Chapter 12

He Chunhua straightened his expression and asked earnestly, "How should this subordinate act?"

Such a heaven-shaking thunderclap had erupted in the heart of the Yuan Nation, and the fate of the nation hung by a thread. Even a commoner would have a duty, let alone a high-ranking official like him? To shirk responsibility now would be dishonorable.

Just then, a servant came to change the tea. Sun Fuping took a sip of the hot tea and asked a seemingly unrelated question: "He, you have been in Qiansong Commandery for many years. Do you know how the wilderness turned into the Panlong Desert, and the origin of that Red Cliff Road?"

Why ask about this? He Chunhua frowned:

"This is local lore. About one hundred and fifty years before the founding of the Great Yuan, the land you and I stand on belonged to the Xiluo Nation. At that time, the Panlong Desert was not yet a wasteland; it had less rainfall, but still possessed woodlands and seasonal rivers. Hmm, at the height of the Xiluo Nation's power, they built four commanderies and twelve cities in the western borderlands to guard this busy trade route that ran from east to west. The largest of these was Panlongcheng."

"Later, Xiluo gradually declined and suffered repeated defeats in foreign wars. The nations of Baling and Xianyou vied to devour its territory. Except for the Panlong Wasteland, which stood its ground, the entire western border of Xiluo was occupied. The Panlong Wasteland thus became an exclave, isolated far outside the borders of Xiluo, thousands of miles away from the motherland."

He Lingchuan also listened silently to this history. Every person in Black Water City had heard of the origin of the Panlong Desert, and his original self was no exception.

"Baling and Xianyou attacked the Panlong Wasteland for thirty-two years, and the Xiluo garrison, under the leadership of Panlongcheng Commander Zhong Shengquan, held out for thirty-two years, fighting for every inch of land!" He Chunhua turned to his eldest son, "Lingchuan, do you remember the name of this troop?"

"The Great Wind Army!" He Lingchuan nodded, "Tougher than desert poplars, their lonely loyalty could not be rewarded by their ambitions—that is what they say of the Great Wind Army trapped behind enemy lines!"

The Great Wind Army was besieged by two powerful enemies and cut off from their motherland, lacking food and water, and receiving not a shred of aid from Xiluo.

Even so, it held out for a full thirty-two years.

Such a legend never grows old, no matter how many times it is heard.

"In the twelfth year of the siege of Panlongcheng, the nation of Xianyou briefly made peace with Xiluo, and the Great Wind Army took the opportunity to send word to the motherland. The Xiluo monarch, not expecting Panlongcheng to still be standing, issued an edict of commendation and simultaneously recalled most of the Great Wind Army's elite troops back to the country to suppress riots." His father stopped speaking, so He Lingchuan simply continued, "But Xianyou soon fell out with Xiluo again, the connection between the Panlong Wasteland and the motherland was cut off once more, and the Great Wind Army fell back into dire straits."

"After that, Xiluo was plagued by years of war and had no time to look west. The Great Wind Army persisted for another twenty years in a state of total isolation, having lost most of its main force."

The will of this army could no longer be described as steel. It was a pity that the motherland was so weak; it wasted such fine soldiers.

A nation unworthy of its soldiers—He Lingchuan felt this phrase was particularly apt.

"Well said." Nian Songyu gave him two claps of applause, "But how did the wasteland turn into a desert?"

"The Great Wind Army never surrendered, fighting to the very last man. Panlongcheng was also slaughtered by the enemy nation to vent their anger, leaving no survivors." This was also the most classic segment of teahouse storytelling, "These battles were too tragic; the fury and resentment of the heroic souls surged to the heavens and seeped into the earth, causing all life within a hundred miles of Panlongcheng to perish and the rivers to change course. Thus, the wasteland slowly turned into a desert."

"There is another theory. Panlongcheng Commander Zhong Shengquan himself was a powerful sorcerer. Knowing that a single tree cannot prop up a falling house, he gathered the power of tens of thousands of heroic souls at the moment Panlongcheng fell and cursed this land, turning it into a barren waste." He Lingchuan shrugged, "In this way, Xiluo could not keep the Panlong territory, but Baling and Xianyou could not take it away either. In fact, this desert truly does not belong to any nation now."

"Anything else?"

"But Zhong Shengquan also left a glimmer of survival for living creatures entering the desert: the Red Cliff Road. That was also the route the Great Wind Army used to travel." He Lingchuan looked at Nian Songyu and said, "There are many more details. If you want to keep listening, we had best start the banquet and talk while we eat."

State Preceptor Sun Fuping asked He Chunhua: "Is this all that you know, Magistrate He?"

"More or less." He Chunhua sensed something unusual, "What is the State Preceptor's meaning?" Stop beating around the bush.

"It is true that the Great Wind Army was an army of steel, and it is true that Commander Zhong Shengquan was a formidable man. But after the main elite force was recalled to the country, how could the Great Wind Army hold out alone for twenty years? At that time, the Xianyou army could already sweep across most of Xiluo; even if Xiluo still had famous generals, they could not have resisted." State Preceptor Sun said indifferently, "You and I both know that this could not be done with mere hot-blooded passion."

The outcome of war depends only on strength. The cruelest truth is that no matter how passionate the weak are, they cannot escape the fate of defeat.

The enemy was so powerful, especially the Xianyou nation, with its fine soldiers and strong generals, launching over three hundred attacks on Panlongcheng. At the most intense period, there were fifteen times in a single month.

Lacking food, water, men, and weapons, how could the Great Wind Army hold on?

To this, He Chunhua could only reply: "Historical records are insufficient; there is no way to judge."

No matter how soul-stirring it is, it is, after all, a past event from over a hundred years ago. Later generations can sigh, but how many intend to delve deep?

At least He Chunhua did not; he had more important matters to attend to.

"State Preceptor Sun, what does the past of the Panlong Desert have to do with the current predicament of our Great Yuan?" It was impossible that these two had traveled thousands of miles just to hear him tell stories.

The main event had arrived. Sun Fuping stood up, took two steps forward, stared into his eyes, and said: "This is what I want to say. The key to how the Great Wind Army persisted might also be the key to us turning the tide of the battle at Woling Pass and relieving the danger to the capital! Commandery Governor He, this time, the responsibility is yours alone!"

He Chunhua's expression was solemn: "I am willing to hear the details."

He Lingchuan, however, felt that the other party was finally about to show their true colors, but they had first placed a massive burden on his father—he wondered if his old man could handle it.

"Great Wind Army registrar He Jian followed Zhong Shengquan for many years and died of illness before the city fell. After the Xianyou nation captured Panlongcheng, they took inventory of his belongings and discovered that he had written a brief account of this history."

"He Jian's notes were passed down, changed hands several times, and finally flowed into the Great Yuan palace."

He Lingchuan could not help but interject: "So the truth has been hidden in our country all along? Why has it never appeared in the historical records?"

Every nation has a Bureau of National History that collects the history of its own country and previous dynasties, especially the latter. The history of one's own country is often glossed over, but the history of previous dynasties is studied most deeply by scholars—from secret anecdotes to human nature; the reason for this goes without saying, everyone understands.

Furthermore, such findings are willingly made public to the people, especially stories of loyalty and martyrdom like Panlongcheng and the Great Wind Army, which should be set up as models to educate the masses and achieve the effect of moistening things silently.

Nian Songyu smiled: "Because, it cannot be told!"

"At that time, the notes were already damaged beyond repair, with few complete sentences left, and it was impossible to restore the full picture of history. But one thing was clearly recorded within—"

(End of chapter)