Chapter 167: Outbound Mission

Minister of Revenue Xu Chiguo spoke first. This elderly minister, who managed the Jin treasury, was famed for his shrewd calculations—no one could balance accounts better than he.

"I will say something unpleasant," he rose, his voice dry and flat. "Han Tuozhou's northern campaign is ultimately about seizing territory. He attacks, we push back, if we win, he retreats and signs another peace treaty, paying annual tribute as before. If we lose, it's just ceding a few prefectures and paying a few million taels of silver. Since the founding of the Great Jin, how many wars have we fought with the Southern Court? Back and forth—it's always the same thing. Han Tuozhou's goal is to recover ancestral lands and erase humiliation, not to destroy the Great Jin. He lacks both the capability and the ambition. To put it bluntly, if the Great Song truly had the power to destroy the Great Jin, it would have been us, not them, that fell during the Jingkang era."

This was a harsh statement, yet no one in the hall contradicted him. The Jin and Song had faced each other for over eighty years; both sides knew each other's weaknesses well. The Southern Song's northern campaigns were not new—each began with grand momentum, then faltered due to supply shortages, discord among generals, and rising influence of the Zhuhe Sect, ending in stalemate. Han Tuozhou's resolve may be stronger than his predecessors', but the Southern Song's national strength, military system, and logistical infrastructure remain as they are—they cannot wage a war of annihilation.

"But," Xu Chiguo shifted tone, his voice sinking, "the organization to the north is another matter entirely. They have swallowed the steppe, swallowed Western Xia—not to seize a few pastures or sign a treaty of vassalage and tribute. Judging by their actions, their goal is to establish a new political entity, utterly unlike any previous steppe regime. They want no tribute, no submission—they want all under heaven. To such people, the existence of the Great Jin is itself an obstacle. They do not seek our gold; they seek our lives."

He lifted his head, and a flicker of fear passed through his clouded old eyes.

"Your Majesty, I have headed the Ministry of Revenue for fifteen years, and I have always spoken only of grain and coin, never of military affairs. But today I dare to speak beyond my station—we can lose ten times to the Southern Court, and the Great Jin will still be the Great Jin. But we cannot lose once to that organization. One defeat, and there will be no Great Jin left."

Wanyan Anguo spoke next. As Vice Chief of the Privy Council, he oversaw military deployments and knew the troop dispositions along every front.

"I can fully corroborate what Minister Xu has said from a military standpoint," he walked to the map and pointed with a bamboo rod. "Our current troop deployment is as follows: approximately 120,000 troops are stationed along the northern frontier wall, primarily to defend against the steppe; 80,000 are stationed along the western frontier in Shaanxi, guarding against Western Xia and the Sichuan region of the Southern Song; along the southern front against the Song—covering Tongguan, Henan, Huaibei, and Shandong—approximately 150,000 troops are deployed. Total strength is around 350,000, which seems substantial, but spread across three fronts, each is critically strained."

He drew a circle with his bamboo rod over the northern and western fronts.

"If we judge the steppe as the primary threat, we must reinforce both the northern and western fronts. The northern front currently has 120,000 troops, but facing a force that has absorbed the steppe tribes and integrated the Western Xia army, this is far insufficient. I estimate we need at least 200,000 just to hold the frontier wall. The western front also requires reinforcements, because Western Xia is no longer a buffer zone—it is now the enemy's launchpad. This means we must draw troops from the southern front to reinforce the north."

He struck the southern front sharply with his bamboo rod.

"Once we pull troops from the southern front, against Han Tuozhou's northern campaign, we can only adopt a defensive posture—and must prepare for the loss of some border regions. I am not exaggerating—if we commit all our main forces to the northern and western fronts, the southern front becomes half-open. Han Tuozhou advances on three fronts with no fewer than 200,000 troops; can we hold him with less than 100,000? Can Tongguan be held? Can the Henan prefectures be held? These are all unknowns."

He set down the bamboo rod and turned to Wanyan Jing, his tone heavy.

"But I still say: even so, we must commit our main forces to the northern front. Because if we lose a few prefectures in the south, we still have the Yellow River, Hebei, and Zhongdu. But if the northern front is breached, the steppe cavalry will face the open plains of Hebei. From the frontier wall to Zhongdu, with full gallop, they need only five days. Five days."

He held up five fingers; his hand was as steady as a stone.

"Your Majesty, the Great Jin cannot afford to gamble."

Jiagu Heng had remained silent. As Left Chancellor, he was the highest-ranking minister after the Emperor. He stayed quiet for a long time, until all eyes turned to him, then spoke slowly.

"What each of you has said is reasonable," he said, his voice deliberate, each word squeezed as if through clenched teeth. "But there is one question none of you have considered."

He looked at Wanyan Honglie.

"Zhao Wang says we must determine who our true enemy is. Minister Xu says the steppe is a threat of annihilation, the Southern Song a wound of loss. Minister Wanyan says we must commit our main forces to the northern front. I agree with all these judgments."

He paused.

"But does Han Tuozhou agree?"

The hall fell silent again.

Jiagu Heng continued: "Does Han Tuozhou not know we have a powerful enemy to the north? He knows. Then why does he still launch a northern campaign? Not because he is foolish—quite the opposite. He is clever. He intends to strike us from the south while we are preoccupied in the north. He seeks the Central Plains, the glory of reclaiming the two capitals. If we shift all our main forces north, leaving the southern front exposed, he can march straight in, capture Kaifeng, capture Luoyang, even reach the Yellow River. What then? The enemy from the north has not yet arrived, but the enemy from the south is already at the Yellow River. The Great Jin will be caught between two fronts, unable to support either end—that is the true scenario of national collapse."

He rose, walked to Wanyan Honglie's side, and stared directly into his eyes.

"Zhao Wang, I do not disagree with your judgment. I say this: judgment is judgment, execution is execution. We must prioritize the northern threat strategically, but tactically, we must never let Han Tuozhou believe our southern front is weak. Otherwise, he will become a shark that smells blood—and once he bites, he will not let go."

Wanyan Honglie fell silent for an instant, then slowly nodded: "Minister Jiagu is right. Therefore, we must do two things."

He turned to Wanyan Jing and bowed: "Your Majesty, I humbly request permission—first, immediately reinforce the northern and western fronts with all available mobile forces; the frontier wall and Shaanxi defenses must be strengthened at any cost. Second, toward the Southern Song, we must project an image that convinces Han Tuozhou our southern front remains heavily manned, so he dares not act. I have an idea for how to achieve this posture, but I require Your Majesty's authorization."

Wanyan Jing looked at him: "Speak."

Wanyan Honglie drew a deep breath and uttered the proposal that turned every face in the hall pale.

"I humbly request Your Majesty appoint me personally to lead the mission to Lin'an to negotiate with Han Tuozhou."

"No!" Tuandan Yi leapt to his feet first. "Zhao Wang, you are a royal prince of the Great Jin—how can you go to Lin'an yourself? What if the Song detain you—"

"Precisely because of that," Wanyan Honglie interrupted, his tone as calm as if discussing lunch, "only a prince personally going to negotiate can convince Han Tuozhou that our southern front is secure and unshaken. If we send a mere Vice Minister, Han Tuozhou will think we are mocking him—and it will only harden his resolve to invade. I go, and he will hesitate. If he hesitates a month, we gain a month to strengthen the northern front. If he hesitates three months, we can fully reorganize the Shaanxi defenses. If he hesitates half a year, the hammering on Helan Mountain will cease, and our northern front will be ready."

He looked at Tuandan Yi, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Besides, Minister Tuandan, do you think Han Tuozhou dares to detain me? If he does, it means war to the death with the Great Jin. He wants to recover ancestral lands, not total war. He cannot afford to gamble."

Wanyan Jing remained silent for a long time.

The candle flames in the hall flickered, casting shifting shadows on every face. Outside, the wind rose—the dry, hard wind of late autumn in Zhongdu—whipping fallen leaves along the palace steps, rustling softly.

Finally, Wanyan Jing spoke.

"Approved."

He rose, descended the imperial steps, and walked to the map. He stared long, his gaze sweeping from the northern frontier wall to the Yellow River, then across Kaifeng, past Huai and Jiang, finally settling on Lin'an. The tiny city on the map was no larger than a fingernail—but it was a thorn, embedded in the Jin's back, impossible to pull out, impossible to swallow.

"My ministers," Wanyan Jing's voice was soft, yet every word reached every ear clearly, "I have reigned fifteen years, and I do not believe myself a foolish ruler. But since the founding of the Great Jin, we have never faced such a situation—north, a tiger; south, a wolf; and our quiver holds fewer than four hundred thousand arrows."

He turned to face the ministers in the hall.

"But we must still fight. Not because the Great Jin is warlike, but because the Great Jin has no retreat. The enemy to the north wants no tribute, no submission—they want our state. The enemy to the south wants our land. Land lost can be reclaimed; if the state is lost, nothing remains."

He returned to the dragon throne, placed his hands on his knees, and sat upright, spine straight.

"Edict: reinforce the northern frontier wall to 200,000 troops; reinforce the western Shaanxi front to 150,000 troops. All construction, grain, and arms shall be coordinated by Xu Chiguo without error. On the southern front against the Song, retain 100,000 troops, withdraw to the line of Kaifeng, Guide, and Xuzhou, adopt a defensive posture, and do not launch any offensive. Wanyan Honglie shall proceed to Lin'an to buy time."

He paused.

"This war, the Great Jin must fight for time."

The late autumn wind of Zhongdu now carried the chill of winter. The walls of Daxing Prefecture loomed dark in the twilight, like a crouching beast. Along the northern frontier wall, beacon fires flared one after another, forming a thin red line across the dusk.

A thousand miles away, in Lin'an, Han Tuozhou was reviewing his northern expeditionary army—flags blotted out the sun, drums thundered across the sky.