World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

The fleet sailed for fifteen days, from the East China Sea to the South China Sea, passing through the Strait of Malacca, and entering the Indian Ocean.

For the 100,000 soldiers of the Japanese Empire, it was a long and arduous journey. The ship's cabins were overcrowded, and although the conditions were better than expected, the long voyage still caused restlessness. Every day, besides eating, sleeping, and training, they mostly stared blankly at the endless sea.

In the mess hall of the "Taishan," Nakamura Jiro and several officers sat together eating. The food was good—rice, salted fish, vegetable soup, and even fruit. It was provided by Lanfang and was much better than the rationed food currently available in Japan.

"Captain, where are we going?" a young lieutenant asked. "Where is Germany? Where is Europe?"

Nakamura took out a map and spread it on the table: "We are here now, in the Indian Ocean. After another twenty days of sailing, we will enter the Persian Gulf. Then we will cross the Ottoman Empire by land and enter Europe. Finally, we will reach the Eastern Front—the border between Germany and Russia."

"Russia..." another officer murmured. "We fought the Russians during the Russo-Japanese War. I never thought we'd be helping the Germans fight the Russians now."

"It's not about helping the Germans," Nakamura corrected, "it's a contract. We fight for Germany, and Germany pays us. It's that simple."

"But why us?" the young lieutenant protested. "Why not people from Lanfang? They're so rich and powerful, why don't they go?"

Nakamura looked at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Because Lanfang is clever. They make others bleed while they make money."

Silence fell over the restaurant. Everyone knew it was true, but saying it still hurt.

"However," Nakamura paused, "going to Europe might not be all bad. The Germans are better equipped and their tactics are more advanced. We can learn from them and grow. When the war ends, we can return home with experience and money, and perhaps help rebuild Japan."

He said it reluctantly, but he had to. As a commander, he had to give his soldiers hope, however slim it might be.

That night, unable to sleep, he went up to the deck. The sea breeze was strong, the night sky was clear, and the stars filled the sky. In the distance, the escorting Lanfang destroyer rose and fell like a black silhouette on the waves.

A Lanfang sailor on duty saw Nakamura and nodded. Nakamura nodded back. The two didn't speak, but simply stood side by side, gazing at the starry sky.

"You're out of luck," Lanfang's sailor suddenly said in broken Japanese.

Nakamura was taken aback: "What?"

"Go to Europe," the sailor said. "My brother is studying in Germany, and he wrote to say it's hell there. Tens of thousands of people die there every day."

Nakamura remained silent. He knew it was true.

"But at least you're making money," the sailor continued, "which is better than starving to death."

"Yes," Nakamura said with a wry smile, "better than starving to death."

The two fell silent again. The waves lapped against the hull, making a rhythmic sound.

"Actually," the sailor suddenly said, "I admire you. Knowing you were going to your deaths, you still went. For your country, for your families."

Nakamura looked at him. The young sailor's eyes were sincere.

"Don't you people from Lanfang also fight for your country?" Nakamura asked.

"It's different." The sailor shook his head. "We fight to protect our homes, to stop the Chinese from being bullied. You fight... for money."

These words were blunt and cruel. Nakamura couldn't refute them.

"However," the sailor smiled, "if you're still alive after the war, you're welcome to come to Lanfang. We're short of labor there, so the wages are high and you'll have plenty to eat."

Nakamura smiled and said, "Thank you. If there's a chance."

He looked up at the starry sky. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens like a giant band of light. In Japan, in Lanfang, in Germany, and in Russia, people saw the same starry sky.

But why do humans fight each other under this starry sky?

He didn't know the answer. All he knew was that he had to lead his soldiers to survive, to survive as many as possible.

Even if it's just so that I can see this starry sky again in the future.

Berlin, Sanssouci Palace. Wilhelm II stands before a huge map of Europe, holding a telegram in his hand, a beaming smile on his face.

"Excellent! 100,000 Japanese soldiers are on their way! They'll reach the eastern front within two months!"

Chief of the General Staff Moltke stood beside him, but his expression was not as optimistic as the emperor's: "Your Majesty, the combat effectiveness of the Japanese army still needs to be tested. The Russo-Japanese War happened ten years ago, and their current equipment may be quite outdated."

"We can provide the equipment!" Wilhelm II waved his arms. "Give them the best rifles, the best machine guns, the best artillery! The Japanese are hardworking and fearless; that's exactly what we need!"

He walked to the map and pointed to the eastern front: "Look, the Russians are coming in waves, one after another. Our defenses have already retreated fifty kilometers. If these 100,000 Japanese can hold out, even for just three months, we can reorganize our defenses and launch a counterattack!"

Moltke nodded: "Theoretically, yes. But in practice, language barriers, a chaotic command structure, and logistical difficulties... these are all problems."

"Then let's solve the problem!" Wilhelm II said. "Establish a dedicated liaison command, equipped with translators. Japanese officers will retain command authority at the grassroots level, but strategic control will be maintained by our German officers. Logistics... get help from the Lanfang people; they excel at that."

He paused, a shrewd glint in his eyes: "Moreover, this isn't just a military issue, it's also a political one. Even if Japan joins our side only as a mercenary force, it will have a huge international impact. What will the British think? What will the French think? What will the Americans think?"

Moltke understood: "You want to use Japan as leverage to exert diplomatic pressure?"

"Yes!" Wilhelm II laughed. "I want the whole world to see that Germany has allies not only in Europe, but also in Asia! Lanfang is our friend, and Japan is our...partner. The British 'world empire' is already showing cracks!"

He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured two glasses of champagne, and handed one to Moltke: "Cheers to victory!"

Moltke took the wine cup but didn't drink it: "Your Majesty, there's another question. Once the Sakura Kingdom's army arrives, how should it be deployed? Should it be dispersed across various fronts, or concentrated in one area?"

"Concentrate their use." Wilhelm II did not hesitate. "Organize them into an army group and place them in the central part of the Eastern Front to deal with the Russians' weakest point. The Japanese have defeated the Russians in the Russo-Japanese War and have a psychological advantage. Let them lead the charge, and our German troops will support them from behind."

"This will result in heavy casualties," Moltke warned.

"That's the problem with the Japanese," Wilhelm II shrugged. "We paid them, so they have to fight for us. It's clearly stated in the contract—they bear the responsibility for their own casualties, we'll cover the compensation, but they have to replenish their own troops."

He took a sip of champagne, his eyes deepening: "Actually, I'm more curious about Chen Feng himself. A country that's only been established for ten years has managed to defeat Japan and conduct such large-scale business between Central Europe. This man is no ordinary person."

"Indeed." Moltke nodded. "Our intelligence shows that Lanfang is developing rapidly. Its navy has surpassed that of Japan, and its industry is catching up with Europe. If the war continues for several years, Lanfang may become the hegemon of Asia."

"That's even better," said Wilhelm II. "A powerful Lanfang can tie down British power in Asia. If Britain has to send its fleet to Asia, its power in Europe will be weakened. This is to our advantage."

He walked to the window and looked out at the cityscape of Berlin. Although the war had lasted for six months, Berlin remained prosperous, at least on the surface.

"Little Moltke, how do you think history will judge this war?" Wilhelm II suddenly asked.

Moltke thought for a moment: "If Germany wins, history will say it was the inevitable rise of Germany. If it loses..."

"We will not lose." Wilhelm II interrupted him. "With the 100,000 fresh troops from the Sakura Kingdom and with the support of Lanfang, we will not lose. Europe belongs to Germany, Asia belongs to Lanfang, and the world... belongs to countries like ours that dare to challenge the old order."

He spoke with fervor, but Moltke the Younger harbored deep concerns. The war had barely begun, and it was already so brutal. What would the Eastern Front be like when the Japanese army arrived? Could 100,000 Japanese soldiers change the course of the war?

He didn't know. All he knew was that Germany was in a bind and had to win, at all costs.

This includes utilizing these Eastern soldiers who have come from afar and may not even understand why they are fighting.

The sound of bells drifted in from outside the window. The bells of the Berlin Cathedral, deep and resonant, seemed to be ringing out in celebration of a momentous era.

Wilhelm II raised his glass to the east: "A toast to our Japanese friends! May their blood water the flowers of victory for us!"

He downed the drink in one gulp. The champagne was sweet, but with a hint of bitterness.

Just like this deal, it may seem like a win-win situation, but it is actually full of bloodshed.

But history has never cared about bloodshed. History only cares about the outcome.