Chapter 370: Black Clouds Press the City

Outside Shenglong City, the Yue army’s encampment.

Gazing at the fluttering banners, Hu Xinbo, commanding troops for the first time, felt boundless ambition, as if the entire world lay beneath his feet.

“My loyal ministers, Guangxi lies just ahead—do any of you have a brilliant strategy to defeat the enemy?”

Hu Xinbo asked with great vigor.

The late emperor favored foreign campaigns, but those were all small-scale wars; mobilizing ten thousand troops was already considered a major operation.

Mobilizing the entire nation’s army together was unprecedented since the founding of the Great Yue Dynasty.

Before the expedition, the ministers opposed his leading the troops.

After all, entrusting a monarch with no prior military experience to command hundreds of thousands of soldiers seemed utterly implausible.

Yet disagreements arose among the ministers over the commander’s selection, and Hu Xinbo seized the opportunity to turn their discord to his advantage, Shunshi seizing control.

It wasn’t that he particularly loved commanding troops—it was simply that this military campaign was too critical.

He could not trust anyone else with the nation’s army; he had to take the field himself.

“Your Majesty, Guangxi is surrounded by mountains on three sides and borders the sea on the fourth.

The Yu Dynasty’s navy is strong; crossing the sea to wage war carries excessive risk and offers no advantage.

The land borders are blocked by the Liu Zhao Mountains, Daqing Mountain, Gongmu Mountain, and the Ten Thousand Mountains, with extremely rugged terrain.

To attack Guangxi, the best option is to launch troops from Liangshan, storm into Siming Prefecture, and seize Zhennan Pass.

…”

The more Chen Chuyang analyzed, the more he felt attacking Guangxi was a mistaken decision.

Before the Yu Dynasty abandoned Jiaozhi, besides internal strife among civil and military officials, it was because holding Jiaozhi was a financial loss.

Military issues were secondary; the main factor was logistics.

At the time, the Hong River Plain had not been developed to its current level and could not supply sufficient grain and pay for a large army; supplies had to be transported from the homeland.

Sea transport could have solved this, but civil officials, eager to push the maritime ban, deliberately burned vast numbers of treasure ships.

Relying solely on land transport was problematic—Guangxi’s roads were already poor, and after entering Jiaozhi, they became even more tortuous.

Liangshan, the gateway to Hanoi, features towering mountains, deep valleys, dense forests, and crisscrossing rivers and gorges, like a labyrinth.

Combined with the tropical rainforest climate—humid, swarming with insects and mosquitoes—it was a literal hellish supply line.

If attacking from Guangxi was this difficult, then attacking from this side would face the same obstacles.

The previous Great Yue emperor had long coveted the Two Guangs but ultimately took no action, having been forced to abandon the plan after calculating the costs.

Compared to overcoming these immense difficulties to wage war against the Yu Dynasty, it was far more cost-effective to bully the indigenous tribes of the Zhongnan Peninsula.

But these reasons clearly failed to convince Hu Xinbo.

To diminish the people’s fear of the Yu Dynasty, they had spent over a century and still had not fully erased the shadows left by the Yu army.

Having just ascended the throne, he needed to consolidate imperial authority.

With the Yu Dynasty provoking conflict now, failing to respond forcefully would be a major blow to his rule.

If everyone knew there was still a suzerain state to the north, a Yu Emperor looming above him, his position as emperor would become a joke.

Once public sentiment shifted, the Yu Dynasty could use political means to overthrow him.

Among the imperial clan, he was not the only heir.

If one of his brothers allied with the Yu Dynasty and received their formal investiture, he would gain the legal basis to usurp the throne.

“Hmm!”

“Minister Chen’s plan is sound, but too conservative.

Since we’ve decided to launch a campaign against the Yu, we must not limit ourselves to Guangxi alone.

We must attack Siming Prefecture—and not neglect other regions.

Send a diversionary force to launch an offensive into Yunnan, and let the Yu Emperor experience what it means to be stretched thin.

Minister Xiao, I entrust you with fifty thousand troops to conquer Yunnan.

Before the local Yu troops realize the danger, swiftly capture Guangnan Prefecture.”

Hu Xinbo added after a moment’s thought.

Compared to heavily fortified Guangxi, neighboring Yunnan was clearly slower to react.

This stemmed from long-standing border tensions: Guangxi and Annan had frequent skirmishes, while the Yunnan border had remained far more peaceful.

“Your servant obeys!”

Xiao Yunfan replied with delight.

Having campaigned east and west for years, he had earned great military merit in the Great Yue Dynasty, yet still lacked a decisive victory to cement his status.

Previously, he had only bullied small indigenous states; even when victorious, people considered it routine.

This time, facing the Yu Dynasty, if he could seize Yunnan, his name would become a monument in Great Yue’s history.

…

Bathed in spring breeze, Li Mu once again led his troops into the field.

He had ultimately not waited for the child’s birth.

With the border situation tense and Annan troops ready to strike at any moment, he had to go ahead and stabilize morale.

This was a lingering consequence of the Annan threat narrative.

Li Mu had confidence in the garrison troops under him, but others did not.

Even before the war erupted, Guangxi’s gentry and merchants were already preparing to flee.

Appeals for help from officials poured in like snowflakes.

If no immediate action was taken, his side would collapse before the enemy even arrived.

“My Lord, news has arrived from Shenglong City.

Five days ago, King Hu Xinbo of Annan swore in his troops at Shenglong and launched his campaign.

Judging from the banners, the enemy’s total strength is roughly 250,000, though they publicly claim two million.”

Upon hearing the final number, Li Mu couldn’t help laughing.

He had seen bluster before, but never this much.

Only peasant uprisings in feudal dynasties could muster two million troops—by counting every man, woman, and child.

The actual combat-capable forces were less than one-tenth of that.

“Hah…”

“Since the Annan people are so generous, we must reciprocate.

Issue orders: tell the world that I, your Lord, lead fifty thousand troops to confront the Annan army in decisive battle.”

Li Mu declared with grandeur.

He had originally wanted to boast and scare the Annan, but now saw it was pointless.

They claimed two million troops; to outdo them, he’d have to claim three million.

If he did that, future historians would record it as a joke.

He had no desire to become the “Great Boaster” of posterity, so he changed strategy.

If he couldn’t exaggerate upward, he’d simply understate.

After all, he wasn’t lying: excluding Guangxi’s local forces, the troops he brought were indeed only fifty thousand.

If the Annan believed him, they’d suffer dearly on the battlefield.

…

Guilin Prefecture.

“Where is the Han River Marquis’s army?”

Zhang Sihan asked anxiously.

Since learning of the Annan army’s “two million,” he had not slept well.

Even knowing the enemy was bluffing, everyone’s nerves remained frayed.

Even if that number were halved twice, it would still be fifty thousand troops—Guangxi remained at a decisive numerical disadvantage.

If the enemy broke through the lines and invaded Guangxi’s heartland, his position as Provincial Governor would be ruined.

Not even mentioning punishment or imprisonment, all his past achievements would be lost.

Having worked hard for so long, he was no longer young; he had little time left to waste.

If he failed to rise this time, his dream of entering the Grand Council would truly become a fantasy.

Although Great Ming history had seen officials promoted directly from Provincial Governor to the Grand Council, those were the high-ranking governors of Nanzhili.

As a Provincial Governor of Guangxi—one of the lowest-ranked among governors—he was still several tiers away from qualifying for the public recommendation.

“Your Excellency, rest assured—the Marquis’s army has entered Wuzhou and will soon reach the front.

The Annan forces are still en route; by distance, they’re only about a hundred or so li away.

The Guangdong garrison troops have been reorganized by the Marquis; their overall quality rivals regular recruited troops, and their marching speed should far exceed the Annan’s.

The two armies should arrive nearly simultaneously, without affecting the battle.”

Lu Lingchuan replied with a smile.

As the Military Preparedness Commissioner, he frequently interacted with the military and understood Guangxi’s garrison troops well.

Due to relatively sufficient funding, these garrison troops trained as rigorously as recruited soldiers.

During the suppression of the rebellion, they had followed Li Mu all the way—from Guangxi to Guangdong, then from Guangdong to Guizhou.

Later, due to reorganization, they were reclassified into the garrison system.

Yet in the court’s eyes, most of that once-formidable force were listed among the fallen.

Officials serving in Guangxi had subtly sensed something was amiss.

But the garrison system was a closed world; local officials had no authority to intervene and were unaware of how wildly Li Mu had falsified battle losses.

Military commanders knew the truth, but they were also beneficiaries of the system and would never go around blabbing about it.

The officialdom was no different from any workplace: if all problems were solved in advance, superiors wouldn’t think subordinates were capable—they’d assume it was only natural.

Only victories achieved after countless setbacks and terrible sacrifices earned public recognition.

Military merit required the lives of soldiers as its foundation; if battle losses weren’t large enough, fabricate them.

This was the unique trouble of Li Mu’s unit.

Other military commanders, having suffered defeats on the battlefield, were desperately concealing their losses to avoid accountability.

“As long as they arrive in time!”

“But the reinforcements brought by the Marquis of Han River amount to only fifty thousand—likely insufficient.”

“Why not have each prefecture conscript able-bodied youths to join us in defending the city?”

Provincial Surveillance Commissioner Zhou Zhenbang proposed.

This time, he genuinely offered advice, with no intention of causing trouble.

After all, with Annan’s invasion, everyone was on the same boat.

If we won the war, everyone would share the glory.

If we lost, everyone present would perish together.

“No need for such fuss.”

“Guangxi isn’t short of troops—it even has more soldiers than Annan. It’s just a matter of whether we dare to use them!”

Jia Bo spoke calmly.

As a land of exile for convicts, Guangxi had received over a million war prisoners over the past few years.

These men were scattered across various garrisons, undergoing forced labor and reeducation.

Compared to ordinary civilians, these battle-hardened veterans could be deployed after minimal training.

“Master Jia, don’t joke like this.”

“Those rebel soldiers despise the court more than anyone else—arming them might unleash chaos we can’t control.”

“In my humble opinion, let the Marquis handle military matters—we shouldn’t interfere!”

Chai Jingcheng immediately objected.

The front-line fire was still far from Guilin; it wouldn’t affect this region anytime soon.

Unlike arming rebel soldiers exiled for military service, these men were dispersed across garrisons—over one hundred thousand war prisoners alone were in Guilin.

If trouble broke out, he had no capacity to contain it.

“Master Chai, you overthink it.”

“I have no habit of meddling recklessly!”

“These prisoners were exiled here specifically for military service and border defense—my suggestion merely asks them to fulfill their duty.”

“Whether to adopt it ultimately rests with the Marquis’s decision.”

“As for fears of unrest, there’s no need to worry.”

“So many war prisoners have been exiled to Guangxi—have you ever heard of any disturbances?”

“Due to the sheer number involved, their nine clans haven’t all been exiled yet, but they will be sent eventually.”

“Prisoners with no reservations are extremely rare.”

“Just keep tight watch on those few troublemakers.”

Jia Bo replied calmly.

No local official liked the families of rebels.

No one would hesitate to send these unstable elements away.

For local gentry, their departure freed up space.

With their families present, prisoners had something to lose.

Unless pushed to the brink, no one dared cause trouble.

After all, they were all former offenders with only one chance at exile and military service.

If they committed a grave crime, their entire family would be executed.

…

(End of Chapter)