Chapter 64: Miracle

After arranging for Jebe, Guo Jing and Nie Huaishang returned to their tent to meditate and practice, and also to contact Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan in Shandong.

Guo Jing: “We’ve sent you the horses we seized from Temujin via the group chat red packet—remember to claim them.”

Zhang Chu’an: “Thanks to you two wealthy big brothers for the gift—I’m deeply grateful.”

Nie Huaishang: “Stop joking. How’s your situation? Has the Jin Army sent troops to crush you? You’ve grown to two thousand men now.”

Zhang Xiaofan: “How can they control us? The Jin state is in steep decline—peasant uprisings and revolts never stop. Compared to them, we’re downright well-behaved.”

Zhang Chu’an: “Exactly. To the Jin rulers, we’re just another large band of Shandong outlaws. We only raid villages, seize land from rich landlords, never attack prefectures or cities. And with the Jin state in such turmoil, they simply don’t have the energy to care about us.”

The Jin state today is plagued by constant peasant revolts and must also constantly fear the Southern Song’s northern expeditions, since pro-northern-expedition sentiment remains strong in the Southern Song.

Though the Jin state had reached its political and cultural peak under the enlightened rule of Emperor Shizong and Emperor Zhangzong.

But during the middle-to-late reign of Emperor Zhangzong, it began its decline. The Jin Army’s combat effectiveness kept deteriorating, even with generous pay.

Moreover, Jurchen nobles seized vast tracts of land in northern China and enslaved Han people, intensifying tensions and fueling continuous peasant revolts.

So Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan operate quietly in rural areas, seizing land from rich landlords—hence the Jin state ignores them.

Nie Huaishang: “Then recruit more men. In the coming time, we’ll keep supplying you with horses to help you train cavalry.”

Guo Jing: “Besides cavalry, set up a firearms factory when the time is right. We’ll need your support for firearms later—we simply can’t build a factory here.”

We have too few craftsmen here, and besides, we’re already under Temujin’s watch. If we produce firearms on the steppe, he’ll soon acquire our technology.

After all, we’re his number-one enemy now—he can’t afford to ignore us.

But if Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan handle firearms production, Temujin won’t even encounter such weapons until at least ten years from now, when he attacks the Jin.

As for the Jin people, we’re not worried—they’re mostly corrupt and decadent, with no interest in new weapons.

The only decent one left, Wanyan Honglie, is still desperately seeking the Military Legacy of Yue Wumu, hoping to restore the Jin Army’s combat power.

Guo Jing could only scoff at Wanyan Honglie’s hopes. Even if the entire Military Legacy of Yue Wumu were handed to them, it couldn’t save the Jin state now.

The Jin’s crisis isn’t just military—it’s political. And Yue Wumu couldn’t fix political decay even if he returned from the grave.

The Jin’s policy of ethnic oppression has bred deep hatred among the Khitans and Han people—otherwise, why would Khitan and Han revolts erupt the moment the Mongols invaded?

Zhang Chu’an: “So Zhang Xiaofan and I plan to lie low for the next five years, quietly expanding our influence and establishing more self-sufficient bases.”

Zhang Xiaofan: “High walls, full granaries—that’s our strategy. Then we can supply you with resources: weapons, grain, all of it.”

Nie Huaishang: “Fine, move quickly. By our estimate, we’ll strike Temujin in two years. If we fail to kill him, we’ll be forced into open war.”

After all, we’ve driven him to the brink twice—he’ll never let us live.

When that time comes, only advanced weapons will give us any chance against Temujin, this once-in-a-generation genius.

Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan logged off—and immediately received the two thousand horses sent by Guo Jing and Nie Huaishang.

Looking at the horses, Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan were thrilled: now they wouldn’t lack mounts for training cavalry. Horses were scarce strategic assets, and Shandong had little land suitable for raising them.

They needed horses to train cavalry, since

These two thousand horses were their secret weapon—especially since they were Mongolian horses.

Though small, unimpressive, short-legged, they excelled in endurance and could endure long marches—the lightning-speed advance of the Mongol western campaigns was made possible by these horses.

And since they lived in semi-wild conditions, they needed no comfortable stables or fine feed—they were easy to raise.

“Now we can train cavalry too.”

Zhang Chu’an said excitedly to Zhang Xiaofan beside him—training cavalry took time, after all.

Otherwise, even with horses, they’d just be mounted infantry—perfect targets for real cavalry.

After leaving the meeting hall, the two discussed cavalry training with the others, staring at the newly arrived horses.

The others showed no great surprise.

After all, the past six months had brought them enough miracles—so much so that, in their eyes, their current life itself was a miracle.

Though they rose before dawn and worked late into night, performing exhausting labor, then studied knowledge after dark, leaving them utterly drained daily.

But here, at least, they could live like human beings—where else in the world had anyone ever treated poor folk like humans?

To Jurchen noble masters, they were nothing but slaves—how could they be called people?

To Han landlords and powerful clans, they were lowly mud-footed peasants—how could they be considered fellow countrymen?

Year-round, they toiled for their masters, exhausted to death, yet still endured beatings and abuse.

Even so, they couldn’t feed their families—they could only watch helplessly as their loved ones died.

In those moments, they felt utterly useless.

How could such a life be called living? No dignity, not even the right to survive.

But here, no master beat or cursed them; people were equal. Even the two leaders spoke to them without arrogance, treating every member of the Shanzhai with respect.

Here, as long as they worked, they never feared hunger.

Under the leaders’ guidance, they had successfully reclaimed vast tracts of land behind the mountain—and now each of them owned their own plot.

To live like a human being in this world—how could that not be a miracle?