"Defendant Erich von Manstein, of the nine counts brought against you:

"Charge of supporting the Nazi regime's war crimes: Guilty.

"Charge of supporting Hitler's crimes against humanity: Not guilty.

"Charge of indirect complicity in crimes against Polish civilians and military during the Polish campaign: Not guilty.

"Charge of inhumane treatment of Soviet prisoners of war in Belarus during the Soviet-German War: Not guilty..."

The presiding judge systematically announced the verdicts. Manstein listened in silence, his composure unruffled.

Since his capture, Manstein had reflected deeply on his past. He felt guilty—particularly after learning that Hitler had detonated a nuclear weapon in Berlin, nearly obliterating the city center and causing hundreds of thousands of casualties. In his own eyes, Manstein was indeed guilty.

However, his perceived crime was not engaging in war, but rather choosing to support Hitler. The Führer had inflicted immense losses upon Germany, much of it intentionally after it was clear the war could not be won.

Yet Manstein did not regret his career. As a German officer, obedience to the government was his highest duty—particularly a government determined to wage foreign war. It was a responsibility he could not refuse.

Because his own sense of guilt diverged from the Nuremberg Tribunal’s findings, he cared little for the judge's words. The tribunal allowed defendants to appeal their sentences, and Manstein intended to review the formal judgment once his mind was clearer.

He followed through on this thought. After the session ended and he was returned to his cell, he ate his prison meal before finally opening the document.

Of the nine charges, seven had been dismissed. He was found guilty only of supporting Nazi war crimes and executing Soviet political commissars and Jews. Manstein found the verdict acceptable; the Wehrmacht’s atrocities on the battlefield had been little less than the SS’s. If the Wehrmacht were "better," it was only because they had committed fewer non-combat killings.

This was not due to a higher moral standard, but because the SS, driven by a deeper ideological commitment, proactively handled the liquidation of the Soviet populace. The Wehrmacht had simply been happy to let the SS do the dirty work. Had the SS not existed, the regular army would have had to do it themselves.

He had just finished reading when a guard entered, informing him he was required to step out. Manstein briefly considered the possibility of being murdered under the cover of night, yet he rose and followed the guard as if nothing were amiss.

As a senior officer, even in prison, he received special treatment. His sector consisted of individual cells. As he traversed the long corridor, he glimpsed familiar faces through the small viewports: Rundstedt, Guderian, and many other high-ranking officers. Whether they were the "Red-Pants" of the General Staff or the "Muddy-Legs" generals from the front, the Nuremberg Tribunal had shown little discrimination between them.

Passing through an open yard, Manstein reached the visitor’s area. In a spacious room, three Chinese officers were waiting. Upon seeing him, they rose and saluted. "Good day, Marshal."

Manstein did not reply or return the salute. He simply studied them: one lieutenant colonel and two majors. In any modern military, these were middle-ranking officers responsible for technical or administrative tasks. Their presence suggested nothing of monumental importance.

With this thought, Manstein took the seat clearly left for him. The Chinese officers showed no offense at his rudeness. Once he was seated, they sat opposite him. The lieutenant colonel began in fluent German: "Marshal, we have come to seek your guidance on a specific matter."

The officer finished, and one of the majors pushed a file across the table. Seeing the symbols and seals on the cover, Manstein was taken aback. It was a Top Secret document—one that only a handful of the Reich’s elite could have seen before the defeat.

Under the bright lights of the room, Manstein paused for a moment before opening the file with a touch of nostalgia. By the second page, his heart began to stir. It was a document from Reinhard Heydrich, detailing a plan for mobile warfare using regular forces within the German mainland.

In the Third Reich, Heydrich was the only Nazi leader Manstein had held in relatively high regard. He recalled their discussions on the use of nuclear weapons; at least in those talks, Heydrich had shown no intent to use them within Berlin.

Most of the Nazi elite would not have made Hitler's choice—Göring certainly wouldn't have. But Göring’s restraint was born of a fear of death. Heydrich’s was born of a hope, however faint, of winning a dignified surrender for Germany.

Closing the file, Manstein asked with a trace of emotion, "Is Heydrich still alive?"

The three officers exchanged a glance. The lieutenant colonel answered: "Heydrich remained in Berlin during the explosion. He was injured by the blast and then poisoned by the radioactive black rain. He was alive when the Soviets captured him, but we understand he passed away within three weeks due to excessive radiation exposure."

Manstein was unfamiliar with the specifics of nuclear weaponry and didn't fully grasp the terminology. Yet hearing that Heydrich had died so soon after his capture brought him a sense of relief for the man. Had he lived, the Russians would have flayed him alive. To die early was a mercy.

The lieutenant colonel was clearly not here for a eulogy. Seeing Manstein fall silent, he asked which members of the Wehrmacht were most familiar with this specific plan.

Manstein sensed immediately that the Chinese were looking for recommendations of personnel they could "utilize." He replied calmly: "The concept of mobile warfare in this plan was derived from Mr. He Rui’s own papers. Germany never possessed the capability to execute such a model. I do not believe anyone in the Wehrmacht meets your requirements."

Hearing that Manstein wished to keep his former subordinates out of the affair, the lieutenant colonel noted the Marshal’s high level of awareness. "May I ask for your own views on mobile warfare, then?" he pressed.

Manstein had never had the chance to meet with high-level Chinese officials. He had always envied Reichenau’s meeting with Li Runshi.

Recalling Reichenau’s account of that conversation, Manstein had initially thought Li was boasting. In hindsight, however, almost everything Li had projected strategically had come to pass. China had indeed armed ten million former colonial subjects and trained them into elite soldiers capable of mastering modern military technology. The regular Chinese Army had handled the high-tech sectors, fighting side-by-side with the WPLA to crush the West.

Regarding this, Manstein felt Germany’s defeat was well-earned. China had equipped the WPLA with its own standard gear, showing no discrimination based on their origin. When the Wehrmacht fought alongside its Eastern European allies, they had never granted them full sets of German equipment.

While Germany had faced shortages, they might have managed it had they prioritized the relationship. It was a matter of attitude. China had the strength and the correct attitude; its victory was legitimate.

Facing the expectant gazes of the Chinese officers, Manstein decided on a small test. "I have read Mr. He Rui’s paper," he said. "In my view, he established an extreme combat environment. One side is an industrial power—or at least enjoys its full support—while the other is an agricultural nation. The latter is at a total disadvantage, yet its resistance leadership is organized according to a true industrial model. Is this not a paradox?"

The statement was made with significant depth. Every word was true, and he had no intent to play word games. Had he asked this of a middle-ranking German officer, they might have answered, but not in a way that Manstein would find valuable.

The Chinese lieutenant colonel pondered for a moment before answering: "If you view this through the lens of China in 1915, you will see that the situation in the Northeast at the time matched that setting perfectly. From what I have personally heard, that paper was actually based on one of the many plans Chairman He formulated during his time there.

"It appears extreme only because the opponent was weak. Had the opponent been stronger, with a broader vision—or had China’s luck been worse—such a scenario might well have occurred."

Manstein was not entirely convinced by the answer, yet he found the officer remarkable. That the man could grasp the question showed he possessed a command of logic and methodology. That he could answer with internal consistency showed he was capable of analyzing specific problems individually.

Although the officer couldn't resist a touch of praise for He Rui—which Manstein disliked—he chose not to nitpick. A man who had beaten the world would hardly be a mere braggart. Considering extreme scenarios was the hallmark of a professional.

"In that case," Manstein continued, "surely the Chinese military has a better grasp of the subject. Why seek the opinion of a German?"

"Because we do not understand the Western comprehension of this mode of warfare," the officer replied. "According to our observations, under the predatory Western mindset, war is not seen as a means of creating a more advanced economy. The system of mobile warfare is not merely about combat; it includes utilizing the conflict to build local, small-scale economic models adapted to an environment of 'weak versus strong.'

"An advanced industrial-revolutionary organization utilizes the destruction of traditional economic models caused by the war to unite the population against the invader. They seize local dominance and establish a more efficient local economy, eventually linking these areas to form a powerful regional government.

"The essence of this model is to first conduct a revolution against oneself—to transform—and then defeat the enemy.

"...I wonder what the Marshal thinks of this?"

Manstein was momentarily stunned. Several thoughts stirred in his mind. But seeing the lieutenant colonel’s sudden look of uncertainty at the end of his speech, he felt a touch of amusement. Even when a young man hit the nail on the head, he naturally wavered when faced with questions that required the perspective of absolute power to answer.

Since the officer looked unsure, Manstein did not answer immediately. He reflected on the points raised—one of which was Heydrich’s tenure as Governor-General in Czechia and Poland. His method of rule had been to align himself with the common people.

At the time, Manstein had merely seen it as a sign of political talent. Now, hearing the Chinese officer’s words, he felt a sudden epiphany.

Heydrich had certainly studied He Rui's works; every member of the Nazi elite with a shred of substance had done so. Hitler’s secretary, Rudolf Hess, was said to have collected every one of the Chairman's books.

If he considered Heydrich through the officer's framework, it was true that he had destroyed the old economic order in the occupied territories and replaced it with a more efficient model. At the time, other Nazi leaders had complained to Hitler that the Poles were living better than the Germans.

Manstein had been incensed by those complaints. Poland was a vital logistical hub for the Eastern Front, and Heydrich’s role there was indispensable. No one else could have done better.

Now, he began to understand why Heydrich had achieved such success. The Poles certainly hated Germany, and they held no love for Heydrich. He had simply destroyed the old order and offered a new life. If the Polish workers had cooperated, it was for their own benefit.

Realizing this, Manstein recalled asking Heydrich why, knowing defeat was inevitable, he had pushed his plan for national mobile and guerrilla warfare so feverishly.

He couldn't recall the exact words, but the gist was: "This mode of combat is the legacy the Third Reich leaves to the German people. It is a wealth that will merge with the national spirit. This is the true value of the Reich."

At the time, Manstein had thought Heydrich mad. He still did—yet he now saw that the madman’s vision was not without merit, or even immense value.

...The Third Reich simply lacked the strength to realize such a magnificent ideal. And an unrealizable ideal is merely the raving of a madman.

"Marshal, you have a point?" the lieutenant colonel’s voice broke the silence.

Manstein raised his head. "The Wehrmacht has no understanding of this," he answered readily. "Those who truly understand are within the SS. But in my view, you need not look for them; only the SS high command truly grasps these concepts."

With that, he signaled the end of the conversation. Whether the Chinese wished to cooperate with the SS was no longer his concern. Had the officer not said something of value, Manstein wouldn't have offered even that much explanation.

The lieutenant colonel took the hint, offered his thanks, and rose to leave.

Back in his solitary cell, Manstein lay awake for a long time. He had lived through two world wars, seen Germany’s rise and its despondent fall.

Compared to Germany, the national trajectory of China was something he envied. Since 1901, the nation had known no defeat. Despite its many internal problems, it had won war after war, its strength growing with each victory.

Germany prided itself on its philosophy, and Manstein agreed it was a powerhouse in that field. Yet this only created a deeper confusion for him. Philosophy could not explain why the fates of Germany and China had diverged so sharply.

Before falling asleep, he decided to write a letter to Marshal Cheng Ruofan, the supreme commander of the occupying forces. It was not a plea for his own fate; he simply wanted to understand.

The lieutenant colonel’s way of thinking had left a deep impression on him. If this young man was representative of the new Chinese generation, then their education had been extraordinarily successful. And behind that education must lie a powerful system of knowledge. Manstein was certain Cheng Ruofan possessed an even deeper awareness.

Four days later, as Manstein was considering whether to waive his right to appeal—which meant accepting a seventeen-year sentence—the guard delivered a letter to him. He was in a foul mood at the prospect of more years in a cell.

Opening the large envelope, he found a meticulously addressed inner envelope with Chinese characters on the cover. Though his Chinese was non-existent, he guessed it was Cheng’s reply.

His mood brightened instantly. Inside were two versions of the letter: one handwritten in Chinese, the other typed in German.

Reading with anticipation, Manstein was quickly drawn in. Cheng Ruofan had addressed his questions directly.

"...Lord Manstein, in my humble opinion, the reason Chinese culture appears to lack philosophical analysis is that over our millennia of history, our sages synthesized the lessons of countless events—the rise and fall of dynasties, the collapse of states—to reach a direction for human social development: harmonious coexistence.

"This direction is the foundation of Chinese civilization. Regardless of China’s strength or weakness, the civilization adheres to this stance. Whether it is historical materialism or class analysis, such knowledge is rapidly absorbed into our civilization once it reaches us, becoming a part of our overall direction.

"Conversely, concepts like aggression and colonialism cannot be accepted by Chinese civilization, for they run counter to the direction of harmonious coexistence.

"Many within China are currently reflecting on the Age of Discovery. In our simulations, even had China contested the seas in that era, it would not have engaged in genocide or mass slavery. Such acts are anathema to our civilization.

"China does not lack philosophy; rather, philosophy is inherently an offensive intellectual weapon. The tenets of Chinese civilization loathe war, making our thinking appear to run counter to philosophy, or perhaps overly focused on social concepts.

"From a philosophical standpoint, human survival is built upon the development of human society. A healthy society is the foundation for human progress; China will not sacrifice the root for the branch.

"Our ability to struggle in all fields requires no further elaboration. Yet even in victory, China's priority remains how to ensure the healthy development of the entire world, rather than indulging in the revelry of triumph.

"The stable development of society requires constant attention. This is our historical legacy, and it is our philosophy. While the principle is understood by all, few nations are willing to elevate it to a mandatory level of execution.

"And Chinese civilization through historical experience, has reached a conclusion: 'Aim high to achieve the middle; aim middle to achieve the low.' This is not a conclusion derived from philosophy, but a law derived from the experience of millennia and countless lives. Philosophy is merely a cognitive tool; it lacks the strength to defy such laws.

"If one looks only at results, Chinese civilization has endured for ten thousand years. Two thousand years ago, a Chinese historian openly admitted in his work that the history of five thousand years prior was so distant that even he, with his records, could not fully grasp the details.

"Therefore, I believe you need not worry about the problem of German philosophy, for it has not yet withstood the test of history.

"Finally, allow me to speak in the tone of a philosopher: since you were not born alongside the universe, you have no reason to expect to endure until its end.

"Respectfully yours."

Manstein read the letter twice before setting it down with a bitter smile. As a German, he had to admit he envied Cheng Ruofan. As a Chinese, Cheng could naturally see himself as the heir to a ten-thousand-year civilization. He could even acknowledge that his own historians two millennia ago were confused by the history of five millennia prior.

Furthermore, Cheng did not seem to believe that even Chinese civilization would endure forever. Human society would outlast any single nation.

Yet beneath this touch of envy, Manstein found he had no rebuttal.

If China truly took human society as its object of concern, then the West was indeed guilty. And in the world of reality, China was conducting its Great Trial.