Chapter 694: What a Murderous Streak!

Looking over the merciless scene before them, Gong Lince congratulated Meng Shanming.

“Marshal Meng, the threat from Song’s river-defense army has been eliminated!”

Meng Shanming remained calm and silent, his face expressionless.

No one knew what he was thinking.

Luo Da’an glanced at his reaction.

He had remained constantly at Meng Shanming’s side and understood the whole course of events better than anyone.

Originally, when Song’s river-defense troops abandoned their positions and prepared to concentrate overwhelming force against the first Yan troops to cross, Meng Shanming’s side had already prepared a flood attack. They intended to wait until Song had gathered in the selected area and then strike.

Who could have expected Luo Zhao to change strategy?

Meng Shanming had been forced to adapt in turn, select another suitable location, and use his own armies as bait to lure Song’s troops into the Qunluo Mountains.

The process had become more complicated.

Fortunately, the final result did not deviate from the strategic objective.

Those watching from the mountain had not spent a single soldier, yet in the space of a few words they had thrown an enemy army of more than a million into complete collapse.

The mountain country had become a vast flooded realm in the blink of an eye.

The figures skimming desperately across that watery expanse were all battered Song cultivators trying to rescue important officers.

As for the army of more than a million men, even the nine supreme experts beneath Heaven could not save them now.

Song’s cultivators were powerless.

All they could do was rescue a few important figures and carry certain generals out of the flood.

Some men struggled in the mud.

Some swam through filthy water, searching desperately for life.

Others had already lost all vitality and drifted up and down in the murky flood as the current carried them away.

Those who could not swim were, for the most part, doomed.

Some large trees had so many men scrambling onto them that branches snapped beneath the weight, sending clusters of soldiers crashing down amid screams.

On higher patches of ground, there was so little room that men crowded together with half their bodies still submerged in water.

One great tree on the mountainside had gathered a large number of survivors.

Wu Qunlie sat on a branch, looking across the horrific scene below.

He pounded the trunk with his fist and burst into loud sobs.

He could imagine the truth.

This could not be happening only here.

Every force lured into the Qunluo Mountains had probably suffered the same catastrophe.

More than a million men.

As their commander, he had lost the entire army before even entering a proper battle.

Never in his life had he suffered a defeat this terrible.

He had no idea how he could face anyone above or below him afterward.

His emotions had completely collapsed.

Liao Nanqing sat in the same tree, stunned.

His unfocused eyes stared over the nightmare before him.

After suffering two crushing defeats in succession, he seemed almost lost inside himself.

A group of cultivators perched among the upper branches, rising and falling with the tree in the wind.

Below them, frightened soldiers were still desperately trying to climb the trunk.

...

Elsewhere around the Qunluo Mountains, the terrain was different enough that some fighting still occurred.

Only limited numbers of Song soldiers had managed to flee onto the slopes, and they could not withstand the massed Yan troops already concentrated there.

Even more common were scenes of Yan soldiers on the heights shooting arrows down at Song troops struggling to survive in the water.

After the first great flood peak passed, the water gradually lost its violence.

With no endless new supply pouring in, the floodwater seeped into the earth and drained away quickly.

The ground was left pitted and broken, resembling an enormous marsh.

Large numbers of Yan troops began descending the slopes.

Step by muddy step, they moved in organized groups and hunted down the scattered Song soldiers, with cultivators assisting them.

Song’s troops had already been washed apart.

Those who survived could not form any effective formation.

When the flood struck, men had thrown away their weapons in the desperate struggle to stay alive.

No one knew where those weapons had been swept.

Now the survivors were empty-handed and utterly exhausted.

How could they resist disciplined groups of Yan troops coming to kill them?

They were like lambs waiting for slaughter.

They could not even run quickly through the mud.

Under Yan’s sweeping encirclement and killing, the scene was miserable beyond description.

From his tree, Wu Qunlie watched everything with his own eyes and could do nothing.

For the commander of an army, there could be nothing more cruel.

His eyes looked ready to split.

“Ah!”

He threw back his head and released a howl of grief.

“Lord Wu, we have to leave. If we do not go now, it will be too late.”

A cultivator grabbed Wu Qunlie and repeatedly urged him to flee.

Several soldiers clinging to the trunk below heard that they meant to leave.

They looked upward and wailed.

“My lord! Save us!”

Wu Qunlie wrapped both arms around the trunk and refused to go.

He began pleading with the cultivators.

“I beg you. I beg all of you cultivators to save them.”

“Save however many you can. Please!”

“Even if you can only hold back Yan’s army for a little while and give the brothers some time to escape, that would be enough.”

“I beg you!”

“In my next life I will be an ox or a horse to repay all of you...”

The group of cultivators were battered and miserable themselves.

They were also deeply conflicted.

In a war of this scale, what use would it be for them to rush out and fight Yan’s cultivators?

At most they could kill a few enemy cultivators and soldiers to vent their anger.

They could not defeat Yan’s army.

They could not reverse the battle.

They could not hold the territory.

There was no possibility of saving the million or more soldiers before them.

Perhaps they could save a few.

But under these conditions, how many?

Carrying people would slow their escape.

With Yan’s cultivators pursuing them, they might all end up unable to get away.

They had experienced the same disaster and understood Wu Qunlie’s feelings.

Yet his plea truly placed them in an impossible position.

Yan soldiers and searching cultivators were drawing closer.

At last, the leading Song cultivator hardened his heart.

One finger struck Wu Qunlie and knocked him unconscious.

The man immediately scooped Wu Qunlie up and flew away.

The other cultivators also took several important generals with them and skimmed across the marshlike ground at high speed.

They could have escaped faster by abandoning Wu Qunlie and the rest.

But if they did that, how could they explain themselves after returning?

Whether the army won or lost, were the participating sects supposed to say their disciples had simply abandoned the commanding generals and fled?

Who could possibly account for that?

“My lord! My lord...”

The soldiers abandoned beneath the tree cried out as they watched the cultivators carry Wu Qunlie and the others away.

Their cries did not bring anyone back.

Instead, they alerted a group of Yan cultivators, who immediately shot after the fleeing Song party.

Explosions and clashes erupted along the route as the Song cultivators fought desperately to escort Wu Qunlie and the generals out of the encirclement.

...

That night, torches burned throughout the Qunluo Mountains.

The broad mopping-up operation continued until dawn the next day.

Killing the remaining Song troops was one task.

More important still was finding the provisions the Song army had carried.

Sack after sack of grain soaked in filthy water was dug out.

Yan soldiers stood behind captured Song troops with sabers and spears, forcing the prisoners to haul the grain back up the mountain.

Once large quantities of grain had been collected on the heights, no one cared that it had been submerged in floodwater.

It was washed beneath mountain waterfalls.

Then, on Meng Shanming’s orders, trees were cut down on the spot and the grain was roasted dry to make dry rations.

There was no better choice.

Grain soaked in water could not be stored for long.

It would easily mold and rot.

Dry rations might taste poor, but poor food was better than no food at all.

After the battle, the army took inventory.

Without receiving a single supply convoy, Yan’s eastern expeditionary force had gathered enough provisions by its own efforts to feed the army for half a month.

With half a month of grain in hand, together with one victory after another, military morale finally stabilized completely.

At this point, Song’s border-defense system facing Yan had collapsed in full and become little more than an empty shell.

The consequences of this battle would be extraordinarily far-reaching.

...

The sky was clear.

Beside Rolling Dragon Gorge, Niu Youdao stood atop a cliff with both hands resting on his sword, facing the wind and looking down at the raging current below.

Hearing familiar footsteps approaching behind him, he sighed.

“So this is the place.”

“Fifty thousand men forced a crossing here. With terrain this dangerous, it is no wonder twenty thousand were lost almost at once.”

Guan Fangyi came up and handed him a message.

“From Gongsun Bu. A great victory.”

“Marshal Meng has completely crushed Song’s river-defense army.”

Niu Youdao accepted the report.

When he read that the flood attack had wiped out Song’s army, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“A great victory indeed.”

“With this, the two million troops Song deployed for river defense have been swept away completely.”

“That was beautifully won.”

“Meng Shanming is Meng Shanming. Old, yet still vigorous.”

Then he reached the section concerning prisoners.

His brows drew together.

“Six hundred thousand prisoners...”

Guan Fangyi gave a small sound of agreement.

“Out of one million four hundred thousand men, the dead and wounded are beyond count. Six hundred thousand were captured.”

“According to Gongsun Bu’s message, after the army has rested and used the prisoners as labor, once they leave the muddy region Marshal Meng intends to slaughter all six hundred thousand.”

Niu Youdao had seen the same thing in the report.

That was why he was frowning.

These were not six hundred thousand animals.

They were six hundred thousand living people.

Even reading about such a slaughter made a chill run through him.

He muttered, “Our Marshal Meng usually looks so easygoing. The moment he steps onto a battlefield, what a murderous streak he has.”

This was not the first time Niu Youdao had heard of Meng Shanming carrying out mass slaughter in war.

During the earlier attack on Dingzhou, the massacre outside Rongyang Commandery Capital had already caused an enormous uproar.

This time was even more terrifying.

Meng Shanming actually intended to slaughter six hundred thousand prisoners of war in one stroke.

“This is not men dying in battle. This is a massacre,” Guan Fangyi said, visibly unsettled.

“Slaughtering six hundred thousand prisoners would be horrifying anywhere.”

Then she tried asking, “Master Dao, Marshal Meng will listen to you. Do you want to use your influence and persuade him?”

Niu Youdao hesitated.

He did want to try.

But he was not the kind of man who spoke recklessly without understanding the situation.

He did not understand battlefield affairs.

And when he did not understand something, he would not interfere blindly.

After considering it, he said, “Send a message and ask Marshal Meng what his purpose is first.”

“Mm.”

Guan Fangyi immediately went to handle it.

Niu Youdao himself wrote a letter to Yuan Gang as well, asking him to forward it to Gao Jiancheng.

He wanted Gao Jiancheng’s opinion.

He wanted to look at the matter from Gao Jiancheng’s height and see whether those men truly could be killed.

They were not very far from Meng Shanming’s position.

After the inquiry was sent, Meng Shanming’s reply came back quickly.

His meaning was simple and entirely from the perspective of a soldier fighting a war.

He pointed to the more than four hundred thousand Song troops at the Hukou defensive line who had fought to the death without surrendering.

That alone, he said, showed Niu Youdao what kind of men Song had assembled for the river defenses.

They were Song’s elite troops.

Back in Meng Shanming’s own years of command, when had Song ever been allowed to run wild over Yan’s head?

Song dared do so now because it finally had strength in its hands.

The combat ability of those river-defense troops proved it.

Meng Shanming’s attitude was firm.

He asked whether Niu Youdao had some other use for the prisoners.

If not, then he would slaughter all six hundred thousand Song elites.

In this war, he intended to cripple Song’s elite military strength.

He wanted to make Song afraid to stir up trouble again for a considerable period.

With this single battle, he intended to crush morale throughout Song and ensure that for at least ten years Song would not dare lightly invade Great Yan again.

In short, six hundred thousand of Song’s elite troops had fallen into his hands.

He would not allow them to return and threaten Great Yan again.

That one word—“would not”—left Niu Youdao speechless.

Did he have some other use for six hundred thousand prisoners?

What use could he possibly have for them?

He could neither eat them nor sell them.

He did want to preserve their lives.

The argument he had been preparing was to have Meng Shanming use them as bargaining chips with Song and exchange them for grain and other supplies.

But judging from Meng Shanming’s strategic position, grain and fodder were plainly less important to him than the objective he meant to achieve.

Meng Shanming would not use these prisoners as terms for negotiation.

For a time, Niu Youdao did not know how to reply.

All he could do was wait for Gao Jiancheng’s answer.

[End of Chapter 694]