Chapter 212: Soup Flatbread

The hour was up.

Just as Zheng Fan prepared to give the order, a crucial and potentially fatal thought suddenly occurred to him.

The Marquis of Jingnan had arranged everything.

But when it came to arranging Zheng Fan himself could there have been some slight deviation?

For example, perhaps the reason Tian Wujing had entrusted him with the task of driving straight into the Jin imperial palace was because of Zheng Fan's record of twice leading surprise attacks on Mianzhou City.

The problem was Liang Cheng had commanded the troops both times.

The instant that thought appeared—

Zheng Fan's hand began trembling.

People who rose through cheating or backdoor connections generally did fine in ordinary times.

But the moment real trouble appeared panic set in.

He drew a deep breath.

Whatever happens don't panic.

And if everything else fails lower your head, raise your saber, shout "Ura!" and be done with it.

After all there was no other choice now.

"Jin imperial palace—

"CHARGE!"

Zheng Fan urged his horse forward.

Behind him, three hundred Jingnan Army riders followed.

Like a sharp blade they plunged straight into the heart of the Capital Region, which had already fallen completely into chaos.

On the return journey, Situ Jiangong had taken several thousand Situ Clan elite cavalry away.

First there was no longer any reason for them to remain.

Second the Capital Region itself was territory Great Cheng had effectively reserved for the Yu Clan.

Situ Jiangong remaining there with an army would have been inconvenient.

Because of that the Capital Region was now unusually empty.

The routed troops gathered earlier had gone straight back to their camps and started drinking.

They needed somewhere to vent the resentment choking them.

On a battlefield, these routed soldiers still possessed the courage to fight.

Yu Huacheng was also reasonably capable at drilling troops.

But the mental state and overall spirit of routed soldiers could not be changed in a day or two.

For men who had only recently suffered catastrophic defeat once they had free time drinking and visiting brothels were the simplest ways to numb themselves.

Because of that nearly half the routed soldiers in the training-ground camp had already dispersed.

Of those who remained some were drinking.

Others gambling.

The Imperial Guards were even worse.

After returning, apart from a thousand cavalry patrolling the outer perimeter and another thousand armored soldiers Yu Huacheng personally led into the palace everyone else had gone back to their own homes.

Originally even after removing the Situ Clan troops, the number of Jin soldiers in the Capital Region was still several times greater than the five thousand Yan cavalry.

Yet now when comparing troops that still remained organized formations the Yan held an overwhelming advantage.

Fundamentally it was not because Yu Huacheng lacked ability.

For him to become commander of the Capital Region Imperial Guards, he had relied on more than merely his intimate childhood friendship with the Jin Emperor.

He possessed genuine talent.

The real problem was that the Capital Region was simply too small.

Rather than calling it a state within a state it resembled the Barbarian Royal Court even more.

Yet even after declining, the Royal Court still maintained influence across the desert.

It still possessed broad pasturelands of its own.

The Jin Capital Region by comparison was essentially nothing more than a city-state.

Perhaps after submitting to Great Cheng with the region serving as a frontline against Yan the Capital Region might one day grow into another Beifeng Commandery under Great Cheng's support.

But right now it was nowhere close.

Yan cavalry had split into many separate units.

Each attacked its assigned target.

Arson.

Killing.

Raiding.

For a time they created the terrifying impression of tens of thousands of iron cavalry rolling across the land.

Under those circumstances the Jin troops collapsed immediately.

How could they not?

After returning from campaign their military organization had effectively ceased to exist.

The enemy had already reached their doorstep.

Were they supposed to go from house to house summoning soldiers back into formation?

Wake drunken men from the training-ground camp and order them to fight?

Or march into the red-light tents and drag one rough soldier after another off the women beneath them?

Even if they truly dragged those men out hand them a saber would they still possess enough strength to lift it?

Zheng Fan's own detachment ignored everything else.

They focused entirely on the Jin imperial palace.

Because Tian Wujing had deliberately ordered Zheng Fan to waste one full hour before entering, chaos had already spread across the entire Capital Region by the time his cavalry arrived.

That alone proved the Marquis of Jingnan had long understood the actual condition of the Capital Region.

Five thousand iron cavalry truly were enough to flatten this place directly.

This was the art of war.

...

A street ran along the eastern side of the Jin imperial palace.

A century ago for who knew how many years this street had once been extraordinarily lively.

Before the palace gates opened for morning court, officials waited nearby.

High-ranking officials had to preserve some dignity.

They sent servants to buy breakfast, then ate inside their sedan chairs.

Lower-ranking officials stood at the very back during court anyway.

They had fewer concerns.

They simply entered the shops openly and ate whatever they wanted.

The Sword Saint still wore white.

He sat inside an old soup-flatbread shop that had existed for many years.

Before him stood a large bowl of broth made from pork bones and two pieces of flatbread.

An elderly man slowly walked over with a cane.

In his hand was a large fistful of chopped scallions.

He scattered them generously across the bowl.

"Back in the old days—all those sesame-seed-sized officials loved coming here before court for a bowl.

"You had to pile in the scallions.

"Without them—the broth had no flavor.

"No fragrance.

"If you were in a good mood, you'd warm half a flask of wine too.

"Couldn't compare with the fine wine from Wuchuan in Qian—but it still hit hard enough.

"Half a flask of wine.

"Two bowls of broth.

"Two flatbreads.

"Now that was comfortable.

"Besides—those little officials stood at the very end during court anyway.

"No need to worry about their breath reaching His Majesty or any great figure.

"Heh heh."

The old man talked as he sat down across from the Sword Saint.

The days he described were already sixty years gone.

By then, the Three Great Clans had already formed their political structure.

But their Clan Heads still held offices within the Capital Region.

The Jin court still resembled a court.

Unlike now.

The Sword Saint stirred the scallions with his chopsticks.

He blew across the broth.

But did not drink immediately.

Instead, he looked at the old man.

"Whenever I'm away too long—

"I start craving this."

"Naturally."

The old man grinned proudly.

A mouthful of yellow teeth showed.

This street had been quiet for many years.

But the old man had never abandoned his shop.

"Who knows how many more years I'll still get to drink this soup."

The old man immediately replied, "No matter how things outside change—so long as the courtyard wall across from us still belongs to the imperial palace—so long as His Majesty still lives there—this soup-and-flatbread shop will stay open."

The old man instinctively prepared to retell the story of how, a century earlier, one of his ancestors had sold flatbread on this street and received praise from an Emperor traveling incognito.

Then he suddenly remembered he had already told that story to the man before him at least twenty times.

So he shut his mouth.

Instead he gave a restrained, self-satisfied smile.

The Sword Saint nodded.

He did not tell the old man that before long there would probably no longer be an Emperor living inside that palace.

The palace itself would most likely become a Prince's residence.

The person moving in would still bear the surname Yu but would belong to an entirely different branch.

"The boys came back today.

"Been a long time since anything truly happened beneath the Son of Heaven's feet."

The old man sighed.

The Sword Saint drank his soup.

He did not respond.

The common people of the Jin Capital Region differed from those living near the capitals of other states.

Elsewhere people near the imperial capital often enjoyed the best living conditions.

They also carried a natural arrogance born from living beneath the imperial walls.

But the Three Great Clans had divided Jin for far too long.

Long enough that even the backs of commoners in the Capital Region could no longer straighten.

So rather than saying the Imperial Guards remained loyal to the Jin Emperor it would be more accurate to say that the people of the Capital Region instinctively huddled around the Emperor for warmth.

The old man had cooked soup his entire life.

Made flatbread his entire life.

His whole existence had been bound to this little shop.

He had seen its flourishing days.

Now he tasted its decline.

The old man had always thought perhaps this was simply what life amounted to.

Even so, unease remained in his heart.

Finally, he asked, "Those Yan people in the west...

"They won't come attacking again, will they?"

The Sword Saint set down the bowl.

He picked up a piece of flatbread and took two bites.

Then shook his head.

"Who knows?"

"Ah."

The old man sighed.

He silently stood.

"Want another two marrow bones?"

"No.

"This is enough."

"You're getting old too.

"Back then, one meal meant three bowls of meat broth, five big flatbreads, and three or four marrow bones for you.

"That was nothing."

"True.

"I'm not a young man anymore."

"When are you planning to settle down?"

"No hurry."

"You should hurry."

"Fine.

"I'll hurry first."

At that moment, the sound of hoofbeats suddenly came from the street outside the soup shop.

The old man turned his head in confusion.

The Sword Saint rose.

He walked to the plank door and removed one board.

Outside a group of Jin cavalry were fleeing eastward in panic.

Then, from across the entire Capital Region battle cries and screams suddenly erupted.

The Sword Saint narrowed his eyes.

"Something happening outside?

"Sounds lively."

The Sword Saint did not lie to the old man.

"Something happened."

"Yan people attacking?"

"Looks like it."

"Ah.

"They came in the end.

"You tell me—why provoke the Yan for no damned reason?"

The Sword Saint looked back.

"You can't say it like that."

"What's wrong with living quietly?

"Why stir up all these rights and wrongs?"

The old man did not know the Sword Saint's identity.

He merely believed the man was some young master who had once fallen on hard times and later made something of himself.

Years ago when the man before him had still been young he often brought his younger brother here to eat soup and flatbread.

Later their clothes improved.

Their swords looked increasingly expensive.

Then, the younger brother stopped coming.

But the man before him still returned from time to time.

The Sword Saint said, "In the end—there must be another way to live."

"Ah.

"Great figures always want to toss things around.

"We little commoners only want to live our own quiet lives.

"Guard the capital.

"Guard the imperial palace.

"Guard His Majesty.

"Days like that—can always continue."

"Wouldn't life like that be too boring?"

Hearing that the old man laughed.

He seemed completely unaffected by the confusion outside.

He pointed at the half-finished bowl of bone broth before the Sword Saint.

Then said, "Most people in this world spend their time wondering how to fill their stomachs.

"Only those nobles who never worry about food or drink—spend all day wondering how to make their meals taste a little more interesting."

(End of Chapter)