The Wind Rises in 1898: Becoming a Warlord Starting in Southeast Asia

Chapter 119 Returning Geese and New Craftsmen

A small boat cut through the night and drifted downstream, its hull swaying gently. It carried only Luna and two guards, with no other attendants.

This unpretentious approach was clearly intended to demonstrate the sincerity of the negotiations, but it also revealed a sense of desperation and resignation.

As soon as Luna stepped onto the soft mud, Zi Guang passed several Chinese Free Army soldiers on guard and landed on a figure not far away.

Chen Feng was leaning against a tree trunk that had been broken off by artillery fire. His shoulders and thighs were wrapped tightly in gauze, and dark red bloodstains seeped through the fabric, which were particularly conspicuous in the firelight.

Kong Yunfei, Ren Dayong, and others beside him looked grim, their hands on the weapons at their waists, clearly still reeling from the sneak attack.

Luna gestured for the guards to remain on the shore, then stepped forward alone. His gaze, behind his gold-rimmed glasses, swept over Chen Feng's wounds and then over the remaining traces of the battle. He said calmly, "General Chen, we are both sensible people. What happened today was definitely not Bardomello's idea. Commander-in-Chief Aguinaldo is the mastermind behind it. But as the leader of the Independent Army, he cannot take responsibility for this personally. I ask for your understanding, General Chen."

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng raised his hand and pressed the wound on his shoulder, his tone tinged with amusement: "General Luna is quite straightforward. Of course I understand, Aquinado is your commander-in-chief, and you can't touch him. So all I want is Baldomero's life, plus Aquinado personally apologizing. Is that too much to ask?"

Asking for people is just a pretext; Baldomero's worthless life isn't worth much!

Aquinado's apology was even more of a sham.

What he really wanted was hard currency to support the Chinese Free Army, and heavy weapons to give his brothers a better chance of winning on the battlefield.

Luna seemed to read his mind, a glint of light flashing behind his gold-rimmed glasses, and then said, "General Chen, you know the financial situation of our Independent Army. We're almost out of rations and pay for the soldiers at the front, and supplies are really tight."

Chen Feng leaned against the tree trunk without moving, and asked in a deep voice, "General Luna, are you saying that you won't give us the people, and you're going to renege on the supplies too?"

Before he could finish speaking, Kong Yunfei immediately took a step forward, his single eye blazing with fury. "Our brothers shed blood, our hometown was almost wiped out, and you're just going to let it go like this?"

"Of course not!"

Luna quickly waved his hand and said sincerely, "Since I came here in person, I have no intention of letting General Chen suffer in vain."

I will do everything in my power to get you Baldomero's head; it will only take a little time to arrange.

As for the Commander-in-Chief personally coming to apologize, that's difficult to achieve. After all, he is the leader of the Independent Army; to humiliate him would be to damage the morale of the entire Independent Army.

He paused, then offered his bargaining chip: "I can give you a thousand Springfield 1863 rifles; these should be enough to make up for your losses."

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng suddenly chuckled, his laughter full of sarcasm: "General Luna, are you taking me for a fool? Springfield 1863? Those muzzle-loading firecrackers are so slow to reload, they're too much trouble for my brothers to even use as firewood."

Ren Dayong, standing beside him, scoffed, "Exactly! Last time at the San Antonio supply depot, we seized over three thousand of these crappy guns; they're taking up so much space in the camp!"

Today, the Chinese Free Army fighters are using the Kragjörgensen M1892 breech-loading rifle, which has a high rate of fire and high accuracy. It is a high-quality piece of equipment specially allocated by the US Army for the Battle of Manila, and it is much better than the supplies previously provided by the Navy.

"General Chen is joking."

Luna forced a calm demeanor, saying, "This rifle may not be top-of-the-line, but it's durable."

Chen Feng, too lazy to argue with him, said coldly, "Enough nonsense! I can forgo Baldomero's head, just give me five 120mm howitzers and two hundred rounds of ammunition, and this matter will be considered settled. Otherwise, I'll immediately march north, take down Marolos, and personally demand an explanation from Aquinado!"

"impossible!"

Without a second thought, Luna flatly refused, his face instantly darkening: "General Chen, this is outrageous! My Independent Army only has eight 120mm howitzers in total, how can we possibly give you five? This isn't negotiation, it's obstruction!"

A sudden gust of wind rose on the riverbank, causing the torch flames to flicker and sparks to fly, casting shimmering light on the faces of the people present.

Ren Dayong, clutching his injured shoulder, took a step forward and said in a deep voice, "General, you don't want much! Five cannons, in exchange for us not pursuing Aquinado's crimes, is already giving you plenty of face!"

Luna's face turned pale and then red; he knew Chen Feng was telling the truth.

If the Chinese Free Army were to truly break with tradition and turn to cause trouble on the northern front, the path to Philippine independence would become even more tortuous.

He simply couldn't produce five howitzers, and even if he could, the other generals would never agree.

Luna took a deep breath and said slowly, "These 120mm howitzers were captured from the Spanish colonial army. You know the Americans are very wary of us and won't give us heavy weapons. Bardomello's head is still yours, plus two more 120mm howitzers. If our independence army's strength is weakened too much, it's hard to say whether the Americans will continue to support you."

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng frowned slightly.

This statement makes perfect sense. The reason the Americans supported the Chinese Free Army was simply to use their strength to restrain the Spanish and the independence forces.

Once the independence army collapses, the Chinese Free Army will lose its value, and American support will inevitably be greatly reduced, or even be abandoned altogether.

Having figured this out, Chen Feng immediately nodded, his tone returning to calm: "Do as you say. After this battle, within three days, deliver Bardomero's head, two 120mm howitzers, and two hundred shells to the Free Army camp. If you miss one item, I will still march on Malolos."

"OK!"

Luna nodded slightly, a great weight lifted from his heart. He turned and quickly returned to the small boat, signaling the soldiers to row upstream with all their might. The oars cut through the water, leaving ripples, and soon disappeared into the night.

Not long after the negotiations concluded, the eastern sky began to lighten, and the faint light of dawn dispelled some of the darkness, casting a soft golden glow on the river.

Just then, a U.S. military courier arrived in a small boat, bringing the latest instructions from the U.S. military command.

The U.S. Army suffered heavy casualties during the assault on Manila and eventually abandoned its plan to fight head-on. Instead, it ordered the entire army to besiege the city without attacking, completely cutting off supplies and external aid to the city and exhausting the Spanish colonial army.

The directive explicitly required that the Chinese Free Army must not retreat, but must remain firmly entrenched in the San Juan del Monte defense line, guarding the northwestern gateway to Manila.

The same applies to the independence forces on the northern upstream front; they must firmly surround the Manila Water Tower fortress, without retreating even a step, and cut off the Spanish colonial army's water lifeline.

Chen Feng stood at the edge of the trench, his gaze sweeping over the wide Marikina River behind him, his brows furrowing slightly.

The location of this defensive line is hardly advantageous!

With the river wide, if the Spanish colonial army launched a counterattack with all its might, they would have no way to retreat, backed by the river. They would be forced to hastily board ships and flee, inevitably falling into a passive position and suffering heavy casualties.

However, the strategic importance of the San Juan del Monte defense line ultimately cannot compare to that of the Manila Water Tower Fortress.

That water tower is one of the city's core water sources, while this place is just an outer barrier.

Unless the governor of Basilio is incompetent, he will not waste his limited forces on secondary defenses and will most likely concentrate his strength on counterattacking the water towers and defending the city center.

In this way, the pressure of holding the line can be greatly reduced.

Thinking of this, Chen Feng immediately ordered: "Pass on my orders! The entire army must immediately reinforce trenches, dig communication trenches, and set up sentry posts! All artillery must be in position, ammunition must be fully replenished, and we must prepare for a protracted war!"

The sea breeze at Guiyan Beach carried a salty, warm feeling, causing the hem of Wu Yangzeng's long robe to sway slightly.

The moment he stepped onto the beach, his cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.

Unlike the desolation and decay in China, everything here exudes vibrant vitality, like a seed stubbornly sprouting from a crack in the rock.

Although the dock in the distance was not yet completed, workers were already carrying logs shirtless, their chants of ramming the earth in a neat and powerful manner.

The nearby thatched huts are lined up in a row, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys. The sounds of Chinese immigrants chatting in Cantonese and Hokkien fill the air. There is no fear of being displaced, only the peace and stability of making a living.

"Mr. Wu, this way please."

Wang Liang strode forward, a hearty smile on his face, and led him along a road that had already begun to be paved with gravel.

Wu Yangzeng had only taken a few steps when Zi Guang was suddenly struck by the sight by the roadside: several Chinese soldiers were brandishing whips, lashing a group of ragged laborers. The laborers were bent over carrying heavy stones, their dark skin covered in sweat and whip marks, their steps faltering but they dared not stop.

His brows furrowed sharply, his steps faltered instinctively, and a hint of displeasure flashed in his eyes.

Seeing this, Wang Liang quickly stepped forward to explain: "Mr. Wu, please don't be offended. These are not Chinese immigrants, but local prisoners of war. They previously followed the Independent Army and opposed us, committing all sorts of atrocities, including burning, killing, looting, and murder. Many of our Chinese compatriots have suffered at their hands, and women and children have also been harmed! These people are lazy by nature and will not work seriously if they are not disciplined."

Upon hearing the words "native prisoners of war," Wu Yangzeng's expression gradually returned to calm.

He knew the law of survival in colonies well: the strong prey on the weak, and there was no room for mercy.

Domestically, people are displaced and at the mercy of others.

When Chinese people go abroad, if they do not unite and stand up for themselves, they will only be bullied more.

He sighed softly, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. He said nothing more and turned to look around again.

In the late Qing Dynasty, the mountains and forests in the north were almost completely cut down for heating and land reclamation. But here, there are vast tropical rainforests, with towering ancient trees blocking out the sun, and the air is filled with the fragrance of grass and soil.

After crossing the first low hill, a wooden factory building suddenly appeared before us, its walls coated with tung oil, and knocking sounds could be heard coming from inside.

As you enter the factory, the knocking sounds become clearer.

Dozens of workers were busy around the lathe, some polishing the steel tubes of the frame, others assembling gears. The semi-finished bicycles were neatly stacked in the corner, and although the paint was rough, it showed the orderliness of industrial manufacturing.

In the center of the factory, an American was bending over and adjusting a lathe, holding a wrench in his hand. He occasionally scolded the workers in broken Chinese for adjusting the angle, clearly the technical leader here.

Wu Yangzeng, one of the first group of government-sponsored young students to study in the United States, was fluent in English since his time at Yale. Upon seeing this, he immediately stepped forward and greeted him in fluent English: "Hello, sir. I am Wu Yangzeng. I have just come from China and have come to visit General Chen."

Upon hearing this, Peter looked up and his gaze fell on Wu Yangzeng's short braid at the back of his head. His brows furrowed involuntarily.

In his mind, most Chinese in Qing Dynasty China were conservative and timid people, so he never expected that someone could speak such fluent English.

But he put aside his disdain, straightened up and extended his hand: "I am Peter, invited by General Chen to be in charge of bicycle production and technical guidance here."

After a brief handshake, Wu Yang bent down to examine the lathe's transmission mechanism closely. His fingers gently touched the smooth steel pipe, and he picked up a spare gear to observe the tooth pattern. An undisguised shock appeared in his eyes.

To his surprise, he found such well-organized industrial production in this remote and undeveloped overseas region. Chen Feng's boldness and vision far exceeded his expectations.

Then, he noticed a pile of scrap iron ingots in the corner. He picked one up and weighed it in his hand, running his fingertips along the rough surface. He frowned slightly. "These iron ingots are not of uniform quality and contain too many impurities. Using them to make bicycle frames will not only affect their durability but also make them prone to breakage."

You could try crushing the ore and rinsing it three times with clean water to filter out higher-purity ore by utilizing density differences. During smelting, adjust the ratio of coke to ore to 1:3 and extend the combustion time to allow impurities to burn and volatilize completely; this might improve the steel's texture.

A hint of surprise flashed in Peter's eyes, and he quickly asked, "You know about smelting? We've tried adjusting the proportions, but we still can't find the right ratio."

"I majored in mining and metallurgical engineering in the United States, and I interned at a steel plant in Pittsburgh for two years," Wu Yangzeng replied casually, but his tone was full of confidence.

Just as he was about to explain in detail the temperature control and heat management during smelting, Wang Liang's voice came hurriedly from the doorway: "Mr. Wu, hurry up! Look at the clouds in the sky. It's the rainy season here now, and it looks like it's going to rain again soon. If you get wet, the mountain road will be difficult to walk on, and you'll easily catch a cold."

Wu Yang looked up at the window and saw that the sky was filled with dark gray clouds, and the sea breeze was becoming increasingly humid, carrying the oppressive feeling before the rain.

He had no choice but to give up, nodding to Peter and saying, "If there is an opportunity in the future, I will discuss this in detail with you, sir."

Peter nodded quickly: "I'd love to! If Mr. Wu doesn't mind, you can come to my place later to discuss this in detail. I still have many technical problems I'd like to ask you."

"it is good."

Wu Yangzeng agreed and turned to follow Wang Liang as they quickly walked out of the factory.

As soon as I stepped out the door, a few cold raindrops landed on my face. Then, the rain suddenly intensified, pelting down and soaking the pavement and my clothes.

"Quick! There's a thatched pavilion up ahead, let's take shelter from the rain!" Wang Liang said, leading Wu Yangzeng to the pavilion not far away.

Rainwater flowed down the thatched eaves, forming curtains of water that blurred the distant mountains and factories. The vitality and bustling atmosphere of Guiyantan became even more intense in the rain.

Wu Yang once sat under the pavilion, watching the workers and soldiers still busy in the rain, and was filled with emotion.

Here, there is no corruption and decay like in China, only hard work and hope.

Perhaps, General Chen Feng can truly create a different world for the Chinese people here.