Chapter 965: National War (III)

The winter rains had turned exceedingly strange.

On the night the army withdrew, a great rain had fallen. Seven or eight days later came an even heavier downpour, this one carrying the bone-deep chill of winter with it. For soldiers encased in armor, these were the hardest days to endure.

Fortunately, there was still the enemy’s blood to remind them what real warmth felt like.

Another round of assaults had failed to break through the Chu line. The infantry formations for which the Chu took such pride had displayed their full splendor over these past few days.

The Savage army had tried cavalry penetrations, dismounted infantry attacks, every method they could think of. Yet the Chu line remained as solid as rock.

Gou Moli sat on a boulder, drinking from a waterskin. Water was boiling in many nearby tents, but by now most soldiers could no longer be bothered with eastern Jin’s military regulations and simply drank whatever water they could find.

Food was becoming scarce as well. The supply line had been the first thing cut.

The situation could only be called extremely unfavorable.

Scout reports said that Chu’s imperial-clan Imperial Guards, the Zhao Clan Army, and other forces were steadily squeezing inward from the east and west, while that old bastard Xie Zhuyang advanced slowly from the south.

The Savage army had become a trapped beast.

A short military council had just ended. One general had suggested breaking east in the hope of receiving support from the Prince’s main force.

Gou Moli rejected the proposal outright.

“Our army marched south from Fan City along the Qishan Mountains. In terms of terrain, the road running north-south to Guyue City is relatively easy, with lower ground through the center and higher ground on either side. Of course, compared with the Qishan Mountains to the west, the east is relatively flat, but it is still riddled with marshes and valleys. As long as we preserve our organization, we can keep trying to punch open the road north. If we go east instead, the cavalry loses every advantage, and we’ll also face division and encirclement by Chu’s imperial-clan Imperial Guards. How many men would actually break out is impossible to say, and the army’s organization would certainly be shattered. Most importantly, the Prince and eastern Jin’s main force are indeed to the east, but far too distant. Distant water cannot quench a nearby fire. Even if Heaven favors us and we truly break through, we may end up with nothing but scattered stragglers reaching the Prince. What would be the point?”

“That is why you rejected the proposal?” the Sword Saint asked from beside him.

“Yes.” Gou Moli nodded. “It really is difficult.”

“What is difficult?”

“Do you remember the day you arrived, when those two little bastards were practically rebelling against me? That is the most difficult part. I’m afraid of the Blind Man, and many of the systems inside the Residence and the army were designed and implemented by him. This army was indeed built by me, and the Prince did indeed give me enormous authority. But the larger institutions and rules are still there. Unless I had spent all these years deliberately preparing for rebellion, it would be very difficult for me to control this army completely in the true sense. Perhaps that is also why the Prince sent you here. He knows how difficult my position is. In all eastern Jin—even in all Great Yan—the only man who can truly make his word law in the army, with complete freedom, is the Prince himself.”

“So you are complaining of injustice?”

“Yes. And you’re about the only person I can complain to.”

Gou Moli took another drink and looked up at the rain. Heaven still showed no intention of stopping.

“I don’t understand the business of campaigning and war,” the Sword Saint said.

“You only need to understand how to protect me,” Gou Moli immediately replied.

“But I do not think you are in danger. You have not hidden anything from me.”

“You can’t say that. I’ve seen storms before. I can keep from blinking even with a blade at my throat. But what if I just happen to be unlucky?”

“I’ve seen the worst luck there is.”

“Ha.”

Gou Moli poured roasted flour from a pouch and began eating. As he ate, he asked, “Tell me. If the Prince were here instead of me, in exactly this position, what do you think he would be eating right now?”

“Hotpot,” the Sword Saint answered.

Gou Moli frowned. Suddenly, the roasted flour in his hand tasted much worse.

The Sword Saint said, “Tian Tian and Xianba worship him and imitate him. Fine. Why are you beginning to show traces of the same thing?”

“What, I’m not allowed? You think a dignified former Savage King trying to live a little more like the Prince is beneath me?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not really. Not really. Truthfully, you are the same.”

Gou Moli swallowed a large mouthful of roasted flour, chased it down with water, then continued.

“Back then, the man who truly defeated me was Tian Wujing. But I never found the defeat humiliating. Tian Wujing won unfairly, if anything. He simply crushed me with stronger troops and better horses. What was I supposed to do about that? That was different from your duel with Tian Wujing. You understand better than anyone that individual martial strength can hardly stir a ripple before thousands upon thousands of troops. I’ve heard the Prince’s Brocade-Clad personal guards have now reached a terrifying level when it comes to hunting so-called experts.”

“Yes.” The Sword Saint nodded.

“But commanding an army is different. It is the good fortune of the ‘Regent Prince’s horse race.’ Once war is reduced to actual practice, it is simply that old principle being applied again and again. If I examine my own heart, at first I merely wanted to lower my head. I had already been beaten flat. Kneeling and becoming a dog to preserve this worthless life and keep one chance to rise again was nothing shameful. But later I discovered that the Prince and those gentlemen around him were actually rather interesting. I have heard Qian scholars like comparing a man’s life to a game of Go, using it to display their supposed detachment. But true detachment is not sitting at the board and playing Go. It is putting three dishes and a bowl of soup on the board, eating dinner in the evening breeze, and complaining that the board is too low because bending over to eat makes your back hurt. Don’t you think that is closer to it?”

“There is some truth in that.”

“Just as you put aside your attachment to the Yu imperial clan, I have put aside seven or eight tenths of my attachment to the snowfields. Do you know why? Wait. Don’t answer. Let me give mine first. You are a Jin man, yet you no longer care about Jin’s dynastic fate. I am a Savage, yet I no longer care about the stars over the snowfields. Why? Because I fucking realized that the Prince is a Yan man, yet when you look at everything he has done, where is there even half a trace of a loyal and righteous subject of Great Yan? Since ancient times, no man who rose through rebellion has ever done it as professionally, meticulously, and systematically as our Prince! Follow a Prince who is Yan by birth but does not treat himself like a Yan man for long enough, and a Jin man stops seeming like a Jin man. A Savage... stops seeming like a Savage.”

“Interesting.” The Sword Saint thought about it, then added, “That truly had not occurred to me.”

Gou Moli stretched both hands beyond the shelter and washed them in the rain.

“Perhaps this is what All Xia means.”

The Sword Saint’s gaze sharpened. He looked at Gou Moli with complete seriousness.

The former Savage King had already set aside every trace of his earlier frivolity. His expression was solemn.

For a century, countless Qian scholars had pondered, argued, and written endless essays to establish and codify the meaning of the name “All Xia.” Their work certainly carried the political purpose of presenting Qian as the orthodox center of All Xia, but it had also produced countless genuine arguments for and against every possible definition.

The Sword Saint had read quite a few of those works.

Yet in his eyes, all the words written by famous scholars and great Confucians over the past hundred years could not compare with Gou Moli’s sigh just now.

Gou Moli seemed to notice the change in the Sword Saint’s expression. He was just about to switch tone and say something lighter when soldiers carried a general toward them from the front.

It was Chi Lin.

His wounds were severe. Basic bandaging had already been done, but blood still mingled with rainwater and kept pouring down his body.

“Marshal... this general was incompetent.”

“Carry him away and treat his wounds.”

Gou Moli offered no consolation. He merely waved a hand.

Chi Lin was carried away.

That meant the latest assault had failed again.

The Chu force blocking the road north was hard in a way that felt almost unnatural.

“The Azure Luan Army under Qu Tiannan could once meet the iron cavalry of the Jingnan Army and Zhenbei Army head-on in the open field. The Chu force to our north now... has a bit of that same flavor.”

“You said that already.”

“Oh. I really have run out of things to say, so I’m saying it again. I’ve watched the folk operas in eastern Jin. Sometimes the actor backstage hasn’t finished putting on his makeup, so the man warming the crowd has no choice but to stand onstage and repeat the Prince’s achievements he already recited once.”

The Sword Saint asked, “When will the makeup be finished?”

Then he pointed upward.

“In this rain, makeup washes off easily.”

“Hahahahaha!”

Gou Moli burst out laughing.

“In weather like this, who the hell can even tell whether you put makeup on in the first place?”

...

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Cavalry hooves hammered into puddles, throwing mud to both sides.

In terrain like this, under weather like this, forcing horses to run at full speed was an idiotic choice. Precious warhorses could easily twist or break a leg.

But the riders in black armor no longer cared.

They were racing south as fast as they possibly could.

The ravines were thick with trees. Beneath the heavy rain, everything looked like ink dropped onto wet xuan paper, spreading until nothing remained distinct.

Then the Lieutenant leading the column suddenly raised one hand.

Every rider behind him hauled on the reins.

They stopped.

The sound of hooves did not.

It was coming from the south—from the very direction they were heading.

Before long, shapes appeared ahead.

A squad of Chu cavalry led the way. Behind them hurried a considerable number of infantrymen.

Heavy rain, dense forest, narrow ravines—even an eagle’s vigilance would have been blurred under such conditions.

And so two armies... met face-to-face in the middle of the road.

For one short instant, both sides seemed equally unprepared.

The battlefield fell strangely still.

Then the commanders on both sides drew their weapons and pointed forward.

In the next moment, amid the mud and rain, the two forces crashed into each other.

The same scene was unfolding again and again throughout dozens of li of ravines.

Men from both sides crossed and tangled through one another in a hopeless maze. The only greetings exchanged were the intimate greetings delivered by sharpened steel.

Perhaps the endless curtain of rain was simply too monotonous.

It needed a layer of blood-red washed across it before the scene could become complete.

Horn calls began rising one after another.

Messengers on both sides raced madly toward their respective rears.

“REPORT! Our vanguard has made contact with the Chu army!”

“REPORT! The main Yan force has arrived!”

[End of Chapter 965]