Chapter 507: The Xia Army

Binghe is cold day and night, but compared to each other, daytime is even colder.

The low temperature by day is secondary; the key is the chilling light emitted by the sky’s cold sun, which aggressively invades human skin. Before one’s skin has hardened, exposure to this cold sun will kill in an instant.

Amid active warfare, the five northern towns dare not claim total blockade, but key towns under direct control—like Baimu City—and major strongholds are largely sealed off; all normal activities—gathering, hunting, freight transport—have ceased.

Intelligence determines victory or defeat in war; this truth is understood not just by Great Xia, but by the five northern towns… no, now it should be the four northern towns—they understand it too.

Unfortunately, the four northern towns lack the manpower of Great Xia, and as the defensive side, they naturally have little energy to interfere with information flow in the wilds.

Speaking of which, the four northern towns’ control over their territories is utterly unequal to Great Xia’s.

Take Beishuo as an example: its town seat’s control over its seven districts is extremely loose, summed up in just two measures—establishing main camps with garrisons in the center of each district, and collecting tribute from all village outposts every six months.

This model was doomed from the start to leave the vast majority of outposts with virtually no loyalty to Beishuo.

Of course, focusing on the big while ignoring the small isn’t without reason.

Beishuo’s seven districts together have at most eighty village outposts, with a total population certainly exceeding a million.

But among this million, how many might reach Cold-Resistant rank? Probably fewer than five hundred—even if doubled to a thousand, what real significance does that hold for Beishuo Town Seat?

Great Xia long ago established rules: the higher one’s cultivation, the greater the hunting and gathering duties; except for minors under fifteen, no one in Great Xia is exempt from labor.

But not every outpost is like Great Xia; people are inherently lazy. Once life improves and status rises, it becomes hard to make them return to the wilds and fight for survival against cold beasts as they once did.

The Mo’ao calendar has reached its 136th year—meaning, aside from Great Xia, the southern foothill towns have endured for roughly a century. Why, then, has not a single town seat broken the million-population barrier?

Simply put: town seats refuse to support so many people.

It’s refusal—not inability!

A large population means massive resource consumption; in the harsh environment of Binghe, resources don’t fall from the sky.

Cold beasts must be hunted, spirit herbs gathered, minerals mined—all resources require people to labor, even risk their lives, to obtain.

When people are lowly, their drive is unquestionable; but once they’ve accumulated their initial wealth and risen in status, asking them to work as hard as before becomes nearly impossible.

Rather than absorbing all population within their districts into the town seat and exhausting themselves, it’s better to periodically collect resources through tribute. This way, they do nothing yet still gain income, merely offering limited protection and absorbing any rare talents emerging from these villages into the town seat—ensuring long-term supremacy, effective territorial control, and continued development through an elite-focused path. A triple gain.

Not just Beishuo thinks this way; the reason the nine-town balance in the southern foothills has endured for a century is that nearly all nine towns share this mindset.

Of course, this idea was first proposed by Yang Zun, implemented as the Beishuo Surveillance System, with the other eight towns following suit later.

Xia Hong analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of this system the moment he first stepped onto Beishuo’s territory: when a town seat lacks strength and resources but governs an excessively vast territory, it is undeniably suitable.

But if any one of these three conditions changes, immediate adjustment is necessary; otherwise, it will severely hinder the town seat’s development. Once institutional inertia sets in, the entire town seat may become rigid—appearing to grow stronger while internally petrified, utterly devoid of vitality.

The great war now unfolding in the north is likely the best illustration of Xia Hong’s earlier words.

………………

One li north of Baimu City, thirty massive black military tents are arranged in a ring across the snowfield, guarding a wooden watchtower at the center.

The watchtower stands fifty meters tall; atop it, a golden square banner bearing a Kui pattern flutters in the wind. By day, the large black character “Xia” in its center glows with radiant luster, dazzlingly prominent.

Like Mu Longhe’s forces at Zhongyang Camp, the watchtower is built atop the main tent—but this main tent is thirty meters long, twice the size of Mu Longhe’s.

At the southern side of the main tent, nineteen-year-old Hong Yang walks with his father Hong Fan behind a mailed soldier, approaching the main tent.

Unlike his father, whose face betrays nervousness and unease, Hong Yang’s eyes are filled with curiosity; as they walk, he scans the surroundings. When he sees the main tent, especially the hundred or so young soldiers clad in black-and-silver battle armor standing outside, his eyes gleam with envy.

“The main tent of the Dongchuan Alliance Army—these guards must be elite among elites. But their ages seem no different from mine…”

As the son of Hong Fan, chieftain of Hongyuan Village, Hong Yang’s insight is far from shallow. He broke through to the Cold-Resistant rank two years ago, thanks to precious pills sent by his sister; now he possesses 13-mane strength. Across Jingxi, save for the prodigies of Dongling Village, he rivals almost no one.

Yet now, these hundred soldiers around the main tent, all roughly his age—he can’t read a single one’s cultivation.

The Binghe law: if you can’t perceive someone’s strength, they’re almost certainly stronger than you.

That means these hundred guards outside the main tent all have strength above 13 mane—yet their ages are clearly no different from mine?

“Wait here. I’ll report to the Commander-in-Chief.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll wait here respectfully.”

Hong Yang, still puzzled, followed his father forward. When they reached about twenty meters from the main tent, the soldier who led them spoke one last line, ignored Hong Yuan’s polite thanks, and turned toward the main tent.

Seeing his father lower himself so humbly, Hong Yang frowned and leaned close, whispering: “Father, we came to deliver intelligence to the Xia Army—might even help them win. Why bow so low?”

Hong Fan is chieftain of Hongyuan Village, a trusted aide of Lu Yang, the Sword Master of Beishuo, and now possesses 36-mane strength. Though insignificant before Great Xia, given their mission to deliver vital intelligence, such humility seems unwarranted.

“Shut up!”

Hong Fan’s heart was in turmoil—more precisely, since entering the Dongchuan Alliance camp, his mind had never settled.

Seeing his son still defiant after being scolded, he froze for a moment, his mind flooding with thoughts.

The true identity of his lord Lu Yang, the real master behind Dongling, the ten-thousand reinforcements from Jingxi, and Gu Tianxiong’s defection…

Amid these swirling thoughts, Hong Fan recalled his eldest daughter, Hong Yuru, who married Li Hu two years ago.

Over these past few years following Lu Yang, he’d formed many suspicions about Dongling’s situation. Though he’d wanted to confront Lu Yang countless times, each time the words died on his lips—he knew he lacked the standing, and the weaker one is, the more dangerous it is to know too much.

But since his eldest daughter Hong Yuru married Li Hu and began sending home precious cultivation resources, he understood at once.

Hong Fan was no naive youth; the pills, fine salt, spirit wine, and even clothing and daily items she sent back were unmistakably products only Great Xia could produce.

After marrying out, she claimed to live with her husband Li Hu in Dongling Village—but for the past two years, every time Hong Fan visited Dongling, he never saw her. The servants always gave the same excuse: “Your daughter and son-in-law are away.” But how could they be away every single time?

If the Great Xia-made goods his daughter sent home had merely sparked suspicion, then last midyear, when he happened to be in Dongchuan City on business and unexpectedly spotted his son-in-law Li Hu outside a barracks, his suspicions became absolute certainty.

His son-in-law Li Hu, and the core personnel of Dongling—including his lord Lu Yang—are all agents of Great Xia.