Chapter 43 I’ll Take Care of It

Chapter 43: Let Me Handle It

Like the grand assembly hall for commendation meetings, the rebel army’s wartime conference room was still located in the old council chamber of District 29.

After their first victory, the rebel army had seized a fair amount of supplies and assets, but Tao Juan had been poor for so long that he was extremely tightfisted about it.

He wouldn't even buy a few decent chairs. Half of the chairs in the conference room were high-end single-seat sofas originally used by the Imperial District 29 councilors, while the other half were paint-chipped stools dragged from who knows where, placed haphazardly, looking particularly ridiculous.

"Everyone, just make do with these stools for now," Tao Juan said, feeling a bit embarrassed as he sat at the head of the long table. He tapped the table with a smile. "Let’s not spend this money yet. We'll raise everyone's pay next month."

"Everyone’s here. Let’s start the meeting. First, let’s talk about the new recruits."

"Since the war began, a total of 12,327 people have joined us. Among them, 5,109 have complete military records and passed the initial screening. The rest are self-organized militia or civilians without formal training."

"This is the first time we're taking in such a large number of military personnel. I don’t have much experience with how to arrange them. Everyone, share your thoughts."

A complete military record basically meant they were Imperial soldiers who had defected. Though they hadn’t actually been defeated in battle, they weren’t much different from prisoners of war.

But for the rebel army, the original founders—those who had left the Empire as the Arctic Wolf Squad—came from the same roots as these defectors. Most of them had low literacy rates but basic combat skills. The vast majority were likely civilians genuinely supporting the rebellion.

Tao Juan looked around at the others. Most of them had never faced a situation like this either, and no one responded immediately.

"Governor, the main force now is made up of battle-hardened elites. We don’t have time to train newbies. I think we should form them into units based on numbers and assign a few experienced officers to train them," one officer volunteered.

"The last thing we need during combat is internal chaos. The new recruits are unstable—loyalty and discipline are uncertain," Han Zhandong said, leaning back in his chair. "Even if they’re just used for digging trenches or used as cannon fodder, it’s better than disrupting our existing army."

Zhu Shinian frowned slightly and looked over. The speaker was Han Zhandong, a founding member of the rebel army who had followed Tao Juan from the Arctic Wolf Squad to District 29.

A few others in the room also frowned but didn’t immediately object.

"I think Colonel Han's suggestion isn’t quite appropriate," Zhu Shinian said tactfully. "These people defected before the battle, not as actual prisoners. Naturally, they’re inclined to support the rebellion. I spent some time at the registration center, and many of them have local accents..."

Before he could finish, he heard Han Zhandong let out a cold chuckle.

"Then, Major General Zhu, what do you suggest we do?"

Since they were comrades fighting side by side, and Zhu Shinian—though a newcomer—was a local of District 26 with a gentle, agreeable temperament, the others at the table were stunned by Han Zhandong’s hostile tone.

Han Zhandong emphasized the title "Major General Zhu," and Zhu Shinian immediately understood the source of his hostility.

Han Zhandong was one of the original members of the Arctic Wolf Squad who had defected from the Empire with Tao Juan. He had also participated in the last battle but hadn’t been promoted—his rank remained colonel.

In the Empire, promotions for merit usually also factored in seniority and age, promoting older, more experienced officers alongside younger ones.

But a major general required major general’s pay, a lieutenant general required lieutenant general’s pay. This had led to an extremely bloated military system in the Empire, where very few reached colonel in their twenties—all elite among elites—yet military pay consumed over fifty percent of the annual defense budget.

Thus, when Gu Zhen wanted to expand the army and secure more funding, he faced fierce opposition.

Han Zhandong naturally couldn’t see this. He probably just thought Tao Juan was ungrateful—that after following Tao Juan thousands of miles to the rebellion, his treatment was worse than in the Empire, and even worse than Zhu Shinian, who had just defected.

"Don’t separate the new recruits into independent units. We should conduct a review," Zhu Shinian said calmly, as if oblivious to Han Zhandong’s hostility. "Categorize them by specialty and experience. Break them up and assign them to existing companies. Have veterans train newcomers to familiarize them with the rebel army’s combat methods and discipline."

Han Zhandong narrowed his eyes. "In battle, someone has to be cannon fodder. If you’re too soft to send them, are you going to take their place?"

"I don't agree that someone has to be cannon fodder," Zhu Shinian replied, not sounding particularly angry despite the provocation. "Every command decision I make is not aimed at sending my soldiers to be cannon fodder."

"If Colonel Han means the inevitable casualties, then any of us can sacrifice for the rebellion."

"...Alright," Tao Juan interrupted the argument. He turned to Zhu Shinian first. "Don’t say things like that. I know it’s superstitious, but stop talking about death all the time. A few less unlucky words won't hurt."

"And you," he glanced at Han Zhandong. "What do you mean by ‘someone has to be cannon fodder’? That’s not conducive to unity. We’ll follow Zhu Shinian’s plan—integrate the new recruits into existing units, with the existing company commanders will be responsible for evaluations."

Han Zhandong’s expression darkened visibly.

Tao Juan noticed but said nothing, moving on to the next agenda item.

These senior rebel commanders weren’t used to the Empire’s flowery formalities, so discussions were highly efficient. In two and a half hours, they covered four agenda items—something Zhu Shinian could never have imagined back in the Imperial military.

After being reprimanded by Tao Juan, Han Zhandong remained silent for a long time, not offering any further opinions.

Two and a half hours later, the meeting broke for a short recess. Almost everyone’s water cups were empty, so they stood up to refill or head to the restroom.

The Imperial council chamber had two tea rooms. The one Zhu Shinian went to had run out of tea bags and instant coffee. He came back and headed to the other tea room to grab some.

Fu Cheng was standing with his arms crossed by the half-closed door of the tea room, looking displeased, like a gatekeeper.

"Why are you blocking the doorway..."

Fu Cheng made a shushing gesture. Zhu Shinian walked over to ask what he was doing, and he could clearly hear voices inside.

"...Lao Han, don’t be so harsh. Without Major General Zhu in the last northern campaign, it really wouldn’t have succeeded. We didn’t do much either. Promoting him isn’t unreasonable..."

"He got to major general so fast. Isn’t that just favoritism from Tao Juan? Do us old comrades who followed him from the beginning mean less to him than his prized student? Just now, he listened to Zhu Shinian, not to me."

"But what Major General Zhu said made sense. Lao Han, you can’t be so exclusionary. Later joiners aren’t inferior—they shouldn’t be sent to be cannon fodder..."

"He just thinks Zhu Shinian is great. Thinks his precious student is a genius, a high-achiever, unlike us uneducated roughnecks," Han Zhandong grew angrier. "When we defected with him, we risked our necks. We helped him capture three districts. Without our brothers’ efforts, would the rebel army even exist?"

"I think," another voice said, "those districts were already leaning toward us because of the Empire’s oppression. Major General Zhu’s capture had some luck involved. But Major General Zhu is a good person, Han. Don’t target him like that..."

"Bullshit." Fu Cheng muttered, about to charge in and argue, but Zhu Shinian pulled him back.

"What are you going to do?" Zhu Shinian whispered. "Start a fight in there, split the rebel army into two factions—one for me, one for Han Zhandong? Would that make you happy?"

Fu Cheng, though impulsive and not the brightest, had the virtue of listening to advice. He obediently backed off.

"Don’t worry," Zhu Shinian smiled reassuringly. "This isn’t the Imperial military anymore. We’re all comrades. No one bullies anyone. I won’t let myself be pushed around."

Fu Cheng, used to seeing Zhu Shinian swallow his pride, was startled to see his eyes crinkle with a cunning, fox-like smile.

He realized then that Zhu Shinian had just turned twenty-two—the same age as him. Still young.

Normally, at that age, you'd curse out people you didn't like and fight back when humiliated.

Zhu Shinian patted him and told him to go back to the meeting.

"Next, let’s discuss the gasoline issue." Once everyone was seated, Tao Juan cleared his throat and announced.

"We only have a large oil field in District 27. But transportation, tanks—everything needs gasoline." The logistics officer put the data on the screen. "We had reserves before the war, but the further the front line advances, the sooner we’ll run out. I know everyone’s fighting bravely, but I’m sorry—our logistics department is holding you back. We're at a loss for ideas, so we’re asking everyone for ideas."

"I remember District 24 has a large civilian chemical plant. Can we try developing alternative fuels?" one officer suggested.

"You mean coal-to-liquid?" the logistics staff asked. "Long term, yes. But tanks and transport vehicles would need modifications to adapt. Short-term, it’s not technically feasible..."

"Can we increase oil production in District 27? Speed up extraction?"

"Not really feasible either. We’ve considered it. Our tech is a bit behind. Developing new equipment is on the agenda..."

The logistics staff gave an apologetic smile. He was a shy-looking beta, feeling that his department was incompetent—unable to do this or that.

Han Zhandong let out a soft snort. The logistics staffer seemed to think he was mocking him for holding up their progress, and his face turned even redder.

"Then why not ask the Major General," Han Zhandong said, lifting his head to look at Zhu Shinian. "Since the Major General is so capable, why not have you solve the gasoline problem too?"

The provocation in his tone was barely veiled.

"Fine." Zhu Shinian turned his head and glanced at him.

"I'll handle it."

Author's note:

I'll be changing the cover soon—one with a blue-purple tone. It feels more fitting for Xiao Zhu's current stage. If you suddenly see an unfamiliar cover on your bookshelf, please don't unfollow me, haha.