World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng put down his pencil, picked up the now-cold tea, and took a sip. The bitterness of the tea invigorated him.

The British are divided. This is good news. Division means hesitation, and hesitation means we can weave, detour, and find opportunities in the differences.

His finger moved across the map, finally stopping at one point: Basra.

What if we arrive first?

Chen Feng pulled out a personnel list from the folder. It was the candidate list for the Lanfang Army's "Special Detachment," totaling three hundred people. Nominally, it was a "geological exploration team" and an "engineering security team," but in reality, they were all elite veterans, equipped with light armored vehicles, mortars, and the latest automatic weapons. The team was led by Major Zhao Dengyu—who had made a name for himself in the border conflict between Lanfang and the Netherlands and was skilled in small-scale assault and defensive operations.

The team entered the Persian Gulf three days ago under the guise of "commercial exploration" and is currently "resting" in Bahrain. Once the Istanbul agreement is signed, they can reach Basra within 48 hours to establish an outpost.

But only if the Ottomans agree.

Chen Feng recalled Wang Wenwu's intelligence: the disagreement between Enver Pasha and Halim Pasha. Enver was one of the three leaders of the Young Turks, a radical nationalist who dreamed of restoring the glory of the Ottoman Empire and preferred to die in battle rather than cede territory. Halim was a former bureaucrat, a pragmatist who knew the empire was terminally ill and only wanted to preserve the core regions.

How can we persuade them? Or rather, how can we get the Germans to help us persuade them?

He opened another folder containing a summary of the German General Staff's assessment of the situation on the Western Front—obtained at great expense through intelligence agents in Berlin. The assessment was pessimistic: the Battle of the Somme had depleted the last of the German army's elite reserves; Verdun had become a bottomless pit; the Russian army on the Eastern Front, though weakened, was still exerting pressure; anti-war sentiment was growing domestically, and food rations were being cut again.

Falkingham must be under immense pressure. He needs a miracle, or at least something that looks like one.

Tanks could be that "miracle." But are tanks alone enough?

Chen Feng wrote down a few words in his notebook: tanks, aircraft, new tactics. Then he drew lines connecting them. Modern warfare is a system-on-system confrontation; a single weapon cannot change the course of a battle. What the Germans needed was not just one or two new pieces of equipment, but a whole new set of operational concepts and logistical systems.

Lanfang can provide these services—of course, at a price.

He was thinking when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Wang Wenwu pushed open the door and entered, holding a newly translated telegram: "Your Excellency, the latest news from Istanbul. Ottoman Sultan Mehmed V's condition has worsened, and he may not survive the month. Court infighting is intensifying, with both Enver Pasha and Halim Pasha vying for regency."

Chen Feng took the telegram and quickly scanned it: "In other words, whoever can gain tangible benefits in the Istanbul talks will gain the upper hand in the power struggle."

"It seems so. Enver needs a military victory to prove himself, while Halim needs external assistance to stabilize the situation. Their needs are different, so we can deal with them separately."

Chen Feng pondered for a moment: "Tell the front lines to prepare two plans. Plan A is for Enver: Lanfang will provide advanced weaponry and military advisors to help the Ottomans launch a counter-offensive in Palestine or the Caucasus and achieve a 'symbolic victory.' Plan B is for Halim: Lanfang will provide economic aid, food loans, and technical support to help stabilize the domestic situation."

"What are the conditions?"

"Both are concessions for development in Mesopotamia. But Option A requires a larger area, including potential oil fields in Mosul; Option B can be smaller, mainly focusing on the area around Basra." Chen Feng paused, "In addition, I privately told Halim that if he could facilitate the agreement, Lanfang could support him to become regent and provide... 'personal security guarantees'."

Wang Wenwu's eyes widened: "This is tantamount to interfering in internal affairs..."

"This is realpolitik," Chen Feng said calmly. "A pro-Lanfang Ottoman leader is worth more than ten divisions. Moreover, Halim is relatively pragmatic and knows that the empire needs to compromise. Compared to the radical and adventurous Enver, he is more likely to accept our terms."

"And what about the Germans? Whom do they support?"

"The Germans don't care who's in power; they only care whether the Ottoman Empire can continue to contain Russia and Britain. So as long as we promise—regardless of who comes to power—that the Ottoman Empire will continue to participate in the war—the Germans won't object." Chen Feng walked to the car window, looking at the rapidly receding desert outside. "They might even help us put pressure on them. Because for Germany, a stable Ottoman Empire with external aid is more useful than a turbulent, collapsing Ottoman Empire."

Wang Wenwu quickly took notes. He once again felt the depth of the leader's calculations—not only in external gamesmanship, but also in the exploitation of the opponent's internal contradictions.

"There's one more thing," Wang Wenwu said, recalling something. "Minister Liu Yongfu sent a telegram from Dubai saying that the British consul visited us unexpectedly this afternoon, asking if we were selling weapons to the Ottomans. He replied as you instructed: 'Lanfang has normal military trade relations with all countries, but the specific transactions involve commercial secrets and cannot be disclosed.' The British consul seemed very dissatisfied."

Chen Feng smiled slightly: "The more dissatisfied he is, the better we've done. We need to keep the British guessing, make them anxious, and force them to think twice before taking any action."

He returned to his desk, spread out the letter paper, and began drafting a reply to Liu Yongfu. The pen scratched across the paper.

"Minister Liu: The British inquiry was handled appropriately. If similar probing occurs again, we can vaguely state that 'Lanfang respects the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all nations and opposes any form of colonial expansion,' while implying that 'Lanfang has a responsibility to protect its national interests if regional stability is undermined.' We must strike the right balance. Also: Accelerate the production of the 'Jianghe-class' destroyers; the first batch of four must be delivered before the end of the month. We need to demonstrate our ability to fulfill our obligations."

After finishing writing, he sealed the letter and handed it to Wang Wenwu: "Send it encrypted. Also, inform the accompanying technical team that I need to meet with them first upon arrival in Istanbul to confirm all the details of the demonstration."

"Yes."

After Wang Wenwu left, Chen Feng sat back down in his chair. He felt tired—not physically tired, but mentally exhausted from maintaining a high level of vigilance and calculating every step for so long. But he couldn't rest, at least not now.

He pulled open a drawer and took out a flat silver flask. It contained strong liquor, not for enjoyment, but to stay awake. He took a small sip; the fiery liquor burned down his throat, instantly sobering him up.

His gaze returned to the map. Mesopotamia, the Persian Gulf, oil, strategic pivot… these words swirled and coalesced in his mind. He recalled the history of another world—how Britain controlled Middle Eastern oil, how the United States rose to prominence, and how the black gold beneath the deserts altered the world order.

Now, he has the opportunity to rewrite history. Not through war, but through a carefully crafted deal: exchanging weapons for resource concessions, technical assistance for a strategic presence, and vague promises for tangible benefits.

This was ruthless, calculating, and even somewhat... despicable. They used the desperation of the Ottoman Empire, the urgent needs of the Germans, and the hesitation of the British to secure energy security and strategic depth for Lanfang for the next fifty years.

But that's reality. International politics is never charity; it's an exchange of interests. The law of the jungle, where the strong prey on the weak, remains the law of the jungle even when cloaked in diplomatic rhetoric.

Chen Feng thought of Saionji Kinmochi, and the old man who couldn't sleep at night in his Tokyo official residence. The Sakura Kingdom chose the most direct and brutal method—selling out its soldiers' lives in exchange for desperately needed money and technology.