Siheyuan: I, Shazhu, started out as an army and became a general.

The negotiations took place in a large, temporary tent.

The conditions were quite makeshift; a few tables borrowed from a fellow villager's home were pieced together, their edges worn rounded.

Several moisture-proof mats were laid on the ground, and a few folding chairs creaked.

But the air pressure inside this shabby tent was frighteningly low.

Two rows of heavily armed soldiers stood there, their eyes like knives, making the simple tent look like the Hall of Hell.

He Yuzhu sat in the main seat with an air of authority.

He wasn't wearing the general's overcoat that symbolized his status; instead, he was still in a cotton military uniform that reeked of gunpowder, with the top button undone, revealing a blue and white sailor shirt underneath.

Holding a large, chipped enamel mug, he was casually blowing on the loose tea leaves floating on top.

This sense of relaxation, in the eyes of the Indian delegation opposite them, dressed in suits and with hair combed so neatly that even a fly would have to do a split, was simply rubbing their faces into the ground.

The head of the Indian delegation, Menon, is also India's Minister of Defence.

This guy is known for his sharp tongue on the international stage, earning him the nickname "poisonous tongue".

But at that moment, Menon's calves were cramping, like they were being fluffed with cotton.

He looked at the man across from him who was drinking tea.

Is this the legendary "Tiger He"? He doesn't look like he has three heads and six arms, but how come his eyes send chills down your spine with just a casual glance, like a fat sheep being stared at by a hungry wolf?

"sit."

He Yuzhu didn't even lift his eyelids, uttering a single word as softly as if he were inviting a neighbor over.

Menon took a deep breath, forcing himself to maintain the so-called "dignity of a great power," and pulled out a chair to sit down. Several of his attendants behind him, seeing this, also wanted to sit down.

He Yuzhu suddenly slammed the teacup in his hand onto the table.

"when!"

A sharp crack echoed like thunder in the deathly silent tent. The attendants were so frightened that their knees buckled and they collapsed to the ground, looking as disheveled as a bunch of country bumpkins who had just arrived in the city.

"Did I offer you seats?" He Yuzhu slowly raised his head, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Defeated generals, what right do you have to sit on equal footing with me?"

Menon's face turned a deep purplish-red. Just as he was about to protest some diplomatic protocol, Zhang Xiaowu slammed his submachine gun on the table, the dark muzzle pointing directly at Menon's nose.

"Can't you understand human language, huh?" Zhang Xiaowu's voice was loud, so loud that the top of the tent shook.

The attendants were so frightened that they scrambled to their feet and hid behind Menon like quails, not daring to raise their heads.

Menon was incredibly frustrated, but he dared not show it.

When circumstances are against you, and someone has a knife to your throat, trying to be a gentleman is tantamount to courting death.

"General He," Menon coughed, forcing himself to speak fluent English to save face, "we came with good intentions. We have already complied with your army's requests for supplies. Now, shouldn't we discuss the withdrawal of troops?"

"Sincerity?"

He Yuzhu laughed, a playful laugh on his face, looking at Mei Nong as if he were a fool.

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket; it was a copy of the list that Pang Guoxing had sent him earlier.

"That's all? Just some local specialties for my brothers to take back to appease my wife and kids." He Yuzhu crumpled the paper into a ball and flicked it away. The paper flew through the air in an arc and hit Mei Nong squarely in the chest. "It's still a long way from my target price."

Menon grew anxious, his voice rising eight octaves: "General He! That's fifty tons of gold! And so many US dollars! This is our limit! One shouldn't be too greedy!"

"greedy?"

He Yuzhu suddenly stood up, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward. The oppressive feeling, like a mountain, instantly enveloped Menon, making it difficult for him to breathe.

"When you crossed the McMahon Line and killed my border guards, didn't you feel greedy?"

"When you were clamoring internationally to drive us out of Tibet, didn't you realize how greedy you were?"

He Yuzhu's voice grew louder and louder, each word like a heavy hammer pounding on Menon's heart, making his eardrums buzz.

"Now that you've lost the fight and gotten beaten up, you think you can just settle it with a little money? There's no such thing as a free lunch!"

"What are you dreaming about?"

"Then... then what else do you want?" Menon's voice trembled; he was genuinely afraid that this madman would suddenly order him to be dragged out and executed.

He Yuzhu sat back down in his chair, crossed his legs, pulled a new document from his pocket, and tossed it over like trash.

"Sign it."

Menon picked up the document with trembling hands, and after just one glance, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, as if they were about to burst.

This isn't a ceasefire agreement; it's clearly a contract of servitude!

In addition to the previous supplies, several more deadly conditions were added:

1. India must admit that it provoked the conflict first and issue a public apology in the global media, which means admitting defeat on a global live broadcast.

2. Compensate the Dragon Kingdom army for all military expenses incurred in this deployment, including ammunition consumption, personnel allowances, and even vehicle depreciation costs! Even fuel costs must be included!

3. Return all Chinese cultural relics looted during past conflicts.

4. Withdraw 20 kilometers from the border and establish a demilitarized zone. If even one Indian soldier dares to enter with a gun, the Chinese army reserves the right to open fire at any time!

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Menon screamed, slamming the documents on the table, spitting as he spoke. "This is a humiliating betrayal of our nation!"

"Prime Minister Nehru will absolutely not agree to this! Although we have been defeated, we still have hundreds of millions of people, and we still have the support of the international community!"

"The international community?" He Yuzhu scoffed, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.

"You mean Americans? Or British? Hoping they'll come to your rescue?"

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and flung open the heavy curtain, letting in a gust of cold wind.

"Come, Mr. Menon, broaden your perspective and look outside."

Menon walked over in confusion, looked outside, and was instantly dumbfounded, as if he had been struck by lightning.

Outside the camp, rows of cannons were densely packed on the open ground.

That wasn't an ordinary artillery piece; it was a 152mm howitzer that had been brought up at some unknown time!

The dark muzzles of the cannons, all pointing south in perfect unison, exuded a suffocating aura of death, like a group of silent steel behemoths ready to devour everything at any moment.

"My artillery battalion commander just complained to me that he brought too many shells, and that it would be too heavy and waste fuel to transport them back."

He Yuzhu stood behind Menon and whispered in his ear, his tone as gentle as a devil's, yet making one feel as if they had fallen into an ice cave.

"If you don't sign, I'll have him fire all these shells to loosen the soil for you."

"By the way, I heard the Red Fort in New Delhi has beautiful scenery. I wonder if it can withstand a volley of shots from me?"

"It's just a matter of a shiver."

Menon's legs went completely weak, and he couldn't stand up at all.

He looked at the cannons, and the image of New Delhi turning into a sea of ​​fire flashed through his mind. He knew this man wasn't joking.

This guy is a complete madman! A madman who has no sense of martial ethics!

"I...I'll sign..." Menon cried, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant, as if his spine had been pulled out.

"That's more like it." He Yuzhu patted his shoulder, smiling innocently, as if he wasn't the killer from just now. "It would have been better if you had just made up your mind earlier, so as not to waste everyone's time. I was in a hurry to get back to dinner."

"Xiao Wu, bring me pen and ink! Let Minister Menon sign and affix his seal!"