Chapter 1: The Infernal Mission

On January 13, 1938, a month after the Battle of Shanghai and Songhu, the devastating impact of that brutal war on the people of the Magic City was gradually fading away; life was returning to its usual rhythm, the dances continued, and the races went on.

At Huishan Wharf, a young man in a suit, gold-rimmed glasses lending him a scholarly air, carried a suitcase as he bought a ticket for a ship bound for Yokohama, Japan.

After waiting a short while, he followed the crowd onto the vessel. The passengers were predominantly Japanese, and once on board, nearly all the conversations he overheard were in Japanese—there was a sprinkling of English, but Chinese was absent.

Following the instructions on his ticket, the young man found his cabin. It was a standard ticket—four bunks to a room—and three young women were already settled inside. Entering, he offered a polite smile, set down his luggage, took a book from his suitcase, and reclined on his bunk to read.

Soon, the ship’s horn sounded, the engines rumbled to life, and the journey began.

He set his book aside and gazed out the window at the receding skyline of the Magic City, waves of emotion flooding his heart.

“Alas, every inch of our rivers and mountains is stained with blood,” he sighed inwardly.

His name was Li Wensheng, but he did not belong to this world. A year prior, his soul had crossed over, inhabiting a body that bore the same name, and at that moment, a system awakened within him.

This system issued missions at random intervals, each classified as easy, normal, hard, or hellish.

Before accepting a mission, he could not see its details, but over the past year, every task had required him to strike against the Japanese invaders.

The difficulty of each task determined the reward. For the first six months, Li Wensheng chose only the easy missions; in the latter half, he attempted the normal ones. The rewards were varied and strange: a pack of Hadamen cigarettes, a gold bar, a twentieth-century remote-controlled bomb, a crate of instant noodles from the twenty-first century, fluency in Japanese, marksmanship mastery, and so on.

He had yet to attempt any of the hard or hellish missions.

Though this world differed from the history books, the tragedies unfolding mirrored reality all too closely. The horrors of the Battle of Shanghai and Songhu had taken place before his very eyes—most intensely during the Defense of Sihang Warehouse, which he had witnessed from the French Concession across the river.

So many compatriots had died. Compelled by grief and anger, he resolved to act. In a moment of recklessness, when a new mission appeared three days later, he accepted a hellish task. His journey to Japan was to fulfill this mission.

After his silent reflection, he was about to resume reading when one of the women across from him addressed him in Japanese, “Sir, my name is Kyoko Yonezawa.”

“Miss Kyoko, hello, I am Fujihara Yasumitsu,” he replied with a smile, setting his book aside.

A previous mission had rewarded him with a Japanese identity—Fujihara Yasumitsu.

The system-provided identity was watertight; any investigation would confirm the existence of Fujihara Yasumitsu, and Li Wensheng was now, in every respect, that person.

Kyoko Yonezawa and her companions were visibly surprised; they had not expected to encounter someone bearing the illustrious Fujihara surname.

The Fujihara clan held great prestige in Japan. For over a millennium, their influence had soared, and at their zenith, they had eclipsed even the emperor’s authority, seizing control of the government. Though diminished now, the Fujihara family remained one of the nation’s eminent noble houses, and several cabinet ministers still hailed from their ranks.

Kyoko asked in astonishment, “Fujihara-san, are you of the Fujihara family?”

“Yes, though my ancestors belonged to a collateral branch.”

At his words, the three women immediately stood and bowed.

Though the formal system of family names had been abolished in name, its legacy endured in Japanese culture. Confirming he was of the Fujihara lineage, the women showed him proper deference.

Li Wensheng quickly rose and bowed in return. “Ladies, I am of the Kyoto branch, which has long since faded into obscurity. Otherwise, I would not be traveling in standard class. There’s no need for such formality.”

The women relaxed noticeably.

The Fujihara family was divided into four branches; the northern branch now flourished, while the Kyoto branch had long declined.

Yet, the power of pedigree still made the three women uneasy. Seeing this, Li Wensheng lay down again and returned to his reading.

The voyage passed in quiet uneventfulness for six days. A little after seven in the evening, the ship finally docked in Yokohama.

“Fujihara-san, we’ll be taking our leave now,” the three women said, bowing.

“Goodbye, Miss Kyoko, Miss Miko, Miss Kazuko,” Li Wensheng replied.

Once they departed, he began gathering his belongings.

Disembarking, he hired a rickshaw and made his way to a nearby hotel.

After spending the night, he set out for Tokyo the next day.

Tokyo lay not far from Yokohama, and by noon, he had arrived. He checked into a hotel and began exploring the city.

Three days later, having familiarized himself with Tokyo’s streets, Li Wensheng checked out and moved to a hotel in Chiyoda Ward.

Two days after that, returning to his room around seven in the evening, he frowned deeply.

“The security is far too tight—this hellish mission is utterly unreasonable,” he muttered to himself as he sat on his bed.

The mission he had accepted was to assassinate the Japanese emperor, who resided in the imperial palace in Chiyoda Ward.

But the palace was impenetrably guarded. For two days he had observed it from a distance, noting that there were only three entrances, each heavily manned by soldiers, with few people coming and going. There was no hope of slipping inside.

Sniping was impossible as well—the palace was surrounded by a one-kilometer buffer with no tall buildings or hills to provide a vantage point.

Mortar fire could potentially reach inside—he was skilled in the use of mortars, having received specialized training as a reward for a previous hard mission. In fact, he possessed an 81mm mortar and several rounds, all gathering dust in the system’s personal storage space.

The problem was, he didn’t know the emperor’s exact location, and with only two hands, he couldn’t unleash blanket firepower.

“What should I do?” He pondered for a long time, but no solution came to him.

The next morning, he set out early.

After a breakfast at a roadside stall that did nothing to please his palate, he prepared to circle the palace once more in search of opportunity.

He had only walked a few steps when he saw a squad of soldiers approaching.

Wherever the soldiers passed, the townspeople immediately averted their eyes and stood at attention by the roadside.

Li Wensheng followed suit, bowing his head and stepping aside.

Soon, the squad halted right in front of him, and, frowning, he noticed the officer—a second lieutenant—approach.

“How old are you?” the officer demanded.

“I’m twenty-one,” Li Wensheng replied promptly.

“Why haven’t you enlisted at twenty-one?” barked the lieutenant.

In 1938, Japan was invincible on the Chinese mainland. Their success was due not only to superior equipment but also to meticulous preparation. They infiltrated the Nationalist government with spies, dispatched agents to map every corner of China—indeed, the Japanese maps were said to be more detailed than those the Chinese themselves possessed. At home, compulsory conscription was strictly enforced, the draft age lowered from twenty-two to twenty.

“I’ve been abroad on business for many years and only just returned a few days ago, so I haven’t enlisted yet,” Li Wensheng explained.

“If you’re a citizen, you must enlist. Report to the barracks immediately,” the lieutenant barked.

Li Wensheng frowned and then looked up.

He was a head taller than the officer, and their eyes met at an angle that made the lieutenant bristle with indignation.

With composure, Li Wensheng said, “My surname is Fujihara. Enlistment is at my discretion.”

Conscription did not apply to the nobility—even the lesser collateral lines of the great families were exempt.

The lieutenant paused, puzzled. “Which Fujihara branch are you from?”

“I am Fujihara Yasumitsu of the Kyoto branch.”

The lieutenant’s eyes lit up as he gave Li Wensheng a thorough look. “I am also of the Fujihara family—Fujihara Ota, of the Kyoto branch as well.”

A flash of interest appeared in Li Wensheng’s eyes. “Ota, what a coincidence, we’re family.”

“Yes, but I’m from a collateral line. What about you, Yasumitsu?” Ota asked with a laugh.

“The same—my forebears fell into decline two centuries ago. We lived in Osaka, toiling as farmers, life was hard until two years back. My parents passed away, so I went to China to do business and things improved a bit.”

Ota grinned. “Ha! In China, we take what we want—Yasumitsu, did you snatch a few Chinese girls while you were there?”

The question sent a wave of fury through Li Wensheng. He wanted nothing more than to kill Ota on the spot.

But he knew he couldn’t act now. Rashness would ruin everything, and he still had an emperor to kill.

He forced a laugh, his expression natural. “No, I don’t care for Chinese women; I always felt their souls were tainted. I prefer our own Japanese women.”

Despite the rage burning inside him, Li Wensheng maintained a seamless smile—a skill honed over the past year, facing countless enemy inspections after missions.

Ota shot him a lewd look. “Well, you should try one someday. I’ve never been to China, but they say the women are all so fair-skinned.”

“I’ll pass, Ota. I prefer our Japanese women.”

Ota did not linger, having duties to attend to with his men. After exchanging a few more words and learning where Li Wensheng was staying, he promised to visit him that evening.

Watching Ota and his soldiers march off, Li Wensheng made another circuit around the palace.

After hours of searching, he found no means of ingress, and so returned to his hotel.