[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse":3,"chapter-from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-chapter-197":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","From Special Forces to the Multiverse",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2315247,4527,"Chapter 197: Signing the Treaty","from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-chapter-197",197,"\u003Cp>Huaihe, Guangzhou, Shaoxi Old Fortress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This old fortress was left over from decades of Song-Jin standoff, abandoned for years, overgrown with thorns, its broken walls and ruins crawling with winter-dead vines. Half a month ago, the Privy Council issued an order; the Prefect of Guangzhou hastily conscripted three hundred laborers to repair the fortress inside and out. The southern hall hung the official silk banner of Great Song; the northern hall hung the wolf-head flag of Great Jin; a flowered wall divided them. The two nations’ flags faced each other across the same ruins, like two reluctant enemies forced to sit at the same table, neither willing to speak first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Song peace delegation arrived on the ninth day of the twelfth month. The chief envoy was Minister of Rites Li Bi; the deputy envoy was Deng Youlong, recently recalled from the Suzhou front by Shi Miyuan. Deng Youlong did not want to come. He had watched from beneath Suzhou’s walls as the city he had besieged for two months stood unshaken on the Huaibei plain, as Heshilie Zhizhong stood atop the ramparts, his single eye coldly surveying the Song army’s southern retreat—a scene burned into his heart, more painful than an arrow wound. But Shi Miyuan had named him; the reason was blunt—“You’ve returned from the front. You know how terrifying that thing to the north is.” That sentence silenced all his excuses. He did know.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Jin delegation arrived three days later. The chief envoy was Wanyan Axi; the deputy envoy was Left Minister of the Department of State Affairs Jiagu Heng. Wanyan Axi was a collateral branch of the imperial clan, holding a nominal post in the Ministry of Rites for over a decade, never before handling anything of this scale. Before departure, Wanyan Honglie summoned him for an hour’s talk; when he left the mansion, his face was grim. Back at the Ministry, he pored over the draft treaty until midnight. Wanyan Honglie had spoken only a few words, but each was etched into his mind—“Shi Miyuan wants time. We want silver, grain, and an escape route. If he won’t give it, we keep fighting. If he gives it, we sign. But one point is non-negotiable—the mutual defense clause. This clause matters more than tribute, more than territorial cession, even more than Han Tuozhou’s head. Tribute will be spent; ceded land will be absorbed. But this clause binds the Southern Song to Jin’s war chariot. If the chariot overturns, he falls with it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wanyan Axi asked: “What if the Song reneges?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wanyan Honglie stood in the north wind by the wall, back turned, silent for a long while before saying one sentence—“Shi Miyuan fears that red flag more than we do. As long as he fears it, he won’t break his word.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month, formal negotiations began. In the southern hall, a long table was laid with red silk, four chairs on each side. Li Bi wore a crimson court robe, his face lean and calm, like a meticulously carved jade statue, revealing no emotion. He had served as a ritual official for decades; his greatest skill was finding dignified phrasing for humiliating terms. Deng Youlong sat beside him, his expression less refined—brow furrowed, lips pressed tight, one hand pressed motionless on his knee.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the northern hall, Wanyan Axi and Jiagu Heng sat side by side. Jiagu Heng, over sixty, was a three-dynasty veteran, former Minister of Revenue, who had managed Jin’s finances for twenty years. He had negotiated with the Southern Song countless times on this very table—always he demanded, the Song countered, both sides grinding out a mutually acceptable figure. But this time was different. He was not here for silver and silk—those were still needed, but the true priority was the mutual defense clause. Before leaving home, he had told his son: “In all the treaties I’ve signed in my life, none ever placed Jin’s lifeline in the hands of the Song. This time, I break the precedent. Not because I want to—but because I must.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wanyan Axi rose, holding the silk scroll, and began reading the terms. The first clause concerned tribute and indemnity—“Fifty thousand taels of silver, fifty thousand bolts of silk, plus a one-time military subsidy of three million taels of silver, payable over three years.” Deng Youlong’s hand clenched on his knee at the number. Fifty thousand taels—Han Tuozhou’s northern campaign had cost Song no more than three million taels annually. This single payment meant surrendering three years’ worth of military funding to Jin. But he said nothing. The deepest lesson he learned beneath Suzhou’s walls was this: sometimes silence demands more courage than charge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second clause concerned territorial cession—“The Southern Song relinquishes all territories recovered during its northern campaign and cedes Tangzhou and Dengzhou to Great Jin.” When Li Bi heard “Tangzhou and Dengzhou,” his brush paused. Tangzhou had been taken by Xue Shusi with no casualties. Dengzhou had been besieged for two months by the central army’s soldiers. Now both were handed over. Li Bi dipped his brush in the inkstone and continued writing, his face as still as water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The third clause concerned the delivery of heads—“The Song monarch shall issue an imperial edict acknowledging ‘mistaken governance and provocation,’ and deliver the heads of Han Tuozhou and Su Shidan to Jin.” This clause had already been executed; the box containing the heads had reached Zhongdu a month prior. Now it was merely formalized, hammering the nail home once more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came the fourth. At this point in the Jin draft, Wanyan Axi’s pace slowed noticeably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If the Xinming Party launches a southern attack against Jin, the Southern Song shall provide grain, military pay, and open the Yangtze waterways to assist Great Jin in establishing a second defensive line along the Huaihe–Qinling frontier. Song and Jin shall be ‘lips and teeth,’ jointly resisting the northern barbarians. This clause shall be permanent, unalterable through generations.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The southern hall fell into deathly silence. Li Bi’s brush froze mid-air. This was not tribute, not land, not heads. This turned Great Song into Great Jin’s supply depot. Jin would build its second defensive line along the Huaihe–Qinling frontier using Song’s grain, Song’s rivers, and Song’s soil. Jin had just written in black and white its own admission of likely defeat—and Song had just written in black and white its promise: if Jin cannot hold, we will feed and shelter its retreating army on our own soil.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deng Youlong leapt to his feet. The chair legs scraped the brick floor with a piercing screech. Li Bi did not look up, only reached out and pressed his hand on Deng Youlong’s arm. That hand was dry and thin, yet astonishingly strong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lord Deng,” Li Bi whispered, “these are already settled terms. We are only here to sign.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It is the court’s decision. Chancellor Shi and the Emperor have both approved.” Li Bi released his grip. Deng Youlong stood there, chest heaving. He recalled Xin Qiji’s letter from Yanshan: “Jin abandons small towns to hold large ones not because they cannot defend them, but because they refuse to waste strength against us. Their elite forces remain in the north; the southern front is merely a delaying tactic.” Back then, he thought Xin Qiji was analyzing tactics. Now he understood: Xin Qiji had seen the entire strategic picture. Jin was not defending the southern front—it was hoarding resources for the northern showdown. And the treaty Great Song was signing was helping Jin build its reserves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he finally sat down again, fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, saying nothing more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The negotiations lasted less than an hour. No clause was contested, for every clause had been predetermined by higher authority. Shi Miyuan in Lin’an had already surrendered everything he could; Li Bi’s task was not to negotiate, but to wrap the humiliation in the elegant guise of “two nations reconciled, jointly resisting northern barbarians.” On the Jin side, their Ministry officials also conceded—because they knew the real value was not whether the paper terms could be fulfilled, but that the paper itself meant the Southern Song was now bound to Jin’s war chariot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the moment of signing, on the afternoon of the fifteenth day of the twelfth month, the wind from the Huaihe was dry and cold. Wanyan Axi signed for Jin, Jiagu Heng countersigned, stamping with the wolf-head imperial seal of Jin. Li Bi signed for Song, Deng Youlong countersigned, stamping with the Son of Heaven’s traveling seal. Two copies of the treaty were made—one kept by Jin, one by Song. After verifying their match, the two sides exchanged texts. As Li Bi handed over the document, he spoke a line not in the protocol—“May this treaty bring no more war between our nations.” Wanyan Axi paused a moment, then replied—“May the northern barbarians never come south.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two dynasties that had been enemies for eighty years, in this ruined fortress by the Huaihe, called each other “lips and teeth” out of shared fear of the same foe. The Minister of Rites of Song and the Jin royal envoy bowed to each other across the table. Their smiles were formal, ceremonial—but in their eyes lay the same unspoken thought: “Don’t you dare collapse.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When news of the treaty reached Lin’an, Shi Miyuan was reviewing documents in the Council of State. After reading Li Bi’s report, he fell silent, then picked up his brush and wrote across the document: “Peace concluded. Border defenses must be strengthened. Notify all circuits: cease hostilities, nourish the people.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He made no celebration, held no banquet, offered no boast to his advisors. One of them dared to ask: “Chancellor, this treaty secures Jin, but what if the northern barbarians truly attack—” Shi Miyuan looked at him. “When the northern barbarians come, Jin dies first. When Jin is dead, we die. So our only task now is to make Jin die as slowly as possible.” He paused, then added, “Preferably, not at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The advisor froze. Then he suddenly understood Shi Miyuan’s meaning. If the Xinming Party attacks south, Song must defend the northern frontier alongside Jin, preserving Jin as a “shield.” Tribute, land, indemnities—these were not the true cost. The true cost was that Song had staked its fate on a dying Jin. And the deepest tragedy was this—no better alternative existed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That evening, Li Bi departed Guangzhou with the signed treaty. Inside his carriage, he gazed back at the Huaihe fortress beneath the setting sun and said to Deng Youlong, who rode beside him: “How will history record today, a thousand years from now?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deng Youlong, mounted on horseback, did not turn. He stared at the dusk-heavy plains north of the Huaihe, silent for a long while, then said: “A thousand years from now, history will probably write only one line: ‘Song-Jin peace treaty, tribute unchanged.’ As for this mutual defense clause—” he shook his head, “may no one ever understand why it was written. Because if someone does, it means the war we fought so hard to delay has already come.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The carriage rumbled across the Huaihe pontoon bridge. The setting sun burned the river half-red; the water shimmered like a vast crimson banner slowly flowing. On the north bank, Jin’s flag snapped in the north wind; on the south bank, Song’s flag hung limp in the dusk. For decades, the two flags had faced each other across the Huaihe—today, for the first time, they were no longer enemies. But neither were allies. They were two dynasties under the same shadow, clasping hands before darkness fell.\u003C\u002Fp>",1938,"2026-06-20T13:48:22.834Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","1dfd9b4db93e645fd0312befd48965f266b9189212cac8fba216dd0e892cbe34","from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-chapter-198","from-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-chapter-196",205,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Ffrom-special-forces-to-the-multiverse-cover.jpg"]