On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

At five in the morning, Beiping was still asleep.

All the shops on both sides of the street were closed, their signs swaying gently in the morning breeze.

Zhang Xueliang was crammed into the back seat of the second jeep, with two soldiers flanking him on either side.

He struggled desperately, bumping into the soldier with his shoulder, kicking him, headbutting him, and even trying to bite his arm.

"Stop the car! I order you to stop the car!"

Zhang Xueliang shouted himself hoarse, but no one paid him any attention.

His hand groped haphazardly in the carriage, found the door handle, and was about to pull it when the soldier sitting to his right reached out and cleanly chopped his carotid sinus on the back of his neck.

Zhang Xueliang's struggle came to an abrupt end. His eyes rolled back a couple of times, his head lolled to one side, and he slumped limply into his chair.

Wolf Warrior glanced in the rearview mirror to confirm he was still breathing, then turned around to face forward again.

"here you go."

The convoy sped along the empty streets, passing through Qianmen Street, Yongdingmen, and onto the dirt road leading to Nanyuan.

Ten Ford three-engine transport planes have already started up beside the runway at Nanyuan Airport.

The propellers churned the cold morning air, producing a deafening roar.

The aircraft's navigation lights flickered in the morning mist. The mechanic was crouching beside the landing gear, making final checks. The cabin door was open, and the gangway had been lowered.

The convoy came to a stop beside the runway. Zhan Lang personally opened the car door, and two soldiers lifted the still unconscious Zhang Xueliang from the back seat.

Zhang Xueliang's head drooped, with congealed bloodstains still hanging from the corners of his mouth. The handprints on his cheeks had turned from red to bluish-purple, looking shocking in the morning light.

"Carry him up."

Zhang Xueming got out of the car, gestured with his chin toward the plane, and said, "Hurry up."

Two soldiers, one on each side, helped Zhang Xueliang up the gangway and shoved him into the cabin.

Zhang Xueliang's body was placed in a window seat, the seatbelt fastened across his chest, his head tilted to the side of the porthole, his breathing steady and heavy.

Zhang Xueming turned and climbed the gangway. The gangway retracted, and the cabin door closed.

Ten transport planes carried Zhang Xueming's entire guard onto the runway, taking turns taxiing and accelerating. The roar of the propellers grew louder and sharper.

After a few violent jolts, the aircraft suddenly felt lighter and then lifted off the ground.

Zhang Xueliang finally woke up when the plane climbed to cruising altitude.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he felt was a dull pain in the back of his neck, as if he had been hit on the head with a wooden stick.

The second sensation was that my ears were filled with the roar of airplane engines, a buzzing and shaking sound that made my eardrums swell.

He turned his head with difficulty and saw the gray sky outside the porthole, and the rapidly shrinking city of Beiping below the fuselage.

The streets, laid out like a chessboard, the houses, like building blocks, and the city walls, thin as ribbons, were shrinking inch by inch, swallowed up by the morning mist.

"Where am I?!"

He turned his head sharply and saw Zhang Xueming sitting opposite him. He jumped up as if he had been electrocuted.

"In the sky."

Zhang Xueming didn't even look up; he was looking down at the battle map in his hand.

The map marked the troop deployment outside Fengtian City. He drew a circle around the location of Beidaying with red and blue pencils, and then drew a blue line along the South Manchurian Railway.

"Where are you taking me?!"

"By the mandate of Heaven."

Zhang Xueliang's pupils contracted sharply.

He turned to look out the window. Beiping was almost out of sight. The plane was flying northeast, and the North China Plain stretched out below the wings in the morning light.

The fields, villages, and roads resemble a gray carpet that has been ironed flat.

"Zhang Xueming! You......."

His voice first cracked from its high pitch, then suddenly choked up, as if something was stuck in his throat.

He covered his mouth with both hands, his shoulders trembled violently, and blood seeped from between his fingers.

"Do you know how much effort I put into getting from Northeast China to Beiping? Three years! A full three years!"

"I went from being the son of a local warlord to becoming the Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Army, Navy, and Air Force!"

"I'm about to surpass my father, do you even realize that?!"

"But now it's all over, you've ruined everything! You destroyed the Northeast Army, you destroyed me, you've squandered the last bit of our Zhang family's wealth!"

Zhang Xueming slowly raised his head and looked at the unrepentant man in the opposite seat.

His eyes were calm, devoid of anger, pity, or even disappointment.

He's said enough, he's cursed enough.

He has already explained all the principles he needed to explain.

Now, he didn't want to say another word; this person didn't deserve to listen.

"Zhang Xueliang".

His voice was utterly cold. "Listen carefully."

"You're going back to Fengtian to atone for your sins this time."

"Following your stupid older brother's orders, you will bear the infamy of being a general who does not resist, and be nailed to the pillar of historical shame, a stain that will never be washed away for a hundred or a thousand years."

"I'm taking you back now to give you a chance. Dying on the battlefield is better than being cursed and gossiped about for the rest of your life."

Zhang Xueliang's hand slid down from the corner of his mouth as he stared blankly at Zhang Xueming.

His eyes were red and swollen, and the handprints on his cheeks had turned from bluish-purple to purplish-black. He looked extremely disheveled.

He wanted to say something, but Zhang Xueming had already lowered his head and continued looking at the map, his attitude was very clear.

There's nothing more to say between us.

Silence returned to the cabin, with only the roar of the engines echoing continuously in one's ears.

The sky outside the porthole grew brighter, and a faint golden hue appeared on the eastern horizon.

The morning light poured down through the gaps in the clouds, shining on the wings and turning the aluminum skin a warm yellow.

But at the end of the plane's flight path, the sky to the northeast was still a gloomy gray-blue, like the calm before a storm.

The clouds grew thicker and lower, transforming from white, scattered clouds into lead-gray cumulus clouds, piling up on the horizon like a wall slowly rising.

The captain's announcement rang out in the cabin, its sound crackling due to static interference.

"Sirs, we are currently flying over Shanhaiguan and are expected to arrive in Fengtian in one hour and twenty minutes."

Zhang Xueming raised his head and looked north through the porthole.

Through the gaps in the clouds, he saw the winding coastline and the vast expanse of black earth to the north.

War is about to break out on this fertile land.