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

The old general's palm strike, though seemingly bold, was actually precise and powerful.

Lin Qi's shoulders slumped slightly, but he didn't move an inch. He simply raised his eyes and smiled slightly at the old marshal.

That smile was serene and nonchalant.

The old general felt as if he had been pricked by a needle.

This kid caught even the subtle probing in his palm strike perfectly.

If it were Yang Yuting, he would probably have already stood up and stepped aside; if it were Zhang Zuoxiang, he would definitely have been apprehensive and humble.

But Lin Qi just sat there, as if he hadn't been struck by the slap of the Northeast King, but rather by a joke from an ordinary elder.

"Hanqing, go and tell your men to bring me that box of aged Pu'er tea."

The old general withdrew his hand and rubbed his palms together imperceptibly: "Tell them to remove everyone within two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters) of the study. Tonight, no one is allowed to approach."

Zhang Hanqing felt a chill and quickly got up to go out and make arrangements.

Only the old man and the young man remained in the study.

The old general didn't immediately sit back down in his chair. Instead, he walked to the carved wooden window with his hands behind his back, lifted a corner of the cotton curtain, and looked out at the dark night.

"Takumi."

The old coach didn't turn around; his voice was so deep it seemed to come from the depths of his chest.

"What you just said reminds me of an old story. During the Guangxu era, when I was still a bandit in western Liaoning, I met a blind fortune teller. The blind man felt my bones and said that how high I climbed in this life depended entirely on who was holding the abacus next to me."

He slowly turned around, his walnut-shaped eyes gleaming with an unfathomable light in the candlelight.

"For over twenty years, I've never found the person who held the abacus. But seeing you today has brought me some relief."

Lin Qi stood up and bowed, saying, "Uncle, you flatter me. I'm just taking advantage of your kindness."

"Hey—" the old general waved his hand, "We're family, let's not talk about these formalities."

As they were talking, Zhang Hanqing lifted the curtain and came in. The servant behind him carried a gilded lacquer box, which he respectfully placed on the desk before leaving.

A series of rustling footsteps came from outside the door; it was the personal guards making arrangements.

Before long, the entire study was so quiet that even the whistling of the wind through the pillars could be heard clearly.

Inside the study, fine sandalwood burned in a bronze crane incense burner, its smoke curling around the sandalwood frame.

The old coach sat in a round-backed chair, his wide sleeves covering his knees, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrests with a very steady rhythm.

The murderous glint in those round, small walnut eyes had been suppressed, replaced by a complex smile that blended kindness and probing.

He knew in his heart that this young man in his early twenties could not be regarded simply as a special envoy from the South or his son's sworn brother.

This kind of genius, capable of knowing every secret of the Fengtian Army from afar, is like a guillotine hanging over the neck of the Fengtian clique if not kept firmly in their grasp.

The old marshal personally picked up the blue-and-white porcelain teapot and filled the teacup in front of Lin Qi, a gesture rarely seen in Fengtian.

"Takumi, I hope you didn't find my little scheme amusing."

The old general placed the pot on the table, making a slight clinking sound: "Since we're all family, let's close the door and have a frank chat."

He winked at his son.

Zhang Hanqing sat to the side, his back tense. Receiving his father's hint, he swallowed hard, quickly put on a sincere expression, leaned forward half an inch, and lowered his voice to a very low level, which was full of passion.

"Brother, since you've even figured out Feng Huanzhang's hidden move, I won't keep it from you anymore."

Zhang Hanqing crossed his hands on his knees: "To be honest, Yang Lingge had calculated that as long as Feng Huanzhang turned against the Zhili clique at a crucial moment and cut off their retreat, our Fengtian clique's chances of winning the battle would be at least 90%, if not 100%. Father also strongly agrees with this plan. But after seeing what you did on the sand table today, I'm not so sure anymore. Yang Lingge focuses on tactics, while you, brother, are looking at the bigger picture. Tell me honestly, what will the second Zhili-Fengtian war look like?"

The old general didn't say anything, but simply picked up his teacup and slowly skimmed off the foam with the lid, his ears perked up like a rabbit's.

Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, looking at the father and son who controlled the lifeline of the three northeastern provinces. A smile curved his lips, a smile that carried a rational composure that bordered on coldness.

He didn't rush to speak, but instead picked up his teacup, letting the slightly bitter aroma of the tea spread on his tongue.

"A 90% win rate?"

Lin Qi put down his cup and traced a line lightly on the table with his fingertip: "Chief of Staff Yang only has eyes for Shanhaiguan and Jiuguan Pass. In my opinion, his vision is ultimately too narrow. This battle is not a matter of victory or defeat, but a matter of the complete severing of the Zhili clique's century-old foundation. Uncle, Hanqing, you are looking at leaving the pass, but I am looking at entering the pass, and entering Zhongnanhai in a glorious manner."

"Taking over Zhongnanhai?"

Zhang Hanqing repeated in a trembling voice, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

The old general still didn't move, but the gloom in his eyes had been completely dispelled, replaced by an extremely suppressed fervor.

"This round will start in Jiangnan."

Lin Qi casually picked up a few Go stones from the desk and laid them out on the solid wood table.

"In early September, Jiangsu and Zhejiang will be in chaos. Qi Xieyuan and Sun Chuanfang, for the sake of the comprador interest in Shanghai, will surely join forces to attack Lu Yongxiang. The little bit of support that Lu Xiaojia brought back cannot save his father's life. Lu Yongxiang can only hold out until mid-September at most, and the Zhejiang army will surely be defeated. The main force of the Zhili clique is deeply mired in the quagmire of Jiangnan. Wu Ziyu is now full of pride and will think that the world's situation is settled. Uncle, this is your opportunity. In mid-September, the Fengtian army will, under the pretext of aiding Zhejiang and protecting Guangdong, legitimately launch a full-scale attack."

"But Wu Ziyu has deployed a large force at Shanhaiguan."

Zhang Hanqing hurriedly interjected, "The Third Division is his lifeline. If we go head-to-head, we'll still bleed a lot."

Why confront them head-on?

Lin Qi's eyes turned cold, his tone carrying a contemptuous air of utter utter disdain: "In mid-October, when the main force of the Fengtian Army is locked in a stalemate with Wu Ziyu at the Shanhaiguan line, Wu Ziyu will feel that the scene from two years ago is about to repeat itself. He will do everything in his power to mobilize supplies from the rear. But at that very moment, Feng Huanzhang will lead his National Army, suddenly marching south from Chahar, heading straight for Beiping! In late October, Feng Huanzhang will launch a coup. Cao Kun will be imprisoned. Beiping will change hands overnight. Hanqing, if you were Wu Ziyu, hearing on the front lines that your stronghold has been raided and the President is a prisoner, would you still have the mind to waste time fighting the Fengtian Army at the Great Wall?"

Zhang Hanqing's mind went blank, as if he had been hit hard by a heavy hammer.

Yang Yuting had never mentioned this kind of battle scenario simulation.

Yang Yuting only said that Feng Huanzhang could cover the rear, but he didn't dare to calculate that Feng Huanzhang would directly seize Beiping City.

At this moment, the veteran coach Zhang Yuting slowly put down his teacup, his breathing noticeably out of rhythm.

He compared Lin Qi's plan with Yang Yuting's, and they were worlds apart. Yang Yuting was doing addition and subtraction, while Lin Qi was doing multiplication and division.

"Tuozhi, do you think Wu Ziyu will run away?"

The old general's voice trembled slightly.

"If he doesn't run, he'll die."

Lin Qi smiled and nodded: "Wu Ziyu will definitely lead his remaining troops to escape south by sea from Tianjin. The Zhili army of 300,000 will collapse overnight like a flock of frightened sheep. And Uncle, your special train will arrive at Yongdingmen Station by November at the latest. You can have the best tailor in Fengtian make the President's official uniform now."