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

Fengtian, Dongta Airport.

Before dawn, a layer of grayish-white light had just appeared on the eastern horizon.

The searchlights on both sides of the airport runway were still on, their stark white beams sweeping across the rows of neatly arranged aircraft on the tarmac.

Zhang Xueming's jeep drove straight into the airport gate. The guards at the gate saw the license plate, snapped to attention, and saluted, their cheeks flushed with excitement.

Yesterday's bloody battle on the city wall made every Northeast Army soldier's eyes burn with rage when they saw Second Master.

The jeep stopped at the edge of the helipad, its tires leaving two black marks on the concrete.

Zhang Xueming pushed open the car door and jumped out. A cold wind rushed towards him, carrying the smell of aviation gasoline and engine oil. He took a deep breath and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

He likes this flavor.

This smell signifies airplanes, air superiority, and the sharpest blade in his hand in the war to come.

"Second Master!"

A tall military officer jogged over from the opposite side of the tarmac.

He wore a dark blue flight jacket with colonel's insignia on the collar. His face was angular, and his eyes below his brow bone were dark and bright, like two polished pebbles.

He ran up to Zhang Xueming, snapped to attention, and saluted with a crisp, clean movement.

"Li Changkong, Squadron Leader of the Northeast Air Force, reporting for duty!"

Zhang Xueming looked him up and down.

Li Changkong graduated first in the first class of the Northeast Military Academy's flight training program. When Marshal Zhang Zuolin was alive, he was personally selected to study flying in France. He achieved top marks at the French flight school and led the Northeast Air Force after returning to China.

This person has a nickname, "Crazy Li," not because he has a mental problem, but because he's reckless and doesn't care about his life when he flies.

During one exercise, his plane's engine stalled in mid-air, and everyone thought he was going to parachute out.

He managed to glide the plane for twelve kilometers and landed it smoothly on the runway. When he climbed out of the cockpit, he still looked calm and collected.

"Captain Li."

Zhang Xueming nodded to him, "Take me to see our plane."

"yes!"

Li Changkong turned around and strode ahead to lead the way.

As he walked, he pointed at the planes on the tarmac, his tone filled with barely suppressed pride.

"Second Master, please look. These are French-imported Bleugue 27 fighter jets, a total of 56, with a maximum speed of 350 kilometers per hour, and equipped with two 7.62 mm machine guns."

"Over there are 120 British-imported de Havilland DH-4 reconnaissance bombers, each capable of carrying four 50-kilogram bombs."

"And over there, 30 German-imported Junkers K-47 two-seat fighters, each equipped with two 7.92mm machine guns."

"Adding in various types of trainer and transport aircraft, the total is 262!"

He stopped and turned to face Zhang Xueming:

"Second Master, to be honest, our Northeast Air Force is the strongest air force in all of China."

"The Japanese Kwantung Army air squadron has less than fifty aircraft in total in Northeast China, most of which are outdated Type 87 light bombers. They are no match for us in a real fight."

His voice suddenly lowered, his lips moved, he hesitated for a moment, and then swallowed the rest of his sentence.

He wanted to say that it was a pity the young marshal never allowed him to take off. From the Wanbaoshan Incident to the Nakamura Incident, every time he requested permission from the young marshal to take off for patrol, his request was rejected.

The young marshal's reason is always the same:

"Don't give the Japanese an excuse to start a war."

Zhang Xueming noticed his hesitation and didn't press him for details.

He walked up to a Blackgay 27 fighter jet and reached out to touch the skin on its wing.

The skin is made of aluminum, cool and smooth, with morning dew still clinging to it.

The bomb racks under the wings were empty, as were the machine gun magazines. The aircraft was well-maintained, but it hadn't carried live ammunition for a long time.

He turned around, his gaze slowly sweeping over the more than two hundred aircraft on the tarmac.

What was the original historical trajectory of these aircraft and these priceless aviation equipment?

After the order to not resist was issued, all the planes were dragged out of the hangar by the Japanese soldiers, painted with the Japanese flag, and then used to bomb the Chinese army.

262 planes, not a single shot was fired, they all fell into the hands of the Japanese.

Thinking of this, Zhang Xueming's fingers unconsciously tightened, his nails scratching a thin white mark on the aluminum skin.

"Captain Li," he suddenly spoke.

"arrive!"

I have a question for you. You must answer truthfully.

"Second Master, may I ask?"

Zhang Xueming turned around, his gaze fixed directly on Li Changkong's face.

"Do you dare lead a team to bomb Lushun?"

Li Changkong's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart pounded wildly.

He studied at a French flight school for three years, led an air force for five years after returning home, and waited eight long years for these words.

From the day he put on that flight jacket, he dreamed of one day being able to pilot a plane himself, fly over the heads of the Japanese devils, and drop bombs on those swaggering Japanese flags.

For eight years, every time he watched the Japanese planes swaggering around in the skies over Manchuria, he felt the fire in his chest about to burst out.

Today, someone finally asked him this question.

Li Changkong snapped to attention, his heels striking the concrete with a sharp crack, and raised his right hand, fingers together, to his forehead.

"Second Master, I dare."

"I've been waiting for this day ever since I started learning to fly a plane."

"As long as it can bomb the Japanese, I'll go even if you let me fly a plane by myself."

"I would rather die than regret it."

Zhang Xueming reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"it is good."

"But you should get ready first, because I have another batch of planes arriving in a little while."

"When the new plane arrives, you can take it with you."

"Remember, the performance of these new aircraft far surpasses that of your existing aircraft, so you need to prepare for them in advance."

"These new aircraft will be the main force in dogfights during the bombing of Port Arthur."

"Your existing Braggay and de Havilland are primarily responsible for bombing missions."

Li Changkong was stunned.

New plane? Where did this new plane come from?

The 262 aircraft that the Northeast Air Force currently has are the most valuable assets he has ever seen in his life. Second Master said there are new aircraft.

He wasn't the only one perplexed; Zhang Xueliang, Zhang Zuoxiang, Tang Yulin, and others were equally puzzled.

Zhang Xueliang stood three steps behind Zhang Xueming, his face still red and swollen, his hands in the pockets of his military overcoat, his neck hunched, like a quail wilted by the cold wind.

Behind him stood Zhang Zuoxiang, leaning on his cane, his white hair fluttering slightly in the wind. His cloudy old eyes gazed at the sky at the end of the track, his gaze filled with a mixture of expectation and doubt.

They all heard Zhang Xueming's words. If someone else had said those words, they would have thought he was bragging.

But the person who said this was Zhang Xueming.

Yesterday, he said in the conference room that he wanted to import new fighter jets from abroad. Everyone thought it was just an excuse, a polite way to appease Zhang Zuoxiang on those three questions.

But now he's standing in the airport, pointing at the runway, saying the plane will be here soon.

This is an outrageous boast.

"Xue Ming"

Zhang Zuoxiang finally couldn't help but ask, "You said there's more air force coming. Where will this air force come from?"

"I am familiar with the procurement channels of our Northeast Army."

"When the old marshal was alive, I had to review every batch of aircraft procurement."

"Are you going to buy airplanes from France? How come I haven't heard a thing?"

Zhang Xueming turned around to face Zhang Zuoxiang, a faint smile on his lips.

"Don't worry, Assistant Commander."

"These planes weren't bought from France or Britain; they came from my good friend, and their combat capabilities are absolutely formidable."

"As for how it came to be..."

He paused for a moment, then looked up at the gray-white sky above the runway. "You'll see it for yourself soon."

Zhang Zuoxiang frowned, wanting to say something more, but Zhang Xueming had already turned around, taken two steps forward, and moved a few steps away from the crowd.

He looked up at the sky, his consciousness sinking into the cold-glowing system panel deep in his mind.

He hadn't opened the system shop for a while; the points he had left after exchanging for assassins were still lying in his panel, waiting for his next summon.

Now, the time has come.

He silently recited in his heart:

"System, how many points are needed to redeem the airplane?"

[Ding! P-51 Mustang fighter jet, 100 points/aircraft, includes one pilot. This redemption includes a full set of pilot equipment and a basic ground crew maintenance kit. Redeem now?]

P-51 "Mustang".

Zhang Xueming's heart skipped a beat, and his pupils contracted and then dilated within a fraction of a second.

He had originally thought the system would give him some relatively low-quality fighter jets, such as Hawk IIs or Boeing P-26s, or even Soviet I-15s or I-16s.

Those planes were good too, but compared to the Mustang, they were a generation behind.

The P-51 Mustang was the best piston-engine fighter of World War II, bar none.

Its speed, high-altitude performance, range, firepower, protection, and multi-purpose capabilities are all maximized.

Equipped with six 12.7mm M2 Browning heavy machine guns, it can carry rockets and bombs, has a maximum speed of over 700 kilometers per hour at high altitude, and its range can cover the entire Northeast and even the Korean Peninsula.

Historically, this aircraft utterly decimated the German Luftwaffe's BF-109 and FW-190 aircraft on the European battlefield.

In the Pacific theater, they turned Japan's Zero and Hayabusa fighters into airborne lighters.

And now, the system has actually rewarded him.

Zhang Xueming took a deep breath, suppressing his overwhelming joy, and used his mind to check his points balance.

A line of bright numbers flashed on the panel:

[Current total points: 8201.]

Eight thousand two hundred points.

One P-51 costs 100 credits and comes with a pilot.

In other words, he can now deploy 82 Mustangs and a full squadron.

enough.

Without any hesitation, he silently recited in his heart:

"Immediately exchange 82 P-51 Mustang fighter planes."

[Ding! Redemption confirmed. 82 P-51 Mustang fighter jets, 8200 points required! 82 pilots included as a bonus.]

The points on the system panel plummeted at a visible speed, dropping from 8200 to 0. At the moment the points were reset, a golden light flashed around the edge of the panel before fading into silence.

Nothing changed in the sky.

The sky was still that same grayish-white sky, the clouds were still that same leaden-gray clouds, the searchlights on both sides of the airport runway were still sweeping beams of light, and the cold wind was still blowing.

Zhang Zuoxiang leaned on his cane and looked up at the sky, his neck aching from looking up, but he couldn't see anything.

Wan Fulin pulled the pipe out of his mouth, nudged Wang Yizhe's arm with the pipe stem, and muttered in a low voice:

"What on earth is that second brother up to? Didn't they say there was an airplane? Where is it?"

Wang Yizhe ignored him, staring intently at the sky, his lips pressed tightly together, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

He believed Second Master, who said that if there was an airplane, then there definitely would be an airplane.

Just when everyone thought Zhang Xueming was bluffing, a deafening buzzing sound suddenly rang out.