The Boxers' movent had grown into an unstoppable avalanche, rolling with a force too great for anyone to control.
Zhang Yuelai, the Shandong governor, received the news and collapsed into his chair. His face, pale and defeated, bore the weight of impending doom.
"It's over," he muttered. "Those lunatics are really marching straight to Beijing. Do they think they're so reincarnation of Xiang Yu?"
Tears welled up in his eyes, mirroring the despair once felt by the Boxer leader himself. Zhang Yuelai's na would undoubtedly go down in history as a collaborator with traitors. The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees.
The Boxers March
"General Xiang Yu marches with us!" cried the fervent voices of the Boxers.
"Victory!" their ranks roared in response.
To them, it wasn't just a rallying cry—it was truth. They believed the spirits of Xiang Yu, Zhuge Liang, Liu Bei, Cao Cao, Lü Bu, and even the mythical Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie had blessed their cause through the teachings of the "Way of Righteousness."
And their faith was unshakable.
Wherever the Boxers went, city gates opened. Villages welcod them not as invaders but as liberators. To the peasants, they were the heroes who had finally stood against the foreign devils that had humiliated the Qing Empire for decades.
The Boxer leader, emboldened by each victory, delivered impassioned speeches at every stop. He proclaid that the Boxers were heaven's chosen army, destined to end the endless wars brought by the foreign powers. To oppose them was to align with evil itself.
Villagers cheered as the Boxers passed, their hearts swelling with newfound pride. For the first ti since their crushing defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War, the people of China felt a flicker of hope.
"Finally! This is the true Great Qing Empire!" they exclaid.
Even the leader himself began to believe. Watching the growing fervor, he whispered, "Could it be... is His Majesty the Beautiful Monkey King truly with us?"
A Force of 10,000
What had started as a desperate gamble now seed ordained by the heavens. Three weeks into the rebellion, the Boxer army boasted over 10,000 ard fighters. Peasants emptied their savings to provide food for the movent, while raids on local governnt armories replenished their stockpiles. Even old and broken firearms were treated as treasures.
The leader, drunk on newfound confidence, made his decision. If he was indeed the son of the gods, then the impossible was within his grasp.
"We march to Beijing!" he declared.
As their ranks swelled with new recruits, the leader's belief in his divine destiny grew. He was no longer a man—he was a living embodint of heaven's will, a savior sent to restore the Middle Kingdom's glory.
In the Shadows of Jinhan
Few followed the Boxers' every move more closely than Jinhan Corporation.
Weekly updates had beco near-real-ti reports, delivered to the chairman himself. He studied the Boxers with a mixture of fascination and detachnt. Though Jinhan had supplied their weapons, the leader had no idea who his benefactors were. To him, Jinhan was simply a shadowy ally providing the tools he needed to achieve his ambitions.
"I didn't expect them to move this aggressively," the chairman mused, reviewing the reports. "It's as if they were waiting for a spark."
The Boxers weren't just fighting—they were thriving. Their leader's fiery speeches painted them as heaven's army, unstoppable and righteous.
"Maybe this was always their plan," he thought, leaning back in his chair. "I just handed them the key."
Despite the violence, he felt strangely at peace. If anything, the Boxers' zeal reassured him that he hadn't forced them into this path—they had chosen it.
"Good," he murmured. "You wanted this as much as I did."
Jinhan's business was simple: to fulfill the needs of its custors. The chairman had no ties to the churches or the innocent civilians caught in the Boxers' rampage. His loyalty lay with his clients.
"Jinhan Corporation—always eting custor needs," he joked, a faint smile on his lips.
A Golden Opportunity for Japan
As the Boxers marched toward Beijing, another group watched with eager anticipation: the Japanese military.
A ssage arrived at a secret eting between the Minister of the Army, the Chief of Staff, and the Inspector General of Military Education.
"The Boxers are moving toward Beijing," the ssenger reported.
The room fell silent for a mont before the Minister of the Army spoke. "We have hesitated long enough."
The mory of 1895 still burned in their minds. During the First Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese navy had proven itself, destroying the once-feared Beiyang Fleet with ease. anwhile, the army had been relegated to a supporting role, rely occupying the territory the navy had already cleared.
Since then, public favor—and funding—had shifted toward the navy. The grand warships modeled after Britain's fleet had drained Japan's coffers, leaving the army desperate for a chance to prove its worth.
"This is it," the minister said, his eyes gleaming. "If we march into Beijing and 'save' the Qing, the glory will be ours."
A Clash of Ambitions
But the navy wasn't willing to stand by and let the army seize the spotlight. "The Boxers are too deeply entrenched inland," they argued. "It's a fool's errand to pursue them."
Their protests were half-hearted, though. They knew they couldn't stop the army. Other nations would act if Japan didn't, and the opportunity would slip through their fingers.
"Fine," the navy relented. "But this must be a joint operation. The army cannot act alone."
The compromise was accepted, though it left both sides uneasy.
For the army, this was a mont of redemption—a chance to reclaim its honor and secure funding for the future. Lists of potential spoils were already being drawn up.
"This is our chance!" the minister declared.
Plans were set in motion, and Japan prepared to march, eager to claim its place in the chaos.
As the Boxers moved ever closer to Beijing, the storm grew darker. The factions circling the rebellion each saw their own opportunity.
But no one—not the Boxers, not the Qing, not the foreign powers—could predict what would happen when their ambitions collided.
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