Chapter Eight: An Unexpected Turn of Events

Several men around quietly cast their eyes toward Liu Xianhe, but Yang Xiaolin suddenly slammed the table. “Don’t look at him, think about yourselves!”

Biaozi quickly withdrew his gaze; this was not the time to show any sign of weakness. But before he could lower his head, Yang Xiaolin said, “Li Debiao, stand up!”

Biaozi reacted swiftly and stood up. “Commander, I know I was wrong! Please give me another chance. I promise to train the troops properly!”

Yang Xiaolin swallowed the words he was about to say. Looking at the large, dark bruise on Biaozi’s face, it was clear that Jin Dadao was responsible.

He nodded. “Good, knowing your mistake is enough. This time, it’s partly my fault for not giving you clear instructions before we descended the mountain. I won’t say more. Now that our forces are larger, I’m about to establish a Military Discipline Department to specifically handle disciplinary issues. Consider this a warning: if I find similar problems again, don’t blame me for not recognizing brothers.”

Yang Xiaolin had been troubled by this issue for days. During the bandits’ martial competitions, he had been contemplating a solution. Human desires are difficult to control alone, so the bandits needed a constraint that would instill fear.

There were two approaches he could adopt: one was to assign political commissars to the lower companies, the other was to emulate General Jiang’s brilliant idea and create an organization similar to military intelligence. Every soldier who had served knew that regular troops often resented political commissars—Yang Xiaolin felt the same. Besides, he couldn’t find enough suitable commissars, so he chose the latter.

As for how to establish and operate this department, Yang Xiaolin was still uncertain. But one thing was clear: he would no longer indulge these men as he had recently. The soaring kite must be tethered firmly in his own hand.

“Everyone knows the results of this competition, right? The First Regiment took first place; the Third Regiment performed the worst.”

Yang Xiaolin began discussing the competition. Biaozi remained standing, his facial muscles twitching slightly. Yang continued, “I’ve said it before: the new batch of equipment will first be issued to Suibing. Starting this month, Biaozi must send fifty brothers to the First Regiment to wash clothes and clean guns until the next competition.”

Suibing glanced up at Biaozi and saw his face twitch again. For some reason, Suibing’s earlier frustration dissipated, replaced by an urge to laugh. Knowing it was inappropriate to laugh now, he lowered his head again, this time to conceal his amusement.

Yang Xiaolin looked at Biaozi. “Any questions?”

Biaozi shouted, “Yes! Commander, if I win next time, can Suibing wash my clothes?”

Yang Xiaolin laughed. “That depends on whether you can win and if Suibing ends up last. This will be our new rule: the last place does chores for the first.”

Biaozi tilted his head to look at Suibing. Though Suibing kept his head down, his shoulders twitched slightly. Biaozi grew angry. “Understood!”

***

Yang Xiaolin understood Biaozi’s mood perfectly. It was like when their regiment dragged the entire army backward during a competition and were punished with six months of cleaning toilets. Losing the award was one thing, but as men, they couldn’t lose face!

Just as Yang Xiaolin was about to say more, Nirel suddenly entered with a man who handed him a letter. After reading it, Yang’s expression immediately grew stern.

After a long pause, he waved his hand. “Alright, everyone knows what to do. Train well and stay sharp. Suibing, the guns I gave you aren’t just for handing out; you must ensure perfect coordination among the firepower. The brothers will need to figure that out themselves. You can take them into a few battles and handle it as you see fit.”

His face was grave. Everyone sensed something serious had happened, but Yang said nothing further, and no one dared to ask.

“Also, guns need bullets. I’ve requested some simple machines from the Japanese. We can use them to produce our own ammunition. I’ve already planned for you to recruit reliable villagers from your areas. I’ll have technicians teach them how to make bullets. From now on, the villagers will help produce various calibers for us.”

This method was learned from the Japanese, who, due to geographical constraints, couldn’t concentrate production like the Americans or British. One key reason Japan’s military industry surged after the Meiji Restoration was that the state heavily supported it and delegated simple parts manufacturing to private workshops.

For Yang Xiaolin, the biggest advantage was that his small arsenal—only dozens of lathes and technicians—could focus on weapon development. Manufacturing bullets in-house would divert resources and delay more critical projects. Paying villagers for processing would also provide them extra income, strengthen ties with his forces, and stimulate the local economy.

Moreover, dispersed production sites would be harder for the enemy to strike.

Of course, the bullets produced this way must be strictly inspected, especially at first when villagers’ skills are immature. Before distributing ammunition to the bandits, they must be checked carefully.

After these arrangements, Yang Xiaolin sent Biaozi and the others away. Once out of the room, Jin Dadao could no longer hold back his curiosity. “Commander, what happened?”

Yang Xiaolin whispered, “Feng Delin was captured by the Russians.”

The news stunned everyone. Feng Delin had already openly allied with the Japanese, who guarded him proudly. He commanded tens of thousands under the banner of the East Asian Death-Defying Army at Gaojia Village. There had been no rumors of a major Russian military operation, so how had Feng been taken so swiftly?

Jin Dadao doubted the truth. “Commander, could this be a mistake?”

Yang shook his head. “The Russians didn’t gather forces and slowly besiege Gaojia Village as before. Two nights ago, they sent 5,000 cavalry in three columns to launch a surprise attack on Gaojia. Elite units struck Feng’s main base directly. The entire battle lasted less than an hour. Nearby units hadn’t even arrived; the Japanese didn’t react in time. Feng was taken to Liaoyang.”

Yang Xiaolin stood after speaking, a bit relieved inside. He knew why the Russians succeeded so easily. He had assumed the Russians wouldn’t enter the mountains during snow, and that darkness belonged to the bandits. But this time, the Russians attacked at night in heavy snow.

Honestly, Yang Xiaolin’s own defenses hadn’t been strong either. Had the Russians struck him first, he might not have escaped. Feng Delin had taken the hit for him.

Jin Dadao stood. “Commander, how many troops does Feng Delin have?”

Yang said solemnly, “The Russians haven’t killed Feng yet because they’re waiting for his tens of thousands of men.”

In the Northeast, bandits valued loyalty. Feng’s brothers, who had sworn life-and-death oaths, would definitely attempt a rescue—even if it meant death. The Russians held Feng in Liaoyang, waiting for the so-called East Asian Death-Defying Army to come to them.

Yang knew the Japanese would not stop the bandits from rescuing him. Without Feng, the Japanese had no way to keep the bandits united. Rather than letting them disperse slowly, it was better to let them cause trouble. Perhaps Feng could even be saved. At least, Yang believed that if he were Japanese, he would act this way.

Jin Dadao’s face darkened. Feng Delin was now the leading force in western Liaoning. His capture affected all the mountain strongholds. With the Japanese and Russians already on edge, the bandits losing their leader was disastrous.

“Commander, what’s your plan?”

Jin asked. Kong Luodi beside him added, “Commander, I think you should raise your banner now. With Feng in Russian hands, all the mountain territories—both in reputation and strength—belong to you. To be blunt, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

Yang Xiaolin did not answer. After Feng’s capture, the group around Gulu Mountain was now the strongest bandit faction, even surpassing Zhang Zuolin’s prospects. But the situation was more complicated.

No matter how much Feng collaborated with the Japanese, he was a man of integrity. Perhaps lacking foresight, but certainly no traitor. If he were killed by the Russians, it would be a loss for Chinese strength.

Yang paced the room and finally looked at Yang Du. “Xizi, what do you think I should do?”

Yang Du took a sip of wine. “Rescue him. Feng is the leader. Only by rescuing him can you gain the respect of the brotherhood. As for what Master Kong said about a golden opportunity, that’s easy for a leader. Feng is no match for you. Why not use his name to boost your own reputation?”

Yang Xiaolin smiled. Yang Du was right. He had never regarded Feng as a true rival. And if handled well, this incident might even bring unexpected gains.

“Advisor Kong, write a letter to Zhang Laowu. Tell him I want to meet and discuss something important.”