Chapter 1005: How Could This Battle Be Lost?

Guazhou, located less than thirty li south of Yangzhou, was a key transportation hub north of the Yangtze, a waterway junction where the Yangzi Ford led directly to the great river.

This was originally a sandbar formed by shifting sands, surrounded by water on all sides, shaped like a melon, hence its name. However, after centuries of vicissitudes, Guazhou had already merged with the northern bank of the Yangtze, drawing the two shores closer together.

As a thoroughfare, relying on its excellent transportation conditions, it had long served as an economic hub of the lower Yangtze. However, after the Great Han captured Huainan and took all of the north bank, it also assumed greater military roles. Since the fifth year of Qianyou, its garrison had been gradually increased from five hundred to two thousand, showing great importance placed upon it, keeping close watch on Runzhou on the southern shore.

It was now deep autumn. Amidst the rustling cold winds, great waves surged upon the Yangtze, the sound of the billows unceasing. In previous years, the river would have been crowded with travelers, boats shuttling like shuttles on a loom, flowing endlessly—the season of most frequent economic exchange between north and south.

However, with the tension between north and south, as the court massed troops north of the river, most people chose to retreat upon sensing the atmosphere of war. Seeking advantage and avoiding harm was human instinct, and merchants were even more sensitive to it. Although the court's edict for the southern campaign had not yet been issued, everyone north and south of the river, even common folk, knew that a great army marching south was inevitable. Indeed, many even looked forward to it, especially the merchants who traveled between north and south.

Moreover, with both sides blockading the waterways, the area before Guazhou was now desolate, with only a few patrolling light boats cruising the river surface.

Of course, if one shifted one's gaze northward, one would find that before the arrival of war, Yangzhou was even more prosperous and lively than in previous years. Upon the canal, boats crowded like clouds—a great number of official vessels, merchant ships, and civilian boats vying to cross, transporting all kinds of military supplies. Some were official transfers, some were conscripted corvée, and not a few came for profit.

Through years of warfare, the court had consciously sought to mobilize the enthusiasm of civilian merchants. Aside from controlled materials such as weapons and armor, other items—clothing, shoes and socks, gloves, jade fittings, water containers, even military grain—were gradually being entrusted to civilian fleets for transport, even procurement and delivery.

Profit moved men's hearts and could indeed stimulate people's initiative. After the baptism of the northern expedition, the implementation of this policy had been elevated to a new stage. Although overall the proportion was still not large, it was increasing, and it did save the court considerable trouble.

Of course, many problems had also arisen, experiences had been summarized, and certain rules had been established. Therefore, by the time of this pacification of the south, things went more smoothly. War's test and tempering of a nation's organizational capacity was unparalleled, and the Great Han court, having been tested by a war on the scale of the northern expedition, could handle the organization of this "small war" of the southern campaign with equal ease.

At the Guazhou ferry landing, draped in a thick, deep-black great cloak, Li Gu stood at the crossing, gazing south over the river. The cloak he wore was embroidered with golden dragon patterns, heavy with nobility—it had been specially sent from the Eastern Capital to Yangzhou by the Emperor. There was also a pair of knee pads and leg wrappings, sent in consideration of the gradually cooling weather and Li Gu's affliction with wind-damp arthritis.

For the Emperor's care and consideration, Li Gu could only repay with a vow to die in service, pouring all his passion into the great enterprise of pacifying the south, taking the final step for the Great Han's unification of the realm.

Upon the river surface, cold mist was sparse. Gazing from north to south, one could see the layered mountains on the southern shore, as well as the enemy's military installations—water and land camps—established upon the strategic terrain.

Though Li Gu was a civil official, he had always possessed a certain boldness, a certain spirit. This was also the reason Liu Chengyou was willing and dared to let him lead the army to pacify the south. If it were merely to satisfy one of his wishes, entrusting him with such great authority would have been impossible.

Gazing into the distance at Jingkou on the opposite shore, Li Gu's aged countenance revealed a sense of confidence, a posture of complacent ambition.

"The great river stretches ten thousand li across; the ancient ford endures through a thousand autumns.

Vast and mighty, the waves' sound is perilous; the gray-green sky wears a sorrowful hue.

Three realms submit to the Han tripod; one river bounds the land of Wu.

Where now is the hegemonic state? The clear spring ever flows on by itself."

Seized by a momentary whim, Li Gu softly intoned a poem by Dai Shulun, a note of reflection in his tone. Beside him stood a general of unremarkable physique but magnanimous bearing—clearly a great commander—none other than Shi Shouxin, the deputy commander of this southern pacification campaign. This was the assistant Liu Chengyou had assigned to Li Gu, also a form of insurance. It had already been a month since they arrived in Yangzhou to prepare for the southern expedition.

Shi Shouxin held great respect for Li Gu—not only for his reputation, but also because through their interactions, he had been won over by Li Gu's talent and virtue. On the other hand, the refined bearing of a scholar-general like Li Gu, adept in both letters and arms, was highly infectious, especially for an open-minded military man like Shi Shouxin.

"Why has Lord Li taken a fancy to reciting poetry?" Shi Shouxin asked with curiosity upon hearing the recitation. "It describes the scene before us, doesn't it! Though fitting, it rather lacks a certain vigor—not quite in keeping with the southern campaign!"

"Merely borrowing another's words!" Li Gu said with a light laugh upon hearing this. "Shouxin, do you also have an interest in poetry?"

Shi Shouxin shook his head: "I am but a rough man, not of the refined sort. Leading troops in battle is my forte; as for poetry and prose, I have no such elegant inclination to study them!"

"The General is clearly being modest. His Majesty has said that Shi Shouxin bears the bearing of a famed general and the talent of a commander—one who can be entrusted with great matters!" Li Gu said with feeling, his gaze toward Shi Shouxin full of appreciation, for this was a man who had risen step by step through solid military merit to become a senior commander of the Great Han.

Hearing Li Gu's words, Shi Shouxin could not help but reveal a slight smile, for who doesn't enjoy hearing good words about themselves.

"Guazhou and Jingkou—ancient fords a single river apart. Since the Wei and Jin dynasties, over six or seven hundred years, how many iron-clad horses and golden spears, how many heroes and their romances. Now, it is our turn!" His not particularly sharp gaze became exceptionally resolute as Li Gu spoke in a deep voice.

Upon hearing this, Shi Shouxin's gaze also turned southward. Pointing at Jingkou on the southern shore, he said: "Lord Li has come to observe this place several times—could it be that you intend to make this the breakthrough point for crossing south?"

Without answering, Li Gu instead asked for Shi Shouxin's opinion: "What does Shouxin think?"

Shi Shouxin had clearly given this some thought. After a brief pause, he spoke fluently: "Jingkou has always been a critical military point, a key river defense. It faces the great river to the north and commands solid ridges to the south—truly a place of strategic advantage. The southern army has managed it for years, with complete fortifications and ample weapons. Its garrison troops are long-trained and familiar with the terrain. The defending general, Lin Renzhao, is also quite capable. If we attempt a frontal breakthrough, it will not be easy, and casualties will be considerable!

Moreover, with our main forces concentrated at Yangzhou, the southern army is likewise assembling its strength—this adds considerable risk and difficulty to a forced crossing.

However, if we cross the river from here, defeat Lin Renzhao's army, and seize Runzhou, we can then drive straight down to Jinling and strike at their heart. Among the southern forces, only the Zhenhai Army at Runzhou has any capacity to fight. Destroy them, and the other troops are not worth mentioning.

This is the simplest and most direct strategy for advancing, yet also the most difficult. If all goes smoothly, perhaps Jinling could be taken within a month, and the various prefectures of Jiangnan could be pacified by proclamation alone..."

"Shouxin truly has the talent of a great general—your grasp of the war situation is as clear as observing fire!" Li Gu said, a hint of excitement surfacing on his aged face, then added: "Then in your view, should we cross the river from here?"

Shi Shouxin thought for a moment before speaking: "Forgive me for speaking bluntly—with the southern army prepared and their defenses solid, choosing a forced crossing is not a wise move.

In this southern campaign, the primary objective is only Jinling, and Jinling's defense rests on two points: Jingkou downstream and Dangtu and Caishi Rock upstream. If the southern army concentrates its main force at Jingkou, it must necessarily weaken defenses elsewhere. One Lin Renzhao cannot cover both upstream and downstream, and one Zhenhai Army cannot cut across the great river to block our advance.

In my view, we should continue to mass troops on the northern bank to draw their attention, while dispatching elite forces to cross the river from Hezhou. Then, following the river eastward, drive straight for Jinling. Once we threaten Jinling, no matter how formidable Jingkou is, it will be useless!"

Upon hearing this, Li Gu said: "But Dangtu is a critical point—the southern army may well have defenses there! Crossing the river easily will not be a simple matter, will it?"

Meeting Li Gu's gaze, Shi Shouxin feigned surprise and said: "Can Lord Li truly not see the southern army's weakness? Their national strength is feeble—though they have a hundred thousand troops, most are unfit for serious use. Moreover, spreading their hundred-thousand-plus troops across the river defenses leaves them stretched thin.

In the Ezhou direction, Cao Bin's army is sufficient to pin down several tens of thousands of their troops. Runzhou holds heavy forces, Jinling needs adequate defense—how could Dangtu possibly be given sufficient defensive preparations as well?

Furthermore, once General Guo Tingwei advances north from Wuyue, how can the southern army resist? So long as our forces move on multiple fronts, steadily and surely, the southern army is bound to collapse—there is absolutely no possibility of their victory!"

Shi Shouxin's eyes were filled with intense confidence, and Li Gu was full of admiration for his strategy, saying with a smile: "The General has spoken out everything this old man had in his heart!"

In truth, though battle had not yet begun, the strategic situation between north and south was already perfectly clear. The court held two kings and four twos in its hand, with a pile of straights left over—no matter how they played, they would win.

"However, the first thing we need to do is to sweep away Jiangnan's naval forces and take complete control of the Yangtze waterway!" Li Gu said.

"Naval warfare is not my forte—we must rely on General Zhang Yanqing for that. However, the southerners are skilled with boats. During the great Huainan campaign, they failed to utilize even a tenth of their potential. I wonder, ten years later, how much fighting strength their navy retains?" Shi Shouxin said thus.

"The Runzhou navy still remains, but a single piece of wood cannot support a collapsing house—especially when bearing a weight it cannot sustain!" Li Gu said in a somber tone.

Waves crashed against the shore beneath their feet. A gust of wind swept in, lifting the hems of their robes and causing Li Gu's frame to sway. A middle-aged man beside him hurriedly steadied him and urged: "Father, the wind on the river is strong and cold. Your health is not good—please return to the city and do not linger!"

This middle-aged man was Li Gu's eldest son, who had previously been promoted by Liu Chengyou and specially assigned to attend to Li Gu. Additionally, an imperial physician skilled in typhoid and wind-damp ailments accompanied him at all times.

At this moment, stimulated by the cold wind, the pain in his joints grew increasingly intense. Li Gu did not force himself to endure but accepted the suggestion and turned back.

The moment he returned to the Guazhou military camp, he received notification from Zhao Yanjin: the Son of Heaven had issued the edict—they could move their troops now.