Winter had already arrived; a chilling dampness rose from the mountain ranges.
Jianmen Pass had changed hands. In the mountains southeast of Jiange, the Jin military encampment stretched on endlessly, farther than the eye could see.
Banners of every color mingled together in profusion; most numerous were the triangular flags bearing a golden-edged red sun—the rest, five-colored iron-pagoda banners, black-bordered dragon designs, and so on, were all authentic Jurchen military banners. Beyond these, the Xi people, the Liao people, and the Han people of Liaodong each flew their own distinct banners. Some bore totems of gyrfalcons, wolves, magpies, and the like, encircling one great commanding banner after another. Each commanding banner symbolized the name of some hero who had once shaken the realm.
Among these, the twenty-thousand-strong Jurchen Yanshan Guard, once commanded by the war god Wanyan Loushi, and the over ten-thousand-strong direct command force once led by Ci Bushi, still retained their formations. Over the past several years, under Zonghan’s command, these two forces had dyed their banners white, training without cease, regarding this southern campaign as their chance for redemption. Directly commanding them was Baoshan Dawang Wanyan Xiebao.
The Huaxia Army and the Jurchens had a blood feud between them; the Jurchen side, too, regarded the deaths of Loushi and Ci Bushi as a profound humiliation. All along this southern campaign, this force had been waiting for the chance to settle the old blood debt of their commanders’ deaths against the Huaxia Army.
In the central command tent, after several days of operations across various fronts, on this particular morning, the most important civil and military officials of the western route army in this southern campaign had all gathered together.
Aside from Xiyin and Yinshuke, who were still overseeing affairs on the eastern front, the Jurchen generals now assembled here were led by Wanyan Zonghan, with Balishu, Wanyan Saba, Zhenzhu Dawang Wanyan Sheyema, Baoshan Dawang Wanyan Xiebao, Gao Qingyi, Elili, Dalai, Yuyu, and others beneath him—most of them veteran generals who had participated in one or two prior southern campaigns. In addition, the Han official Han Qixian, deeply trusted by Zonghan, oversaw the management of supplies and provisions.
Besides these, a number of Wu Dynasty generals who had surrendered to the Jurchens along the way—Li Huan, Guo Turan, Hou Ji, and others—had also been summoned to attend the meeting.
A massive map depicting the situation from Jiange to Chengdu and other areas had been hung up, with the briefing handled by Gao Qingyi, a man accomplished in both civil and military affairs. Compared to the meticulous Han official Han Qixian, Gao Qingyi possessed a forceful, unyielding temperament—he was the most capable outside official under Zonghan’s command for holding down a region. In the plans for this southern campaign, Zonghan and Xiyin had originally intended to leave him behind to hold Yunzhong, but ultimately decided to bring him along instead, putting him in overall command of the thirty-thousand-strong elite Bohai troops in the southern campaign force.
“Jianmen has fallen; the great battle is imminent!”
Stepping before the assembled officers, clad in soft armor, Gao Qingyi—whose eyebrows were remarkably thick—had once served the Liao as an official before earning great trust under Zonghan’s command. He handled civil affairs in peacetime, yet could lead troops into the fray in wartime—a rare and difficult talent to find. What people likely remembered most about him were his perpetually lowered brows, which appeared listless at first glance, but the moment his eyes opened, they carried a killing intent; once he made his move, he acted decisively and swiftly, an extremely formidable opponent.
“Over the past several days, all of you have made preparations for battle against the so-called Huaxia Army. Today the commander has gathered you all here to tell you: this battle is now imminent. Once you pass beyond Jianmen Pass, every move you make must strictly follow military law. Anyone who oversteps in the slightest will find military law shows no mercy. This is the prerequisite for this great battle.”
Gao Qingyi’s gaze swept across the rear of the encampment; he did not overly emphasize his tone, then picked up a pointer and turned his gaze to the map behind him.
“Ahead of us lies the Huaxia Fifth Army, guarding the southwest under the Black Banner—sixty thousand strong in total, now fully advanced to the line running through Zizhou, Huangming County, and Yushui Creek. The stretch of over forty li from Huangming and Yushui Creek at the front to Zizhou is the most critical section of this southern campaign.”
He drew a circle with his wooden pointer. From Jianmen Pass to Zizhou, the total distance was a hundred li, with two main roads; Huangming County and Yushui Creek lay near the dividing point of these two roads. That the Huaxia Army had pushed its front line here clearly indicated they did not intend merely to fight a defensive siege at Zizhou.
For veteran generals who had campaigned for many years, the balance of forces and the strategy being employed by the opposing side in this battle presented a rather puzzling situation. The Jurchen western route army had originally set out southward with three hundred thousand troops; after losses and detachments along the way, the main force arriving at Jianmen numbered only around two hundred thousand. But having absorbed several Wu Dynasty army units along the way, and having seized two to three hundred thousand Han civilians near Jianmen to use as cannon fodder, if advancing as one overall force, this could, by ancient standards, be called an army of a million.
Facing them, the Huaxia Army’s main force numbered only just over sixty thousand.
Even a desperate defense of a city would barely suffice with such numbers, let alone pushing the front line halfway out into open ground. Even granting that the mountains and passes between Jianmen and Zizhou offered considerable natural defense, how could that possibly compare to the advantage of city walls for a defensive stand?
But facing the Huaxia Army before this “final battle,” the Jurchen generals did not grow recklessly overconfident—at least not at this meeting, where Gao Qingyi had no intention of offering any assessment on this point either. He had an aide hang up a scroll bearing a list of names beside the map.
“Within the Black Banner Army, the Huaxia Fifth Army is the main force under Ning Yi’s direct command. Their military designations differ from both our Wu Dynasty’s and our Great Jin’s—below the army level, they use the term ‘division,’ followed by ‘brigade,’ ‘regiment’… The general commanding the Fifth Division is He Zhicheng, from Ninghua in Hedong. During the Jinghan era, he served as an officer in the Wurui Camp under Qin Shaoqian, later joining Ning Yi’s rebellion. At the Battle of Xiaocang River, he served as the Huaxia Army’s deputy commander, following Ning Yi in the final southward withdrawal. Observing his tactics, he proceeds methodically, without much brilliance—but do not underestimate him, gentlemen. He is the piece Ning Yi wields most smoothly; facing him is, in effect, facing Ning Yi himself.”
“Under the Fifth Army, the First Division—its commander, Han Jing, was originally the chieftain of Qingmu Stockade in the Lüliang Mountains, and is now the head of the Lüliang Mountain faction within the Huaxia Army. As far as we know, this was Ning Yi’s earliest base for laying groundwork and training troops. In the first Battle of Bianliang, it was this man who led two thousand Qingmu cavalry south to strike at the root, launching a surprise attack on Moutuo Ridge… His tactics are agile and adaptable, with strong improvisational ability and a grasp of the bigger picture—extremely formidable. Should fighting break out on multiple fronts, he is very likely to be assigned as a reserve force for reinforcement and support.”
“…The Huaxia Fifth Army’s Second Division, commander Pang Liu’an, formerly a Wurui Camp officer and a direct follower of Qin Shaoqian’s rebellion. Observing his tactics, he is steady, skilled at defense, not particularly skilled at attack, and prefers direct frontal engagement—but do not underestimate him. According to earlier intelligence, the Second Division has the most artillery pieces of any unit; if we truly engage him head-on, facing his artillery formation, it’s doubtful anyone could break through to reach him… To deal with this man requires unconventional tactics.”
“The Third Division, commander Liu Chengzong, led troops to Xuzhou last year and this September moved into the Liangshan area—he’s become the Prince of Lu’s problem now. Among the several generals under Qin Shaoqian’s Wurui Camp command, only this man possesses true generalship; were he here, he might be the most difficult to deal with of them all. But as it stands, we need not concern ourselves with him.”
“The Fourth Division’s commander, Qu Zhengyan, only joined the Black Banner Army after its rebellion; he was promoted through Ning Yi’s own patronage. After the humiliation of Jingping, he joined the Black Banner Army, starting from the very bottom as a common soldier, and rose rapidly during the years of great warfare in the northwest and at Xiaocang River.”
“…As for the various generals of the Huaxia Army today, most are men of merit who rose with Ning Yi from the very beginning. Back in the day, several officers of the Wurui Camp under Qin Shaoqian’s command—He Zhicheng, Li Yi, Pang Liu’an, Liu Chengzong—all hold high positions now. If truly speaking of extraordinary talent, the Wurui Camp under their command showed no particular brilliance at the time. It was only later, with Qin Shaoqian relying on his father’s standing to focus on rigorous training, and then at the Battle of Xia Village, that Ning Yi finally managed to stir up some fighting spirit in them through various means. These men now hold corresponding rank and ability, which can be attributed to Ning Yi and others’ skill in recognizing and cultivating talent, gradually bringing them up. But this Qu Zhengyan is different…”
“After joining the Black Banner Army, this man first distinguished himself in the war against Western Xia, but at the time, he only earned merit enough to become a squad leader within the Black Banner Army—that is, a leader of ten. It wasn’t until the conclusion of the three-year Battle of Xiaocang River that he gradually came into people’s view. During those three years of great warfare, he was active throughout the Lüliang and northwestern regions, repeatedly taking on critical assignments in times of crisis, and later absorbed large numbers of Central Plains Han troops. By the end of the three-year war, he commanded nearly ten thousand troops, seventy percent of whom were hastily absorbed Central Plains soldiers—yet under his command, he still managed to achieve considerable results.”
Gao Qingyi’s gaze swept across the assembly, pausing briefly. “Back when Marshal Ci Bushi led troops to attack the northwest and breached Yanzhou, Ning Yi led his forces in a rapid encircling maneuver. General Dalai, leading over ten thousand troops nearby, intended to join forces with Ci Bushi to strike Ning Yi in a pincer movement, but instead encountered blocking resistance from a Huaxia Army unit. Though this force’s combat strength was not strong, its harassing and delaying tactics continued relentlessly, ultimately tying down General Dalai’s forces for a full day and night—long enough for Ning Yi to breach the city through a secret passage, resulting in Marshal Ci Bushi’s death at Yanzhou.”
“That army at the time was a hastily assembled band of Central Plains soldiers under Qu Zhengyan’s command—fewer than two thousand of them were trained Huaxia Army regulars… This information was later thoroughly investigated under Lord Gushen’s direction, only then becoming clear to us.”
As he said this, those seated could not help but be moved. Dalai clenched both fists, his gaze resolute, but he said nothing. At the time, in order to avenge Loushi, Ci Bushi had led a great army to campaign in the northwest, with Dalai serving as one of his deputy generals. By the time of the Xiaocang River breach, Ci Bushi had been killed, and the northwest had truly become a river of blood, both sides trading blow for blow in an unrelenting struggle to the death.
By that point, the Huaxia Army had already fought with eyes gone red with fury—their numbers dwindling day by day, yet their morale rising ever higher. Facing wave after wave of Jurchen assaults and reinforcements arriving continuously from the Central Plains, the Huaxia Army kept launching counterattacks, carrying with it a desperate sense that they meant to drag the entire realm down with them into ruin.
Facing such madness, even those with some measure of composure could not help but feel afraid. By the later stages, the Central Plains’ million-strong Han army had lost its nerve entirely; after Ci Bushi’s death, Dalai took over command in the crisis, leading Jurchen forces to contend with the Huaxia Army, all the while considering how to avoid being dragged down together with these madmen in mutual destruction.
Of course, they later learned that during the latter half of the Battle of Xiaocang River, Ning Yi had already been arranging a southward transfer. He had planted spies among the million-strong Han army, waged a war of public opinion, painting the picture that the Huaxia Army had thrown everything into the fight, willing to drag everyone down with them—while secretly, taking advantage of the momentum from killing Ci Bushi, he shifted his forces. Dalai and the others, deceived by the ferocity of the frontline assault, ultimately failed to prevent the Huaxia Army from slipping away and retreating south.
Afterward, though he and Yinshuke led their forces to slaughter across the entire northwest to vent their fury, this entire episode remained the most unforgettable, bitter humiliation of his life.
Facing the Huaxia Army, facing Qu Zhengyan, Dalai had already privately requested to join the fight on several occasions—naturally, he had little to say at this moment. The assembly exchanged a few murmured words, and Gao Qingyi continued.
“…This Qu Zhengyan is regarded within the Huaxia Army as one of Ning Yi’s own disciples—he attended Ning Yi’s lectures personally—but that he could achieve such results on the battlefield is due to his own innate talent. This man’s personal combat ability is not strong, but in troop deployment, he has mastered something akin to the saying ‘Han Xin commanding troops, the more the better’—not to be underestimated. He may in fact be the most formidable general in the entire Huaxia Army in the southwest.”
“…Additionally, this Huaxia Fifth Army’s Fourth Division is reportedly known as a special operations division. The chief of staff who devises strategy and executes operations for Qu Zhengyan is Chen Tian, another of Ning Yi’s disciples. Whenever Ning Yi has some unconventional idea, it is often tested and verified first within this Fourth Division. In the coming great battle, facing Qu Zhengyan, any manner of tactic might emerge—gentlemen, you must not take this lightly.”
“…The Fifth Army’s Fifth Division, commander Yu Zhongdao, a northwesterner from the Zhong family’s Western Army, essentially the trusted successor entrusted with the Zhong family’s legacy after Zhong Lie’s death. This man made little name for himself within the Western Army, and after joining the Huaxia Army, achieved no particularly outstanding results either—but he manages military affairs in an orderly, meticulous fashion, and Ning Yi commands this Fifth Division as smoothly as his own limbs. Previously, when the Huaxia Army marched out of Liangshan and fought the Battle against Lu Qiaoshan, the main assault forces responsible were the Third and Fifth Divisions of the Huaxia Army—crushing a hundred thousand Wu Dynasty troops without much difficulty. If we underestimate them too much, our own fate may not turn out much better.”
“Additionally, news from the west reports that the twenty thousand elite troops Ning Yi stationed at the Daya tribe on the border of Tubo and Dali have already broken camp and are moving east. These twenty thousand-plus troops all participated in the Battle of Xiaocang River, and most were among the last elite units to withdraw. Lord Gushen sent an envoy attempting to persuade Guo Yaoshi, currently taking refuge in Tubo, to strike at the Daya tribe from behind… but Guo Yaoshi’s face changed color at the suggestion, and he dared not act…”
As Gao Qingyi described the participants of this great battle—the current upper echelons of the Huaxia Army—this was still only the beginning. The Jurchens themselves might have had considerable discussion of these matters in private already, but the surrendered Wu Dynasty generals in the rear could not help but gasp in astonishment.
Regarding many matters within the Huaxia Army, their own understanding fell far short of Gao Qingyi’s level of detail. From this wealth of information alone, one could well imagine that the preparations the Jurchens had made for this great battle had likely begun in earnest, across every front, years earlier.
Over the past decade or more, though voices within the Wu Dynasty had often predicted the Jin state’s swift decline—that they would quickly follow the pattern of rising from adversity only to perish in comfort—this southern campaign proved that their strength had not diminished by much. And from the seriousness with which generals like Zonghan and Gao Qingyi treated the matter, they too were gradually coming to understand just what kind of outline and character this Black Banner force across from them truly possessed…
After the morning war council concluded, the Fifth Army’s Second Division was to set out from Zizhou.
At midday, tens of thousands of Huaxia Army soldiers gathered in the long sheds serving as mess halls beside the camp; officers and soldiers alike discussed the possible scenarios that might unfold in this coming great battle.
At one side of the long shed, Ning Yi sat together with numerous senior officers, also taking their meal here. Chief of Staff Li Yi, Second Division Commander Pang Liu’an, First Division Commander Han Jing, Fourth Division’s Qu Zhengyan, and others had all gathered here, along with several brigade and regiment commanders from the Second Division. As they gathered to discuss the coming battle, they made no particular effort to keep their voices down from the soldiers around them.
“This battle isn’t going to be easy, honestly…”
“It’s been all these years, and I’ve never seen one that was easy.”
“Since Wanyan Aguda died, of the founding heroes of the Jin state still alive, basically all of them are gathered right here… well, missing just Wuqimai, Xiyin, and Yinshuke…”
“Main force two hundred thousand, plus surrendered Han troops easily adding another two to three hundred thousand—five hundred thousand total… they’re not even worried about people getting crushed to death on the road.”
“And they’ve grabbed several hundred thousand civilians on top of that—might as well call it another Hubuda Ridge, ha ha.”
“Feel free to be optimistic, but don’t underestimate the enemy… Balishu, Saba, Yuyu, Elili, Gao Qingyi, the whole Zonghan clan—these are all veteran commanders who were already attacking Bianliang ten years ago, with countless lives on their hands. They’re not to be compared to some green recruits. Whoever used to laugh at them—well, the trees on their graves have already borne fruit by now.”
“I’m not underestimating anyone—my palms are sweating right now, look. But you know, there’s no turning back… five hundred thousand men, and they still might not win.”
“That’s not right, whose grave has trees growing on it…”
“…Think about it this way—the Battle of Xiaocang River lasted three years, then we shrank back for five or six years while the Central Plains fell apart. It’s about time we made a name for ourselves. Otherwise, people will keep saying the Huaxia Army just got lucky—rebelled, fled to the northwest, couldn’t win at Xiaocang River, ran all the way to the southwest, then just beat up Lu Qiaoshan, which a lot of people don’t even think counts… Now’s our chance.”
“Theoretically speaking, with such a disparity in numbers, defending a city really is the safer bet…”
“There’s no other way… With five or six tens of thousands of us, plus Mr. Ning himself, all holed up in Zizhou—sure, they genuinely couldn’t take it. But if I were Zonghan, I’d use elite troops to surround Zizhou while sending all the Wu Dynasty troops around behind it, burning, killing, and looting. Beyond Zizhou it’s flat, open plain all the way—we’d just have to watch. That would be a real dead end. Fighting outnumbered like this basically means using the terrain, stirring up chaos, and seeing if we can fish something out of it down the line… like, say, fishing for Zonghan’s two sons, heh heh heh heh…”
“Hey… you guys in the Fourth Division are always full of dirty tricks—but that’s a plan worth trying…”
“That’s called striking where they must come to the rescue—top secret, top secret… heh heh heh heh…”
“I get it, I get it… heh heh heh heh heh heh…”
Among the Huaxia Army’s mid-to-senior officers, basic thinking on this coming great battle had already coalesced. Talk like this over the meal table wasn’t really a genuine secret—it was simply that everyone was tense before the battle, and officers from different units, running into each other, indulged in a bit of banter to blow off steam.
Ning Yi did not discourage this sort of thing; occasionally he even joined in with a bit of mischief himself. Watching the regimental commanders and staff officers at the next table chatting nonsense, he too bantered and sparred with Han Jing, Qu Zhengyan, and the others.
With the Jurchens bearing down, a desperate defense of Zizhou alone was not realistic—the only option was to push forward from Zizhou and make use of the rugged mountain terrain first. Pang Liu’an’s Second Division was the main blocking force, and would break camp that afternoon. Following the Second Division’s departure would come a pack-mule train of over five thousand animals—originally the entire stock of horses belonging to the Huaxia Army’s commercial department, now reassigned under Han Jing’s command.
Though the southwest had the Chengdu Plain, beyond it lay nothing but rugged mountain paths, and traveling such paths required the short-legged Yunnan ponies—not much use in a cavalry charge, but outstanding in endurance, well-suited to mountainous, treacherous terrain. On the battlefield stretching from Zizhou to Jiange, should any urgent need for reinforcement arise, this mule train would provide the best transport capacity available.
Within the Huaxia Army, Han Jing’s tactics were agile, and he had commanded mule trains before, making him well-suited as this intermediate rapid-response force. But these past few days, Fourth Division commander Qu Zhengyan had been pestering him relentlessly, shamelessly wheedling three hundred horses out of him, then trying to get another two hundred on top of that. Every day he kept pestering Han Jing, saying: “I have an idea that might really come in handy later—Brother Han, think it over and help me out…”
Toward this perpetually worried-looking yet earnest “little old man” Qu Zhengyan, Han Jing sometimes felt willing to help, and other times found it downright maddening. “Are you kidding me? For some plan of yours that needs perfect timing, location, and popular support all lined up just right, you want me to push the order down to company level? Get lost, get lost! Let the men under you focus on fighting, would you!”
“No need, no need, Division Commander Han, I’ve just picked out a few points on your defensive side—the Jurchens are very likely to fall for it. You just need to give a heads-up to a few of your regiment cadres beforehand, and I have a way to send signals. Take a look at our plan…”
“Look at your balls, it’s way too complicated, I’m just a rough soldier, I don’t understand it.”
“No, no, that’s not right—Division Commander Han’s tactics are flexible and unconventional, that’s exactly why it fits so well… let’s just work together a bit.”
“I used to be a bandit chief, dammit! I don’t understand you scholars and your scheming! Don’t go flattering me!”
“…So, give me two hundred more horses then.”
“…I…” Han Jing was so exasperated he could barely speak. “I’ll give you my balls!”
Things like this happened from time to time, and Han Jing would come complain to Ning Yi while eating. Ning Yi waved his hand, refusing to get involved. “Not my business, not my business. Why don’t you just beat him up—Qu Zhengyan doesn’t look like he could take much of a beating anyway…”
In truth, this wasn’t really Qu Zhengyan being unreasonable—within the Huaxia Army, this division commander’s manner was rather distinctive. More than a soldier, he often seemed more like a chess player perpetually deep in thought, thin-framed, brow furrowed, expression serious. In commanding troops, training, directing, and strategic planning, he possessed an extraordinarily outstanding talent—a trait that had first emerged clearly during the years of brutal warfare at Xiaocang River.
During those three years of the most brutal fighting, Huaxia Army members were tempered through experience even as they died in great numbers, and many talented individuals emerged from that crucible. Qu Zhengyan was among the most striking of them. He first took over the position of platoon leader in a crisis during one great battle, then rescued a small group of staff officers led by Chen Tian, after which he went on to capture several hundred terrified Central Plains Han soldiers, and after some brief reorganization and intimidation, threw them straight into battle.
Building on the foundation of these several hundred Han soldiers, he rescued over a hundred trapped Huaxia Army personnel, after which the two forces fought side by side. Through battle after brutal battle and forced march after forced march, Qu Zhengyan’s judgment of enemy strategy and tactics approached perfection, and with the assistance of Chen Tian and others, he repeatedly walked the edge between life and death, at times seeming almost as if he were deliberately testing the very limits of the King of Hell himself.
For instance, he once mobilized fewer than two thousand troops to direct over seven thousand hastily absorbed Central Plains Han soldiers in an attack against Dalai’s force of over ten thousand—these two thousand men were even split into two groups, one posing as the main force, the other as reinforcements; whenever the front lines were about to be overrun, the “reinforcements” would appear at just the right moment to boost morale. In some of the most dangerous battles at Xiaocang River, he played both ghost and god, deceiving not only the enemy but his own side as well—though the ones he deceived most, of course, were the surrendered Han soldiers, many of whom, having survived, are now formal members of the Huaxia Army.
These repeated tightrope walks were simply born of necessity—many times, his side came within a hair’s breadth of complete collapse—but each time, Qu Zhengyan managed to slip through successfully. At times, even Ning Yi found himself astonished at his maneuvers, feeling a chill down his spine in retrospect.
It was because of this record that, after the conclusion of the Battle of Xiaocang River, Qu Zhengyan was promoted to brigade commander, and later, as troop numbers grew, naturally rose to the position of division commander. Of course, it was also because of this particular style that, within the Huaxia Army, whenever people spoke of the Fifth Army’s Fourth Division, they especially liked to describe them as “full of dirty tricks.”
That Qu Zhengyan’s methods succeeded time and again was, of course, not merely a matter of luck. First, it stemmed from his grasp and judgment of battlefield strategy and enemy intentions; second, from his clear understanding and control over his own troops. In this regard, Ning Yi tended to rely more on data to achieve such things, but with Qu Zhengyan, it was more a matter of pure innate talent—he was more like a calm chess player, accurately reading enemy intentions, accurately grasping the function of each piece in his hand, and accurately deploying them into the right positions.
On the other hand, there was also the support he received from Chen Tian and others in the staff department.
Ning Yi’s lectures within the Huaxia Army had, in the early period, emphasized technique, and in the later period, emphasized the underlying principles. Chen Tian, Tang Minjie, and others had all emerged from that earlier phase emphasizing technique—analyzing every kind of method, stressing the goal above all, using whatever means necessary to achieve the objective… Within the Fourth Division’s staff department, Ning Yi had many disciples, and their everyday creed was “there’s no idea that can’t be used—it all depends on how you execute it.” Chen Tian was the pragmatist of the group, forever furrowing his brow, thinking about how to actually implement various ideas.
They didn’t really pursue brainstorming for its own sake—rather, no matter the problem, Chen Tian’s only concern was implementation; in a later age, he might well have been called a master of execution. It was with Chen Tian’s assistance that Qu Zhengyan’s many reckless schemes could be carried out that much more smoothly and reliably.
This pairing spent their days furrowing their brows in deep contemplation, occasionally jokingly referred to by Ning Yi as the “gloomy-faced duo.” But Qu Zhengyan came across more as a pure strategist, viewed favorably by others, while Chen Tian, who would occasionally smirk with satisfaction whenever a plan succeeded, was regarded by some as “a bit of a scoundrel.”
The Fourth Division had no shortage of plans and contingencies—some could only be carried out independently, others required coordination with allied units. Qu Zhengyan’s constant pestering of Han Jing was, in fact, itself a form of communication: if the plan held up, Han Jing would take note of it; if Han Jing objected strongly, Qu Zhengyan would also gain a clear sense of the First Division’s attitude and inclinations.
He had previously pestered Pang Liu’an and Yu Zhongdao as well. Pang Liu’an, being magnanimous, and Yu Zhongdao, being steady and reliable, made these exchanges nowhere near as dramatic as the ones with Han Jing.
“Oh right, I have another idea, didn’t quite finish explaining earlier…”
“Explain your balls, eat your food.”
“That Dalai over there—during the Battle of Xiaocang River, he originally meant to relieve Yanzhou, but I delayed him a full day and night, and as a result, my teacher killed Ci Bushi. He surely hasn’t let that go. This time, I won’t confront him directly—if he takes the left road, I’ll consider the right; if he takes the right, I’ll pick the left. If anything comes up, Brother Han, help me hold him off. I’m just mentioning it now—of course, once the fighting starts, the overall strategy takes priority.”
“Why, are you afraid of him?”
“Chen Tian says it’s better to let him stew a while first, makes it easier to move against him later. I think that makes sense.”
“…Heh heh, you two really are full of dirty tricks.”
“…We also have another idea—when he shows up, I could use myself as bait to lure him in.”
“…Hm, how would that work?”
“The battlefield situation changes in an instant—we’ll figure out the specifics when the time comes. But I’ll need to move fast. General Han, give me another two hundred horses…”
“…Get lost.”
“It’s all for the sake of Huaxia, you know.”
Qu Zhengyan furrowed his brow, his expression the picture of sincerity.
And so it went, the two of them bantering back and forth, with Ning Yi occasionally joining in. Before long, people put aside their playful mood as the troops formed up in ranks on the parade ground, the words of the mobilization speech echoing in the soldiers’ ears—perhaps bringing to mind the family members they had left behind.
The beacon fires stood solemn, killing intent surging to the heavens; the Second Division’s main force broke camp and set out. Ning Yi, along with Li Yi, Qu Zhengyan, Han Jing, and the others, stood on a wooden platform by the roadside, offering a solemn salute.
Dozens of li away at the front, defensive forces had long since been stationed. Deep within the more complex and vast mountain ranges, skirmishes and clashes among scouts had already begun and continued for several days…
Inside the Jurchen military command tent, Gao Qingyi set his wooden pointer down on the map.
“…At this point, our scouts have already made contact with Black Banner scouts in the mountain forests within a range of thirty to sixty li to the southwest. According to scout reports, on nearly every passable path through the southwestern mountain forests, land mines have already been buried…”
“…Over these years, the Black Banner Army has developed the strongest firearms capability in the southwest; in direct confrontation, they need not fear land mines much—they simply drive Han civilians through first. But if caught off guard by a minefield, the situation could turn extremely dangerous…”
At this point, Gao Qingyi looked toward Zonghan seated behind him, who spoke up: “If the Huaxia Army relies too heavily on these mines, then perhaps we should send more probing parties through the southwestern mountains.”
“The commander speaks wisely,” Gao Qingyi nodded, then raised his pointer again. “Besides the mines, what the Huaxia Army relies on most heavily is, first, their artillery. The Huaxia Army’s craftsmanship is formidable—their artillery’s range may exceed ours by as much as ten paces…”
“…Like ourselves, the Huaxia Army now also possesses large quantities of hand-thrown fire bombs—thrown one-handed, they can reach several dozen paces. Against this, an infantry charge holds almost no power at all…”
“…Furthermore, all of you generals must be especially cautious—the Huaxia Army possesses specially made firearms capable of firing projectiles as far as a hundred zhang. According to scout reports, the Huaxia Army favors firing these weapons from within dense forest cover, so as our various forces advance, accompanying scouts must spread out over a hundred zhang, clearing the area of any hidden dangers—this cannot be taken lightly…”
“…Hot air balloons…”
“…Firearm formations…”
Within the vast command tent, Gao Qingyi listed one item after another of the Huaxia Army’s deadly capabilities across from them, his voice striking at the heart of every listener. The Han generals at the rear gradually paled with each item, while the Jin generals at the front mostly took on expressions of bloodthirsty resolve.
Wind blew through; mist still seemed to drift through the mountains. Jin scouts, once seasoned hunters, advanced cautiously through the forest, tossing stones ahead whenever they encountered unusual movement or terrain. Meanwhile, Huaxia Army scouts, carrying long blades at their sides, were also creeping forward from various directions.
Skirmishes flared up, occasionally mixed with the sound of exploding mines; sometimes rare birds still nesting in the forest could be seen taking flight in alarm.
These sounds were the prelude to this great battle.
Throughout the sprawling encampment where hundreds of thousands of troops were stationed, the Jurchens had made every preparation—this was the accumulation that Zonghan, Xiyin, and others had begun years earlier, under their careful direction. By the time Gao Qingyi had finished laying out the entire situation piece by piece, Wanyan Zonghan rose from his seat and began deploying his forces…
North of the Yellow River, Liu Chengzong, leading the Huaxia Fifth Army’s Third Division, had already crossed Daming Prefecture.
Last year’s rescue operation for Wang Shanyue and others had cost Zhu Biao’s Huaxia Army forces in Shandong more than half their numbers at Daming Prefecture; the Jurchens had then massacred the city, triggering an epidemic. Now this city stood as nothing but a lonely, desolate ruin beneath the moon.
The army held a memorial ceremony before the ruins for their fallen comrades, then turned toward Liangshan Marsh, still under Han army siege, intending to join forces with Zhu Biao, Wang Shanyue, and the others inside for a pincer attack to break through this layer of encirclement.
The road ahead was littered with the starved dead; Shandong had become a living hell on earth.
…
The counterattack in Jin territory had begun.
In early October, Yu Yulin led his troops to retake Weisheng; Liao Yiren and others fled in panic.
Lou Shuwan returned to this city, into which she had once poured boundless enthusiasm. The city, still scarred by fire, had not yet recovered; among the burnt ruins, only a handful of starving refugees remained, wandering like lost souls.
But before long, word spread that the Female Chancellor had returned to retake Weisheng, and the starving refugees from the surrounding area gradually began converging toward Weisheng. In Jin territory, the great clans like Liao Yiren, in their pursuit of victory, endlessly conscripted soldiers and extorted the people without pause—but only this compassionate Female Chancellor cared about the common people’s livelihood. People had already begun to understand this.
The fields once reclaimed now lay fallow again; the once-splendid palace halls had already crumbled to ruin. But as long as there were still people, all of this could eventually be rebuilt.
News of the imminent great battle in the southwest had already reached this place as well.
Lou Shuwan had settled on a plan to rebuild Weisheng, but all of it depended on the premise that the southwest could hold.
“Don’t disappoint me… Ning Yi.”
With winter approaching, the fields could no longer be planted; she ordered her troops to continue seizing territory and cities, while personally still scrambling to secure grain for the starving refugees. In the gaps between these tasks, she would unconsciously find herself gazing toward the southwest, clenching her fists, silently cheering on the man far away who had killed her father, her sworn enemy…
…
On the seas of the southeast, the dragon-boat fleet rested by an island, resupplying.
Zhou Pei had purged some wavering, half-hearted followers, then bestowed titles and rewards to boost morale, turning to wait for another fleet catching up from behind.
The Taihu fleet’s commanding general was named Hu Sunming, who, having surrendered to the Jin, led his forces out to sea in pursuit. By now, he had drawn close.
They could not flee forever, and under the Jurchens’ looming threat, docking anywhere was risky. Zhou Pei tightened her grip on the last of her remaining forces, knowing she had to win this battle!
In this moment, she too staked everything she had.
…
At the same moment, Jun Wu led his troops fighting their way out of Jiangning, beginning a flight toward Fujian under pursuit and encirclement by Wushu and others.
This humiliating journey was both a trial and a training exercise for his troops—whatever happened, he could not allow himself to be surrounded and destroyed by the Jurchen main force along the Yangtze…
…
Jiangnan West Circuit.
Having crushed three columns of Han troops, Chen Fan led his forces in a rapid westward withdrawal, evading the pursuing cavalry of Shuliesu that had chased them the entire way.
The troops climbed over a high mountain ridge; Zhuo Yongqing turned his head and saw the magnificent sunset, its red light spilling across the undulating mountains.
Qu Qing walked up from behind: “What splendid rivers and mountains.”
Having said this, the middle-aged man strode briskly forward. Zhuo Yongqing ran a few steps to catch up, chasing after him through the long column of troops.
…
The Southwest.
The atmosphere before a great battle is not always one of tension and grim severity.
Near the pass at Eagle Beak Rock, the last batch of pre-battle supplies was being delivered by a mule train; among those escorting the train were members of the women’s corps—the Huaxia Army was short on manpower, and women had long since begun working in the workshops, with some soldiers’ family members now also taking up their share of responsibilities during wartime. Mao Yishan, commanding his men stationed here, spotted his wife Chen Xia mixed in among the group.
This was, in a way, an abuse of authority.
“You haven’t been back in so long. I wanted to come see you before the fighting starts.”
Chen Xia was a fiery-tempered northwestern woman whose family had died in the great war years ago; she had later married Mao Yishan and managed both household and outside affairs impeccably. The regiment Mao Yishan commanded was the Fifth Division’s elite unit, a highly relied-upon assault force. With the Jurchens’ approach looming, over the past several months he had been dispatched to the front, with no chance to return home—perhaps sensing the unusual gravity of this coming battle, his wife had taken the initiative to come find him like this.
“Mm, that’s fine,” Mao Yishan tacitly allowed his wife’s visit. “Everything alright at home? Is Shitou okay?”
Mao Yishan and Chen Xia’s child, nicknamed Shitou—”Little Rock down the mountain”—was three years old this year; like his father, he showed no particular signs of cleverness, but was well-behaved and required little worry.
Chen Xia shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong. Shitou’s doing fine.”
“Mm…” Mao Yishan nodded. “Ahead is our position.”
The mountains of the southwest were somewhat cold and damp. The couple walked a bit outside the position; Mao Yishan showed his wife his defensive position, then pointed out the imposing, jutting Eagle Beak Rock not far ahead. Chen Xia simply listened. Worry weighed on her heart, and eventually she couldn’t help saying, “A battle like this must be very dangerous.”
“We can win it, don’t worry.”
“Even if you can win, it’s still dangerous, isn’t it? The Jurchens have over five hundred thousand men.”
“Mm… there will always be some deaths.” Mao Yishan said. “There’s no way around it.”
“When will it ever end…”
Mao Yishan fell silent for a while.
“…I became a soldier more than ten years ago. At Xia Village, I was still just a green kid—that battle was brutal… But Mr. Ning was right: you win one battle, there are ten more waiting; win those ten, there are a hundred more after that. You have to keep fighting until your enemies are all dead, or you are…”
“When the army rebelled, we went up to Qingmu Stockade, made it to Xiaocang River—at the Battle of Dongzhiyuan, nearly half the people around me died. Fighting Loushi, fighting the Jurchens, battle after battle, right up to now—of the people who joined the uprising with me back then, hardly any are left…”
Mao Yishan recalled these things, thinking back to that battle at Xia Village, from when he first awakened as a raw recruit to now—battle after battle, seemingly endless… Tears welled up in Chen Xia’s eyes. “I’m… I’m afraid for you…”
“…But if no one fights, we’ll always end up like the northwest did… Come on, cheer up a little. I’ve fought wars for half my life, and at least I’m still alive now—doesn’t mean I’m going to die in the next one either. Actually, the important thing is, if I’m alive, fighting another half a lifetime is no big deal—but Shitou shouldn’t have to spend his whole life caught up in all this. We’re doing this for Shitou’s sake, you understand?”
He cupped his wife’s weathered, slightly plump face in his hands, and, with no one else around, touched his forehead to hers, and where tears had reddened her face, reached up to wipe them away.
“And besides, Mr. Ning said before, if we can win this battle, the wars of our whole lifetime…”
“The wars of our whole lifetime…” Mao Yishan looked toward the distant Eagle Beak Rock. “…should be about half over by then.”
The dim light of dusk seemed about to be swallowed into the mountain stones; the couple stood there, taking in this utterly unremarkable scenery, spending together this final peaceful moment before the great battle.
After his wife left, Mao Yishan, as was his habit, sharpened his blade to a fine edge. Though as a regiment commander he rarely charged the front lines anymore these days, this time, there might well be an opportunity to do so.
Every meeting with family could turn out to be a final farewell.
But what mattered was having family waiting behind him.
They could only become the long wall standing at the very front, bringing an end to all of this before them.
Whether sixty thousand, six thousand, six hundred… or even just six people…
In late October, an enemy force nearly ten times their size arrived at the battlefield in successive waves. The slaughter had begun, igniting the curtain on this winter.