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

The plane was still taxiing on the runway when Zhang Xueming pushed the cabin door open.

The sky over Fengtian City was hazy, with smoke and dust from the artillery fire obscuring the sun.

A barrage of gunfire erupted from the direction of the city wall, occasionally punctuated by muffled explosions that shook the ground beneath our feet.

"Yuan Lang! Take your men and come with me!"

Zhang Xueming jumped down the gangway, his military boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as they stepped onto the runway.

Behind him, a hundred soldiers in camouflage uniforms filed out, their Type 95 assault rifles gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen in the morning light.

The jeeps and trucks that had been waiting for a long time started up, their engines roaring low, and the canvas awnings on the vehicles fluttering in the wind.

Zhang Xueliang was helped down the gangway by two soldiers.

His face was still swollen, the bloodstains at the corners of his mouth had congealed into dark red scabs, his yellow woolen uniform was full of wrinkles, and the general's collar insignia was crooked to one side.

He seemed to have lost his soul; his eyes were devoid of light, filled only with an unfathomable bewilderment.

"Take him to the car." Zhang Xueming said without turning his head.

"Zhang Xueming!"

Zhang Xueliang suddenly tried to break free, but the two soldiers' hands gripped his arms like iron clamps.

"What exactly are you going to do to me?"

Zhang Xueming turned around, glanced at him, and his eyes were utterly cold.

"Let me show you what it means to defend your country."

He opened the car door and got into the first jeep.

The convoy sped out of the airport and raced along the main street of Fengtian City toward the East Gate.

All the shops on both sides of the street were closed, and the stone pavement was riddled with craters from artillery shells, with broken glass and rubble scattered everywhere.

Occasionally, you could see a few ordinary people peeking out of the alleyway, only to shrink back down once the convoy had passed.

The city walls drew closer, and the sounds of gunfire grew louder.

Zhang Xueming sat in the passenger seat, his fingers unconsciously tapping the pistol holster on his knee.

He was mentally planning each step that would follow.

Fengtian City is currently under siege, with fewer than 6,000 soldiers capable of fighting inside, and many sections of the city walls have collapsed.

If nothing unexpected happens, Fengtian can hold out for a maximum of two more hours.

But he has already come, so Fengtian will never be lost.

The convoy stopped inside the east gate.

Black smoke was still billowing from the city gate. The blown-open door panel leaned against the wall, its iron sheet rolled up and riddled with bullet holes.

The defending troops had just repelled a wave of attacks by the Japanese.

The stone steps were covered with wounded soldiers; some were groaning, others were already lifeless. Rows of corpses covered with white sheets were stacked at the foot of the city wall.

"Second Master!"

Liu Duoquan ran down from the city wall, his military uniform covered in blood and dust, his left arm wrapped in bandages that were soaked with blood.

He ran up to Zhang Xueming, snapped to attention, and saluted, his eyes reddening.

"Second Master, you're finally back!"

Zhang Xueming raised his hand in return, his gaze sweeping over the devastation on and off the city wall, and said in a deep voice:

Explain the situation.

"Two Japanese regiments, totaling about seven thousand men, attacked simultaneously from the east gate and the corner tower."

Liu Duoquan wiped the blood and sweat from his face. "The brothers have been fighting since dawn, and more than half of them have been killed or wounded."

He took a breath, lowering his voice slightly:

"Second Master, to be honest, if the brothers hadn't known that Beidaying had won a battle last night and were so eager to prove themselves, this city wall would have fallen long ago."

"We can hold it."

Zhang Xueming interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "I'm here, and I can hold out."

He turned around, his gaze falling on the low brick houses below the city wall.

"Commander Liu, have you done what I asked you to do?"

Liu Duoquan was taken aback:

"What is it?"

"Japanese expatriates and spies." Zhang Xueming's voice turned cold. "Last night's telegram clearly stated that all Japanese expatriates and traitors in the city should be immediately purged. How many have you arrested?"

Liu Duoquan then realized what was happening and quickly said:

"They've got them! I sent someone to do it as soon as I received the telegram last night."

"All the Japanese expatriates in the city, including the consulate staff, as well as the suspects we had been monitoring, have been taken into custody."

"There are a total of..."

He paused for a moment, as if recalling numbers.

"There were about a thousand people, all of whom were imprisoned in the cells below the city walls."

"But Second Master, the consulate has diplomatic immunity, so my men only surrounded it; they didn't dare go in to arrest anyone."

"Just surround it."

Zhang Xueming's lips curled slightly, but there was no warmth in that smile. "More than a thousand people. That's enough."

He waved behind him:

"Yuan Lang!"

"Here!" Yuan Lang jumped out of the jeep and ran to Zhang Xueming in a few steps.

"Take your soldiers to the prison and bring all those thousand-plus Japanese civilians and spies to the city wall."

"yes!"

"etc."

Zhang Xueming called out to him, his voice extremely low, as if squeezed out from between his teeth, "Once we reach the city wall, execute them all, leave no one alive."

Yuan Lang's pupils contracted slightly, but without any hesitation, he stood at attention, saluted, and turned to lead his men towards the prison.

"What did you say?!"

A thunderous roar came from behind.

Like a caged beast enraged, Zhang Xueliang charged toward Zhang Xueming, but was held back by two soldiers.

Unable to break free, he could only roar at Zhang Xueming from a distance of two steps:

"Zhang Xueming! You're insane! You're completely insane! That's over a thousand lives! More than a thousand people!"

"There are elderly people, women, and children inside!"

"You killed them all? Are you even human?"

His voice was shrill and cracked, the veins on his neck bulged, and the handprints on his cheeks were still clearly visible, now flushed red, his whole face contorted almost out of shape.

"This is massacre! It's a crime against humanity! If you kill these expatriates, the Japanese will fight us to the death!"

"Do you know what this means? Are you trying to drag all the people of Northeast China down with you because of your own madness?!"

All the soldiers on and off the city wall turned to watch this scene, and even the sound of the Japanese cannons seemed to fade into the distance.

Liu Duoquan stood to the side, mouth agape, completely dumbfounded.

He hadn't expected that Zhang Xueliang would also return from Beiping; he was too excited to notice him at the time.

He was about to bow to Zhang Xueliang when Zhang Xueming stopped him.

Zhang Xueming slowly turned around and looked at the furious Zhang Xueliang.

He looked quietly at this nominal elder brother, his eyes filled with a kind of mocking pity.

"Are you done?" he said casually.

Zhang Xueliang was momentarily speechless at his calmness, then became even more enraged:

"Don't play dumb with me! Do you even know what you're doing?"

"You kidnapped me, seized my power, and mobilized the Northeast Army to fight the Japanese—I've tolerated all of that!"

"But you killed overseas Chinese? You killed ordinary people? How are you any different from the Japanese devils doing this!"

"the difference?"

Zhang Xueming smiled.

The smile was brief, lasting only a moment, before his face turned icy, as cold as a piece of raw iron.

"The difference is that they have the blood of 30 million of our compatriots on their hands, while I have their blood on mine."

He took a step forward, closing in on Zhang Xueliang, with less than a foot separating the two.

"You're saying they were ordinary people? The Japanese killed 20,000 of our people in Lushun. Weren't those people with knives ordinary people during the massacre?"

"They buried 5,000 of our people alive in Jinan. Were those who filled in the hole ordinary citizens?"

"When they occupied Korea and amused themselves by impaling babies on bayonets, weren't those people ordinary citizens?"

Zhang Xueming's words were filled with anguish, his voice utterly cold.

"Zhang Xueliang, listen to me carefully."

"The deep-seated hatred between these two ethnic groups has long since transcended the question of whether or not to kill their overseas Chinese."

"Whether you kill or not, the hatred remains."

"If you kneel down and beg for their forgiveness, they won't be grateful; they'll just think you're easy to bully."

"If you stand up and stab them, they'll think twice before trying to bite you down; they'll break a few teeth in the process."

"To be kind to them is to be cruel to us."

"Your father understands this principle, and all the men under your father understand it, but you are the only one who doesn't."

Zhang Xueliang opened his mouth, his lips moved for a long time, but only a few indistinct syllables came out of his throat.

His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head, and he froze on the spot.

"Gag him."

Zhang Xueming turned around and stopped looking at him. "Take him to the city wall and let him see with his own eyes what war is."

A soldier pulled a cloth strip from his waist and quickly gagged Zhang Xueliang.

Zhang Xueliang struggled and sobbed, tears welling up in his eyes and streaming down his swollen cheeks, but no one paid him any attention.

Liu Duoquan stood there for a long time, her Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times, but she finally couldn't hold back and said in a low voice:

"Second Master, what the young marshal said isn't entirely without merit."

"Those expatriates are, after all, foreigners. What if international public opinion..."

"International public opinion?"

Zhang Xueming interrupted him, a hint of disdain in his voice, "Commander Liu, tell me, where was the League of Nations when the Japanese were massacring us? Where was the United States? Where was Britain?"

"The fighting in Fengtian City has been going on since dawn. The Japanese artillery shells are almost blowing the city walls down, and not a single country has uttered a sound."

Liu Duoquan fell silent.

"Without strength, there is no justice."

Zhang Xueming patted him on the shoulder and said, "Remember this."

"Today we've really hurt the Japanese devils and killed their civilians, so they'll know that Northeast China isn't a place they can just come and go as they please."

"As for the killing, we acted in self-defense, understand?"

"Fengtian is Chinese territory. Foreign armed personnel and nationals who enter Chinese territory without authorization shall be regarded as spies and invaders and executed on the spot in accordance with wartime laws."

He paused, his voice growing even colder:

"This is called acting in accordance with the law, not a massacre."

Liu Duoquan remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.

He fought for twenty years, serving the Zhang family since the Zhang Zuolin era. He witnessed the old marshal's methods and the young marshal's indecisiveness.

But the Second Master in front of him was completely different from the timid Zhang Xueming he remembered.

That fierceness, that decisiveness, even faintly resembled the old marshal's style back then.

"What are you standing there for?"

Zhang Xueming had already started walking. "Follow me to the city wall."

Yuan Lang had already gone to the dungeon to arrest those overseas Chinese.