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

The old general stood up abruptly.

His short, stocky body was now bursting with a wild, animalistic excitement.

He paced back and forth in the cramped study, rubbing his hands together incessantly, muttering, "November...entering Beiping...good, good, good!"

He spent his whole life struggling and fighting; wasn't that the moment he had always dreamed of?

Yang Yuting's previous plans always carried a hint of a Pyrrhic victory.

But in those few minutes, Lin Qi not only accurately predicted Wu Ziyu's psychology and nipped the national warlords' reactions in the bud, but even presented him with a detailed timetable down to the month.

This is the prophet!

This is the destiny charm sent by the God of Wealth!

Zhang Hanqing was so excited that his face turned red. His gaze toward Lin Qi was no longer arrogant, but filled with an almost blind worship.

He frantically calculated in his mind: if what his elder brother said was true, and the Fengtian clique had taken control of the northern central government, while his elder brother was currently in the south reorganizing arsenals and training the Whampoa Military Academy's new army, then when his elder brother held absolute power in Guangzhou, wouldn't all of this beautiful land be theirs for the two brothers to possess? What southern leaders, what Beiyang warlords—under the combined efforts of the two brothers, they would all be reduced to dust.

"Big brother, you're amazing!"

Zhang Hanqing wished he could kowtow to Lin Qi a few more times on the spot.

The veteran coach sat back down, his emotions calmed down somewhat, but the desire in his eyes burned like fire.

He stared at Lin Qi, his appetite clearly whetted: "Tuozhi, what happens after we enter the capital? If the Zhili clique falls, will the world be at peace?"

"Entering Beijing is only the first step."

Lin Qi picked up his teacup again, his tone domineering and leaving no room for argument: "Wu Ziyu has fled south, and Qi Xieyuan and Sun Chuanfang are exhausted from fighting in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. Uncle, your hand shouldn't just stay on the banks of the Yellow River. Zhili, Shandong, Jiangsu, Shanghai… these most prosperous and fertile lands in the country will eventually belong to the Zhang family. The Fengtian Army will occupy half of the country's territory. You will control the fattest money bag in the country. At that time, you will not only be the king of the Northeast, but you will be the true supreme commander of this country. Who in this world will dare to disobey?"

A long, deathly silence fell over the study.

The old coach stared at Lin Qi's clenched fist; he could even hear his own heart pounding.

The temptation was so great that he felt his previous attempts to seize territory were nothing more than a fight among village thugs.

Lin Qi's God-like perspective and dimensional reduction prediction completely reshaped the boundaries of the ambitions of this warlord father and son.

"good!"

The old marshal slapped his thigh: "Little Six, call an emergency meeting of the General Staff first thing tomorrow morning. Make sure my formal attire for entering the pass is prepared privately!"

Zhang Hanqing nodded hastily, his mind filled with the image of the two brothers dividing the river and working together to build a great empire.

Just as the atmosphere in the study reached its peak, and the dream of power was almost becoming a reality—

Lin Qi put down his teacup, the porcelain bottom striking the table with a crisp, abrupt sound.

The smile on his face gradually faded, and his deep eyes pierced through the rising steam of the tea, sending chills down one's spine.

"Uncle, Hanqing, the outcome of the upcoming Zhili-Fengtian War is already a foregone conclusion. Those old bones of the Zhili clique cannot stop the wheels of time. Wu Ziyu will inevitably be defeated. However, compared to the visible enemies on the front lines at Shanhaiguan, what you should be more worried about now is your Fengtian, your rear area."

The moment those words were uttered, the temperature in the study plummeted.

The old general's previously fervent eyes suddenly narrowed, and the lid of the teacup in his hand trembled.

Fengtian Rear Area?

This place contains his old stronghold, which he has painstakingly built up over the past twenty years, an arsenal operating at full speed, and hundreds of thousands of elite Fengtian troops stationed here, making it virtually impregnable.

Why did Lin Qi suddenly reveal the truth about the rear at this crucial moment?

What earth-shattering event was he implying?

The old marshal and the young marshal exchanged a glance. What they saw in each other's eyes, besides the lingering greed, was a chilling sense of dread born from the unknown.

Lin Qi didn't explain, he just stood there quietly, his figure blending into the smoke of the sandalwood.

Outside the door, a cool night breeze slipped through the crack and extinguished the half-burnt candle on the table.

Lin Qi ran his fingers along the rim of the teacup, looked at Old Marshal Zhang, and slowly spoke:

"Uncle, I know what you're thinking. Feng Huanzhang is your key to victory, but are you sure you can hold onto this hand? If he could sell Wu Ziyu for your silver dollars, he could sell you for someone else's promissory notes in the future. Besides, your hometown of Fengtian is not peaceful."

The old general narrowed his eyes, his mind in turmoil.

He thought of those short notebooks and the old Russians on the Middle East Railway.

Lin Qi's words were like a rusty, dull knife, repeatedly tugging at his most sensitive nerves.

"Nephew, you mean beware of the Soviets and the Japanese?"

The old general's voice was as cold as ice shards from beyond the Great Wall.

Lin Qi shook his head: "Uncle, the real enemy of this country has never been the various Beiyang warlords, but the covetous foreign powers. In this Second Zhili-Fengtian War, you may win the country, but you may not be able to protect Fengtian. Have you considered this trade?"

Zhang Hanqing could no longer sit still. His voice was urgent: "Brother, please explain yourself! What exactly is going to happen in Northeast China?"

Lin Qi chuckled and poured the remaining tea onto the blue brick floor at his feet. The water quickly spread, resembling a tattered map.

He looked up at the dark night sky outside the window, his voice ethereal yet resolute.

"When Feng Huanzhang stabs you, you will understand that the sharpest knife in the world is never in the hands of the enemy."

After saying that, Lin Qi stood up and nodded slightly to the old marshal.

"It's late, Uncle, you should rest early. There are some things you still need to prepare for. Those who are not of our kind will surely have different intentions!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Qi disappeared through the study door, leaving the old marshal and his son, the young marshal, looking at each other in bewilderment.

That night, no one in the entire Marshal's Mansion slept.

The old marshal sat behind his desk, staring at the oath bearing the Grand Marshal's bright red seal all night long, until the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon.

He knew that this dragon from the south had completely muddied the waters of Fengtian.