Chapter 122

“Chagatai, get up. As a Mongol, you must not be crushed by setbacks, and certainly not cry like this.” Temujin rebuked in a deep voice.

“Father Khan, I’m not crying out of sadness—I truly can’t think of any way to defeat such an enemy. I just can’t figure it out.” Chagatai roared in anguish; the recent defeats and relentless flight had nearly driven him mad.

Temujin surveyed his demoralized officers, knowing that if he did nothing now, his entire force would collapse.

“Chagatai, pull yourself together. Do you truly believe we will lose to them? Do all of you think the same?” Temujin scanned the group and asked sternly.

“I admit their equipment far surpasses ours. I admit their organization is so powerful they can mobilize manpower, resources, and wealth in the shortest time. Their soldiers are resolute, executing every order from their commanders without deviation. Such an enemy is indeed terrifyingly strong.”

“But military struggle is the continuation of political struggle. No matter how powerful a weapon, it still needs craftsmen to forge it. No matter how powerful a weapon, it still needs men to wield it. No matter how formidable an army, it still needs capable commanders. They underestimated human greed and malice. Their ideology of equality is naively idealistic. Haven’t countless people labored tirelessly just to rise above others?”

“Don’t you think some among them will harbor other ambitions? When that time comes, we can lure them over with wealth, land, and women—have them train our troops, help us forge firearms, and then we can compete with them on equal terms.”

“But Father Khan, we only have these broken troops left—we have nothing. How can we promise them land, women, or wealth?” Jochi muttered inwardly, “We’re being hunted like stray dogs. Who would believe our promises even if we made them?”

“We have nothing now, but the Jin have it. In my view, though the Jin have an army of four hundred thousand, they are doomed to defeat. Yet given the Jin’s vast resources, the People’s Government may defeat them—but they cannot crush them as easily as they did the Western Xia. When the Jin are wounded and face annihilation, they will accept our proposal.” Temujin’s confident tone and resolute words reassured his loyal officers who had followed him through hardship.

Seeing this, Temujin exhaled in relief—thankfully, the scattered morale had been pulled back together, if only by deception.

He knew his own words couldn’t fool himself—he understood the People’s Government’s system too well. Anyone could be replaced at any time.

Those they lured over could only come alone; their troops would never defect en masse—it was as impossible as a dream. Even if those they recruited had talent, they would betray them the moment someone offered a higher price. Such men had no loyalty whatsoever.

But if he didn’t say this, their spirits would shatter completely. At this moment, though he himself had no confidence, he had to appear certain.

Thus, Temujin led his few thousand broken troops toward the Jin territory. The commander guarding the pass immediately ordered archers to drive them off—letting in thousands of desperate men could become a disaster if they couldn’t be controlled.

Temujin refused to leave—he knew the Revolutionary Army was hunting them across the steppe, and once they discovered his location, they would come.

Knowing the Jin as he did, Temujin was certain they would stand by and watch him be destroyed rather than send a single soldier.

Temujin pleaded desperately at the gate, but the gate commander replied with one phrase: “No.”

Looking back at the troops he had barely gathered, Temujin clenched his fists. Was he to once again, as he had years ago, flee with his loyalists and family, begging shelter from others?

Just as despair gripped him, a middle-aged man in lavish attire, with clear features and a high nose, galloped up and ordered the gate commander urgently: “Open the gate immediately.”

The commander hesitated, refusing: “Your Highness, it’s not that I refuse—I fear letting these men in may bring unimaginable dangers.”

“Slap!” The man struck the commander hard, knocking him to the ground. “You wretched dog—do you even know who I am? Though I’ve fallen from favor, I am still a Prince of the Great Jin, not someone you, a mere servant, can insult!”

“Yes, yes, Your Highness!” The gate commander immediately ordered his soldiers to open the gate and let Temujin and his men enter.

Seeing this, Temujin immediately instructed Muqali and others: “When we enter the city, keep your men in line. We are guests now—do not offend our hosts by acting recklessly.”

“Understood, Great Khan.” Muqali, Boorchu, and the others immediately went to enforce discipline among the troops to prevent chaos upon entry.

Under strict supervision, the soldiers marched into the city in orderly fashion.

Watching this, Wanyan Honglie thought inwardly: “Even after repeated defeats, so many men still follow him. Temujin is a true man.”

Thinking this, Wanyan Honglie warmly went forward to greet him and hosted a banquet in his honor.

After three rounds of wine, Wanyan Honglie got straight to the point: “Brother Temujin, I’ve heard you’ve fought the Tatar many times. Tell me—how strong are they?”

“If our Great Jin mobilizes four hundred thousand troops against the Tatar, what are our chances of victory?”

Temujin, seeing Wanyan Honglie’s earnest and anxious expression, decided he wasn’t just flattering him: “Your Highness, let me ask you this: If your four hundred thousand troops were to attack the Western Xia, could they capture Wulahai City in one day, then launch a thousand-li raid and seize Keyimen the next day, and finally crush Xingqing Prefecture without effort? Could your four hundred thousand troops annihilate tens of thousands of Western Xia’s Qinsheng Army—with all three of their elite elite units—without suffering a single casualty?”

As Temujin finished speaking, Wanyan Honglie froze like a painting halted mid-motion. His eyes widened, speechless.

“So the Tatar are truly this powerful—and defeated you without any losses?”

“Your Highness, honestly, I wish this weren’t true. That day, hundreds of iron objects—what you call ‘cannonballs’—fell simultaneously onto our tens of thousands of troops. The earth shattered, the sky collapsed. Countless cavalrymen and horses were torn apart. Then the tens of thousands of Western Xia Qinsheng Army broke and fled.”

Temujin sighed. He could still not forget that day.

Wanyan Honglie understood now—it was an ambush with firearms. No wonder. The Tatar must have used something like “Thunderclap Bombs.” If that’s what they had, it would indeed terrify uneducated barbarians.

As for who supplied the Thunderclap Bombs, Wanyan Honglie knew only one nation had both the capability to forge them and the motive to send them to the Mongols: Great Song.

It seems Great Song intends a northern campaign.