roccoschili Chapter 780 This Earth isn't that big; one voice is enough.
Chapter 780 This Earth isn't that big; one voice is enough.
Kitchener asked, "So what do we do?"
Jellicoe gave a wry smile. "What to do? Build warships. Build as many warships as possible. Build bigger, faster, and more than them."
He walked back to his seat and sat down.
"But building warships requires money. Lots and lots of money. Where will we get the money?"
All eyes were on Asquith.
Asquith sat there, motionless. After a long while, he finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against steel.
"Where does the money come from? From the colonies."
He stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the crowds of demonstrators were dispersing on the streets of London. But the oppressive atmosphere remained.
"Tell the colonies to pay double the tribute from this day forward. We may have lost India, but we still have Africa. Egypt, Sudan, Kenya, South Africa—these places will pay double the price from now on."
He turned to look at the people present.
[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 20 ...
"Gentlemen, Britain has lost once. They cannot afford to lose a second time. Whatever Chen Feng's intentions, the British have already lost once; they absolutely cannot afford to lose again!"
No one spoke. Everyone remained silent, nodding.
Because they all knew that this was the only way out.
That evening, Asquith locked himself in his office.
He sat at his desk, Wilson's telegram spread out in front of him. He had read it countless times, but with each reading, his despair grew.
70,000 tons.
These three words weighed heavily on his heart like three mountains.
He recalled the high spirits he felt ten years ago when he first became Prime Minister. Back then, he believed that Britain would always be powerful and forever the world's number one. He stood at the entrance of 10 Downing Street, waving to reporters, smiling so confidently.
Ten years later, Britain is almost finished.
India is lost, Australia is lost, Myanmar is lost, Malaya is lost. In Europe, they were publicly humiliated by the Germans. In Cyprus, they were publicly shamed by Chen Feng. Now, even their last hope—the navy—is about to be surpassed.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the London night was deep. Big Ben, in the distance, appeared and disappeared in the darkness, its hands pointing to midnight. A new day had begun.
But he knew that for Britain, the new day would only get darker.
He whispered, "God, what did we do wrong?"
No one answered him.
The only sound was the wind whistling through the windowpane, a mournful sound, like weeping.
Dubai, June 28.
The sun had just risen above the horizon, its golden rays scattering across the Persian Gulf, creating shimmering, fragmented patterns. Seagulls cried out, circling overhead, occasionally swooping down to snatch a small fish. In the distance, the minarets of the mosques stood out vividly in the morning light, and the long, drawn-out chanting of prayers emanated from the loudspeakers atop the minarets, calling the faithful to begin a new day.
At the dock, the workers were already busy. Cranes creaked and groaned as they turned, cargo ships blew their horns, and dockworkers shouted in unison as they loaded and unloaded crates of goods. Everything seemed as usual, so calm, so normal.
But today is different from usual.
Chen Feng was taking a walk on the beach behind the Presidential Palace.
He was dressed casually in a white shirt, gray trousers, and cloth shoes. He walked slowly, each step firm and leaving a trail of deep footprints in the sand. Waves surged in and receded, washing away the footprints little by little.
He walked for a long time, from one end of the beach to the other, and then back again. The sun rose higher and higher, and the sunlight grew hotter and hotter, but he didn't stop.
Wang Wenwu caught up from behind and stopped beside him.
"Commander-in-Chief, you've been walking for almost two hours. Take a rest."
Chen Feng shook his head. "Not tired."
He continued walking forward. Wang Wenwu followed behind without saying a word.
After walking for a while, Chen Feng suddenly stopped. He turned around and looked at Wang Wenwu.
"Minister Wang, has the news from London arrived?"
Wang Wenwu nodded. "We've arrived. We arrived last night. The British have started plundering the colonies. They're doubling down on the tribute."
Chen Feng took the telegram, read it once, and then smiled.
That laugh was light, brief, and fleeting. But Wang Wenwu saw it.
"President, what are you laughing at?"
Chen Feng returned the telegram to him. "Laugh at them for panicking."
He continued walking forward.
Wang Wenwu followed behind, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Commander-in-Chief, there is something I would like to ask you."
Chen Feng didn't turn around. "Ask."
Wang Wenwu gritted his teeth. "That day at the Cyprus dock, what did I whisper in your ear—did you do it on purpose?"
Chen Feng stopped in his tracks.
He turned around and looked at Wang Wenwu. Sunlight shone on his face, illuminating the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His gaze was frighteningly calm, like a bottomless pool of water.
What do you think?
Wang Wenwu was stunned.
Chen Feng looked at him and remained silent for three seconds. Then he smiled.
"It was intentional."
Wang Wenwu took a deep breath. "Commander-in-Chief, have you set another trap for them?"
Chen Feng didn't answer immediately. He turned around and continued walking forward. After taking a few steps, he spoke.
"Minister Wang, do you know what an 'arms race' is?"
Wang Wenwu thought for a moment. "It's like... everyone's making weapons like crazy, let's see who can make the most?"
Chen Feng nodded. "Yes. But that's not all."
He stopped and pointed to the shimmering sea in the distance.
"Look, the sea looks calm now. But do you know what's beneath the surface? There are undercurrents, whirlpools, and giant waves that could rise at any moment."
He turned to look at Wang Wenwu.
"The British lost, but they're not satisfied. The Germans lost, but they're not satisfied either. The Merlekas haven't really fought yet, and they want to try. The French won, but they're afraid of losing again. Everyone's waiting, waiting for an opportunity."
He paused.
"I want to panic them. I want them to think that Lanfang is preparing for the next war. I want them to build warships and expand their military as much as possible. The more panicked and desperate they are, the sooner the next war will come."
Wang Wenwu's expression changed. "Commander-in-Chief, you...you want the next war to come sooner?"
Chen Feng looked at him, his gaze eerily calm.
"It's not that I want it to come sooner. It's that it's bound to come. The Germans are not convinced, the British are not convinced, the Milicians are not convinced. They are all waiting for their chance. I'm just—making that chance come a little faster."
Wang Wenwu fell silent.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Commander-in-Chief, then... then what do we do?"
Chen Feng turned around and continued walking forward.
"Us? We're ready."
He pointed to the warships that were sailing into the port in the distance.
"Look, that's the Huaihe. It's repaired. And we have the most complete military-industrial complex in the world today, the most skilled workers, and the most advanced designs!"
He turned to look at Wang Wenwu.
"When they're ready, we'll be ready too. When they come, we'll show them what true power is."
Wang Wenwu stood there, watching Chen Feng's retreating figure, and remained silent for a long time.
Wang Wenwu suddenly felt a little dazed.
He quickly caught up and walked alongside Chen Feng.
"President, do you really think another war will break out?"
Chen Feng did not answer immediately.
He took a few steps, then stopped and looked at the increasingly bright sea in the distance.
"meeting."
He paused.
"And it won't be too far."
Wang Wenwu asked, "So what do we need to do now?"
Chen Feng turned to look at him, his gaze calm.
"wait."
"wait?"
"Yes. Wait." Chen Feng pointed to the warships under construction in the distance. "Wait for them to be launched. Wait for the soldiers to be trained. Wait for everyone to be ready."
He turned around and continued walking forward.
"We'll wait here when they arrive. Five permanent members of the UN Security Council? Heh, this earth isn't that big; one voice is enough."
Wang Wenwu followed behind without asking any further questions.
The two walked on, leaving two long sets of footprints on the beach. Wave after wave washed away the footprints, but new footprints were left behind, continuing the journey.
In the distance, the sun had fully risen. Golden sunlight spilled onto the beach, onto the two sets of footprints, and onto the two receding figures.