Chapter 24: A One-Way Ticket to Hell

"Is that so? My younger brother is certainly daring!" Maxim, the second son of the Berya family, said upon hearing the servant's report. He raised his hand, looking at the land deed stamped with the family's official administrative seal, a strange smile spreading across his face.

It was hard to tell if it was mercy or cruelty.

"Is it truly wise for His Third Highness to do this?" the servant asked in a low voice.

"In times of national collapse and family ruin, there is never really a right or wrong. Those in power are forced to choose between two cups of what both look like poison. My dear brother has simply chosen the most potent method," Maxim said, looking down at the deed. "This is a gift, but it is also a 'one-way ticket to hell.' The irony is that when a society opens up channels for upward mobility, it is often the era when the common people face the highest probability of death."

Elsewhere, at the railway station in the south of Barovsk, Zhang Shan stood on the platform, surrounded by his guard. He glanced at the smoking steam locomotive not far away, then shifted his gaze back to the train that was about to depart.

The clamor on the platform gave Zhang Shan a sense of disorientation, as if he had traveled through time rather than into another world—as if he were stepping into a segment of history.

A young soldier, wearing a brand-new uniform with a mis-sewn cuff and a Kar98 rifle—its oil still reflecting the light—slung across his back, was saying goodbye to his family. His younger siblings had their faces scrunched up, wanting to cry but not daring to.

Standing downwind, Zhang Shan clearly heard the soldier say, "Mother, it doesn't matter if I die. With this plot of land, you will be able to raise my brothers and sisters. I know that in Uncle Sergei's house next door, only one of the twelve children lived to adulthood."

His mother, a woman in her forties whose face was etched with deep wrinkles, burst into uncontrollable tears on the spot.

Beside her, his hunched-over father stood silent, taking sharp drags from a cigarette rolled in newspaper, then turning away, unable to bear looking at his son heading off to war.

Not far away, a young couple was sharing a final embrace.

"Masha, promise me, don't wait for me, okay? It's highly likely I won't be coming back."

"No, shut up! Bogdan, I have prayed to the Great God Perun; you will be fine!"

Hearing the train whistle, the two embraced fiercely, biting each other's lips until they drew blood.

Junior officers urged the soldiers on, yet there were no insults or profanities to be heard.

It was a deeply jarring scene. Every soldier of the Eighth Division knew they were holding what was likely a one-way ticket to certain death, yet they were smiling.

Not just the raw recruits, but the veterans who had survived countless battles—they were all smiling.

Tears mingled with their smiles!

Seeing Zhang Shan on the platform, they even enthusiastically took off their steel helmets and waved them.

"Long live His Highness the Prince!"

It was not a hollow slogan, but a genuine, heartfelt cry.

At that moment, Zhang Shan deeply understood what the system’s notification—"Far Eastern War Support Increased by 15%"—truly meant.

A game is, after all, just a game.

When the data points of a game transformed into real individuals before his eyes, the overwhelming visual impact left Zhang Shan with the illusion that he could barely breathe.

On the platform, the royal band played "The Sacred War," a piece written by their talented prince in a single night.

The nobles marveled at His Highness Andrei's musical talent; even though the piece existed only as a score without lyrics, they did not hesitate to lavish it with the most extravagant praise.

The soldiers, however, were moved by the thrilling, stirring melody contained within this grand and heroic composition.

Hearing the music, the soldiers cheered, whistled, and shouted "Ura!"

Their joyful demeanor made them look not like men about to head to the battlefield, but like excited children going on a field trip.

"Your Highness! We will take one of them down with us even if we die!"

"Your Highness! Blow those goddamn Yamato bastards to pieces for us!"

"Your Highness..."

Under the traction of the armored locomotive, the train began to move, pulling over twenty carriages and slowly heading toward the southern border provinces...

Only when the last carriage disappeared into the horizon did Zhang Shan withdraw his gaze, his mind filled with the voices of these young soldiers throughout his ride back.

This godforsaken era!

This godforsaken world!

A commander is great, and a commander is also cruel.

Zhang Shan suddenly realized that every command he issued was, in essence, sending soldiers to their deaths.

The only difference was which order would make their deaths more valuable.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, looking toward the slightly reddened southern sky, as if a gate to hell were slowly opening in that direction...

Returning to the General Staff headquarters, he walked in to find the staff officers arguing.

"We must destroy the Yamato supply lines!"

"Are you joking? It's not that simple! They have armored vehicles for protection! The Yakus people have suffered such heavy losses that they don't want to do it anymore."

"Nonsense, have we not suffered? We've already had three homeland defense brigades wiped out. What do a few of their deaths matter?"

"Death? They aren't afraid of death; they say they are only afraid of dying for nothing."

As Zhang Shan approached, he realized that their own Mongol cavalry division’s harassment of the enemy lines had been woefully ineffective.

Before the cavalry could even get close, they would be hit by machine-gun fire from the enemy's armored vehicles, leaving them completely helpless.

It made sense; those ragtag cavalry divisions, even if equipped with the latest Kar98 rifles, severely lacked anti-armor capabilities. The only thing that could threaten an armored vehicle was bundling wood-handled grenades together and throwing them at the vehicles.

The reality was that even when various cavalry commanders organized suicide squads for charges, very few had the chance to get close to the Yamato armored vehicles.

Mikhail had a headache listening to the staff's debate, and just as he was rubbing his temples, he heard Zhang Shan interject.

"There's no need to make it so complicated. Do you know how to use a horse to plow a field? You just need to take advantage of the intervals when the enemy passes to destroy the dirt roads they primarily use."

"Hmm?" Mikhail perked up. "Your Highness, what do you mean?"

Zhang Shan smiled. "I just received intelligence from Seris—they say the suspension on the Yamato armored vehicles is terrible, their passability on complex terrain is very low, and they can't even cross Seris's paddy fields. As long as we dig up the roads, those armored cars and small tanks will break down on their own."

"Oh? That is truly good news!"

Some staff officers were skeptical. "Your Highness, I do not mean to refute your point, but can the enemy's supply lines really be paralyzed so easily? Please allow me to reserve my opinion."

The crowd of staff officers and generals found it unbelievable.

Zhang Shan’s eyes twitched slightly, and he said nothing more.

It was still the fault of the previous emperor. Because of Ivan XVI's reckless command that led to the "glorious" achievement of losing six million troops, every general in the empire now suffered from a condition called "don't let the aristocratic lords interfere with command."

To the generals, a prince like Zhang Shan, who could secure supplies and manpower for the army, was already the perfect role model. As long as they won, they didn't mind writing grand accounts about it and attributing "all glory to His Highness."

Zhang Shan sighed, walked out, and instructed Natalie, "Get me in touch with Bagen."