Chapter 61: The Frustrated Commander

After a brief clash, both sides fell into a standoff.

For three consecutive days, the rebel forces made no move; Li Mu knew the enemy had run into trouble.

Yangzhou sits on the Jianghuai Plain, surrounded by flat terrain and crisscrossed waterways, with not a single towering mountain in sight.

After years of development, trees on the plain are few and far between.

To build siege equipment, they must send men to fetch materials from much farther away.

This back-and-forth wasted precious time.

Meanwhile, the number of rebel troops increased daily.

Whether it was conscripted villagers or rebels from other regions, they were converging toward this area.

Confident the enemy would not launch an immediate attack, Li Mu gradually relaxed.

As the defender, he now had more than enough time.

Since the enemy wasn’t attacking, he seized the opportunity to train new recruits in batches.

…

Inside the prefectural yamen.

“Commandant, why have you summoned us?”

Li Mu asked, puzzled.

After the rebels laid siege, officers had stationed themselves permanently in their own defense sectors for easier command.

Even if matters arose, they simply sent messengers to communicate.

Calling all city officers together for a meeting was the first such gathering since the war began.

“We’ve just received word that Nantongzhou has fallen.

The imperial navy sent as reinforcement was betrayed by a traitor, suffering heavy losses—nearly a hundred warships captured by the enemy.

With so many ships seized, the rebels can now sail upstream at any moment and strike our rear.

For Nanjing’s safety, reinforcements from the southeastern provinces will now reroute to Zhenjiang for defense.”

After the Marquis of Wuyang finished speaking, the room fell into heavy silence.

The news came too suddenly—the navy’s catastrophic defeat and the loss of so many ships seemed like a fairy tale.

Li Mu strongly suspected the navy had deliberately inflated losses to cover up their own misdeeds.

The navy differed from the army; even if infiltrated, they might lose only one or two ships.

The total number of warships in the Jiangnan navy was barely over a hundred.

If a hundred ships could be turned by the enemy, the Great Yu empire would have already changed hands.

The national situation remained stable; how could so many rebels possibly arise?

The reinforcements from the southeastern provinces were nothing more than a force existing only on paper.

He himself came from a garrison unit; he knew better than anyone how rotten the local garrison forces had become.

Going to reinforce Zhenjiang was a pretense; the real reason was fear of exposing their weakness before the imperial inspector.

The official troop strength across the provinces reached hundreds of thousands; if they were truly sound, they could easily split into two forces.

Even more aggressively, marching directly to crush the rebellion would not have been difficult.

He knew the truth, but these were merely personal suspicions.

In officialdom, one could never speak without evidence.

Perhaps sensing there was a hidden truth, no one dared speak first.

“Why is everyone silent? Are you all frightened by the rebels?”

The Marquis of Wuyang demanded, displeased.

Deep inside, he felt even more uncertain.

With limited military skill, he could only rely on his subordinates to hold the city.

If even his officers were helpless, trouble would be immense.

Fleeing the city would be too shameful—he was a man who cared about face.

“Commandant, the situation may not be as dire as it seems.

Nantongzhou’s fall is real, but the navy’s defeat and loss of ships are likely fabricated.

The Jiangnan navy is riddled with ghost soldiers; their fleet probably doesn’t even total a hundred ships.

Let’s wait and see—soon enough, we’ll hear news of the navy bravely blocking the rebels!”

Tang Jincheng spoke with disdain.

Losing a battle meant being held accountable by the court.

One could use defeat to cover up debts, but one must also be given a chance to redeem oneself.

Later, in court, one could smooth things over with connections and claim merit outweighed fault.

With this back-and-forth, all past misdeeds could be erased.

When the court later funded the navy’s reconstruction, another windfall could be had.

“Commandant, Tang Battalion Commander hasn’t finished.

It’s not just the Jiangnan navy playing tricks—the reinforcements from the southeastern provinces are too.

If the rebels don’t attack, they’ll still seek opportunities to fight them.

Then they’ll fabricate battle reports showing both high casualties and high achievements, to conceal their past problems.

We’re outsiders; when doing such shady business, we naturally keep our distance!”

After Zhao Yawei finished speaking, Li Mu felt overwhelming pressure.

He had to admit, these two were truly bold.

Many knew the army’s corruption, but few dared speak out so openly.

The first two had already laid everything bare; if he tried to cover for them, it would be impossible to justify.

Continuing to expose more secrets, however, didn’t suit his status.

Others could lift the lid—but as a garrison descendant, he couldn’t pick up the bowl and smash the pot.

“Commandant, the reinforcements from the southeastern provinces were never part of our plan; whether they come or not makes no difference.

The rebels’ internal structure is complex, and they cannot coordinate strategically—their next move cannot be predicted by conventional logic.

The rebels from Nantongzhou might join the siege against us, or they might march directly south.

Even heading straight for Nanjing is not beyond them.

Previously, a faction of rebels from Huai’an Prefecture, overreaching themselves, declared a northern expedition to the Central Plains and marched toward Xuzhou.

They were annihilated halfway when they clashed with the Capital Garrison!”

Li Mu swiftly shifted the topic to military matters.

There were certainly clever men among the rebels, but most were short-sighted—that was inherent to any rebellion.

With such opponents, any decision was possible.

After listing these possibilities, the Marquis of Wuyang was thoroughly confused.

One moment north, the next south, then west.

Asking a commander with no military knowledge to decide was truly unfair.

“You all figure it out yourselves!

How exactly to fight—I won’t interfere, but Yangzhou must not fall!

If you hold Yangzhou, I’ll petition the Emperor on your behalf.

Those stationed in the capital will be promoted at least one rank; those posted outside will be promoted three ranks at once.

If Yangzhou is lost, you can just slit your own throats!”

The Marquis of Wuyang immediately started handing out empty promises; his method was clumsy—he hadn’t even put the dire warnings first.

As a result, no one’s morale was stirred.

Of course, the greater likelihood was that everyone had powerful patrons behind them; as long as they earned merit, promotion was guaranteed.

It was frustrating—here he was, the Regional Commander, holding ultimate authority, yet unable to make timely decisions.

He normally avoided military meetings because, by the end of each one, he felt like an idiot.

Especially when the battalion commanders disagreed, it was pure torment for the Marquis of Wuyang.

Everyone’s arguments seemed reasonable; he couldn’t decide whose plan to adopt, so he just waited for them to argue it out.

Deep inside, he had already decided: after completing this mission, he would never command troops again.

This job wasn’t fit for a human being.

(End of Chapter)