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

Yang Yongtai took a deep breath and said with a forced smile, "Principal, please calm your anger. The Red Army's public telegram is precisely to provoke you! Please don't fall into their trap."

The principal abruptly stopped and turned around: "Changqing, are you here also to act as an intermediary for Chen Cixiu?"

Yang Yongtai lowered his head slightly and said sincerely, "Principal, I have no close relationship with Cixiu and it's not my place to speak for him. But given the current situation, I have a few words that I can't keep quiet about."

"The Red Army came with great force, and this public telegram clearly shows that they want to occupy the moral high ground in politics."

"Since they dared to reveal their unit designation, troop strength, and operational direction, it means they are absolutely certain of victory. In the battle of Quzhou, our army is likely to suffer a crushing defeat."

"Luo Zhuoying may not be able to hold out for five days, and our reinforcements may not arrive in time within those five days. Rather than losing two elite divisions at the gates of Quzhou, it would be better to take a step back and sacrifice some assets to gain an advantage."

The principal frowned: "Oh! How do we gain the upper hand?"

"Didn't the Red Army send a telegram saying they wanted to pass through Hangzhou to march north and fight the Japanese? Then let's agree to their request."

"Let them head north. Our army can deploy troops in the Hangzhou area to intercept them head-on, and send another large army from Jinhua to block the Red Army's rear."

"Once they're in our trap, we'll have a fair and square decisive battle. If we don't fight, we won't fight; if we do, we'll annihilate the enemy."

The principal's originally stern face instantly melted away like ice and snow, and he burst into hearty laughter: "Haha, Changqing, you are truly my hidden dragon!"

He strode back to his desk, picked up the telegram again, and read it over once more: "Alright, since they want to go north, then let them go north. Liu Jingfu is almost in Zhejiang; he will lead the battle in this campaign."

Yang Yongtai bowed slightly, turned and left through the door.

He knew that the principal had already come to his senses.

The next step is to wait for the official deployment order to be written down.

Once he left the bedroom, Yang Yongtai's steps became lighter.

Chen Cixiu, Chen Cixiu, I've done you such a big favor this time, one favor isn't enough.

Meanwhile, in the French Concession of Shanghai, at the Peiwen Apartments.

An elderly man, dressed in a gray cloth long gown and wearing round-framed glasses, with a gentle and refined demeanor, hurriedly stepped onto the stone steps and gently knocked on the courtyard gate.

The maid opened the door upon hearing the noise, recognized the guest, and quickly led the way up the wooden stairs to the second-floor living room.

The woman inside was reading a newspaper under the lamp. When she saw him arrive so late at night, she looked somewhat surprised and got up to greet him: "Mr. Cai, why are you visiting so suddenly at this hour? Didn't you send someone to let us know beforehand?"

"Mr. Song, I'm so sorry, I was a little flustered when I heard the good news, so I came to share it with you." The old man took out a translated manuscript full of telegrams from his pocket and laid it flat on the coffee table.

The woman picked up the telegram with a puzzled look on her face, but after a moment, her eyes were filled with disbelief.

"Mr. Cai, this is indeed great news. Our Civil Rights Protection Alliance should take action, and it's time to let that guy in Nanchang see the power of democracy."

The old man smiled slightly, gestured for him to proceed, and said, "It is my wish, I dare not ask!"

He Jian, a member of the Hunan Army, was the next to receive the news. The old man was both shocked and frightened.

He had already sent people to find out that Xun Huaizhou, Su Yu, and Zhou Zeyuan were all from Jinggang Mountain.

If the three of them gain power, then forget about saving my life, I'm afraid they'll even scatter my ashes.

But at this time, his troops were all used to block the Red Army's Central Column. Otherwise, he really wanted to send an army to get involved in the western Zhejiang battlefield.

The Central Army, with hundreds of thousands of soldiers, fierce generals, and brilliant strategists, boasted a lot of bravado in ordinary times, but when they actually fought, they were utterly defeated.

Damn it! Is this even going to work?

If that doesn't work, let me do it.

At this moment, looking across the whole country, with the two Red Army forces successfully joining forces and their power growing daily, no one was more anxious than He Jian.

In this regard, even the principal has to step aside.

Simply put, the principal is confident.

They've weathered many storms; this little setback is nothing to them.

As for the southern Hunan region, the emotions are more complicated.

Zhou Zeyuan's fellow disciples, uncles, and senior uncles were overjoyed, just like a group of officials seeing Ma Guocheng, the deputy general of Jinling.

At this moment, only his teacher was slightly worried, but he couldn't worry about that now, as the Red Army was in a critical moment of life and death.

With the students taking the lead, he, as the teacher, felt even more determined to join in.

This time, however, he was not alone.

In the latter half of the night, the arguing in the small attic at the very center of the Central Column finally stopped.

As for why they argued until midnight?

That's because no one present dared to shout out, "Comrade, please return to your post!"

Frankly speaking, this is the most unreasonable statement in a debate.

If you encounter an opponent who is both a player and a referee, even if you are a world champion, you still have to admit defeat.

But given a fair competition environment, the teacher will humbly say: In my life, I am no less than anyone else!

As it turns out, Zhou Zeyuan was absolutely right to choose to trust the wisdom of his predecessors.

The wisdom of later generations is elusive and full of uncertainty!

But the wisdom of our predecessors...

Go ahead and learn it! I guarantee you'll learn it without making a sound!

As dawn broke and the night had not yet completely faded, the gate to the courtyard was suddenly pushed open from the inside.

A middle-aged man with a thin face strode out. His steps were quick but not hurried, and he exuded the energy of someone who hadn't slept all night but was still full of vigor.

He stood at the door, took a deep breath of the morning air, and then mounted the warhorse waiting outside. His movements were swift and agile, as if he were already used to the hustle and bustle of this hour.

The horses' hooves pounded on the dirt road, making a series of steady sounds in the thin morning mist.

The argument lasted for most of the night, but in the end, an order was finally drafted.

The heated arguments, the slamming of tables, and the acrid smoke were all dispersed by the morning breeze.

He spurred his horse eastward along the dirt road, feeling that the pent-up frustration in his chest had dissipated considerably.

A fast horse came towards us through the morning mist ahead.

The man was stocky and wore a somewhat worn military uniform. He stood ramrod straight and recognized who was coming from a distance. He reined in his horse and slowed down.

The two walked towards each other and met in the middle of the dirt road.

The middle-aged, burly man reined in his horse and spoke in a loud, clear voice, carrying the crispness of a soldier: "Old Li, how did it go? Everyone's been waiting for your good news."

The lean man reined in his horse, a smile appearing on his face: "The revolution is not yet successful, but it's not entirely fruitless either. I brought four words—'appropriate reduction of burden.' The order should be delivered to each column and corps before dawn."