In Tokyo after the Great Kanto Earthquake, the collapsed houses and the ruins of buildings destroyed by fire had already been cleared away. On the vast empty lots, numerous shacks of the utmost simplicity had appeared—a few broken wooden sticks supporting some tattered cloth, two or three square meters in size. A whole family would live inside.

Several squads of Japanese police marched in neat formation towards Tokyo Imperial University, passing by such an empty lot along the way. Entering May, Japan began its rainy season (Tsuyu). The empty lot was a muddy mess, and the poor, who could not return to the countryside nor find work in the city, curled up inside the shacks. It rained heavily outside, and drizzled inside.

By the roadside lay several corpses, both men and women. Kneeling beside the corpses were people—women and children—all with numb expressions, bony and emaciated. Their dirty hair, washed by the rain, plastered to their shriveled cheeks, making them look like living corpses. These people were perhaps the relatives of the deceased, hanging signs around their necks written in Japanese: "Selling Myself." They were likely selling themselves.

Even the Japanese police were unwilling to approach these people who had fallen into destitution. A few police officers had expressions full of hostility, while some tried their best to hide a hint of sympathy. The majority of the police looked numb, appearing no more spirited than those who had lost all hope of survival.

By the time the police arrived at the gates of the Tokyo Imperial University campus, the rain had stopped. But the gloomy clouds of the rainy season had not dispersed; the rainy season would last at least another half a month. Between the vast patches of black rain clouds were layers of lighter grey clouds, through which light could barely penetrate, making what should have been a bright day quite dim.

Under the grey sky, the signboard of Tokyo Imperial University, along with the school walls and gates, looked rather gloomy. Leading the team was a high-ranking official from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. As the leading officer arrived at the gatehouse and demanded the guard to open the door, accompanied by the sound of splashing water, several other leading officers walked quickly along the road beside the school's outer wall. They stopped in front of the high-ranking police official and reported, "Chief, the other school gates have been sealed."

"Once inside, immediately begin arrests according to the list," ordered the Deputy Chief of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

At this time, the scale of Tokyo Imperial University was far smaller than in later generations, with fewer than a thousand students on campus. This time, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department had dispatched a force of 400 men to launch a raid, aiming to catch all the lawless students in the school in one net.

This was a nationwide operation, mobilizing almost the entire police force of Japan. The targets included various universities, high schools, and middle schools. Personnel were even sent to elementary schools. Of course, those sent to elementary schools were there to arrest school teachers. Throughout the world, in turbulent times, these people could be regarded as the reserve army of revolution. It was always this group who could understand the revolutionary platform and disseminate it.

Seeing so many police officers, the gatekeeper of Tokyo Imperial University realized that he alone could absolutely not stop them. However, the gatekeeper did not back down; he insisted that the police wait outside the school for the school authorities to come out and negotiate.

The orders the police received were to go in and make arrests; there was no negotiation phase. Not to mention that the leader was the Deputy Chief of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, so there was no possibility of being stopped by a gatekeeper. Two policemen came up and pulled the gatekeeper aside, and the police pushed open the school gates and rushed in.

Choosing this time to launch the raid was planned; on a rainy day, students were all in classrooms or dormitories, with very few people wandering around the campus, making them easy to control. Just as the police expected, they saw only a few students and teachers holding umbrellas on campus. These stunned teachers and students were easily controlled by the police.

After the main force of the police blocked the doors of the teaching buildings and dormitories, they rushed into the buildings. Just then, some windows of the first-floor classrooms were pushed open, and students jumped out onto the ground. The police who came to make the arrests had planned very thoroughly; there were already police standing against the wall. Seeing the escaping students, they pinned them to the ground.

The campus of Tokyo Imperial University was not paved, and the relatively clean uniforms of the pinned students were instantly covered in muddy water. The spirited and elegant appearance of university students was no longer visible.

Inside the classrooms, there were cries of alarm. Police officers stood on the podiums, pushed the university professors or lecturers down, then took out the roster and began roll call. Anyone on the list was a target for arrest, and students were called out in every classroom. The higher-ups had made up their minds: in this arrest, they would rather wrong the innocent than let the guilty escape. If a student was innocent, they could be released after trial. But if anyone escaped, it would be very troublesome.

Some students whose names were called were quite heroic and stood out immediately. The police immediately handcuffed them, put hoods over their heads, and dragged them out. Seeing the police acting so lawlessly, some teachers and students angrily stepped forward to argue. The police were not polite and arrested these teachers and students as well. The arrival of 400 police officers this time was to ensure sufficient manpower for arrests. Those teachers and students who tried to reason were also handcuffed and hooded. Seeing the police like this, the students finally realized that the police were serious.

News was transmitted to Tokyo from all over the country, and a large amount of data proved that the arrest plan was quite successful. Unstable elements in Japanese schools were caught in one net, with only a very few temporarily escaping because they were not at school. According to the established plan, local police stations would go to their homes to arrest them, determined to catch these fellows.

The view of the Japanese upper echelon was consistent: heavy penalties should be used in troubled times. At this moment, thunderous methods must be used to let these lawless elements know the consequences. If there was the slightest leniency, it would only make the already arrogant attitude of these people even more arrogant. Moreover, the purpose of this arrest was deterrence. Except for those socialists, the upper echelon believed that after locking the students up for a few days, making them suffer a bit, and crushing their arrogance, the sensible students could be released. As for the insensible ones, there would naturally be people who would make them understand the dangers of the world.

At this moment, Kita Ikki was walking quickly through Tokyo Station. His friend in the Metropolitan Police Department had taken a risk to issue a warning two hours in advance. Kita Ikki had actually already sensed the threat and could only start fleeing immediately. After all, he was a figure who had participated in China's 1911 Revolution. Kita Ikki did not panic. Wearing ordinary kimono, he passed by some fierce-looking people along with other passengers coming to take the train. Even though those people were patrolling back and forth, Kita Ikki did not attract anyone's attention.

After boarding the train, Kita Ikki even looked at the guys outside the window who were obviously searching for someone with curious eyes, just like other travelers, as if he didn't know what was going on at all. At this time, Kita Ikki was mentally prepared to be caught, and at the same time, he had decided on his destination if he could be lucky enough to escape. Now, the only country that could save Japan was China. Kita Ikki decided that he must go to China no matter what.

The train finally started. After the vehicle drove out of Tokyo Station, the passengers on the train began to discuss. Everyone didn't know what had happened. Someone began to guess, "Could it be that the accomplices of the villains who assassinated Lieutenant General Nagata have started to commit violence?"

Tokyo had not been peaceful recently, and everywhere in Japan was not peaceful. The "Tenchu" (Heavenly Punishment) incidents that appeared at the end of the Shogunate era were appearing in major Japanese cities. Ronin carried out assassinations in the streets, making the Japanese people, whose lives were still passable, fearful in their hearts.

Some people didn't see it that way. A middle-aged man in a western suit frowned and guessed, "Could it be that China has attacked Korea again?"

These words frightened the passengers. Many people asked immediately, "Is it true?"

The middle-aged man in the suit looked like a merchant. Hearing so many people around him asking, he felt in his heart that these people were foolish. If such a thing really happened, the newspapers would definitely report it. Even if they didn't say it, at least the army should be mobilized and a curfew imposed, just like when the Northeast Army launched an attack three years ago.

But the people around were more willing to believe that war had broken out between China and Japan again. Seeing that the middle-aged man in the suit didn't respond, someone said, "After the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, we organized an expeditionary force to Burma. The Chinese were angry and would send troops to attack Korea."

Hearing this, the faces of the Japanese on the same carriage became somewhat anxious. Seeing this, Kita Ikki didn't know what to say. Just a few months ago, Japanese society, upon learning of the re-establishment of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, experienced a wave of great excitement. It was as if after the reconstruction of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, Japan could return to the good old days. After all, the previous period of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance was precisely the time of Japan's rapid development. The intuition of most Japanese was that "the past days have returned."

At that time, no one in Japan mentioned the possibility that the Anglo-Japanese Alliance might lead to China launching an attack on Japan. The upper echelon didn't say so because they knew China wouldn't do it. People like Kita Ikki made the same judgment. Even now, Kita Ikki was clear that China would not attack Japan. But ordinary Japanese people hadn't considered such a possibility, or even if they had, they dared not say it aloud.

Now, these people surprisingly didn't know that their intuition was right, and they were actually worrying about China attacking Korea because of the turmoil within Japan. Looking at these people, Kita Ikki really had nothing to say.

But fear is contagious. The people in the carriage talked about the possibility of war, and the more they talked, the more afraid they became. The middle-aged man in the suit, who had just made a casual remark, was in turn affected, and a look of unease appeared on his face, causing him to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

Seeing Kita Ikki's calm expression, the middle-aged man in the suit seemed to have found a companion and said, "Sir, I am Iguchi from Suzuki Shoten."

Kita Ikki casually made up a surname, "I am Kono."

"Mr. Kono, I wonder what you think?" Iguchi asked.

Kita Ikki immediately replied, "I don't think a war has broken out. Because war is useless to China."

"Why?" Iguchi was puzzled. Someone nearby asked, "Is Korea of no benefit to China?"

Kita Ikki replied readily, "Even if China takes Korea, what benefits can it get? Land? Or population?"

"Are land and population not important?" the person who was refuted asked back unhappily.

Kita Ikki couldn't help but smile bitterly. This was the view of ordinary Japanese people, which was understandable. But Kita Ikki did not agree with this view, so he replied, "Korea has 200,000 square kilometers. Compared to the Japanese mainland, it is indeed not small, but China has 11 million square kilometers of land. For China, more than 200,000 square kilometers is very, very small. How much money would it cost to launch an all-out war for this little land? Wouldn't it be better to spend this money on building the country?"

The crowd of passengers was stunned; Kita Ikki's words were something they couldn't quite understand. But Kita Ikki's frank tone and that kind of confidence made the passengers who met by chance feel an inexplicable persuasive power.

However, Iguchi in front of him continued to ask in confusion, "Mr. Kono, if land is not important, why did China attack Burma? The newspapers said that China took away more than 500,000 square kilometers of land in Burma."

Hearing this number, other passengers felt that their worries about the war were correct again, and nodded one after another. At the same time, they waited to hear how Kita Ikki would answer.