Southern guerrilla warfare: I led the Red Seventh Army Corps to amassed a million troops.

After Xun Huaizhou arrived at the Phoenix Mountain command post, Zhou Zeyuan recounted his previous conversation with Su Yu.

During the conversation, Zhou Zeyuan finally understood why Su Yu had told him the information first, or rather, why she had kept it from Xun Huaizhou before finding a solution.

Because Huaizhou was easily agitated when faced with a life-or-death decision for the Red Army.

The passion and enthusiasm of young people may be a plus on the battlefield, but in the political arena, it is definitely a minus.

However, Xun Huaizhou was unexpectedly rigid in terms of organization and discipline, which was the opposite of his flexibility in military affairs.

But this was exactly what Zhou Zeyuan had expected.

Immediately, the three of them conducted a military simulation on the map.

Then Zhou Zeyuan relived the brutal reality of the bloody battle at Xiangjiang, but he was still able to withstand it.

After all, we already knew the outcome of the matter from the beginning.

But Su Yu and Xun Huaizhou's eyes were getting redder and redder.

Upon hearing that the Eighth Red Army Corps was likely to be completely annihilated, and that the First, Third, and Fifth Red Army Corps would suffer more than half their casualties, these two young men, who had experienced countless trials and tribulations, couldn't help but grit their teeth.

In the end, Zhou Zeyuan concluded that the casualties of our army were expected to exceed 6%, and a large number of wounded would be unable to escape the pursuit of the Nationalist army and would eventually become victims of their blades.

Just one sentence shattered the last glimmer of hope in the two friends' hearts!

Xun Huaizhou went even further, declaring that if those above didn't listen to correct opinions, then they wouldn't be those above anymore.

Thus, a telegram embodying the will of tens of thousands of soldiers in the Northern Expeditionary Force against Japanese Aggression traveled across mountains and rivers to reach the banks of the Xiang River.

But this respectful yet subtly warning request landed on the three men's table.

What kind of raging fury did it ignite? And how many teacups suffered the consequences?

Apart from the commander-in-chief sitting to the side, no one else knew.

But Zhou Zeyuan waited quite politely for more than two hours, until it got dark, but he still didn't receive a reply from his superiors.

Since you don't object, then we'll take that as agreement.

But planning is easier than making a decision; when it comes to actually taking that step, a little hesitation inevitably arises.

Ultimately, it was a telegram from Comrade Qiu Bai that solidified his resolve—"As long as you are right, I will fully support you!"

Zhou Zeyuan held the telegram in his hand, repeatedly reading the statement, feeling a surge of emotion welling up in his chest.

If even a calm and gentle middle-aged man like Comrade Qiu Bai dared to support this risky move, then what is there for me, a young man, to hesitate about?

The lingering hesitation in his heart vanished instantly, and he strode toward the telegraph operator waiting outside, solemnly handing him the manuscript.

"Publish without changing a single word!"

One hundred thousand troops swore an oath to march north and sent a telegram to the whole country.

As is widely known, radio signals travel over extremely wide distances; radio waves spread through the air, and everyone can receive them.

To ensure the confidentiality of radio information, various encrypted channels and secret codes have emerged.

The so-called nationwide electrification refers to the use of high-powered radios to transmit information on public channels using a common codebook.

In this way, radio stations across the country can receive the message and translate its contents.

At this juncture, it is undoubtedly a sensitive period in recent years that major domestic and international forces are paying the most attention to the situation in China.

Zhou Zeyuan's public telegram has definitely caused a huge stir.

Japan, the Soviet Union, Britain, Germany and other powers; the Guangdong clique, Guangxi clique, Yunnan army, Sichuan army, Hunan army and other warlords; oh, I almost forgot, there was also the Central Army and the Nanjing government.

(We haven't forgotten Wang Jialie of the Guizhou Army; he wasn't fit to sit at the table, he was only fit to be served on it.)

And other democratic parties such as the Third Party, the China League for Civil Rights, and the National Socialist Party...

All parties were shaken and worked through the night to analyze this sudden telegram.

Overseas embassies urgently gathered intelligence and sent it back to their home countries.

The military and political circles in China were in an uproar. No one expected that the Red Army, which was trapped in a corner of Fujian and Zhejiang, would suddenly show such momentum and head straight for the core area of ​​Jiangnan.

The radio waves had just gone off when Luo Zhuoying from Quzhou City was the first to receive them.

Needless to say, he was filled with fear, anxiety, and anger, but at that moment, there was really nothing he could do.

They couldn't win a fight, and they dared not flee.

All we can do is pray that the principal will issue the order soon.

Next came the Nanchang Headquarters.

In the Nanchang military camp, the principal was sitting at his desk with an open diary in front of him.

The nib of the fountain pen had been resting on the paper for quite some time.

He was in a bad mood tonight. Chen Cheng had come by during the day and subtly hinted that Quzhou couldn't be held and that they should retreat.

He didn't lash out on the spot, but he kept his anger inside until the evening.

The pen finally touched the paper, and words brimming with emotion flowed out on the page.

"Chen Cixiu came to see me today, speaking of matters in Quzhou. His words were ambiguous, his intention being to persuade me to withdraw. He outwardly appears loyal and cautious, but inwardly harbors selfish motives. Is the foundation of the Civil Engineering faction truly more important than the greater interests of the Party and the nation?"

"Luo Zhuoying is timid and hesitant, Huang Wei is all talk and no action, and none of the generals are reliable. I alone am holding up the precarious situation, surrounded by enemies on all sides, and there is not a single person in the party and the country who can share the hardships with me."

"Alas, the world has gone to the dogs, and the nation is in such dire straits. If Heaven does not forsake me, I will surely slaughter these people to atone for my sins..."

He was engrossed in writing when he suddenly heard hurried footsteps outside the door.

Then came a knock on the door.

The principal neither looked up nor stopped writing, continuing to immerse himself in the world he was creating.

Then, the knocking started again, three times in a row, and the sound was louder.

The principal frowned, and blurted out in a thick Fenghua accent, "I'm sleeping!"

A steady and familiar voice came from outside the door: "Principal, it's me."

Yang Yongtai.

The principal's brow relaxed for a moment, then furrowed again.

Yang Yongtai wouldn't bother him at this time unless it was something urgent.

"Come in."

The door was gently pushed open.

Yang Yongtai strode in, clutching a telegram in his hand, his expression unusually grave.

"Principal, the Red Army just sent a telegram in plain text, using a public channel and a public codebook. Radio stations all over the country, as long as they are turned on, can receive it."

The principal took the telegram and his gaze fell on the paper.

After reading it, I let out a cold laugh.

"A hundred thousand troops? Heading north to fight the Japanese? Vowing never to return? Ha, it sounds better than it's said. Are they really going north to fight the Japanese, or are they taking the opportunity to seize our Hangzhou and Nanjing?"

He clutched the telegram in his hand and paced back and forth a couple of times.

While writing in my diary just now, some of the emotions I had already expressed through my pen seemed to surge back like a flood.

"Damn it! They're just a bunch of bandits and thugs who talk a good game, all that talk about marching north to fight the Japanese, all that vowing never to return—it's all a damn pretense!"

"That little brat Su Yu, that peasant Xun Huaizhou, and that Zhou Zeyuan—they're all slippery and boastful!"

"This is a public telegram, known throughout the country. What are they doing? They're slapping me in the face! A bunch of little devils, do they really think I can't even lift a knife?"