Cheng Muyun's prediction was indeed correct.
Following the intricate network of connections among the Shanxi merchants, they meticulously investigated and, through painstaking effort, actually located all of Lan Qingyi's secret allies.
The names were listed densely on the paper, covering almost all the forces that Lan Qingyi wanted to win over.
The list of people was surprisingly diverse: there were Japanese ronin, secretaries to the French minister, several high-ranking government officials, and even several gangs of ruthless bandits entrenched in the mountains. Not to mention local tyrants who had influence in both the legitimate and underworld circles, it encompassed all sorts of people.
The atmosphere inside the room was so heavy it seemed like it could drip water, and everyone's brows were furrowed.
Xu Jixin stared at the list, his temples throbbing with rage. He slammed the paper down on the table, the paper making a sharp crack as it hit the surface. He exclaimed angrily, "What audacity! Does Lan Qingyi think he's going to ascend to heaven? He's managed to find all these monsters and freaks to bolster his image!"
Xu Zhuohua reached out and picked up the list, her fingertips tracing the familiar and unfamiliar names.
Although she had heard of many of them before, she could not say she truly knew them. But just looking at the titles following each name—chamber of commerce president, newspaper editor-in-chief, concession director, garrison staff officer… so numerous that they almost filled half a page, her heart sank: Lan Qingyi had made thorough preparations and was clearly about to lay a trap.
What Cheng Muyun was facing was not some scattered opponents, but a deeply rooted and unshakeable mountain.
"Don't be fooled by the number of people," Cheng Muyun said, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table, his voice calm and unwavering, "almost none of them actually hold military power. In terms of confronting the Dongzhou Army alone, we actually have a greater chance of winning."
Xu Jixin, however, was not so optimistic. His brows furrowed even more: "The Dongzhou Army is capable of fighting, but fighting is not just about guns. If these people start by manipulating public opinion and spreading rumors everywhere, even if we have guns, we won't be able to silence the people. At that time, we really won't be able to do anything!"
Chen Hede, listening from the side, also frowned slightly and pondered, "I've had people keeping an eye on things these past two days, and Lan Qingyi and Zhu Zhishui have indeed been interacting frequently. I know Zhu Zhishui well; he's always had the temperament of a military general and disdains all this roundabout talk in public opinion."
“But in the current situation, how can he have the final say?” Xu Jixin retorted immediately, his tone tinged with anxiety. “Those Frenchmen are masters at manipulating public opinion, turning black into white. Besides, the newspapers that Lan Qingyi has courted are the ones with the largest circulation in the city. If he didn’t intend to wage a propaganda war, why would he bother to win over those newspapers?”
These words were like a needle, piercing through Xu Zhuohua's feigned composure.
Her fingertips suddenly turned icy cold, and she instinctively grabbed Cheng Muyun's hand, which was resting on his lap. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric, but it couldn't stop the chill surging in her heart.
She recalled those records buried in history—back then, Cheng Muyun's reputation was first tarnished by overwhelming rumors, and he was cursed and reviled by the uninformed people, gradually exhausting the popularity and prestige he had accumulated over the years.
By the time the war actually began, he was already all alone. Despite his ambitions, he was no match for the desperate situation of being surrounded by enemies on all sides, and ultimately suffered defeat and death.
Public opinion, like a soft knife, kills without drawing blood, yet is more deadly than any sharp blade.
Thinking of this, Xu Zhuohua's gaze unconsciously drifted to Chen Hede sitting opposite her, her eyes seemingly drawn by an invisible thread, carrying a hint of inquiry and a touch of unspeakable doubt.
She repeatedly traced the historical trajectory in her mind—the book clearly stated that Chen Hede and Cheng Muyun were always two parallel lines that would never intersect.
One maneuvered openly, yet ended up imprisoned and plunged into an abyss of no return; the other toiled silently in the shadows, advancing step by step toward the light.
Their life trajectories are clearly distinct, with not a single trace of overlap to be found.
But what about now? Chen Hede is sitting here, standing calmly beside Cheng Muyun, becoming a partner in this turbulent game, advancing and retreating together with them.
Yet he always maintained a subtle distance, never slamming his fist on the table and speaking harshly like Xu Jixin, nor offering any concrete assistance; he was more like a calm bystander.
So what role does he play in this game? Is he a cunning and shrewd manipulator, or a shrewd observer assessing the situation?
Xu Zhuohua's gaze lingered for so long that just as the doubts in her heart were about to materialize, Chen Hede seemed to sense something and suddenly turned his head slightly.
The moment their eyes met, the air seemed to freeze for a second. Xu Zhuohua subconsciously wanted to look away, but was frozen by the undisguised emotions in his eyes.
It was a pure worry, like a damp cotton ball, weighing heavily on my eyes.
She saw it clearly—he was genuinely anxious about Cheng Muyun's situation.
Upon further reflection, everything became clear. Their private cooperation had long been deeply intertwined, and Cheng Muyun was his most capable assistant on this perilous path. Without this tacit partner, Chen Hede's work in the underground party would be extremely difficult, and it might even have a domino effect, causing years of planning to go to waste.
Chen Hede did not ask her why she was staring at him, but simply smiled faintly at her.
His eyes were very light in color, almost like glass, his lips were thin, but his eyebrows were sharply arched. At first glance, he always seemed a bit cold and aloof, as if he was someone who took emotions very lightly.
But at this moment, his light eyes seemed to be filled with unyielding ink, hiding a depth that others could not understand, and even faintly revealing a bit of stubborn "brotherly affection".
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