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

On the north side of the sand table, Yang Yuting's back was completely soaked with sweat.

The officer's woolen overcoat clung tightly to his back, making it hard for him to breathe.

A layer of white fog covered the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses, which had slid down half an inch down the bridge of his nose, and he couldn't even muster the strength to push them back up.

The situation on the sand table has become a one-sided massacre.

He desperately retreated the remnants of the Third Division toward Beiping, attempting to rely on the city's fortifications along the Fengtai and Nanyuan line to hold his base and buy time for the Zhili-Shandong Allied Army to return and reinforce.

With trembling fingers, Yang Yuting pulled up three small white flags with blue lettering representing the remnants of the Zhili clique and planted them shakily around the wooden blocks in Fengtai Town.

"I retreated to Fengtai and dug moats around the city."

His voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper grinding together: "The Third Division still has half an artillery regiment. As long as they block the railway line, you can't get in."

Lin Qi stood on the south side of the sand table, not even glancing at Fengtai.

He grabbed a small Fengtian Army flag with a black background and yellow characters from the flag basket, and instead of placing it in Fengtai, he directly crossed Beiping City and planted it heavily on the upper reaches of the Yongding River on the west side of Beiping.

"Blow up the dam."

In two words: decisive and ruthless.

Yang Yuting's eye muscles twitched suddenly.

Lin Qi didn't stop, he grabbed two more red flags representing the artillery and planted them on the high ground outside Nanyuan.

"If you retreat to Fengtai, you're courting death. I don't need infantry to fill your trenches."

Lin Qi pointed his finger at the red flag: "The Fengtian Army's heavy artillery brigade will concentrate its firepower, not on your infantry positions, but on your ammunition depots and water supply stations. The Yongding River will breach its banks, flooding Nanyuan. Your Third Division's artillery will be stuck in the mud, unable to fire a single shell."

Lin Qi looked up, his gaze fixed on Yang Yuting's bloodless face.

"For three days, the city has been without water and food, and the artillery has fallen silent. How are you going to defend it?"

Yang Yuting opened his mouth, making strange "clucking" sounds in his throat, but couldn't utter a single word.

This is not a simulation; it is a brutal and inhumane act of skinning and dismembering.

Lin Qiyong's tactics were completely outside the traditional military manuals of the Beiyang warlords.

What benevolence and morality, what city defense and decisive battles, were all crushed into dust by this industrial meat grinder tactic that purely pursued destructive efficiency.

The pipe that Tang Yulin was holding had long since gone out.

He stared at the desolate area of ​​Fengtai on the sand table, which was flooded and bombarded, and the veins on his thick neck throbbed.

"It's fucking black..."

Tang Yulin, speaking in a low voice, squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth: "If this really goes on, Wu Ziyu won't even have anyone left to collect the corpses."

Jiang Dengxuan sat in the chair, his hands gripping the fabric on his knees tightly, his knuckles turning white.

He had devised countless plans to defend Beiping, but they all became worthless in the face of Lin Qi's strategy of "cutting off water and food supplies and using heavy artillery to sweep the ground".

Sun Liechen leaned against the wall, his gaze shifting from the sand table to Lin Qi's excessively young face, his eyes revealing a kind of ghostly horror.

Yang Yuting has completely collapsed.

His legs went weak, and he braced his hands on the wooden frame of the sand table, his fingernails digging deep into the wood grain.

His eyes behind the glasses lost focus as he stared at the small flags that represented the destruction of the direct line, feeling as if his very marrow had been drained.

He lost, and lost utterly.

A self-proclaimed master strategist and all-knowing chief of staff of the Fengtian Army was stripped bare in the most cruel way by a southerner, whom they called a "spoiled brat," on the sand table, which was his specialty.

The operations room was so quiet that only the occasional sparks from the charcoal brazier could be heard.

The old general stood with his hands behind his back on the west side of the sand table.

He watched Lin Qi make his last move, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light, and even his breathing became heavier.

They really can win!

If the battle two years ago was indeed fought according to the plan Lin Qi deduced today—dividing the troops to cut off the 16th Division, launching a surprise attack on the Nine Gates to trap the enemy, and finally diverting the Yongding River—it would have been a successful outcome.

The Fengtian Army will not only not be defeated at Shanhaiguan, but will even be able to uproot Wu Ziyu's number one army in the world!

They dragged Cao Kun directly off the president's chair!

The old general's heart pounded wildly, and the way he looked at Lin Qi had completely changed.

This is not a smooth-talking young master from Southeast Asia; he is a brilliant strategist who can conquer the country!

Seeing Yang Yuting leaning against the sand table, his body swaying precariously, the old marshal knew that the time was right; any longer and this chief of staff would be truly ruined.

The old general turned his head and glanced out the window. It was already dark, and the cold wind was howling through the windowpanes.

"oops!"

He suddenly slapped his thigh, his voice booming and carrying a strong Northeastern accent, instantly breaking the deathly silence in the room.

"They were building this sand table until it was completely dark!"

The old general strode forward, grabbed Lin Qi's wrist, and his affection for him was more like that of someone looking at their own son: "An army marches on its stomach! What time is it? My stomach is growling. Come on, Tuozhi, let's eat first! We can talk about everything after we've eaten!"

Following the old general's force, Lin Qi withdrew his hand, not even glancing at Yang Yuting who was slumped opposite him, and followed the old general out.

Tang Yulin, Jiang Dengxuan, and the others quickly followed.

Zhang Hanqing walked beside Lin Qi, his back ramrod straight, his whole body so excited he felt like he was floating.

Today, Brother Zhang's moves have silenced all those proud and arrogant veterans of the Feng Army. Zhang Hanqing is beaming with pride!

Everyone filed out, but Yang Yuting remained propped up by the sand table, motionless, like a wooden stake that had lost its soul.

Tang Yulin walked to the door, stopped, turned around and called out, "Lingge, come on, the old general is calling for dinner."

The old coach walked ahead without turning his head, casually waving his hand.

"Don't call him. Lin Ge is overworking his brain; he's still reviewing the game on the sand table. Let's eat our food and have someone make him a bowl of noodles and bring it inside."

These words, though seemingly casual, were like a heavy hammer blow, definitively sealing the fate of the competition.

In the old coach's eyes, Yang Yuting has really messed up today.

The banquet at the Marshal's Mansion was held in the main hall.

There are no Western-style red wine steaks, only authentic Northeastern hearty dishes, but they are served at an extremely high standard.

A copper hot pot simmered in the center of the table, filled with the broth of Feilongdiao, the king of mountain delicacies, its aroma irresistible.

Next to it was a large bowl of stewed chicken with hazelnuts, with golden chicken fat floating on top.

Sauerkraut, pork belly, and blood sausage; thinly sliced ​​pork belly served with minced garlic and soy sauce, steaming hot.

The most eye-catching dish was the braised bear paw, rich in collagen and glistening with oil.

Several bottles of 60-proof sorghum liquor were placed on the table.

The seating arrangement at the dinner table clearly indicates one's social status.

Lin Qi was forcibly placed in the most prestigious position on his right by the old marshal, Zhang Hanqing sat on his left, and Lu Xiaojia sat at the very end.

"Tuozhi, come and try this Flying Dragon Soup. You can't get this stuff inside the pass."

The old marshal personally picked up the serving spoon and ladled a bowl of soup for Lin Qi. No one else in the entire Fengtian Army would receive such treatment.

"Thank you, Uncle." Lin Qi took the soup bowl with both hands, took a sip, and found it exceptionally delicious.

After several rounds of drinks and several dishes, the heat and smell of alcohol in the room mingled together, making people's faces flush red.