Chapter 108: The Three Elite Forces of Western Xia

"Although the Revolutionary Army is powerful, they have just unified all the grassland tribes, and each tribe requires garrisons—this is precisely when their forces are scattered and have not yet transformed the tribes into their own combat strength. At this moment, if our Lord sends a large army to strike in concert with our inside agents, we can deliver a crushing blow to the Revolutionary Army."

Inside the military tent, the atmosphere was heavy and solemn. All the Western Xia generals were utterly focused, as if they had deliberately slowed their breathing, fearing they might miss a single word from Temujin.

Just a few days ago, their secret agents sent north returned in dusty haste with news that matched Temujin’s earlier prophecy—shocking and terrifying.

The slaves launched fierce denunciations and trials against their masters.

They angrily accused their masters of crimes, their voices echoing to the heavens, shaking the entire earth. After the trials ended, the slaves mercilessly executed those evil masters, then divided among themselves the cattle, sheep, and property the masters had once owned.

But these were not the most terrifying things. The most terrifying were their slogans and the regime they established: “The world belongs to all people; republic means the people’s republic; the world is not the domain of one family or one clan—it belongs to everyone.”

“When the great Dao is practiced, the world is held in common.”

“The masses are the creators of history; the proletariat lose only their chains in this struggle and gain the entire world.”

“Proletarians of all nations, unite!”—such heretical words filled them with dread.

That neighboring Chinese Democratic Republic openly declared itself a government serving the people, its army composed of sons chosen by the masses. They claimed the people would live far better without these exploiters—but these exploiters could not prove otherwise.

This regime, pressing right against us, would subtly influence the lowly to rebel even if it did nothing—how much more so if it actively marched against us? Such a regime must be destroyed; every slave who killed his master and seized his property must be exterminated root and branch.

With these thoughts in mind, the others continued listening to Temujin’s words.

“First, we lead our main force to attack my Qiyin tribe. This tribe has the smallest population and the least garrisoned troops. Judging by the scale of Guo Jing’s pursuit force that day, he left roughly five thousand men in my Qiyin tribe. Compared to other tribes, I believe I treated them better than other tribal leaders did—they are unlikely to rebel or resent me.”

As for the dream that the herders would flock to him the moment he returned to Qiyin—that fantasy was not worth entertaining.

After all, what he could offer, the Chinese Republic could offer even more—but what the Chinese Republic could offer, he might not be able to provide at all.

“The Kerulen tribe now has three hundred thousand herders; the Revolutionary Army must leave at least ten thousand to garrison them. The Naiman tribe is too far from us. The Taidigi and Wanggu regions are the Revolutionary Army’s base areas—during a crisis, they can mobilize every able-bodied man, woman, and even child from their base for defense.”

Of these places, only the Qiyin tribe under his control is easy to crush—but our move must be swift. We must strike before they fully establish their revolutionary base; otherwise, who crushes whom is uncertain.

At this thought, Temujin’s eyes gleamed with resolve. He turned to the esteemed, fearsome general in the tent and asked in a low voice.

“General Wei Mingling, tell me—how long would it take to mobilize a force of tens of thousands from now?”

After long contemplation, Wei Mingling replied: “Although Western Xia practices universal conscription, mobilizing tens of thousands is no small matter—especially for an expedition into the desert. The grain and logistical supplies alone are no trivial concern. It will take at least several months, possibly up to a year.”

Temujin’s head throbbed at this answer. A year? In a year, the Chinese Democratic Republic will have fully consolidated all grassland forces, with at least a hundred thousand troops. Even the Great Jin would struggle to win then—what chance does Western Xia have but to deliver itself as meat?

“No, this timeline is too long. We do not have that much time,” Temujin declared without room for argument.

“At this point, I still cannot understand why you insist on mobilizing tens of thousands for a full-scale assault. According to your description, we face only a tribe with five thousand garrison troops.”

“To eliminate such a tribe, sending our elite Iron Hawks alone would suffice. Even if the Iron Hawks cannot win quickly, we can easily deploy the Foot Soldiers and the Splash Artillery together—such strength is more than enough to crush any resistance.”

Wei Mingling asked, puzzled.

“It seems General, you have great confidence in your Three Elite Forces of Western Xia,” Temujin could not help but sneer.

“Naturally.” When speaking of Western Xia’s Three Elite Forces, Wei Mingling seemed propelled by an invisible force—he straightened his posture instinctively, his face brimming with pride he could not conceal.

“The Iron Hawks were originally the elite personal guard of Emperor Yi Zong. They could cover a hundred li swiftly, a thousand li with ease, appearing and vanishing like lightning or clouds. In the battles of San Chuan Kou, Hao Shui Chuan, Ding Chuan Zhai, and Yongle City, they shattered the Song army and slew countless enemies.”

“The Foot Soldiers can climb mountains and descend slopes, traverse streams and ravines—they excel at scaling heights and covering great distances, swift-footed and agile.”

“The Splash Artillery, though only two hundred strong, carry small stone-throwers mounted on camels—the Whirlwind Catapults. They hurl stones the size of fists. Think of it, Lord Temujin: on the battlefield, towering double-humped camels stand with rows of torsion stone-throwers, relentlessly firing stones the size of fists from their saddlebags—what a terrifying spectacle!”

When Wei Mingling finished, he cast a smug glance toward Temujin, expecting to see shock and dismay. To his profound disappointment, Temujin’s expression remained utterly calm, showing not a trace of astonishment.

“Have you finished, General? If you have, let me show you something. If, after seeing the power of this weapon, you still have such confidence in your Three Elite Forces, then I will approve your plan.” With that, Temujin pulled out the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle he had taken from the Revolutionary Army.

“Dress a straw dummy in Iron Hawk armor and place it four hundred steps away,” Temujin ordered Wei Mingling.

“Four hundred steps? Don’t tell me this thing can pierce cold-forged armor at that range,” Wei Mingling asked in disbelief.

Temujin said nothing. After the dummy was positioned, he fired a single shot. The moment the report echoed, everyone rushed forward to inspect the dummy.

When they saw the massive, ragged hole torn through the armor by the bullet, all their composure shattered. In its place surged an indescribable shock. The hole resembled the gaping maw of a ferocious beast—grotesque, terrifying, sending chills down their spines. They stared at the wound, as if they could feel the raw force of the bullet piercing through the metal.

Temujin’s single shot shattered every ounce of their pride.