Chapter 16: Forewarned is Forearmed

These two Russians dared not stop along the way. To them, that rifle was truly crucial—and time was equally important! Reports from Japan indicated that they had already begun issuing government bonds. Although it wasn’t explicitly stated that these funds were for war against Russia, there was no need to say it outright. The Japanese public purchased these bonds with great enthusiasm, and Americans and British investors also bought large amounts. In contrast, Russia had only France’s support in Europe, and that was merely moral support.

No one could say for certain when the war would break out, but the colonel and the military industry expert both knew that if the Russians were given six months, they could equip their forces in Liaodong entirely with these semi-automatic rifles.

If, during battle, the Japanese could only fire one shot while the Russians could fire four or five in return, it would undoubtedly increase the Russians’ chances of victory.

Although several officers had already reported this, when their own men returned to confirm it to Commander Kuropatkin, the commander still found it hard to believe.

“My God, this is like a fairy tale. Those bandits have managed to develop a rifle that took us years to create? Akberil, is this true? I still have my doubts.”

Akberil said nothing; he was as shocked as the commander. It was the military expert who answered the commander’s doubts: “Commander, I too was skeptical before going, but they truly have done it. And the rifle’s performance is excellent—this colonel can attest to that.”

Kuropatkin rose from his chair. “No, I’m not doubting you, only my own ears. I believe you all understand how I feel. By the way, how much does this Yang Dagui want? Five million rubles?”

The colonel nodded. “Yes, Commander-in-Chief. That is an enormous sum, and we did not decide on it ourselves, so we came back to seek your approval. Moreover, from Yang Dagui’s tone, it seems he might want to negotiate a ceasefire. I believe I should consult you on this matter.”

Kuropatkin’s eyes widened. “He wants a ceasefire? I already have plans to encircle and crush him! Once our troops are in place, I will flatten him. It’s far too late for him to want peace!”

Akberil remained silent. Although Kuropatkin’s name differed from his predecessor's by only a syllable, his military prowess was far superior. The surprise attack on Gaojiatun was his strategy; though Tang Yulin was rescued, the battle was nearly flawless.

The same applied to dealing with Yang Xiaolin. The Russians had long planned to strike Yang Xiaolin with overwhelming force at the right moment, aiming to eliminate this troublesome factor behind the Russian front before the Russo-Japanese War erupted.

Sitting back in his chair, Kuropatkin took a deep drag from his cigar and exhaled thick smoke. “Very well, we’ll agree to his terms.”

The colonel looked troubled. “General, if you make a deal with these bandits, it will be detrimental both domestically and internationally. His Majesty the Tsar will never agree to live in peace with such bandits.”

The Russians might tolerate ordinary bandits and even arm them to counter Feng Delin’s forces. But Yang Dagui was different—this man built his reputation by killing Russians. If Kuropatkin made peace with him, his compatriots back home would never forgive him. Kuropatkin knew this well.

Moreover, Yang Xiaolin was wanted by a dozen Western countries. If the Russians signed any agreement with him, they might lose even France’s moral support. Kuropatkin smiled. “Agree to his terms, get the rifles, and then proceed as planned. With a bandit, no promises are necessary. Colonel, you’ll handle the negotiations—make sure to haggle a bit to show sincerity.”

Haggling was just a gesture to appear earnest, implying the Russians didn’t care about the price. Kuropatkin was confident in his plan to crush Yang Xiaolin, just as he had ambushed Feng Delin. This time, he would learn from past mistakes: once Yang Dagui was captured, he’d be executed immediately. So even if he paid five million rubles, Yang Xiaolin wouldn’t live to spend it.

The Russians intended to play a double game.

Yang Xiaolin, standing in Liudaojiang, observed his forces. He could clearly sense that Biaozi had been working hard lately.

At the last martial contest organized by Yang Xiaolin, Biaozi had lost all his men, much to Jin Dadao’s fury. Most of the officers in Biaozi’s Third Regiment were Jin Dadao’s former comrades. The regiment’s defeat was so crushing it cost them face. So in recent days, Biaozi had inquired about how Suibing managed things and had strived to outperform him in every aspect.

This was why Yang Xiaolin had the last-place finisher wash the winner’s clothes—it was truly humiliating to be reduced to laundry duty.

“Biaozi, well done. Are you confident you can redeem your honor in the next contest?”

“Yes! Rest assured, Commander, if I don’t win next time, I’ll cut off my head and use it as your chamber pot!”

Yang Xiaolin chuckled. “No need for that. At worst, I’ll replace you with someone who can lead the brothers better. Honestly, Biaozi, Baishan is the gateway to Gulushan. Anyone who wants to attack me must pass through here. I entrusted this place to you, yet you let it turn out the way it did last time. I was ready to relieve you then!”

Biaozi scratched his head. “I know my mistake, Commander. I’ve really changed! You can ask my men—I haven’t entered the county town since coming down from the mountain!”

Yang Xiaolin nodded. “If I didn’t trust you, would I have let you continue? You’re an old brother, I still have faith in you. That said, not entering town isn’t right either. You should keep in regular contact with your men.”

“Alright, I understand.”

They soon reached the village. Yang Xiaolin gestured inside. “How are the tunnels and militia training coming along?”

Biaozi smiled proudly. “Commander, words won’t do justice. You should go see for yourself.”

The militia consisted of all able-bodied men in the village. Around Liudaojiang, there were seven or eight villages, with over two thousand men aged fifteen to fifty.

Chen De was now the militia captain of Liudaojiang.

Of course, this captaincy was relative to Gulushan; officially, Chen De was the village chief and militia leader. After Biaozi handed over the retired rifles, Chen De had spent his own money to buy more, ensuring almost every household had a firearm. The militia’s strength had truly improved.

As Yang Xiaolin entered the village, he saw sentries posted outside, with guards at the entrance. Fortifications had been built, and a heavy machine gun was stationed at the village mouth. A dozen strong young men stood behind it, conducting simple searches on everyone entering or leaving. The security was commendable.

“Biaozi, is it always like this?”

Biaozi didn’t hide the truth. “No. Usually, only the sentries have men, and only one or two stand at the gate. They only stop strangers for questioning. Today, Chen De knew you were coming, so he made these preparations to show you.”

Yang Xiaolin smiled. He knew Chen De owned half the land in Liudaojiang. These wealthy men were oil pressers; if dozens of strong youths stood guard daily, Yang Xiaolin wouldn’t believe it. Still, having a sentry was sufficient.

Seeing Yang Xiaolin smile, Biaozi knew he hadn’t said the wrong thing. He led Yang Xiaolin into the village. “Commander, I’ll show you the tunnels. Chen De said he’s inviting you to dinner this afternoon. You should go.”

Yang Xiaolin nodded. “I will. He’s helped us a lot; at least I should thank him. Tell him I don’t drink, just a casual meal. I have to visit Xian and Qian Yao in the afternoon.” Chen De was the local powerbroker; as long as he did a good job, Liudaojiang would be safe for Yang Xiaolin’s movements.

Yang Xiaolin was not satisfied with the tunnels. He demanded every household have identical tunnels, each with two exits: one connecting to other villages, the other leading to the nearest mountain. But the villagers seemed to have done the bare minimum, as if digging tunnels was just a show for Yang Dagui. Few households had connected tunnels; most shared with neighbors. The exits were rudimentary, often merely converted root cellars for winter storage.

Only Chen De’s tunnel led outside, but it was too narrow and too close to the village. People only dug seriously when they realized that tunnels ensured their safety.

Yang Xiaolin felt he should speak with Chen De before they paid a bloody price.

To Chen De, Yang Xiaolin was now a man who could decide his life or death. If Yang Dagui became angry, Chen De would have to abandon his home and flee—if he could flee at all—so he dared not take things lightly.

A large square table was laden with food. Chen De stood respectfully, repeatedly rising when Yang Xiaolin urged him to sit. Eventually, Yang Xiaolin stopped mentioning it. After inquiring about the village’s situation and whether Biaozi’s men caused trouble, Yang Xiaolin addressed the main point.

“Chen, I see the tunnels here aren’t well dug.”

Chen De hurriedly replied, “Please forgive me, Master Yang. The winter soil is very hard, some places are impossible to dig. I will dig again next year, following your instructions to finish them properly.”

Hard soil was only an excuse. If they tried harder, even stone could be broken. Yang Xiaolin shook his head.

“No, Chen, do you realize the Russians and Japanese are about to go to war?”

Chen De nodded. “Yes, rumors are rampant. Everyone is guessing when it will start, just waiting to see the spectacle.”

This was the attitude of the Chinese common folk—they remained neutral like the Qing government, unwilling to take sides in a war fought on their land. Neither Russians nor Japanese were seen as good.

But Yang Xiaolin knew that during the Russo-Japanese War, over a hundred thousand Chinese died in Northeast China, with official silver losses of thirty million taels—likely an underestimate. When the Russians and Japanese finally reached an agreement dividing Northeast interests, both sides won. The loser was the neutral Qing dynasty, and the hardest hit were the curious Qing commoners.

Yang Xiaolin did not want that ending. At the very least, he refused to see tens of thousands of Chinese corpses become trophies for Japan and Russia.

“Chen, let me say this: if fighting breaks out, the Russians won’t spare a single one of our villagers. They might even attack us before fighting the Japanese! If you prepare now, you can lead your people to survive.”

Chen De was stunned. He hadn’t taken it seriously. He wasn’t Russian or Japanese—what did their war have to do with him? But since Yang Dagui spoke so earnestly, he would dig a little more. There was little farming to do now, better to keep the tenants busy.

“Alright! Master Yang said it, then I’ll start digging this afternoon!”