Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Japanese Scheme

The men he brought with him claimed to be Japanese ronin, but in truth, they were elite soldiers handpicked from the military. Their mission, before the outbreak of war, was to cause trouble for the Russians—any sort of trouble, big or small.

The Russians were quite cooperative; their troops’ atrocities in western Liaoning provoked fierce resistance from the Qing people. As a result, the Japanese had little difficulty rallying most of the local rebels to their cause. This force may have been beneath the notice of the Russians, but for Japan, victory against Russia depended upon leveraging every possible factor.

At first, they paid little attention to the two hundred or so men atop the Wheel Mountain. Even after Yang Xiaolin had brilliantly pulled off the raid at Ganzi Village, the Japanese still dismissed them. Yet this time, Yang Xiaolin stormed the mine, wiped out six hundred Russian regulars, and fought his way through a two-thousand-strong encirclement in the subsequent skirmish. The messages left at the mine spread his reputation far and wide as fleeing laborers carried his name to every corner. Now the Japanese realized that even this band of outlaws could not be underestimated.

Matsubara needed all forces willing and able to fight the Russians to stand with him. That was why he presented himself with such humility and courtesy.

Looking to the future, Feng Delin’s vision naturally didn’t match that of the Japanese, so he wasn’t overly concerned about this matter. He hesitated, for he had never met Yang Xiaolin before, and feared that if Yang refused him, the situation might become awkward.

Matsubara evidently caught his meaning, smiled, and said, “Chief, though he has never met you, he’s come to your aid. It shows that not only does he hold you in his heart, but he must also greatly admire your reputation.”

This remark delighted Feng Delin. He knew that, after repelling this Russian offensive, his own name would resound far and wide.

Matsubara raised his cup. “Since coming to your territory, two things have convinced me that we Japanese cannot compare: first, your drinking prowess—every time, I am the first to succumb, and I am truly embarrassed; second, your boldness in friendship. Apologies are mere formality. I believe this Yang the Ghost is a man worth befriending, so I’d like to ask you to introduce us.”

Although the Japanese had come to help him win this war against Russia, Feng Delin always felt a subtle dissatisfaction when he saw the vast disparity between his own men and the Japanese soldiers. Now, hearing Matsubara admit there were things in which he surpassed the Japanese, he was genuinely pleased. “Ha ha, Matsubara, I think you’re not really Japanese—you’re a hero of our own land! Very well, I’ll write a letter and let Yang the Ghost know our situation, so he won’t risk himself too recklessly. Damn it, if he sacrifices himself to save me, I’d feel guilty. I’ll tell him you wish to meet him and leave out the petty details. No need to mention them; it would seem small-minded.”

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Matsubara smiled faintly. “Many thanks, Chief.”

Matsubara believed that since Yang Xiaolin was also at odds with the Russians, he would be easily persuaded, just like Feng Delin’s men. But Matsubara never imagined that Yang Xiaolin was different—he came from the twenty-first century, and in some things, he possessed greater foresight than the smartest men of this era.

Yang Xiaolin knew the Russians were no good, but the Japanese were even worse! He would never, like Feng Delin, ally with the Japanese merely to fight the Russians.

That day, the snow was falling heavily, thick flakes drifting from the sky like goose feathers, covering yet another Russian mine that Yang Xiaolin had just seized.

This mine was larger than any of the previous ones he had captured. Inside were over seven thousand Chinese laborers, now standing in the swirling snow, waiting for Chief Yang to distribute travel expenses and provisions.

Altogether, nearly twenty thousand laborers were freed from four mines. Yang Xiaolin chose several with strong bodies and experience with firearms to replenish losses in his force. Even with all his pickings, the First, Second, and Third Companies were restored to full numbers.

Restored in numbers, not in combat strength. This force could not yet be called battle-ready; they had only just begun to show the spirit of soldiers.

Among the seven thousand miners, more than six hundred had nowhere to go and hoped Yang Xiaolin would take them in. As the others queued for provisions, these six hundred, under the leadership of a miner named Xu Daping, stood before the Russian mine owner’s residence, waiting for Yang Xiaolin to emerge and accept them.

The mine owner now sat before Yang Xiaolin, terrified. Outside, miners clamored for his blood, but Yang Xiaolin assured him there was no need to fear—he would not harm his life.

Whether or not the mine owner believed Yang Xiaolin’s promise, this time, Yang Xiaolin truly didn’t want to kill the man. He spoke Mandarin and was timid. Of all the Russian mine owners he had captured, few spoke Mandarin and were willing to surrender; only this one had survived to stand before him.

Yang Xiaolin said to the mine owner, “You needn’t be afraid. I can see you’re an honest man. Just tell me what’s written on these papers, and I promise to keep you safe.”

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The mine owner believed him. Yang Xiaolin randomly pulled out a sheet from his bag and gently said, “Here, take a look for me.”

The mine owner examined it for a while. “This is a telegram from our commander to a general named Akberil. It instructs him to send a girl named Domlikshava to the Russian army headquarters, making sure nothing goes wrong, and forbidding her to contact anyone along the way. The date was eight days ago.”

There was nothing in the telegram that Yang Xiaolin deemed useful. He looked sharply at the mine owner.

The mine owner grew nervous. “It’s true, General, I have not deceived or hidden anything. Please believe me. I want to go home—my family is waiting in a distant land. If you spare me, I swear never to set foot on this land again!”

Yang Xiaolin said nothing and took out another letter. “Look at this one.”

The mine owner’s hands were trembling as he took the letter, glanced at it, and said, “This is a letter from a Russian secretary named Stitchenko to his mother. He writes about missing her and assures her not to worry about his life. Supplies at Sixty-Four Village are plentiful, the Russian army is building fortresses there and will be stationed long-term. He’s to be appointed liaison officer between the fortress and the Qing Dynasty by the general.”

Yang Xiaolin’s eyes flickered. “Sixty-Four Village? Qian Yao, the map.”

Although Sui Bing’s wound had been deep, it was only flesh. He lost a lot of blood at first and was listed as seriously wounded, but after a few days’ rest, some of the seriously injured died, and Sui Bing, with his wound simply bandaged, could manage chores even if he couldn’t return to battle yet.

Still, Yang Xiaolin let him rest as much as possible. Now all such tasks fell to Qian Yao. As a former constable, Qian Yao was used to official work and managed these affairs with ease—far better than Sui Bing ever could.

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