Off the coast of Lianyungang, the German squadron lay temporarily at anchor beneath a leaden sky. Two armored cruisers, the *Scharnhorst* and the *Gneisenau*, along with three light cruisers, the *Emden*, the *Nürnberg*, and the *Leipzig*—this constituted the main strength of the German East Asia Squadron. The fleet was primarily based in Qingdao. With the dramatic shift in the situation in China, the entire squadron had assembled in Qingdao Harbor. Under the direction of the German Minister, the fleet had set out to implement a policy of "intimidation" against the People's Party.

"Lianyungang itself possesses no industry; the People's Party has established its industrial base in Xuzhou. Much of the equipment shipped from Britain and America is located in the Zaozhuang area of Shandong..." the intelligence officer reported, presenting the gathered data.

Regardless of whether they were being strategically "boneheaded," the Germans certainly weren't foolish when it came to intelligence collection. To German eyes, the intensity of the People's Party's industrial construction was indeed remarkable. While Beiyang focused primarily on purchasing factories—specifically arsenals—the People's Party made the construction of a coal-iron complex their current priority.

What the Germans envied most was the Zaozhuang region. This area, which had not been particularly wealthy, saw the simultaneous excavation of coal and iron mines following the People's Party's arrival.

"The Zaozhuang iron mines are mostly open-pit; some deposits are only fifty centimeters below the surface, making excavation extremely convenient. According to received intelligence, the Zaozhuang Ironworks already has four blast furnaces, with an estimated pig iron production of over four thousand tons per month. The People's Party uses open-hearth furnaces for steelmaking and possesses some capacity for casting rails. A small railway connecting the Zaozhuang mining district has already been built, and construction on the Zaozhuang-Xuzhou line has commenced."

Hearing this, Admiral Maximilian von Spee's eyebrows twitched slightly. The industrial capacity to produce rails—even inferior ones—meant the ability to provide a certain level of military maintenance and repair support. As the commander of the German East Asia Squadron, Admiral von Spee possessed an intense desire for such logistics.

The British Navy maintained its global hegemony through a network of ports and logistics bases spread across the world. The strategic situation for the German East Asia Squadron was poor; the British Royal Navy's Asia Squadron, the Japanese fleet, and the Australian fleet effectively surrounded this German naval force in the Pacific. The base at Qingdao was insufficient to support German security. Only by securing more rights in Shandong—and specifically, robust industrial support—could Germany establish a firm foothold in Asia.

However, Count von Spee was not so naive as to believe that the People's Party, capable of establishing a coal-iron industrial complex, was a collection of incompetents. The Beiyang group led by Yuan Shikai was already quite capable; they had engaged in Westernization efforts for many years and accumulated considerable experience. Even so, Beiyang still lacked the capacity for independent factory construction. Building enterprises capable of stable steel production was no longer rare in Europe, but in Asia, it was an absolutely astonishing feat.

Count von Spee had not originally been in Shandong. He had sent a routine telegram while his fleet was docked in Guangzhou, only to receive a reply from the German Minister ordering him to rendezvous with the rest of the squadron off Lianyungang. Once the fleet had assembled, the Minister's plan turned out to be the intimidation of the People's Party. Von Spee had initially wondered if the Minister had lost his mind. The German fleet was already exerting all its effort just to maintain its presence in Qingdao; to further suppress the whole of Shandong was problematic not just in terms of troop strength, but also because the British attitude was difficult to gauge. The British Asia Squadron was not something the German East Asia Squadron could confront.

But after hearing the scale of the People's Party's industrial construction, although von Spee did not wish for war, he had begun to agree with the Minister's idea of "expanding German interests in Shandong."

Germany was not as wealthy as Britain, nor could they engage in massive trade with the People's Party like the British, who possessed colonies all over the world. Trade between Germany and China could only exist directly between the German homeland and China. In contrast, the British didn't even need to ship goods back to the UK; they could earn countless riches just by manipulating trade between their Southeast Asian colonies and China.

Such simple logic didn't even require the Minister's explanation; the German military men understood it well. Before the German fleet secured Qingdao, the British could intercept German merchant ships bound for China at any time. Once the sea lanes were cut, German trade with the Far East would be severed. The German East Asia Squadron existed to defend German commercial interests in the Far East.

With this consensus, the only question was how to effectively intimidate the People's Party and force them to make concessions. The Minister's representative had been clear: this time, Germany was playing the "Consortium Unity" card. If Germany could force the People's Party to yield, the other powers would, based on the principle of "Consortium Unity," force them into collective concessions. Germany was doing the heavy lifting for the powers and thus received their support. Moreover, the British attitude was quite ambiguous; they had not given explicit support. In this regard, it was likely that the British didn't want Germany to gain too much from this operation.

Count von Spee had never dealt with the People's Party and knew little of their style. Given that they possessed a certain industrial capacity and, according to public intelligence, an army of over a hundred thousand, how to conduct a war was indeed a difficult problem.

"What does the Minister want us to do with Lianyungang? Occupy it? Or what?" Count von Spee asked. Just as he finished speaking, the communication tube from the observation post rang. The operator on the bridge immediately uncapped the tube, and soon a voice came through. "This is the observation post. There's a strange object in the sky. It's not a balloon—it looks like an airplane."

Airplanes were not unheard of in this era. On December 17, 1903, the Wright brothers' first powered aircraft had flown 260 meters under its own power. Four months later, the fourteen-year-old Erwin Rommel—the future German Field Marshal—and his companions had built a glider that caused a local sensation. Of course, due to a lack of manufacturing and flight technology, young Rommel's glider had failed to fly successfully.

For an airplane, still a rarity in Europe and America, to appear over China was indeed a perplexing occurrence.

"Let's have a look," Count von Spee said.

There were indeed airplanes in the sky—more than one. In this era, without anti-aircraft awareness, the binoculars at the observation posts did not have a wide upward angle. Having identified those small moving dots, Count von Spee and the naval officers could only use regular binoculars to look at the sky.

The sky was thick with clouds, but darting through them were two aircraft. They were indeed aircraft, specifically gliders. But these gliders looked completely different from any von Spee had seen. European gliders were mostly boxy structures, or to save weight, the pilots simply lay prone on the frame. But the two silver-white gliders in the sky were nothing like that. They were elegant monoplanes with long wings and beautiful streamlined bodies. The aircraft appeared slender, yet possessed a breathtaking beauty.

The heads of the officers on the German ships followed the trajectory of the silver-white aircraft as they performed grand circles in the sky before finally heading back toward the land.

"Those should be People's Party aircraft. There are marks on the wings," a naval officer from Qingdao said as he lowered his binoculars.

Everyone looked at the officer. Upon his mention, some German officers who had studied the People's Party materials also recalled that sickle and hammer logo on a red background, shaped like a drawn bow and arrow.

"Those are People's Party aircraft?" Count von Spee asked in a tone that was both skeptical and seeking confirmation.

The German officers looked at each other, unwilling to confirm such an answer. When they prepared to intimidate the People's Party, they had assumed they were facing rebels from a backward nation. Even if a military conflict occurred, the Germans expected an easy victory. But the aircraft soaring in the sky proved one thing: the reality might be quite different.

In truth, most of these naval men were seeing gliders for the first time. Hot-air balloons were common in the German army, but airplanes were not. These soldiers had been in the Far East for several years and had little contact with technological changes. Those aircraft, flying as freely as seagulls, truly left the German officers at a loss for words.

After a moment of silence, Count von Spee led the way toward the bridge. Lagging a few steps behind, the German officers followed their commander.

Those in the sky were indeed People's Party reconnaissance aircraft, and the two pilots were exceptional soldiers from the People's Party Air Force. Gliders had no power, so their operation required extraordinary skill. The People's Party glider squadron had been established quite early, starting in 1908. Relying on the People's Party's production of electrolytic aluminum, the early gliders used aluminum alloy and thin steel sheets for the frame, with multi-layered silk for the wings. Glider enthusiasts in the 21st century often used such designs.

With the development of aerodynamics within the People's Party, rigid wings began to appear. As more parameters were accumulated, gliders with enclosed cockpits were finally produced. In addition to the steel frame, they used lightweight wood and aluminum skins for the wings, and aluminum frames with silk covers for the cockpits. They possessed control rudders and adjustable wind flaps on the wings. The base area's gliders were increasingly developing their own characteristics.

Naturally, the Air Force personnel were fearless. The first glider squadron was a company of 200 pilots selected from the 104th Division. From 1908 to 1911, 64 of these 200 pilots had died in training and flight. Without ever entering combat, the mortality rate was as high as 32%—this was an extremely dangerous profession.

But no pilot had withdrawn out of fear. For example, Zhang Shaobo, the squadron leader, after observing the enemy situation, calmly maneuvered his aircraft through the clouds and back toward the airfield.