You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

A patrol of Japanese soldiers, who had just returned from a troop rotation outside the city, was marching along the street at the foot of the city wall.

In the ranks, a young Japanese private couldn't help but mutter a complaint: "Damn it, patrolling like this every day, checking those Chinese pigs, it's exhausting! Do the Eighth Route Army really dare to attack Beiping?"

A sergeant with a stubble next to him snorted, his tone carrying the disdain of a seasoned veteran and a forced arrogance: "Idiot! What do you know?"

"Those Eighth Route Army guerrillas are like rats and flies, best at exploiting loopholes and launching sneak attacks! Southeast Shanxi was stolen by them through treacherous schemes!"

He spat and continued, "Hmph, don't be fooled by their seemingly new guns and cannons; they're still the same old thing at heart!"

"They only dared to engage in petty theft in secret, ambush transport teams, and harass small outposts."

"A head-on battle? They wouldn't dare even if they had ten times the courage! A single battalion of the Imperial Army could rout an entire division of theirs!"

Another Japanese soldier chimed in, his tone dismissive: "Exactly! I've heard that their so-called new equipment is all dubious, poorly made stuff, just for show."

"Completely vulnerable before the true Bushido of the Imperial Army and its elite divisions!"

"This time we're on high alert; not even a suspicious fly can get in! They won't be able to gather any useful intelligence like they did in southeastern Shanxi!"

"That's right!"

The sergeant straightened his chest, as if encouraging himself and his men.

"Strengthen patrols, rigorously investigate spies, dig ditches and set up obstacles outside the city... We must let those guerrilla guerrillas who only know how to wander around in the mountains know that Beiping is the ironclad territory of the Imperial Army!"

"Their underhanded tricks won't work here! They'll never get any closer, let alone have another chance!"

Upon hearing this, the Japanese soldiers all revealed expressions of deep agreement and arrogance.

With guns slung over their shoulders, they continued their patrol with an air of self-importance, their eyes sweeping over the Chinese civilians on the street, heads bowed and hurrying along, their hearts filled with condescending disdain and a sense of control.

However, what these beasts didn't know was that at that moment, about three or four hundred meters above their heads, a drone was hovering steadily in the breeze.

Its camera slowly pans, showing the street scenes of Beiping below, the patrol routes of the Japanese army, the additional sentries at the city gate, and even the distribution of firing positions on the city wall...

Each frame was captured clearly and transmitted in real time via encrypted radio signals to a secluded courtyard several miles away.

. . .

at the same time.

In the rear area, there was a conference room that was heavily guarded but whose furnishings could not hide its simplicity.

Four men, each with a distinct face but all bearing a similar air of superiority, sat around a table. The will they represented was enough to tip the scales of this war-torn world.

America, Soviet Union, Germany, England.

Representatives from the four countries, driven by their respective interests in the Far East and their "intense interest" in the mysterious technology that had suddenly appeared in Northwest China, sat together in a rare manner.

As for why there was no French representative, it's because France had already voted!

The atmosphere in the meeting room was subtle and tense.

The British representative, dressed in a sharp suit and impeccably groomed, surveyed the German representative opposite him with an undisguisedly cold and unyielding gaze.

The two countries are locked in a life-or-death struggle, yet they are forced to share a room here; the sense of absurdity and hostility almost overflows the room.

The Soviet representative, with a thick beard and simple clothes but sharp eyes, often focused his gaze on the German representative, his vigilance tinged with a deep scrutiny.

Although the two countries signed a non-aggression pact, increasingly tense military movements and intelligence on the eastern front suggest that Little Mustache's promise is probably no more solid than a piece of paper.

Only the American representative, with a cigar in his mouth, a relaxed posture, and even a slightly cynical smile, crossed his strong arms and watched the drama unfold with great interest.

A European civil war? A quagmire in Asia?

Oh, this is wonderful!

Go ahead and fight! Fight them hard!

Factory orders, bank loans, and markets that are about to be destroyed and need to be rebuilt...

The fiercer you fight, the fuller our vaults on Wall Street will become!

He almost whistled to express his joy at the moment.

However, this atmosphere of "harmony" that everyone was calculating was instantly shattered by a reply that had just arrived, which was brief in wording but carried a tremendous weight.

When the middle-aged man from the rear, responsible for liaison and translation, read out the core contents of the letter with a complex expression, the temperature in the meeting room suddenly dropped to freezing.

"...We are aware of the concerns of all parties concerned regarding 'new technologies and equipment.' Our principle is: limited technical exchanges and equipment transfers are permissible..."

Only after reading this far did the representatives begin to show a hint of interest in their eyebrows.

But the next sentence made everyone's faces instantly turn ashen.

"...However, there is no such thing as a free lunch; all transfers must adhere to the principle of equivalent exchange!"

"There are two specific methods: First, an exchange of equivalent value for specific strategic materials, industrial equipment, and precision technical blueprints that we urgently need..."

"Second, we will purchase at our set price, determined based on the scarcity and strategic value of the technology; the price is non-negotiable..."

Those interested may send an authorized representative to discuss the matter in detail; those not interested are welcome to leave at their own discretion…

Dead silence.

"Bang!"

The English representative was the first to erupt, slamming his fist on the old but spotlessly clean table, making the teacup jump.

His face, which had maintained a gentlemanly demeanor, flushed red with anger and disbelief.

"Disgusting! Arrogant! Utterly absurd!"

He practically roared, his authentic London accent distorted with excitement.

"This...this damn Chinese country bumpkin! Who does he think he is? He actually dares to negotiate with us? To negotiate terms? And to demand pricing power? What gives him the right?"

How dare he?

We have already shown them great respect by coming to this ignorant and backward country, yet they dare not immediately hand over various weapons and still try to negotiate terms?

To be honest, let alone the Eighth Route Army, even the mountain city and the Japanese were not taken seriously by the major countries.

In the eyes of the great powers, the war taking place on Chinese soil at this time was more like a battle of chickens pecking at each other!

They took a liking to your weapon, which was a favor to you. How dare you be so ungrateful?

Although the German representative was at odds with the British, he also wore a gloomy expression at this moment.

In his mind, only Aryans are qualified to master and define cutting-edge technology.

The Soviet representative squinted, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

This uncompromising, even business-like, response made him feel extremely uncomfortable and offended.

"Comrade, this is not the attitude that internationalist aid among comrades should have; it is more like the greedy face of capitalists."

The American representative put down his cigar, the playful smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold indignation at being offended.

He tapped the table: "Gentlemen, the point isn't attitude, it's results!"

"This guy surnamed Shen doesn't seem to know his place. They should feel honored and offer samples for 'friendly research'."

"He actually wants to do business with us? That's the biggest joke of the century!"