You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

"General Lin is right!"

"This is called giving someone a taste of their own medicine!"

After Lin Feng finished speaking, the reporters from Daxia all around him began to applaud and cheer.

The American journalist was rendered speechless and could only awkwardly retreat back into the crowd.

"Now, Qingcheng Port has been liberated. I have preserved this place exactly as it was, except that the people living here have changed."

Reporters, please take plenty of photos.

After visiting the living camp, Lin Feng led the reporters to the labor camp.

Upon entering the camp, a sour, rotten smell, a mixture of sweat and fermented excrement, hits you.

Duan Tiangan frowned and took out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose.

On the open ground, a group of people dressed in tattered, khaki military uniforms or dirty kimonos were carrying heavy stones under the guard of the Da Xia militia.

These people were sallow and thin, and moved slowly. If they paused even slightly, they would be scolded by the overseer.

"Commander Lin, who are the people being held in here?"

A reporter from the Shen Bao newspaper asked a question loudly.

"The ingredients are very mixed."

Lin Feng answered casually, his gaze sweeping over the figures working.

"There were armed immigrants from the Japanese in Shandong Province, and there were ronin who usually bullied people on the streets."

And then there are the capitalists and high-ranking officials who bleed the workers of Daxia.

This also includes a small number of low-ranking Japanese officers and soldiers captured in battle.

Lin Feng pointed to an old man not far away who was struggling to push a wheelbarrow.

The old man had gray hair, his face was covered in mud, and he was panting heavily from exhaustion, unable to straighten his back.

"Everyone can take more photos."

The man pushing the manure cart was none other than Hiroshi Oshima, the former highest-ranking Japanese consul stationed in Qingchenggang.

The reporters immediately got excited and swarmed around them, their flashbulbs going off everywhere.

"Mr. Oshima, what are your thoughts on your current situation?"

"Consul Oshima, when you were drinking red wine at the consulate back then, did you ever imagine that this day would come?"

Hiroshi Oshima turned around when he heard the noise.

Upon seeing Lin Feng and a large group of reporters, Hiroshi Oshima quickly lowered his head and covered his face with his dirty hands, which were covered in feces.

"Stop filming! Stop filming!"

Hiroshi Oshima shouted in a hoarse voice, then quickened his pace pushing the cart, looking extremely disheveled, as if afraid of provoking the foreman's whip.

Lin Feng sneered and said to the reporters:

"This Consul Oshima was once the de facto ruler of Qingcheng Port."

With a stroke of his pen, he could issue orders to arrest thousands of Daxia laborers.

Now, I make him push ten cartloads of manure every day.

This can be seen as him making a small contribution to agricultural production in Qingcheng Port.

Duan Tiangan was taking notes rapidly in his notebook.

The once arrogant Japanese consul has now been reduced to pushing a dung cart.

This stark contrast will definitely be the headline news in tomorrow's major newspapers.

The inspection team continued forward and arrived at a sewage ditch behind the camp.

The smell here is even more pungent, almost suffocating.

A long septic tank, where dozens of Japanese soldiers were soaking in waist-deep black sludge.

Holding a shovel and a bucket, they scooped out the foul-smelling sludge and excrement, spoonful by spoonful.

Whether from the stench or from exhaustion, these Japanese soldiers were all trembling and their lips were turning purple, but none of them dared to stop.

The militiamen on the shore patrolled back and forth, carrying rifles with bayonets fixed or wooden sticks.

"Hurry up and dig. If we don't finish digging this section today, nobody's going to get dinner."

The militiamen shouted orders and banged their wooden sticks against the rocks on the bank.

A Japanese soldier wearing round-framed glasses and with a large belly slipped and fell into the pool.

The black sludge was poured directly into his mouth.

The Japanese soldier struggled to his feet, retching as he wiped the excrement off his face with his dirty hands.

"Commander Lin, isn't this level of physical exertion too much?"

Seeing this, Duan Tiangan couldn't help but ask a question.

Lin Feng turned his head and looked at Duan Tiangan.

"Does Reporter Duan feel sorry for these Japanese soldiers?"

"I'm just speaking from a humanitarian perspective."

Duan Tiangan adjusted his glasses, his tone sincere.

"They used to treat the laborers of Daxia the same way."

Lin Feng pointed at the Japanese soldiers in the stinking ditch, his voice devoid of any warmth.

"It's even ten or a hundred times more cruel than this."

I just wanted them to experience the suffering that the people of Daxia had endured.

This is called labor reform, using labor to wash away sins.

Just then, the pot-bellied Japanese soldier in the stinking ditch suddenly broke down.

He threw down his shovel and scrambled ashore.

"Stop him!"

The militiamen immediately picked up their rifles and stood in front of them.

The Japanese soldier completely ignored the bayonet pointed at his chest and immediately knelt down in the mud.

He moved quickly on his knees, crawling towards Lin Feng.

"Commander Lin, General Lin, please have mercy on us!"

The Japanese soldier crawled along, wailing and crying.

The guards immediately stepped forward and pinned the Japanese soldier to the muddy ground, rendering him unable to move.

The Japanese soldier struggled to lift his head, his once plump and pampered face now covered with snot, tears, and black mud.

This Japanese soldier clearly came from a good family; his Chinese was extremely fluent.

"I am Ichiro Watanabe, the president of the Aoshiro Port branch of Fuji Spinning Co., Ltd."

I am willing to hand over all my property!

I also own two villas in Yokohama and have 100,000 yen in savings at Yokohama Specie Bank.

Watanabe Ichiro screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to buy a chance to survive with money.

"If you let me go, all of these are yours."

I have many connections in the local area, and I can help you smuggle weapons and purchase machinery and equipment.

I could even... I could even send you the youngest and most beautiful Japanese woman.

Please, please let me go!

I just can't take it anymore, this kind of work is inhuman!

Seeing that Lin Feng remained unmoved, Watanabe Ichiro suddenly broke free from the guard's grasp.

He knelt on both knees, leaned forward, and slammed his forehead heavily against the muddy ground.

This is a perfectly standard, top-level salute from the Japanese—a deep bow.

"Red bean paste, a secret Marseille flavor!"

Watanabe Ichiro buried his head in the mud and water and loudly repented.

"I was wrong, I really know I was wrong!"

I shouldn't have exploited the workers of Daxia, and I shouldn't have supported this war.

I apologize to the people of Great Xia! Red bean paste is a private Marseille!

The heart-wrenching cries echoed along the sewage ditch.

The other Japanese soldiers soaking in the stinking ditch also stopped what they were doing and stared blankly at Watanabe Ichiro on the shore.

The reporters were stunned by this scene.

The flashbulbs went off like crazy, capturing this dramatic moment.

Duan Tiangan looked at Watanabe Ichiro, who was kneeling on the ground and weeping bitterly, and a complex feeling welled up in his heart.

As an intelligence agent with a communist faith, Duan Tiangan always believed that people could be reformed.

Class oppression can be overthrown, and the distortion of human nature can be corrected.

"Commander Lin."

Duan Tiangan turned his head, his tone carrying a hint of admiration.

"It seems that your methods of labor reform are indeed very effective."

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow, signaling Duan Tiangan to continue.

"These capitalists, who were once high and mighty, have finally come to understand the suffering of laborers after experiencing the hardships of working at the bottom."

Duan Tiangan jotted down a few notes in his notebook.

There is an old saying in the Great Xia Dynasty: "Put down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot."

They set aside their arrogance and learned empathy for people of other ethnicities and classes.

This heartfelt repentance is more educational than simply executing them.

This shows that even aggressors can be reformed through persuasion.

Upon hearing Duan Tianqian's assessment, Lin Feng suddenly laughed.

The laughter was full of mockery and disdain.

"Duan, you are a good reporter and a compassionate scholar."

Lin Feng's smile vanished, and he stared coldly at Watanabe Ichiro, who was still kowtowing on the ground.

"But you don't understand these beasts at all."

Can one lay down the butcher's knife and instantly become a Buddha?

"It is Buddha's business to forgive them; my task is to escort them to see Buddha!"

Lin Feng walked up to Watanabe Ichiro and looked down at him.

Do you really think he knows he was wrong?

Lin Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of every reporter clearly.

"Do you think he really felt sympathy for the workers of Daxia?"

Is he truly repenting for supporting the war of aggression?

Duan Tiangan was stunned and looked at Lin Feng in confusion.

"Isn't that right? He was even willing to hand over all his family property and performed the deepest prostration, the dogeza."

"wrong."

Lin Feng shook his head and kicked Watanabe Ichiro in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

He has no idea where he went wrong.

Deep down, he still viewed the people of Daxia as inferior and someone who could be bullied at will.

Duan, I have a question for you.

When Japanese planes bombed our cities and killed countless civilians, did they have any empathy?

When they raise their knives against innocent civilians, do they have any empathy?

When Watanabe Ichiro was in the textile factory, he forced the child laborers to work sixteen hours a day, and beat them to death for the slightest disobedience.

Where did his empathy go?

Lin Feng's series of rhetorical questions left Duan Tiangan speechless.

Lin Feng turned around to face all the reporters.

"He is kneeling here weeping bitterly, not because of a change of heart."

It was only because the Japanese invasion failed in Jiaodong.

It's simply because these former beneficiaries have now fallen into my hands and are about to be dealt with.

Lin Feng pointed at Watanabe Ichiro on the ground, his tone chilling.

He knew he was going to lose his head, he knew he was going to be hit with a sand pot.

He has laid down his butcher's knife not because he wants to become a Buddha.

It was because I broke the knife in his hand!

He was simply afraid of death, afraid of losing everything he had.

Lin Feng's words struck Duan Tianqian's heart like a heavy hammer.

"They fear power but do not appreciate virtue; that's the true nature of these island nation bastards."

Lin Feng's gaze swept over the Japanese soldiers in the stinking ditch.

"Humanitarianism is useless when dealing with them."

If you are kind to them, they will only think you are weak and easy to bully.

Only by using whips, bayonets, and heavy physical labor can their spines be completely broken.

Make them feel fear from the depths of their souls.

This is the true meaning of labor reform.

Lin Feng waved his hand.

Two guards immediately stepped forward, grabbed Watanabe Ichiro by the collar, and threw him back into the stinking ditch.

Mud splashed all over Watanabe Ichiro, who scrambled to his feet and dared not utter another sound.

"Keep working! Anyone who slacks off will have half their dinner!"

The militiamen shouted at them.

The sound of shovels digging mud echoed again from the stinking ditch.

Duan Tiangan watched Lin Feng's retreating figure, his hand holding the pen slightly sweaty.

This young warlord had such a sharp and insightful perspective on issues.

Abandon illusions and fight to the end.

Duan Tiangan wrote these eight characters heavily in his notebook.