It seems that the military rank system in East Africa is even more... generous than in their country."

Yang San smiled, a smile that softened the features of his face: "It's not generosity, it's responsibility. Five stars represent my command over the armies of the five former nations, and also my responsibility for the military support of the five pillars of this new nation—unity, development, justice, dignity, and future." He didn't take Ye Fei to headquarters, but instead got into an unmarked SUV. The convoy consisted of only three vehicles, without police escorts or armored vehicles, and drove into the mountains.

"Aren't you afraid of an attack?" Ye Fei looked out the window at the rugged mountain road.

“There are seventeen sentry posts, eight sniper teams, and four mobile response squads within three kilometers on both sides of this road,” Yang San said casually. “If we can still be attacked even with all that, then I, the commander-in-chief, should resign.”

Half an hour later, the convoy stopped at the entrance of a valley. It looked like an ordinary training base, but Ye Fei could tell at a glance that it was unusual—the obstacle course, the distribution of shooting targets, and even the trimming of vegetation all revealed a very high level of professionalism.

"Steel Seventh Company!" Yang San shouted as he got out of the car.

Three hundred soldiers assembled in thirty seconds. Ye Fei noticed the details: soldiers of different races were mixed together in the same squad;

All the soldiers' uniforms had the same insignia—a snow leopard climbing Mount Kilimanjaro embroidered on the right arm; the weapons and equipment were a mix of those from the four top countries, but had clearly been uniformly modified.

"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief!" The company commander was a black officer who looked to be under thirty years old, and his salute was textbook perfect. "The entire Seventh Steel Company is present. Please give instructions!"

“No training today.” Yang San walked to the front of the line. “I brought a guest with me, General Ye Fei, an intelligence analysis expert from the Russian General Staff. He wants to see what soldiers in East Africa are like.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each young face: "So, I don't need you to perform. I need you to answer one question—a question you ask yourselves every day."

Only the sound of the wind could be heard in the valley.

“The question is,” Yang San’s voice echoed through the valley, “why are you standing here?”

The silence lasted for five seconds. Then, a soldier on the left side of the column stepped forward—he was a white soldier with a typical Eastern European appearance.

“Report! Soldier Ivan, former member of the Ukrainian military advisory group to Kenya!” His English had a Slavic accent. “I stand here because my daughter was born here five years ago. On the other side of the old border, she would be registered as a ‘foreigner.’ But here, she is a citizen of the East African Republic. I defend this country, and I defend my daughter’s future!”

The second soldier stepped forward; he was a tall, thin Maasai warrior whose face still bore the marks of his tribe's facial tattoos.
“Soldier Lesson, former Kenyan Army reconnaissance soldier! I stand here because my father and grandfather were both soldiers, and they fought their whole lives, and the border is still there. Now, I can use this gun (he patted the sniper rifle in his arms) to defend a country without borders!”

The third, the fourth, the fifth... soldiers stepped forward one by one, answering the same question in different languages, with different accents, and with different stories.

A former Tanzanian naval soldier said he can now sail freely on Lake Victoria without having to have his documents checked every ten nautical miles.

A former female soldier in the Rwandan army said she is now the first female armored battalion commander in the East African National Defence Force, and her tank crews come from five former countries.

A former child soldier from Burkina Faso—now an adult—said that the country gave him the opportunity to go to school, so he chose to repay it with his life.

Ye Fei listened silently. As an intelligence analysis expert, he had seen too many armies—the Russian steel torrents, the American technological dominance, the elite European squads. But this army before him had something he had never seen before: a cohesive force that bordered on faith.

Last to step forward was the young Maasai company commander. He didn't tell his story, but turned to face the entire company and roared out an ancient war song in Maasai. Three hundred soldiers responded in unison, speaking twelve different languages.

"What are they saying?" Ye Fei asked Yang San.

“The ancient Maasai oath goes: ‘My spear is for my people, my shield is for my homeland.’” Yang San translated softly, “But now, ‘people’ refers to our 300 million compatriots, and ‘homeland’ refers to this whole land.”

The drill was over. Yang San offered no comments, simply saluting the entire company. The soldiers returned the salute and then dispersed—no cheers, no slogans, just like completing a routine assembly.

On the way back, Ye Fei remained silent for a long time.

"How is it?" Yang San asked.

"If our General Staff sees this unit, the assessment report will include two sentences."

Ye Fei looked at the scenery rushing past the window. "First sentence: Second-rate equipment, third-rate training system, near-first-rate level of informatization. Second sentence: First-rate fighting will and cohesion."

Yang San nodded: "That's fair. We don't have the money to buy the most expensive weapons, but we can ensure that every weapon is in the hands of the most determined people."

“Third Brother,” Ye Fei turned his head and looked at Yang San seriously, “Five years ago, when the two queens were united, the outside world only knew about their wisdom and the people’s choice. But today I know that without your absolute prestige in the army and your iron-fisted unification, this country might have collapsed in the warlord war on the very first day.”

Yang San did not deny it. His gaze was fixed on the distance, where the outline of Mount Kilimanjaro was crystal clear in the afternoon sun.

"Ye Fei, do you know what the highest honor for a soldier is?" he suddenly asked.

"Victory? Loyalty? Sacrifice?"

“It’s unemployment,” Yang San said calmly. “It’s when this country no longer needs an army to defend its unity, no longer needs weapons to ensure its security, and no longer needs generals to deter internal and external threats. On that day, I will be the first to hand over my military power, and then go to the foot of the mountain to open a small farm, watching the children run around on the boundless land every day.”

He paused, his voice becoming low: "But that day hasn't come yet. So, I still need to polish my gun, my soldiers still need to be trained to be ruthless, and my five stars—still need to be on my shoulders."

The SUV drove back to the fortress. Before entering the underground parking garage, Ye Fei asked one last question: "Third Brother, during the celebration, if an attack really happens..."

Yang San opened the car door, sunlight shining on his straight back. He didn't turn around, but his voice came clearly:
"Then the attackers will understand two things. First, East African guns will never be pointed at their own people again. Second, East African bullets will never show mercy to the enemy."

The car door closed. Ye Fei sat in the car, watching Yang San's back as he walked towards the command center—that back was like Mount Kilimanjaro itself, silent, majestic, and unshakeable.

He knew that his eldest brother, Ye Feng, controlled capital in New York, his second brother, Ye Mao, coordinated politics in Beijing, his third brother, Marshal Ye, managed technology in Kiev, and this Yang San in front of him was forging the backbone of an army in East Africa.

The Ye family's roots are deeper and more resilient than anyone can imagine.

The fifth anniversary celebration two days later will be the moment when this great tree reveals its full splendor to the world. (End of Chapter)