Chapter 2: The Assassination of the Emperor (Part One)

A little after seven in the evening, Fujiwara Ota came to the hotel to look for Li Wensheng, and the two of them went out to dine at a restaurant. As they ate and drank, their conversation began with Fujiwara Ota asking about Li Wensheng’s past experiences in Osaka.

The identity granted by the system was more than just a household registration; it also came with memories. In fact, the system even instilled memories of Fujiwara Jingguang in the villagers of his registered residence.

Thus, faced with Fujiwara Ota’s inquiries, Li Wensheng answered with ease about his past. As their conversation meandered, Li Wensheng asked what Fujiwara Ota was responsible for now.

“I’m currently a second lieutenant, patrolling the outermost perimeter of the Imperial Palace. I joined the army hoping to give my mother and younger sister a good life. But with my current salary, it’s impossible for them to live in comfort. So last month, I submitted an application to the military headquarters—I want to go to China, to earn more money there,” Fujiwara Ota said, his cheeks slightly flushed after sipping some sake.

Li Wensheng’s eyes brightened. Raising his glass, he said, “Ota, I wish you great fortune in China, so your mother and sister may soon live in prosperity.”

Fujiwara Ota quickly raised his own glass. “Haha, thank you, Jingguang.” After draining his cup, Li Wensheng picked up the bottle and poured for both of them.

Once their cups were filled, Li Wensheng raised his glass and said, “Fujiwara, I do business in the Magic City. If you come to the Magic City in the future, we could work together and make money.”

Fujiwara Ota burst into laughter, raising his glass. “Haha, good! If I get assigned to the Magic City, I’ll definitely come find you. We’ll get rich together then.”

Afterwards, Li Wensheng kept coaxing Fujiwara Ota to drink. The local sake seemed mild at first, but its kick was potent. After just a few cups, Li Wensheng felt a little dizzy. Fujiwara Ota, who had drunk two bottles, was completely flushed, his eyes glassy.

Seeing that the time was ripe, Li Wensheng smiled and asked, “Ota, patrolling the perimeter of the Imperial Palace must be an easy job, right?”

“Easy... very easy, except... when the Emperor goes out. Usually... there’s nothing at all,” Fujiwara Ota slurred, barely coherent.

“Ota, I’ve heard that apart from receiving foreign envoys, the Emperor rarely appears. You really have it easy,” Li Wensheng said with a chuckle.

During the Meiji Restoration, the Emperor wielded some power, but it wasn’t much. After the Restoration succeeded and the nation grew strong, the nobles clawed back authority from the Emperor. Now, the Emperor was merely a symbol; state affairs were handled by the cabinet. Only ceremonial matters required his presence.

“Mm...” Fujiwara Ota shook his head vigorously, grunting like a pig. “Jingguang, you’ve never served, so you don’t know—these years, whenever soldiers are dispatched to China, the Emperor...” He broke off, and with a thud, collapsed face down on the table, dead drunk.

Though Fujiwara Ota hadn’t finished, Li Wensheng could guess: whenever soldiers were sent to China, the Emperor would make an appearance to boost morale.

Having learned what he wanted, Li Wensheng felt no joy. Who knew when the next batch of soldiers would be sent to China? If it was in a month or two, he couldn’t afford to wait. If he stayed here for that long, he’d be in serious trouble.

On the surface, Li Wensheng was a textile factory owner in the Magic City, but in secret, he was also the deputy captain of the Action Team of the Restoration Society’s Magic City branch. He had been promoted to deputy captain at twenty-one, partly due to his stellar completion of tasks assigned by the Restoration Society over the past year. More importantly, he was a native of Fenghua, just like Old Jiang. Everyone in the Party knew Old Jiang favored his fellow townsmen.

During his training at the Restoration Society camp, Li Wensheng’s predecessor had been well treated by the instructors, and later even met Dai Yunong along with some other hometown fellows. When assignments were handed out, Dai Yunong, with a stroke of his pen, sent him to the Magic City branch as a squad leader in the Action Team.

His predecessor failed his first mission in the Magic City, even taking a few bullets—at that moment, Li Wensheng had taken over his body. Afterwards, relying on rewards from the system’s tasks, Li Wensheng completed all the Restoration Society’s missions beautifully.

With merit and his hometown connection, he was promoted to deputy captain just last month. To come to this island nation, he’d used the excuse, “I want to study their customs and habits to better deal with them,” and was granted a month and a half’s leave by the Magic City branch.

The Restoration Society’s rules were strict. The only reason Li Wensheng was allowed to go abroad was because he was from Old Jiang’s hometown and had performed exceptionally well over the past year. But if he didn’t return in a month and a half, they wouldn’t just punish him—they’d investigate everything he’d done during that time.

Li Wensheng dared not risk such scrutiny. If they discovered he’d come to assassinate the Emperor, his hidden identity would be exposed. He had no intention of becoming Old Jiang’s blade, to be ordered about for assassinations, especially not to target those people.

...

The next morning, a little after seven, Fujiwara Ota, whom Li Wensheng had brought back and settled in the hotel, woke up. As soon as he came out of his room, he bowed deeply to Li Wensheng, who was sitting on the sofa. “Jingguang, I was out of line last night. I’m sorry.”

“Ota, it’s nothing, really,” Li Wensheng said, quickly rising to bow in return.

After standing, Li Wensheng continued, “By the way, Ota, it’s already twenty past seven. You should hurry to the military police unit.”

“Yes, I’d better go or I’ll be late. Jingguang, I’ll be off now,” Fujiwara Ota replied, hurrying to the door.

Watching Ota’s back disappear through the doorway, Li Wensheng sat down, lost in thought.

After a long while, Li Wensheng sighed with a troubled expression and murmured in his heart, “Not a single lead. If only I hadn’t recklessly taken on this hellish mission.”

That night, Fujiwara Ota didn’t come to see Li Wensheng, who wandered idly outside the hotel. As he strolled, he found himself in the red-light district. Seeing the brothels and the men coming and going, a sudden idea struck him.

“Damn, I’ve been a fool! Why wait for him to come out? I can force him out!” Li Wensheng muttered excitedly to himself.

With a broad smile, he turned and headed back to the hotel.

The next morning, just after nine, Li Wensheng arrived at a wooded mountain two kilometers from the Imperial Palace. The land around the palace was flat for a kilometer, but beyond that, hills and forests began.

From his system storage space, Li Wensheng took out a pair of binoculars and surveyed the palace. Then, setting the binoculars aside, he retrieved an 80mm mortar from the system space. After adjusting its position, he used the binoculars again to check his aim, then took out two 80mm mortar shells.

He was both gunner and spotter, so it took some time to set everything up. But with Japanese soldiers rampaging through China and yet to provoke the Americans at Pearl Harbor, no one would expect an attack on the Imperial Palace—much less by mortar fire. No one was checking the surrounding hills.

About three minutes later, Li Wensheng picked up a shell and, grinning at the palace, said, “You bastards, your grandpa’s here to give you a taste of artillery.”

After loading the shell, he covered his ears.

Boom!

With a thunderous explosion, the palace’s front courtyard erupted in flames. The mortar’s maximum range was only 2,400 meters, and Li Wensheng was already two kilometers from the palace’s outer wall, so he couldn’t hit the inner buildings.

But panic swept everyone inside and outside the palace. An artillery shell had landed in the palace—something that hadn’t happened even when Western powers invaded in the past.

“All men, follow me into the palace!” Fujiwara Ota shouted.

Leading dozens of soldiers, Fujiwara Ota had just taken a few steps when another deafening blast shook the palace—a second shell had landed.

Having fired twice, Li Wensheng didn’t stop to watch the results. He quickly stowed the mortar in his system storage and turned to flee at top speed. These past few days, he’d noticed a military camp three kilometers away from the palace. If he didn’t run now, once the soldiers arrived, escape would be impossible.