Building a Conglomerate in Another World

September 15, 1898

Korean Peninsula, Near Pyongyang

The rumble of artillery echoed heavily in the distance as the morning mist slowly lifted over the Yalu River valley. General Yuan Shikai stood upon a hill overlooking the battlefield, scanning the enemy positions carefully through a pair of Amerathian-made field glasses. His staff stood quietly nearby, awaiting his instructions.

After months of careful preparation and mobilization, the Chinese New Army had finally arrived at the Korean front, marching over difficult terrain to reinforce Russian positions in northern Korea. Their objective was simple: break the Amerathian-Japanese-Korean defensive line near Pyongyang and push swiftly southward toward Seoul, linking with the Russian advance further east.

General Yuan lowered the field glasses, calmly turning to his staff officers. "Colonel Deng, report."

Colonel Deng, a meticulous officer trained in modern military doctrine, stepped forward and snapped a quick salute. "Sir, our scouts confirm that the Japanese 3rd Infantry Division and Amerathian 7th Expeditionary Brigade occupy entrenched positions on the ridge east of Pyongyang. They hold superior artillery positions, supported by multiple Maxim machine gun nests."

Yuan nodded, unfazed. "Their artillery strength?"

"Approximately twenty-four field guns, mostly Amerathian 75mm quick-fire types, and roughly a dozen Japanese 90mm cannons. Positioned behind earthworks, difficult to assault directly."

"Casualty estimates for a frontal assault?"

"High, sir," Deng admitted frankly. "Likely severe, unless we neutralize their artillery first."

General Yuan turned toward Captain Liu, commander of his artillery units. "Captain Liu, is our artillery battery fully deployed?"

"Yes, sir," Captain Liu responded crisply. "We have thirty-six modern Krupp 75mm guns, carefully concealed. Ammunition is ample."

Yuan nodded slowly. He knew this battle would test the effectiveness of China's recent modernization. His soldiers had been meticulously trained by Amerathian advisors prior to hostilities, ironically enough, and now they'd be tested against their former mentors.

"Begin preliminary bombardment at precisely 0900 hours," Yuan ordered calmly. "Target enemy artillery positions first, then the forward trenches."

"Understood, sir," Captain Liu saluted sharply and moved swiftly away to relay orders.

Colonel Deng glanced back at Yuan carefully. "And infantry deployment, sir?"

"Deploy two regiments from the 3rd Division under General Feng. They will advance in disciplined skirmish lines behind the artillery barrage. Keep our reserves ready to exploit any gaps."

"Yes, sir," Deng replied confidently.

0900 Hours, Front Lines

Precisely at nine o'clock, the calm was shattered as dozens of Krupp 75mm guns erupted simultaneously, the thunderous blasts echoing sharply through the valley. Chinese artillery shells whistled overhead, smashing violently into Amerathian and Japanese positions, sending earth and debris skyward.

The Amerathian gunners responded swiftly, their own guns roaring to life moments later, sending counter-battery fire back toward the concealed Chinese positions. Shells exploded along the ridge and valley floor, each detonation carving fresh scars into the earth.

Amid the violent exchange of artillery fire, General Feng commanded the infantry forward, signaling precisely ordered movements with steady authority. The soldiers, clad in dark blue uniforms and armed with recently imported bolt-action rifles, advanced cautiously but determinedly. They moved in disciplined lines, using scattered cover, pausing only to fire accurately aimed volleys at distant enemy trenches.

Amerathian-Japanese Defensive Line, Ridge East of Pyongyang

On the opposite ridge, Major Thomas Harper of the Amerathian 7th Expeditionary Brigade ducked instinctively as another Chinese shell exploded nearby, sending dirt and debris scattering through the air.

"Report!" Harper barked, pulling himself up quickly.

A lieutenant dashed toward him through the smoke-filled trench. "Sir! Chinese infantry advancing steadily! Their artillery is targeting our batteries specifically!"

"Casualties?"

"Heavy damage to Battery A, sir. Guns one and three disabled. Multiple wounded."

Harper scowled. "Request immediate artillery reinforcement from headquarters. Hold this ridge at all costs!"

"Yes, sir!"

Harper watched grimly as another shell landed near one of their remaining machine gun nests, silencing it instantly. He cursed silently, realizing the Chinese were more capable than intelligence had indicated. These weren't outdated Qing forces—they fought with precision, using their modern artillery and infantry tactics effectively.

1030 Hours, Chinese Lines

General Yuan watched intently as his infantry approached the base of the ridge. The disciplined lines had been disrupted slightly by Amerathian artillery, but they remained coherent, rapidly closing the gap under heavy fire.

He signaled a runner. "Instruct General Feng to commit reserves now. Assault directly at the weakened western flank."

The runner saluted sharply and rushed off. Yuan returned his attention to the unfolding battle, confident his tactics would yield results. He knew the cost was high, but decisive victory demanded sacrifice.

1100 Hours, Ridge Defensive Line

The Chinese infantry surged upward, bayonets fixed, rifles firing precise volleys at close range. Amerathian and Japanese troops, initially steady, began falling back in several spots under relentless pressure.

Major Harper desperately shouted orders, trying to stabilize the collapsing flank. "Hold your positions! Fix bayonets! Stand firm!"

But the momentum had shifted. Amerathian reinforcements from Pyongyang were delayed, and the Chinese, driven by rigorous training and sheer numbers, were breaking through.

1300 Hours

Hours later, General Yuan walked slowly through captured trenches, observing the cost of victory. Dead and wounded soldiers—Chinese, Japanese, Amerathian—lay scattered along the churned earth. Captured guns and machine guns were carefully cataloged by his staff.

Colonel Deng approached respectfully. "Sir, the ridge is secure. Enemy survivors are retreating toward Pyongyang. Our casualties—around five hundred dead and nearly a thousand wounded. Enemy losses appear even higher."

Yuan nodded slowly, expression stern. "Make preparations for field hospitals immediately. Tend to all wounded—ours and theirs. This battle was decisive, but merely the beginning."

"Yes, sir."

"Send word to Russian command," Yuan continued, turning back toward his command tent. "We have achieved initial objectives and will continue pressing southward. Ensure the men receive hot food and rest tonight; tomorrow, we continue the advance."

"Understood, sir," Deng responded firmly, saluting.

September 17, 1898, Amerathian Headquarters, Seoul

In Seoul, Amerathian General William Caldwell slammed his fist onto a map table in frustration upon receiving the news. "How could they break through? Our intelligence said the Chinese were poorly coordinated!"

Colonel Grant, his intelligence officer, responded grimly, "General, they've clearly adapted rapidly. The Chinese troops utilized Amerathian tactics effectively. We underestimated their new training and discipline."

Caldwell exhaled sharply, regaining composure. "Prepare reinforcements immediately. Consolidate defensive positions around Pyongyang. If Pyongyang falls, Seoul becomes vulnerable."

"Sir," Colonel Grant spoke carefully, "they've seized several artillery pieces and significant supplies from the ridge. Their next assault will be even stronger."

Caldwell steadied himself, eyes narrowing coldly. "Then we'll be ready for them. Coordinate with the Japanese High Command. The Chinese advance ends at Pyongyang. Understood?"

"Understood, General," Grant replied firmly.

September 18, 1898, Pyongyang Front, Chinese Lines

As dawn broke two days after their initial victory, General Yuan quietly studied maps, surrounded by his senior officers. His plan was meticulous: encircle Pyongyang swiftly, cut enemy reinforcements from the south, and coordinate closely with the Russian push from the east.

"This next battle," Yuan addressed his officers firmly, "is crucial. Pyongyang will not fall easily, but it is the key to controlling northern Korea. Our artillery must again be decisive. Infantry must hold discipline and use terrain wisely."

The officers nodded solemnly. Yuan continued calmly, "Our enemies have been forced onto the defensive. Do not underestimate them. They will fight desperately."

Colonel Deng stepped forward. "Sir, what of the Amerathian threat to embargo our supplies? Our troops rely heavily on their imports."

Yuan replied with confidence. "Our Russian allies are already working to provide alternatives. Until then, use captured weapons, ammunition, and equipment from battles. Conserve supplies carefully."

"Yes, sir," Deng acknowledged.

Yuan looked around his assembled commanders, noting their determined expressions. "The New Army represents China's renewed strength. Today, we demonstrate that strength clearly to our enemies."

He stepped back, straightened his uniform, and issued the final command. "Begin the assault on Pyongyang."

The Chinese forces marched forward again, well-drilled and resolute, their path determined and unyielding. The battles ahead promised heavy costs and uncertain outcomes, but China was finally on the march—an empire determined to reclaim its place, regardless of the price.

As artillery fire erupted once more, shaking the Korean earth, the struggle for East Asia surged into a new, relentless phase.

September 18, 1898, Outskirts of Pyongyang

As Chinese forces pressed onward, artillery rounds again screamed overhead, pounding Pyongyang's defensive positions. The city, strategically critical, sat nestled behind layered defenses hastily reinforced by Amerathian engineers. Trenches, barbed wire entanglements, and fortified machine gun nests lined the approaches, waiting grimly for the impending Chinese assault.

At the leading edge of Yuan Shikai's forces, General Feng studied the defenses through binoculars. Nearby, his men prepared ladders, grenades, and wire-cutters for the imminent assault. Feng turned to his adjutant. "Order second and third companies forward. Concentrate machine-gun fire on enemy strongpoints. Follow immediately with bayonet assault."

"Understood, sir!"

Within moments, disciplined lines of Chinese infantry surged forward again. Rifle fire crackled in sharp volleys, carefully coordinated to suppress Amerathian and Japanese positions. Maxim guns captured from earlier battles rattled out bursts, cutting into enemy trenches. Soldiers surged onward, throwing grenades methodically to clear defensive pockets, storming through the smoky, chaotic battlefield.

In Pyongyang, Amerathian Major Harper, exhausted and bloodied from earlier fighting, barked commands to reorganize defenders amid relentless pressure. "Reinforce the northern trenches! Request immediate artillery support!"

A Japanese lieutenant shouted back urgently, "Sir, enemy artillery destroyed our forward observation posts! Artillery support is blind!"

Harper clenched his jaw in frustration, watching helplessly as another wave of Chinese soldiers advanced toward their weakened positions. Without artillery support, Pyongyang's defenses strained dangerously, threatening total collapse.

At the Chinese command post, General Yuan observed carefully through binoculars, recognizing the enemy's confusion. Turning decisively to Colonel Deng, he said, "Commit the reserves now. Exploit their disorganization fully. Pyongyang must fall today."

"Yes, sir!" Deng snapped sharply, signaling runners immediately.

Within an hour, fresh Chinese battalions poured forward, relentlessly exploiting every weak point along Pyongyang's battered defenses. With ammunition low, morale faltering, and leadership strained, defenders began a slow, grudging withdrawal toward the city's heart.

As night fell on September 18th, Chinese forces firmly secured Pyongyang's outskirts, their banners proudly flying over captured Amerathian positions. General Yuan Shikai allowed himself a quiet, brief moment of satisfaction. Pyongyang was within reach, and the path southward toward Seoul lay open, awaiting conquest.