Building a Conglomerate in Another World

September 19, 1898

Pyongyang, Northern Defensive Perimeter

The morning broke cold and misty over Pyongyang. Thick fog lingered stubbornly across the muddy fields, obscuring enemy positions and making artillery spotting nearly impossible. Despite this, Chinese forces continued their push toward the city's fortified northern defensive perimeter, aiming to capitalize on their recent gains.

General Yuan Shikai observed the battlefield from a forward command post, surrounded by hastily erected sandbag walls and guarded by riflemen in trenches nearby. The damp air carried distant echoes of intermittent gunfire as both sides exchanged sporadic rifle shots through the fog.

Colonel Deng approached swiftly, saluting. "Sir, recon patrols report heavy fortifications ahead. Amerathian engineers spent the night reinforcing positions along the Taedong River bank. They are constructing secondary defensive lines within Pyongyang itself."

Yuan acknowledged calmly, studying a tactical map laid out before him. "Their commander, General Caldwell, is skilled. He knows the city is vital. What about enemy artillery strength?"

Deng gestured to marked positions. "They repositioned several batteries overnight, including some heavier Amerathian 105mm howitzers. They are protecting supply lines into the city from the south and west."

Yuan considered carefully. Capturing Pyongyang quickly was imperative—any delay risked giving the enemy time to regroup and reinforce. "Our artillery?"

"Captain Liu repositioned our batteries under darkness," Deng reported promptly. "Thirty-two guns operational. Ammunition remains sufficient, but replenishment will become an issue in several days."

"Understood," Yuan responded decisively. "Commence artillery barrage at 0700 hours. Target enemy forward positions and attempt to disrupt their engineer units. Immediately afterward, infantry regiments will assault."

"Yes, sir," Deng saluted sharply, moving to relay orders.

0700 Hours, Pyongyang Northern Outskirts

Chinese artillery unleashed a thunderous barrage precisely as ordered, shells screaming overhead and crashing violently into Amerathian defensive positions. Explosions tore through hastily constructed bunkers, collapsing sandbagged trenches and causing chaos among the enemy troops attempting last-minute fortifications.

Amerathian defenders scrambled for cover, desperately trying to restore order amid falling shells. Machine-gun positions returned sporadic fire, attempting to suppress the approaching infantry lines.

General Feng, commanding the infantry assault, shouted orders clearly and methodically. Soldiers advanced steadily under the protection of artillery cover, skirmish lines maintaining formation, firing carefully coordinated rifle volleys as they closed distance.

However, Amerathian resistance stiffened sharply as Chinese infantry approached within two hundred meters. Machine guns hidden in fortified bunkers opened relentless fire, cutting down advancing soldiers. Casualties quickly mounted.

Chinese Forward Lines

General Yuan, observing from his position, noticed immediately the infantry's slowed progress. He signaled a runner, urgently delivering new orders. "Shift artillery fire directly to enemy machine-gun emplacements! Support infantry advance closely."

The runner sprinted off, and within minutes the artillery barrage shifted dramatically. Accurate shells detonated directly upon enemy bunkers, temporarily silencing machine-gun fire. Taking advantage of the brief lull, Chinese soldiers surged forward again, rapidly closing the gap.

Pyongyang, Amerathian Defensive Lines

Major Thomas Harper watched in frustration as artillery shells pummeled his carefully prepared defenses. "Artillery spotters!" he shouted through the chaos. "Get counter-battery fire online immediately!"

"Impossible, sir!" shouted a young lieutenant, ducking as another shell exploded nearby. "We lost sight lines in this damned fog!"

Harper cursed quietly, gripping his revolver tightly. He knew the defensive line wouldn't hold much longer without artillery support.

0900 Hours, Chinese Assault Breach

Finally, the relentless Chinese infantry overwhelmed a critical sector of the northern defenses, pouring into trenches and overrunning isolated Amerathian positions. Fierce close-quarter fighting erupted, bayonets and rifle butts clashing brutally. Amerathian soldiers, vastly outnumbered, began retreating into secondary defensive lines deeper within Pyongyang.

General Yuan watched intently, satisfaction tempered by caution. The city remained stubbornly defended, and casualties on both sides were mounting rapidly.

September 20, 1898, Seoul, Amerathian Headquarters

General Caldwell reviewed the desperate reports filtering in from Pyongyang, recognizing the city's dire situation. Reinforcements from the south were delayed, and morale among remaining defenders teetered dangerously low.

Colonel Grant entered swiftly. "General, Japanese High Command advises immediate withdrawal to stronger defensive positions southward. Holding Pyongyang any longer risks losing our remaining forces."

Caldwell clenched his fist bitterly, knowing Grant was correct. "Issue immediate withdrawal orders," he said reluctantly. "Destroy any equipment we cannot evacuate. We cannot allow the Chinese to seize more supplies."

"Understood," Grant replied firmly, moving swiftly to issue orders.

September 21, 1898, Pyongyang, Early Morning

As dawn illuminated battered Pyongyang, Chinese troops cautiously advanced through the city's outskirts, encountering little resistance. Amerathian and Japanese forces had evacuated overnight, destroying bridges, ammunition stores, and heavy equipment as they withdrew.

General Yuan Shikai entered the city solemnly, observing scorched buildings, abandoned trenches, and scattered debris. Colonel Deng approached quietly. "The city is ours, General. Enemy forces withdrew during the night. They demolished key infrastructure to slow our advance southward."

Yuan nodded slowly. "Casualties?"

Deng hesitated briefly. "High, sir. Another 800 dead, over 1,500 wounded. Medical units overwhelmed."

Yuan exhaled slowly. The cost of victory was steep but necessary. "Begin immediate repairs to infrastructure. Prioritize clearing roads and restoring communication lines with Russian forces to the east. Pyongyang must become our forward base for further operations."

"Understood, sir," Deng replied respectfully.

September 23, 1898, Pyongyang, Chinese Command Center

Two days later, Yuan reviewed updated strategic maps alongside Russian commanders who had arrived from the eastern front.

Russian General Alexei Mikhailov spoke grimly, "Your forces have done remarkably, General Yuan. Pyongyang is vital—but enemy forces are regrouping further south near Seoul. Amerathian naval units are reinforcing coastal positions. We must act quickly before they regain full strength."

Yuan nodded, aware the coming weeks would test his troops even further. "Agreed. Prepare a combined offensive toward Seoul immediately. Coordinate closely—our forces attacking from the north, yours from the east. We must keep pressure constant."

Mikhailov acknowledged solemnly. "Our forces will be ready, General. Together, we will ensure victory."

Yuan stepped away briefly, looking across the battered city. The captured city symbolized a significant step—but the war was far from finished. Seoul awaited, heavily fortified, and well-defended.

He turned decisively back toward the gathered officers, voice steady with determination. "Prepare the men immediately. Let every soldier understand clearly—this victory at Pyongyang was merely the start. Seoul will be even more challenging, demanding greater sacrifice and resolve."

Officers saluted crisply, dispersing to issue orders. General Yuan stood quietly, staring southward where distant battles loomed. The Chinese Empire had proved its strength at Pyongyang—but the struggle for East Asia was only beginning.

As Chinese forces readied themselves once more, the relentless conflict surged inexorably forward—each victory costly, each battle hard-fought, and each soldier knowing clearly that the decisive fight for dominance in East Asia was yet to come.

September 24, 1898, D.C., Amerathia Presidential Palace

The early evening sunlight cast long shadows through the tall windows of the Presidential study, reflecting gently off polished mahogany surfaces and neatly arranged papers. President Matthew Hesh stood by his desk, silently reviewing telegram reports from the front. The latest dispatches had painted a worrying picture for days, but the report he held now confirmed his deepest fears.

A hesitant knock sounded at the door, interrupting Matthew's grim thoughts.

"Come in," Matthew called quietly, without turning from the report.

The door opened smoothly, and Collins entered, his face carefully neutral yet betraying the gravity of the situation.

"Mr. President, we've just received confirmation. Pyongyang has fallen to Chinese forces," Collins reported solemnly, standing stiffly just inside the door. "General Caldwell ordered an evacuation after intense fighting. Our units are now regrouping south of the city."

Matthew exhaled slowly, carefully placing the telegram onto his desk. For a moment, he did not reply, staring silently out toward the fading sunlight that bathed the city below in a deceptively peaceful glow.

"Casualties?" he finally asked, his voice tightly controlled.

"Heavy," Collins admitted carefully. "The reports indicate significant losses, particularly among the Japanese 3rd Infantry and our own 7th Expeditionary Brigade. Ammunition, heavy artillery, and supplies were left behind or destroyed to prevent enemy capture. Morale among troops is low."

Matthew nodded grimly, absorbing the painful details. "General Caldwell—his status?"

"Alive, uninjured, and currently supervising the withdrawal southward," Collins answered promptly. "He has requested immediate reinforcements and additional supplies, particularly artillery ammunition."

Matthew turned slowly toward Collins, his expression sober. "Authorize the reinforcements immediately, Collins. Pull what we can from reserve units stationed at our bases in Busan. We must stabilize the front before Chinese forces reach Seoul."

"Yes, Mr. President," Collins responded crisply. "And the Japanese High Command has also requested an urgent meeting. They are deeply concerned about the deteriorating situation and the threat it poses to their home islands."

Matthew moved slowly back toward his desk, his thoughts racing. The loss of Pyongyang was a blow—strategically significant and symbolically troubling. The city had been a defensive linchpin in the northern theater; its fall would embolden Chinese and Russian forces, making the defense of Seoul far more complicated.

"Arrange a meeting with the Japanese Ambassador tonight," Matthew instructed firmly. "Inform him I will personally oversee the coordination of military strategy between our nations. Japan must understand clearly that Amerathia remains fully committed to this alliance."

Collins acknowledged promptly, recognizing the urgency. "I'll see to it immediately, sir."

As Collins turned to leave, Matthew raised a hand slightly, stopping him. "And Collins—also prepare an address for the nation. The people deserve clarity and reassurance during these difficult moments. Let them hear directly from me that Amerathia will not falter, regardless of setbacks."

Collins nodded solemnly. "Of course, sir."