Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

It started to rain.

At first, it was just a fine drizzle, mixed with the cold, damp river wind of the Yangtze River Delta in the dead of winter.

In less than half an hour, the rain suddenly intensified, with large raindrops pounding on the asphalt road in the French Concession, splashing up clouds of white mist.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor of the Astor House Hotel, Lin Qi held a wine glass and quietly watched the commotion on the street below.

The few gas lamps at the entrance of the Gongwu Stage Theater swayed in the wind and rain.

The theater's glass doors were completely shattered, and the ground was littered with glass shards and strewn with Green Gang thugs.

The soldier's rubber-soled leather boots made a dull thud as they stepped into the rainwater mixed with blood.

A black convertible military vehicle started up in the rain, its engine roaring.

A young man in a white suit sat in the back seat, with a fat man whose face was covered in blood under his feet.

Two trucks full of soldiers followed the military vehicle as it sped away, heading straight for the Longhua Garrison Command.

The gun barrel will always be the hardest truth in this chaotic world.

What Shanghai tycoon, what Green Gang old man, they're nothing but a fart in front of a machine gun.

……

French Concession, Rue Wagner, Du Mansion.

The study was brightly lit, and a set of exquisite Yixing purple clay teaware was placed on a large mahogany desk.

Du Yisheng, wearing a faded blue long gown, was bending down to skim the foam off a teacup with the lid.

He was thin, with protruding ears, and his eyes were always half-closed, concealing a sharp, shrewd edge.

Du Yisheng was the youngest of the three tycoons of the Green Gang, but he was the most cunning.

Just then, a series of chaotic footsteps came from outside the door, accompanied by heavy breathing.

"What's going on? No manners!"

Du Yisheng frowned slightly, his voice not loud, but it carried an air of authority.

The study door was suddenly pushed open, and Gu Jiatang, Huang Jinrong's top henchman, stumbled in, soaking wet, with a large gash on his forehead, blood mixed with rainwater flowing down half his face, and his once neat traditional Chinese jacket torn into strips.

Du Yisheng stopped holding the teacup lid.

He knew Gu Jiatang's abilities all too well; a dozen or so ordinary thugs couldn't even get close to him.

"Mr. Du, something terrible has happened."

Gu Jiatang bent over, his voice trembling: "Boss Huang was watching a play at the Gongwu Stage when the army arrested him."

Du Yisheng's hand holding the teacup trembled slightly, and a few drops of scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand, but he seemed not to feel it.

"Explain clearly, which army? Where are the police?"

Du Yisheng put down his teacup and stood up.

"It's not the police station, it's the son of Governor Lu of Zhejiang."

Gu Jiatang swallowed a mouthful of bloody saliva: "Young Master Lu brought an entire reinforced company of regular soldiers, all armed with machine guns. Before the brothers could even draw their knives, they were all knocked down by the butts of the guns. Boss Huang was slapped in the face by Young Master Lu in public, and a gun was pointed at his head as he was put into a military vehicle, supposedly to be taken back to the headquarters dungeon."

The study fell into a deathly silence.

Du Yisheng walked to the window and opened it.

The cold wind and rain poured in, quickly cooling his feverish mind.

He knew that Lu Xiaojia was a troublemaker, and he also knew that Boss Huang was used to being domineering in the French Concession.

But he didn't expect that Lu Xiaojia would dare to use the army to arrest people directly on the edge of the concession.

This is a humiliation for the Green Gang, a disgrace that will be thoroughly eroded. Even if they don't die, they'll be severely punished in the garrison command's dungeon.

"Prepare the car, we're heading to the French police station."

Du Yisheng turned around, his tone returning to its usual calm. Those who knew him well knew this was a prelude to him fighting desperately.

Half an hour later, Du Yisheng's car stopped in front of the French Concession police station.

He carried a heavy little leather suitcase and walked alone into the chief detective's office. The suitcase was full of gold bars.

Ten minutes later, he came out carrying the unopened suitcase, his face terribly gloomy.

The French chief inspector had already accepted the money, but returned it after learning that it was Young Master Lu who had arrested the person.

The original words were, "Mr. Du, that is an internal matter of your country's warlords. We do not have troops stationed outside the concession, and it is impossible for us to go to war with a warlord who has tens of thousands of regular troops for the sake of one person."

Du Yisheng returned to the car and, instead of letting the driver start, sat in the back seat and lit a cigarette.

The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered in the dark carriage.

Du Yisheng was caught in a dead end. The politicians, compradors, and foreigners he had associated with in the past all turned into cowards in the face of real military power.

In all of Shanghai, who can keep the Lu family in check now?

Lu Yongxiang was a powerful military governor who controlled Zhejiang and Shanghai, commanding tens of thousands of guns. His son, Lu Xiaojia, was the local tyrant of Shanghai.

Du Yisheng ran through all sorts of deities in his mind, and he thought of Zhang Renjie, who had a very high reputation in the Jiangsu and Zhejiang area.

But he quickly shook his head and dismissed the idea.

Zhang Renjie had no troops; he relied entirely on his words and reputation. Lu Xiaojia, a warlord's son who wasn't even afraid of his own father, would never listen to Zhang Renjie. Going to Zhang Renjie for help would only bring him humiliation.

Du Yisheng threw the cigarette butt out the window, and the rain instantly extinguished the flame.

Is the Green Gang really doomed this time?!

……

At the same time, a thousand miles away, at the Fengtian Marshal's Mansion.

Unlike the drizzling rain in Shanghai, the mountains outside the Great Wall are still blocked by heavy snow.

The floor heating in Zhang Hanqing's room was extremely hot, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

He was wearing a silk nightgown, holding a glass of whiskey, with a newly decoded telegram on the desk in front of him.

The telegram was sent by Zhao Sihai, the head of the Fengtian Army's intelligence station in Shanghai.

The content was very simple, just a few words, but it excited him so much that he walked around the room three times.

The telegram reported that Lin Tuozhi had successfully made contact with Zhang Renjie, a key figure in the south, and offered a large sum of money as funds for the establishment of a military academy. Zhang Renjie was overjoyed and had personally written a letter of recommendation, recommending Lin Tuozhi to go south to take up an important position.

"Good! Good! Good!"

Zhang Hanqing said "good" three times in a row, then slammed his hand on the desk, causing a few drops of wine to spill from his glass.

"My sworn brother is truly a genius. He went south alone and cracked the toughest nut in the south in less than half a month. He not only successfully infiltrated the area but also directly seized the core position. This money was well spent."

He picked up his glass and drank it all in one gulp, in high spirits.

With Lin Qi establishing a foothold in the south, the Fengtian Army will have an extra pair of sharp eyes, and even a safest way out.

After the initial excitement subsided, Zhang Hanqing calmed down and walked to the map on the wall.

His gaze fell on Shanghai, and his brows furrowed slightly.

Lin Qi is still in Shanghai, a place where all sorts of people mingle and various forces intertwine.

Although his brother was intelligent and skillful, he was, after all, an overseas Chinese scholar engaged in military industry, and had no soldiers by his side.

Zhang Hanqing knew the nature of the gangsters and warlords in Shanghai well; if he showed even a little wealth, he would attract hungry wolves to pounce on him.

If your brother holds a huge amount of money and gets targeted by some unscrupulous local bully, all your grand plans will be ruined.

He stared at the map, remembering that Shanghai was Lu Yongxiang's territory.

Lu Yongxiang had tens of thousands of troops under his command, but he was a member of the Anhui clique. He was terrified of the rising power of the Zhili clique and was too busy currying favor with the Fengtian clique.

But if Lu Yongxiang were to be informed of this, his own father would find out as well.

Zhang Hanqing stroked his chin, not wanting to reveal Lin Qi's trump card too early. He thought of Lu Yongxiang's son, Lu Xiaojia.