Chapter 170

He lifted the wine cup and took a large gulp; the sour, astringent taste made him squint, but it was not the wine that truly made him squint.

"Grand Preceptor Han, let me tell you a few things," Wanyan Honglie raised a finger. "First, last autumn, that New Ming Party and the Kereit tribe fought a battle on the grasslands. I sent a scout to watch; that scout climbed a mountain, separated from the battlefield by two mountain ridges, far enough, wasn't it? Guess what he saw?"

Han Tuozhou said nothing.

"On the mountain, he heard thunder," Wanyan Honglie's voice dropped extremely low. "Clear sky, ten thousand miles without a cloud, thunder rolled over from the battlefield, wave after wave, unceasing. That was not thunder; that was their firearms."

He raised a second finger.

"After my scout returned, he was not quite right. He said, before the Kereit cavalry even charged within five hundred paces of the enemy formation, the front rows of cavalry fell row by row, bodies of men and horses piled together like grass cut down by an invisible scythe. On those fallen cavalrymen were fist-sized blood holes; armor could not block them at all. The charging horns were still blowing, the cavalry behind were still charging forward, but before reaching three hundred paces, another wave fell. The Kereit charged three times; three times they failed to touch the enemy's formation. In less than half an hour, the most formidable cavalry on the grasslands became a pile of dead horses and dead men on the battlefield."

He raised a third finger.

"The more terrifying part is yet to come. When the Kereit retreated in disarray, the enemy began pursuit. My scout said, that New Ming Party cavalry was not ordinary—their charge was not the scattered line assault of grassland cavalry, but a dense column attack; thousands of horses trod to the same rhythm, like a moving iron wall. But that was not the most frightening part; the most frightening part was that when they charged, the cavalry in the very front row held not sabers and spears, but firearms. They charged to within a few dozen paces of the Jin army formation, fired a volley of firearms first, knocking down a swath of men, then drew their blades and charged the formation. Grand Preceptor Han, you have also led troops; tell me, how do you break such tactics?"

Han Tuozhou's face had already turned unpleasant. He knew the New Ming Party had defeated the Kereit tribe, but the version he had heard was always "internal war among grassland tribes"; no intelligence source had ever told him these details—firearms, dense charges, combined cavalry and archery tactics. If what Wanyan Honglie said was true, what did that mean?

Wanyan Honglie gave him no time to think and continued speaking.

"You think that is all?" He set down the wine cup, his body leaning slightly forward, the lamp flame dancing in his pupils. "Last winter, they swallowed Western Xia. Western Xia's Iron Falcons, heavy armored cavalry, hailed as the elite of the world; your Great Song fought them in the northwest for over a hundred years and suffered greatly. And the result? That organization did not send a massive army across the border, did not besiege cities, and did not even fight a proper pitched battle. They sent a so-called 'advisory group' of fewer than a thousand people to garrison Xingqing Prefecture; two months later, Western Xia's army began changing equipment, using firearms provided by them. Grand Preceptor Han, two months. In two months, a Western Xia established for a hundred years became their arsenal and training ground."

He suddenly stood up, walked to the wall where a map he had brought himself hung. He snapped the map open; what was marked on it were not mountains and rivers, but the expansion routes of that organization's power—starting from a small corner of the Mongolian Plateau, red spreading outward like bloodstains, swallowing the names of tribe after tribe, finally covering the entire grassland and seeping into Western Xia. The Jin Kingdom's northern and western lines were half-encircled by red, like a person whose throat had been strangled.

"Grand Preceptor Han, come look." Wanyan Honglie's finger traced down the red line on the map. "They are now stopped at Western Xia, not because they cannot fight anymore, but because they are digesting. Integrating Western Xia's iron mines, granaries, and population. How strong Western Xia's iron smelting is, your Great Song knows better than us, having dealt with them for over a hundred years. Now all those iron smelters are producing firearms for the New Ming Party. You are not thinking about who these firearms will be used against in the future, yet you are still thinking about the Northern Expedition?"

He turned around; the relaxation and casualness on his face had vanished completely, replaced by the cold sharpness Han Tuozhou had seen on the day he entered the city.

"Grand Preceptor Han, I will lay my cards on the table. Every word I say today is true. If you launch the Northern Expedition now, the Great Jin is indeed in a passive position. There is a tiger in the north and a wolf in the south; we cannot attend to both ends. But have you thought: if our two houses fight each other on the southern front to mutual destruction, who will be the biggest winner?"

He suddenly stopped speaking here, as if unwilling to utter that name.

"Our Great Jin indeed cannot stop them." He fell silent for a moment, then spoke a sentence that made Han Tuozhou's back go cold, word by word, "But if our Great Jin falls, the next will be you."

Han Tuozhou stood up abruptly. He pushed the chair backward, scraping a shrill, piercing sound against the floor tiles.

"Zhao Wang," Han Tuozhou's voice cooled. "Have you finished speaking?"

Wanyan Honglie looked into his eyes and said nothing.

"What you said is indeed terrifying. Firearms, cavalry, cannon fire like thunder; it makes my heart race and my flesh tremble." A hint of sarcasm crept into Han Tuozhou's tone. "But there are a few matters I would like to ask Zhao Wang."

"Please speak."

"You said the Kereit's hundred-thousand allied army was annihilated in one battle by the New Ming Party. Thunder rolled across the battlefield, firearms were invincible. Then I must ask one question—why did the New Ming Party not take advantage of the victory to march south? Why, after swallowing Western Xia, did they stop at the border? If their firearms are truly as powerful as you say, and their cavalry truly unstoppable, why did they not directly march into the Jin Kingdom? Your Jin Kingdom's northern border is separated by only a few hundred li of grassland; since they could cross the great desert in seven days, would attacking you not be even closer?"

Wanyan Honglie opened his mouth, but Han Tuozhou gave him no chance to speak.

"Let me tell you why. Because they are not as strong as you say. Their firearms may be good weapons, but firearms require gunpowder, gunpowder requires production lines, and production lines require a stable rear. They have just swallowed the grasslands and Western Xia; internally, they have not yet finished digesting. Right now, they are integrating resources and consolidating their rear. This is the true reason they are not marching south—not that they do not want to, but that they cannot yet."

Han Tuozhou took a step forward, his voice rising several degrees.

"And you, Zhao Wang, telling me all this today has only one purpose—delaying time. You want me to fear that New Ming Party, to abandon or postpone the Northern Expedition, so that your Great Jin can free its hands to stabilize the northern line, or even launch an offensive against the New Ming Party. After you finish cleaning up the mess in the north, then you will deal with my Great Song. How many times have you, Zhao Wang, used this trick against the grassland people on the northern border? Now you bring it to Lin'an to use against me?"

"Grand Preceptor Han—"