Chapter 123

If it were a thunderbolt bomb, Wanyan Honglie wouldn’t be worried, for he knew well that while such devices were powerful and had long range, they were extremely heavy and could only be used in siege or defense warfare.

Seeing Wanyan Honglie’s expression of understanding, Temujin hurriedly asked: “Your Highness, your expression suggests you’ve seen this weapon before and have a way to counter it.”

“Correct. This weapon is called the Thunderclap Bomb. Though devastating, it is too cumbersome—excellent for siege or defense, but useless in a field battle of hundreds of thousands. It’s like eating chicken ribs: not worth the effort, yet hard to discard.”

Hearing Wanyan Honglie’s words, those who had witnessed the 107 rocket artillery stared in disbelief. A field weapon? A chicken rib? That thing rained hundreds of iron balls in moments, killing countless men—how could you call it a chicken rib? They all thought Wanyan Honglie was showing off.

“Your Highness, we barbarians from the steppes have never seen such divine weapons—could you let us take a look?” Temujin asked cautiously.

“Very well. Since Brother Temujin wishes to see, how could I refuse? Come, today I shall show you the power of the Thunderclap Bomb.” With that, Wanyan Honglie warmly pulled Temujin to the training ground and personally ignited the Thunderclap Cannon.

After firing the cannon, Wanyan Honglie beamed at Temujin and his men, only to find their expressions saying: Is that all? After all your boasting, this is it?

Wanyan Honglie frowned at Temujin: “Brother Temujin, is our Thunderclap Bomb vastly different from what you’ve seen?”

At Wanyan Honglie’s question, Temujin’s lips twitched. How to put it? Had he not witnessed the apocalyptic scene, he might have thought this Thunderclap Bomb impressive.

But having witnessed that scene, Temujin could only think: This thing is called Thunderclap Bomb? Does it even deserve the name?

“Your Highness, I won’t say more. If you believe their weapons are similar to this Thunderclap Bomb, you will suffer a great defeat.” Temujin bowed respectfully to Wanyan Honglie.

“And the description I gave at the banquet was merely a plain statement—no exaggeration whatsoever.”

“Your Highness, I once secretly visited the Tatar people. Their force is unlike any you’ve encountered—they have strict organization and a goal universally accepted: to overthrow all exploiters and oppressors, liberate the global proletariat, and build a government ruled by the People’s Party. The goal is naive, yet they truly made everyone feel like masters of their own fate.”

“Every single person truly felt this government served them: they built night schools to teach the poor to read, established barefoot doctors for the poor, introduced new crops allowing steppe dwellers to farm—crops with high yields. Now, steppe people no longer just eat and clothe themselves, no longer die waiting for illness to take them—they receive education and learning.”

“This is what every soldier’s family enjoys. Imagine if someone sent troops to force them back to their old lives—wouldn’t they fight to the death? I can tell you with full responsibility: even if their soldiers are wiped out, herders will pick up bows and axes and keep fighting. When adult men fall, women and children will take their place. In their words: once you’ve stood up, you can never be made to live like a dog again.”

“Your Highness, I ask you—have you ever seen such a force, such an organization?” Temujin stared intently at Wanyan Honglie.

“I’ve seen them.” Wanyan Honglie whispered, trembling.

Temujin froze, then pressed on: “I suspect Your Highness imagines them as peasant rebels from the Central Plains. Let me be clear—they are nothing like your peasant uprisings. Their slogan is ‘Serve the People,’ their goal is to destroy the so-called ‘lords above.’ Your rebels only seek to become the new lords above.”

“Their army isn’t chaotic like yours. Their discipline is high: when they capture a tribe, soldiers commit no atrocities—even organize labor to help herders work.”

Though Temujin secretly hoped the Revolutionary Army would hurt the Jin, he did not wish it to cripple the Jin.

“No—I’ve truly seen them. Is their military structure divisions, brigades, regiments, battalions, companies? Is their discipline the Three Rules and Eight Points of Attention? Is their doctrine communism? Is their top leader called Secretary? Do they have soldier committees?” Wanyan Honglie, eyes wet with tears, stared at Temujin, desperately hoping he would firmly say no—but Temujin’s silence rang deafeningly true.

Temujin and his generals felt their minds cracking. What the hell? They’d thought that after the Jin was hurt, they might persuade it to heed their advice and barely resist the People’s Government—yet here you have it too?

Temujin took a deep breath: “Your Highness, I’ve never heard of the force you mention. It seems they haven’t risen in your lands—probably small in scale.”

Wanyan Honglie paused: “Two years ago, they had only 100,000 troops—I could have crushed them anytime. But because they helped my third brother ascend as crown prince, many local officials under Jin rule are theirs. In these two years, their numbers have at least tripled or quadrupled. Hey, Brother Temujin, why have your men fainted?”

Temujin turned and saw Jochi, Chagatai, and Bo’ertu lying motionless on the ground. Wanyan Honglie immediately ordered them carried indoors and treated.

After long medical care, the three slowly awoke—not just Chagatai wept now; Jochi and Bo’ertu wept too.

That group, with three thousand veterans training nine thousand new recruits—twelve thousand total—could crush the entire steppe. With fifty thousand, they unified the steppe. With one hundred thousand, they annihilated Western Xia in three months without effort. They had thought the Jin’s million-strong army could at least stand against them.

But last year, the Jin already had one hundred thousand Revolutionary Army troops. One hundred thousand, multiplied three or four times, meant three to four hundred thousand Revolutionary Army troops.

That’s the bare minimum. The number could be five or six times higher—they might face six hundred thousand Revolutionary Army troops.

One hundred thousand might barely hold out. But seven hundred thousand? No—add Guo Jing’s hundred thousand, that’s seven hundred thousand troops.

Seven hundred thousand Revolutionary Army troops. Seven hundred thousand Revolutionary Army troops. Ha ha ha.

“Brother Temujin, what’s wrong with your son and brother? Our force only deals with bandits—nothing like your Revolutionary Army, which has endured constant major battles. Their strength isn’t that great.” Wanyan Honglie tried to comfort him.

“By the way, can my Jin army of four hundred thousand quickly eliminate forty thousand Revolutionary Army troops? Ideally within days.”

Temujin, Muqali, Bo’ertu, Borokhula, and Subutai stared at Wanyan Honglie in shock. You insane bastard—do you even hear what you’re saying? Your four hundred thousand troops aren’t even safe from being shattered, yet you think you can defeat them—and wipe them out in days? What dream are you having?