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

The night sky over Fengtian was torn into pieces by searchlights, but the runways on both sides of the airport in the north of the city were already brightly lit as day by car lights, lanterns, and torches.

Zhang Xueming stood at the end of the track, with Zhang Zuoxiang and Tang Yulin beside him, and Zhang Xueliang to his right. Behind them was a large group of senior Northeast Army generals and officials from the Fengtian Provincial Government.

Everyone was craning their necks to look north. No one spoke; the only sounds were the wind whistling across the runway and the sputtering of generators in the distance.

Zhang Xueming was clutching a pocket watch in his hand, the cover of which he had opened and closed countless times.

More than an hour has passed since Zhu Wudi's last telegram was received.

Based on the Mustang's cruising speed, the time it would take to fly from the sea off Lushun back to Fengtian, plus the time for formation and regrouping, would be roughly this number.

He looked up at the sky. Dusk had completely fallen, and the last sliver of dark red afterglow on the western horizon was being swallowed by the night. Only a few newly emerged stars were twinkling in the northeastern sky.

"Why aren't they back yet?"

Tang Yulin was getting a little anxious.

"What if something unexpected happens?"

Zhang Zuoxiang patted him on the shoulder, "Don't worry, it should be soon."

Just as everyone was waiting anxiously, a thunderous buzzing sound suddenly rang out.

Zhang Xueming's fingers tightened suddenly around the pocket watch, leaving a red mark between his fingers from the watch chain.

He took a big step forward, his boot soles carving a deep hole in the mud.

The sound grew louder and louder, eventually turning into a rumbling thunder that pressed down from the northern sky, making the windows of several trucks parked on both sides of the runway vibrate.

The searchlight beams swept northward in unison, the white beams crisscrossing and sweeping across the night sky.

A silver dot of light reflected the searchlight beam in the night sky, shining as if someone had hung a flying star in the heavens.

Immediately following the second, third, tenth, and hundredth spot of light, a fleet of silver aircraft emerged from the night, one after another gliding past the beams of searchlights, each passing causing the hearts of those on the ground to skip a beat.

On the nose of the Mustang at the very front was painted a red lightning bolt emblem. That was Zhu Wudi's plane.

Someone in the crowd on both sides of the track shouted:

"I'm back!"

These three words were like a spark falling into an oil drum, instantly setting the entire airport ablaze.

The ground crew threw their hats into the air, the staff officers patted each other on the shoulder, and someone shouted "Long live!"

Tang Yulin, the old bandit leader, actually had tears in his eyes. He turned around and wiped his face hard with his sleeve, muttering curses that were unclear to anyone.

Only Zhang Xueming did not move.

He stood at the end of the track, rooted to the spot like a nail, the cheers of everyone behind him becoming a blurry background noise in his ears.

His eyes were fixed on the Mustang painted with red lightning bolts in the sky, watching it descend towards the runway, its wings subtly adjusting their angle in the beam of the searchlights.

Zhu Wudi's landing motion was so clean it looked like he was demonstrating.

When the two main landing gears touched the ground, only a small wisp of smoke appeared. The tail dipped slightly, and the entire aircraft landed steadily on the runway, gliding along the center line.

Behind him, more Mustangs landed one after another on the runway, and the roar of the plane engines created a wall of sound in the air above the airport, making people's chests resonate.

Zhu Wudi taxied the plane to the edge of the tarmac, shut off the engine, and the propellers spun a few more times before coming to a stop.

He pushed open the canopy, took off his flight helmet and goggles, and jumped out of the cabin onto the ground.

His hair was a mess from being pressed down by his flight cap, and there were two deep red marks on his face from the goggles. There was also a trace of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, which he had bitten his lip while strafing.

His knees buckled when he landed, and he had to reach out and grab the wing to steady himself.

From the aerial battle in Fengtian to the pursuit at sea, he sat in the cockpit for nearly four hours. The physical exertion from those four hours of high-intensity air combat was more than that from fighting a whole day on the ground.

But he shook his head, removed his hands from the wing, straightened his back, and walked towards the end of the runway.

Behind him, Li Changkong's plane also landed.

Li Changkong's landing maneuver wasn't as graceful as Zhu Wudi's; his plane bounced twice on the runway before stabilizing, but this didn't affect his speed after landing.

The flight instructor practically sprang out of the cockpit, not even having time to take off his flight cap. He jumped off with one foot on the wing, tripped on the landing, and almost fell.

He scrambled to his feet and then took off running towards the end of the track.

He ran across the tarmac, past the ground crew, and past the cheering staff officers.

His flight suit was riddled with shrapnel cuts on the left sleeve, his face was covered in a mixture of engine oil and gunpowder, and his hair was wet and plastered to his forehead, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light.

He abruptly stopped five steps away from Zhang Xueming, his boot soles scraping a deep groove in the mud.

He stood at attention and raised his hand to salute, but his right hand was trembling uncontrollably.

"Reporting to the Commander!"

Li Changkong's voice was hoarse. He had called out on the radio too many times on the plane, but even so, his voice was so loud that the staff behind him all fell silent.

"The Fengtian Air Force has completed its attack mission against the Combined Fleet and has now returned to base!"

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and then roared out the good news with all his might:

"Confirmed: Enemy aircraft carriers Akagi, Kaga, and Ryujo sank! Battleships Hiei and Kirishima sank! Heavy cruiser Mikuma destroyed!"

"The battleships Kongo and Haruna are severely damaged! The heavy cruiser Mogami is severely damaged! Several light cruisers and destroyers have also been hit! The main force of the Combined Fleet is no more!"

He paused, then continued, "All of our fighter jets, bombers, and torpedo bombers returned safely without any losses!"

"Commander, we've won!"

"We agreed!"

There was a complete silence at the airport for three seconds.

Three seconds later, Tang Yulin was the first to break the silence.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

The veteran general, in his fifties, suddenly slapped his thigh, threw his head back, and laughed loudly. After laughing, he turned around and roared at his adjutant behind him:

"Damn it! Bring me the liquor! Bring out the strong liquor I've been hiding for twenty years!"

Standing beside Zhang Xueming, Zhang Zuoxiang, the old marshal known for his composure, did not burst into laughter like Tang Yulin, but his fingers clenched and unclenched on the head of his cane, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

His lips moved a few times, but in the end he only whispered four words:

"May God bless the Northeast."

"God bless the Northeast!"