Chapter Twenty-Two: A Startling Hypothesis

The screen froze on a silent studio hall, where two guests and a host stared at each other in stunned silence.

"For the first time, that ancient republic has bared its sharp teeth, both in its actions and its rhetoric," Eisen Malone sighed on the television screen. "It is clear that the recent string of attacks by the East Ukuchat organization, including the hijacking of Flight 740, has thoroughly enraged the newly inaugurated leadership of the Republic."

The glamorous anchorwoman’s lips parted slightly as she asked in surprise, "But isn't 'biding one's time and hiding one's light' their long-standing national policy? Are they really going to abandon all of that? Are they not afraid of the condemnation of global public opinion?"

Tarou Hashimoto said nothing, his brows furrowed and his teeth clenched as he pondered. It was Eisen Malone who took up the thread again. "In recent years, the Chakna Republic’s economic development has been unparalleled, and its military strength has expanded dramatically. To seize more markets and resources, abandoning their former caution was an inevitable choice. Don't they have an old saying: 'Times change, and so do circumstances'?" Malone paused for a moment before adding, "Moreover, their president, Tang Yiping, who has not been in office long, comes from a family of founding fathers. His ideology and methods have always leaned toward the hardline, and he enjoys immense support and prestige within the military. I suspect this incident is merely the beginning of a series of actions, not the end."

"Exactly! I fully agree with Mr. Malone!" Hashimoto seemed to snap out of his trance, his voice rising with excitement. "In fact, this is neither the beginning, nor merely the choice of President Tang Yiping alone. For over a decade, this nation has been launching frequent incursions. In the Western Pacific, the South Sea, the Indiana Ocean—you can see the warships of that Red Republic everywhere. It is a grand strategic layout. Now that they have effectively controlled the South Sea, if they manage to pacify the terrorist threats in the west, their design will be complete. Their next strike will pose a massive threat—this is what we call the 'Red Menace'! The various governments that have pursued a policy of appeasement, and a democratic world that has been lulled and deceived, will pay a bitter price. We must stop them!"

The more Hashimoto spoke, the more agitated he became, waving his fists uncontrollably, his face flushed and his breathing rapid, like a rutting ape. The anchorwoman, seemingly startled by his intensity, kept her mouth slightly open as her chest rose and fell sharply. She interjected, "Is it really that serious?"

"No, it is even more serious than that!" Hashimoto’s expression suddenly soured. He frowned and said, "Once they consolidate their domestic affairs and the situation in the southern seas, given their ancient philosophy of 'befriending distant states while attacking those nearby,' there are only two targets—whether through economic, financial, or military strikes—that are most likely."

"Which two?" the anchorwoman pressed.

"One is the Taiwan-Penghu region, to complete their so-called unification. The other—" Hashimoto enunciated each word, "—is my Je-Peng Empire!"

"Boom!" A wave of exclamations erupted in every corner of Je-Peng, swelling into a cacophony of noise. Everyone stared in disbelief at the grim-faced Hashimoto on the screen. Could what he said be true? Meanwhile, in the driver’s seat of the Lexus 800, Li Yongzheng, who appeared to be focused on driving, felt his hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

On screen, the anchorwoman pressed a delicate hand to her chest, covering her pale silver lips with the other, stunned. She finally managed to gasp, "That’s impossible, unless they’ve gone mad!"

Hashimoto seemed startled by his own prediction. He shook his head and sighed, "Nothing is impossible. I had thought such things wouldn't happen for another decade, but judging by the current public sentiment in Chakna, their strength, and the character of their leader, the timeline has likely accelerated significantly..."

Inside the studio, a strange, unnatural silence fell, as if everyone were contemplating Hashimoto’s words. After a long while, Eisen Malone finally spoke: "This concern cannot be dismissed as entirely groundless, but the reliable intelligence we have at present is too sparse to make an accurate judgment. Let us... return to the event itself."

The anchorwoman seemed to realize that allowing such an awkward silence on air was a grave professional error. She reached up to tuck her long black hair behind her ear—a gesture that carried an involuntary hint of allure—and cleared her throat. "Mr. Malone, what is your take on this?"

"Actually, compared to their targets, I am more interested in how this military—which we have always perceived as lacking mobility and limited in its power-projection capabilities—managed to complete such a large-scale deployment without being detected," Malone said, his face turning serious. "You must understand, while this country’s special forces are quite large, they lack a unified command structure and are usually distributed across various theaters. Organizing such a massive assault requires moving these troops thousands of kilometers from their respective bases to the theater of operations. This exponentially increases the difficulty. In any country, this is a monumental challenge, but clearly, they have achieved it!"

Malone held up his right index finger, pointing toward the sky with a solemn expression. "You must remember that above us are the military satellites from the Minia Federation, the Suse Federation, the Luo Alliance, and... Je-Peng..."

Before he could finish, Hashimoto interrupted: "No, no, Mr. Malone. We in Je-Peng are a peace-loving nation. We advocate for the peaceful use of space resources. Our satellites are strictly for peaceful, civilian use; there are no military satellites."

Eisen Malone chuckled, though he did not refute Hashimoto’s words. The mockery in his smile was plain for all to see. Amidst Hashimoto’s awkward, dry laughter, Malone tactfully chose not to belabor the point and instead changed his phrasing: "Very well, no Je-Peng then. So, how did the world’s largest nations, with their hundreds of military satellites constantly monitoring this vast territory, and their pervasive network of agents and spies embedded within and around the country, fail to notice?"

Hashimoto sighed. "It is terrifying! Perhaps our previous assessments of them were far too low. In fact, over a decade ago, when the Red Republic suffered two consecutive earthquakes exceeding magnitude 8, they mobilized troops and implemented large-scale, long-distance maneuvers. Unfortunately, this point did not receive special attention from military circles; they always assumed it was merely an emergency drill for unarmed troops in peacetime, not indicative of any significant improvement in power projection or combat capability..."

Eisen Malone closed his eyes slightly, tilting his head in thought for a long time before saying, "Indeed, it is truly terrifying... If, and I say if, they were to use this capability against Je-Peng, as you fear, how should Je-Peng respond?"

***

In the southern part of Kyoto City, on the shores of Kyoto Bay, lay a stretch of rocky highlands that appeared oddly abrupt against the otherwise sandy coastline. Even more striking than the terrain were the buildings upon it.

A sprawling, multi-acre fortress in the Luo style, with towering walls, stood menacingly on the high ground. The tide crashed against the shore, whipping up white spray before receding with a roar, adding a sense of dynamic motion to the fortress’s stillness. Within the walls, the architecture was meticulously arranged, surrounded by emerald lawns, blooming flowers, and babbling brooks—a veritable pastoral landscape.

For a thousand meters around the castle, there was not another single building—a miracle in the land-scarce Kyoto Bay. Yet, no one dared to raise any objection; instead, countless people spoke of it with fascination and longing.

This was the private estate of Fujiyama Ken, the eighth-generation leader of the Dragon Society, the largest syndicate in Je-Peng!

In Je-Peng, where the law of the jungle prevailed—where power reigned supreme and winners were judged by their success—most people naturally believed that only the truly strong were worthy of possessing such a domain.

The motorcade entered the estate at a steady pace. The four escort luxury cars dispersed, heading toward the garage along the forest paths, while the Lexus 800 pulled up smoothly in front of the largest traditional Je-Peng building. Only his most trusted confidants could reach this point; the deeply suspicious Fujiyama Ken would not allow many people near this building, not even his bodyguards. Besides, while the castle seemed serene and detached, it was in fact heavily guarded. The countless surveillance devices and patrols outside, combined with the formidable firepower within the core, ensured his safety. To conquer this place, one would need more than a company of regular soldiers! What, then, was there to worry about?

The car stopped. Li Yongzheng quickly jumped out, skillfully opened the rear door, and considerately shielded the top of the doorframe with his arm. Fujiyama Ken stepped out slowly. Seeing the familiar surroundings and observing Li Yongzheng’s attentive, meticulous movements, the gloom that had been etched across his face throughout the journey finally softened.

Just as they were walking toward the rustic, log-hewn entrance, Fujiyama Ken seemed to recall something. He turned back and pointed at the monitor still running inside the car. "Is this host a newcomer?"

Li Yongzheng, intimately familiar with Fujiyama Ken’s personality, was not surprised by the abrupt question. He bowed respectfully and said, "Yes, he debuted just this year. In two hours, he will appear before you, sir, for your personal amusement."

A smile finally touched Fujiyama Ken’s sinister face. This subordinate was always so perceptive—perhaps that was why he trusted him so much. He nodded. "Work hard; you have a bright future ahead of you." With that, he walked away. Behind him, Li Yongzheng’s voice sounded, filled with respect, a touch of gratitude, and surprise: "Yes, Chairman. Thank you, Chairman. I will serve you with my life..."

Fujiyama Ken, already having turned away, could not see the mockery in Li Yongzheng’s eyes, nor could he know the disdain in his heart: "Two hours? I hope you’re still interested by then..."