Chapter 140

But on the battlefield, those who fear neither death were not only Wanyan Hu Ke and his personal guard; the revolutionary soldiers charging forward had their own honor too. Under the People’s Government, where one soldier brought glory to the whole family, soldiers were no longer noble killing machines of the past but warriors and heroes defending the people.

Since its founding, they had followed Guo Jing to unify the grasslands and destroy the Western Xia, conquering every city they attacked and subduing every enemy they faced; across the world, who could match them? And they believed that after they died, the government would remember them, the people would remember them, and their families would be cared for by the state.

If you die in battle, then all of us revolutionary soldiers will be filial sons to your mother. The revolutionary soldiers too were fearless in death—how could a few hundred fearless personal guards possibly stop three hundred thousand fearless revolutionary soldiers?

Hundreds of them were like insignificant grains of sand swallowed by a raging flood; at the moment he fell, Wanyan Hu Ke realized how absurd it had been to think that the two hundred thousand former Western Xia troops, just recently surrendered, were weak in combat.

He could not understand how Guo Jing, in such a short time, had convinced another people to set aside their prejudices, travel thousands of miles, and fight to the death for him—something the Great Jin had failed to do in over a century of ruling the Central Plains.

He scoured the historical records and found only one man with such ability: Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang.

A man from Chu, arriving in a foreign land, had won over the Qin people within a year so they clamored to make him their king—such talent even the Heavenly Khan Li Shimin, who built the Tang dynasty’s golden age, had admired.

Observe Emperor Gaozu and King Tang of Yin; admire their virtue. It is like the harmony of yin and yang, the proper turning of the seasons, fair laws, and the people’s joy—then the qilin appears with auspicious signs. Were not Emperor Gaozu and King Tang of Yin themselves of the qilin’s kind?

In Li Shimin’s eyes, Liu Bang could be compared to the legendary qilin and the ancient sage-kings like Tang of Yin; the submission of hearts was far, far harder than defeating or conquering.

Facing such a formidable figure, would the Great Jin become history?

The sun set in the west, its crimson afterglow spilling over the battlements just after the fierce battle, warming the once hard and cold stone bricks with fiery brilliance. The sun’s glow flowed like a golden river, leaving mottled traces in every corner of the battlements.

Above the battlements, the smoke of battle had not yet cleared; the air carried a unique odor.

At this moment, the battlements were both solemn and dignified, yet full of life and vigor.

Witnessing this, Guo Jing could not help but sigh: “One general’s glory is built on ten thousand bones.”

“Indeed,” said Zhe Bie, commander of the Third Army beside him. “Where there is war, there must be sacrifice. Though our assault succeeded, we still lost men. But if we don’t fight this battle, you and your descendants will return to the old days—when others rode on our necks to defecate, when we starved.”

“Compared to dying of hunger or being bullied to death, dying in battle is honorable. After a glorious death, our families and children will never starve or be oppressed again. One generation bears the burden so the next few generations may enjoy peace—this deal is worth it.”

Guo Jing smiled and patted Zhe Bie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry—I’m just momentarily moved. I’m not as fragile as you think. By the way, after our troops enter the city, they must strictly follow the Three Disciplines and Eight Points of Attention. We are the people’s army—we must never harm the common folk.”

“Rest assured, Commissar. We will never harm the people.” Zhe Bie saluted and went to arrange the city entry.

Guo Jing then opened the system chat group to ask others about their current situations.

Guo Jing: “Everyone, I’m now leading my army into the Jin’s Guan-Shaan region. How are things on your ends?”

Nie Huaishang: “Thanks to the inside agent Zhang Chu’an left me, Hengzhou—the Jin’s horse-breeding center—is already in my hands. I’m about to reach Yehu Ridge. I originally planned to fight the Jin’s forty-thousand-strong army there, but now even ten thousand there would be too many.”

Zhang Chu’an: “Ten thousand? Where would ten thousand come from? Most of Yehu Ridge’s troops have been recalled to rescue Zhongdu. With the political center besieged, all armies are leaderless. At least five to six hundred thousand troops from across the Jin territories have rushed to save Zhongdu—all the gentry have abandoned their homes to support these armies against us.”

Guo Jing: “Abandoned homes and businesses? Do these landlords and gentry have such awareness? Didn’t the Yuan Mongols crush the Song and the Manchus enter the pass, yet these people hoarded military pay instead?”

Zhang Chu’an: “What can you do? For these landlords and gentry, changing emperors means they keep their wealth and luxury. But we’re taking their land. The Duke of Yansheng in Shandong personally wrote a proclamation calling on all gentry to exterminate us.”

Zhang Xiaofan: “It’s worse. They’re chanting: ‘Burn the grass, cut the stones, change the people’s bloodline.’ They’re slaughtering civilians in our base areas—even children aren’t spared. Our pressure is immense: we’re organizing evacuations while fighting them. If the common folk fall into their hands, they won’t survive.”

Zhang Chu’an: “We haven’t even used ambushes this whole time—we’ve fought them head-on.”

Guo Jing: “Good, good, good. I’ve learned something new.”

Above the battlements now, the sky was dark and gloomy, as if a thick cloud pressed down on the entire heavens. Occasionally, lightning split the sky, accompanied by deafening thunder.

This extreme weather created an overwhelming sense of oppression, as if an invisible force was quietly eroding everyone’s spirit. People throughout the city, wherever they were, felt this suffocating dread—as if the whole world had grown heavy and dull.

In his fury, Guo Jing unconsciously activated the Five Thunder Orthodoxy. When a man has spent his whole life believing in Confucian filial piety and loyalty, strictly shaping his words and deeds by those ideals—only to one day see that Confucian veneer shatter completely—his former devotion turns to hatred as fierce as it was once pure.

Guo Jing realized these people were even more despicable than he’d imagined: they spoke of loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and righteousness, yet were the most disloyal, unkind, and unjust of all.

They preached righteousness while their hearts were full of self-interest. When others seek profit, they scold them; when they seek profit, they call it human nature. You’ve done well.

Burn the grass, cut the stones, change the people’s bloodline? Fine. If you do this, don’t blame me for burning books and burying scholars alive.

At that moment, Guo Jing’s hatred surged like a raging fire, reaching an unprecedented peak.

His eyes glinted with icy coldness; his chest heaved violently.