Two days later, the air in the Nagasaki study was charged with a new kind of energy. General Yuan Shikai stood before the Emperor's desk, a man who seemed to take up more space than his stout frame suggested. His uniform was a masterpiece of Western tailoring, crisp and immaculate, fitting his powerful build perfectly. He carried himself with an unshakable, almost arrogant, confidence, his intelligent eyes scanning the room, missing nothing. He had just finished reading the pile of reports on the Mongol sabotage campaign. Unlike others who might have displayed anger or concern, his expression was one of cool, professional assessment, like a surgeon examining a diseased limb.
He placed the reports down on the table, stacking them into a neat pile. "An interesting problem, Your Majesty," he began, his voice a smooth, confident baritone. "The enemy's strategy is crude, but effective. It leverages their two greatest strengths—mobility and an intimate knowledge of the terrain—against our single greatest vulnerability: the immense length of our supply lines. It's asymmetrical warfare in its purest form."
Qin Shi Huang leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the general. "I am not interested in an academic analysis of the problem, General. I am interested in your solution. General Meng Tian here," he gestured to his right, where the silent, ramrod-straight general stood, "has proposed using elite units to hunt down the saboteurs. Spymaster Shen Ke suggests a long-term strategy of infiltration and intelligence gathering. What do you propose?"
Yuan Shikai's gaze flickered towards Meng Tian for a brief moment. There was no insolence in it, but a clear glint of professional rivalry, the look of a new predator sizing up the alpha of the old pack. His tone, however, remained impeccably respectful.
"General Meng's plan is admirable," Yuan said smoothly. "It is the strategy of a master fencer, seeking to dispatch his opponent with a single, precise, killing blow. It is honorable and clean. But we are not fighting a fencer, Your Majesty. We are fighting a plague of rats gnawing at the foundations of the house. You cannot kill them all one by one with a sword. It is an inefficient use of a fine weapon. To deal with rats, you must poison the well, burn the fields, and tear down any wall they might hide behind."
Meng Tian's voice was like chips of ice. "Speak plainly, General. What is your 'poison'?"
Yuan Shikai, ignoring the bite in Meng Tian's tone, turned to the massive map on the wall. He picked up a long wooden ruler, using it as a pointer. His movements were precise, economical, and deeply confident. "The hunt is folly; the enemy will simply scatter. Infiltration is too slow; the artery will bleed out before the spies bear fruit. The solution is not to chase the rats. The solution is to make the entire environment hostile to their very existence."
He tapped the ruler along the red line that marked the railway. "My proposal has three phases. Phase One: Fortification. A strategy of absolute denial. We will build a fortified blockhouse every five miles along the entire length of the track from Datong to the new frontier. Each blockhouse will house a platoon of infantry, equipped with two of the new Maxim machine guns and a signaling lamp for communication. The stretches between these blockhouses will be relentlessly patrolled by cavalry. This action transforms the railway from a simple, vulnerable track into a militarized wall. A spine of steel and bullets stretching across the plains."
"The cost in manpower and material would be immense," QSH stated, testing him.
"It will be staggering," Yuan agreed without hesitation. "But it is less than the cost of a stalled army and a starving northern frontier, Majesty. This investment in security leads directly to Phase Two: The Clear Zone."
His ruler swept across the wide, pale yellow swaths of land on either side of the track. "We declare a fifty-mile exclusion zone on both sides of the railway. Effective immediately. Any tribe residing within this zone is given one month to relocate their people and their herds. After that one-month grace period, any yurt, any herd, any person found within the zone is considered an enemy combatant and will be eliminated on sight. No questions, no trials, no prisoners. We will burn the grass itself to deny them fodder for their horses. We will make the land a barren desert that cannot sustain them. We will turn their greatest asset, the land, into their enemy."
Meng Tian took a half-step forward, his voice tight with a barely controlled fury. "You would punish thousands of nomads—women, children, the elderly—for the actions of a few hundred warriors? You would wage war on people who have done nothing but exist where we wish to build?"
Yuan Shikai turned to face him, his expression one of mild surprise, as if Meng Tian had brought up a point of irrelevant sentimentality. "Innocence is a luxury we cannot afford in this type of war, General Meng," he said calmly. "A tribe that gives shelter, food, or even just passage to a saboteur, whether through fear or sympathy, is no longer innocent. They are a component of the enemy's logistical infrastructure. By creating this buffer, we force Toghrul's raiders to cross a hundred miles of open, hostile territory just to reach their target. It exposes them. It makes their task near-impossible."
QSH watched the exchange, his face an impassive mask. He had seen this clash before, in his first life: the honorable warrior versus the pragmatic politician. Both were necessary. "And Phase Three, General?" he asked, his voice cutting into the tense silence.
Yuan Shikai's voice dropped, becoming even more chillingly pragmatic, the voice of a man outlining a mathematical equation. "Phase Three: Collective Responsibility. For any successful attack on the railway, anywhere along the line, the nearest tribe outside the Clear Zone—regardless of their proven involvement—will pay the price. We will not waste time and resources hunting for the guilty parties. We will simply select the closest settlement and make a public and terrible example of it. Their livestock will be confiscated and given to our troops. Their leaders will be executed in a manner of our choosing. Their fighting-age men will be conscripted into labor battalions to repair the very tracks their brethren destroyed. The message will be brutally simple: police yourselves, or we will police you. Soon, the tribes themselves will become our most effective intelligence network. They will turn over the saboteurs to us not out of loyalty, but out of a simple, desperate desire to be left alone."
A heavy silence filled the study. Meng Tian stood rigid, his disapproval radiating from him like a palpable force. He viewed this not as a military strategy, but as monstrous, dishonorable barbarism. Shen Ke, ever the observer, remained silent in the corner, but one could imagine him calculating the profound psychological impact—and the long-term hatred—such a policy would create.
"Your plan is thorough, General," QSH said, his tone unreadable. "And it is exceptionally cruel."
Yuan Shikai met the Emperor's penetrating gaze without flinching. "It is a cruel land, Your Majesty. It requires a cruel hand to tame it. My methods will not win us the love of the Mongol people. I do not seek their love. I seek their obedience. My methods will give you a secure northern border. They will break the will of the resistance and demonstrate to the Russians in St. Petersburg that their proxy games have a cost far higher than they are willing to pay. My methods, Your Majesty, will work."
QSH leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting from the stoic, honorable Meng Tian to the ruthlessly ambitious Yuan Shikai. He saw in them two essential, opposing forces of his new empire: the glorious, conquering sword that inspired men to die for him, and the cold, efficient machinery of control that ensured his commands were obeyed. He needed both.
"You are correct," QSH declared, the words sealing the fate of the northern tribes. "It will work."
He turned his full attention to Yuan Shikai. "General Yuan, I am hereby creating the Northern Pacification Command. You are its first commander. You will have three divisions of the New Army, a full corps of engineers, and the absolute authority to implement your three-phase plan precisely as you have described it. You will report directly, and only, to me. Your budget is whatever you require. Your rules of engagement are your own. I have only one metric for your success: stop the bombings. Is that understood?"
A triumphant, hungry light gleamed deep in Yuan Shikai's eyes. This was the power, the autonomy, he had craved. He snapped to attention, executing a sharp, perfect salute, his fist striking his chest with a dull thud. "Perfectly, Your Majesty. I will not fail you. The northern artery will be secure."
"See that it is," QSH commanded. "Meng Tian, Spymaster Shen Ke, you will provide General Yuan with all intelligence you possess regarding Khan Toghrul and known Russian movements. You are all dismissed. General Yuan, you may begin drafting your operational orders immediately."
Yuan and Shen Ke bowed low and departed, Yuan already looking like a man eager to get to his bloody work. Meng Tian lingered for a moment after they had gone, the conflict churning within him.
"Majesty," he said, his voice strained. "Yuan… he is a wolf. To give him such untethered power…"
"I know exactly what he is, Meng Tian," QSH replied, his eyes returning to the map. "And right now, a wolf is precisely what I need to guard my northern fence. Your honor is a priceless asset to me. It is the glorious banner under which men will march into legend. Do not tarnish it with a butcher's work. Let the wolf do what wolves do best."
Meng Tian understood. It was a compartmentalization of morality, an imperial division of labor. He was to be the noble face of the empire; Yuan was to be its brutal, hidden fist. He bowed deeply, the conflict clear on his handsome face, and left the Emperor alone with his map, and the chillingly pragmatic choice he had just unleashed upon the world.