Chapter 85: The Pursuit of Self-Destruction

The battle progressed too smoothly; the enemy offered no meaningful resistance, leaving Li Mu deeply embarrassed.

From the actual battlefield situation, all the prior preparations had been utterly useless.

What lay before him wasn’t an army at all—just a mob of farmers, forced into battle against their will.

It was pure inexperience that caused this; had he fought more battles before, he’d have spotted the enemy’s weaknesses at a glance.

Then, when we met the enemy yesterday, the entire army could have simply advanced and ended the fight outright.

The anger didn’t last long; soon a smile appeared on Li Mu’s face.

For the victor, minor flaws in the process are no big deal.

Caution in warfare is not a mistake.

“Issue orders: spare those who surrender!”

Seeing his troops continuously cutting off heads, Li Mu immediately ordered them to stop.

These rebel soldiers were mostly pitiful souls dragged into this; there was no need for a massacre.

Since the Yangzhou Defense, he hadn’t lacked for headcount achievements.

Though military merit accelerates promotion for officers, there are limits.

Those overnight promotions only happened in the early days of founding a dynasty.

With the system now refined, official promotions follow steady steps; extraordinary appointments are extremely rare.

If there were no limits, every military post would be held by the Nine Border general clans.

Garrison troops on the frontier fight enemies regularly; even if each engagement yields small gains, over years the total becomes staggering.

Clearly, this is impossible.

If merit alone guaranteed promotion, the system would soon collapse into a situation where no further promotions or titles remained to be granted.

These battlefield achievements, for Li Mu personally, mainly serve to enrich his record.

When future vacancies arise and personnel appointments are discussed, recommenders can cite these records as justification.

“Li Battalion Commander, these are surely the weakest troops among the rebels, aren’t they?”

The Marquis of Wuyang’s question left Li Mu speechless.

The topic of rebel combat effectiveness was simply too broad.

“Probably, yes!”

Li Mu replied hesitantly.

Reason told him there was no such thing as the worst—only worse.

The same applied to imperial troops: the capable were truly capable, the useless were truly useless.

Strength and weakness are relative, not absolute.

Compared to these enemy troops, his own soldiers were unquestionably elite.

But if taken to the Liaodong front, they’d instantly blend into the crowd—and might even be on the weaker side.

There remained a wide gap between his troops and true elite forces, yet Li Mu felt no panic.

Elite soldiers are forged in battle; after a few more engagements with these rebels, they’d be nearly ready.

“Since the rebels have been defeated, we should proceed to retake Xinghua County.”

Our merits are sufficient; Gaoyou Prefecture must be left for the Capital Garrison to retake.”

For subsequent southern campaigns, we’ll just take Taizhou; the main theater must be left to the Capital Garrison.”

The Emperor still broods over the great defeat in Liaodong; he will surely restart the Liaodong campaign.”

I am old now, uninterested in fame or fortune; I have no wish to join that fray.”

The future belongs to you young men—if you seek to honor your wives and protect your descendants, I can recommend you!

Looking at this Marquis of Wuyang, barely forty, Li Mu couldn’t fathom how he’d earned the label “old.”

Still, concealing one’s abilities was wise; Liaodong was no easy place to reclaim.

With the Marquis’s abilities, going to supervise Liaodong would be nothing but delivering his head to the enemy.

No matter how much authority he granted, the Liaodong general clans were a nest of scoundrels; anyone sent there would be ruined.

The simplest way to reclaim Liaodong: throw money at it!

Emperor Tianyuan had done well earlier—spending heavily to build elite troops and send them to Liaodong to fight the barbarians.

Though it ended in failure, the barbarians suffered heavy losses too.

The enemy’s reaction after the battle proved it.

Logically, after a decisive victory, one should press forward to maximize gains.

Yet the northern barbarians didn’t launch a full-scale war; instead, they turned to annexing steppe tribes.

Clearly, their troop losses were severe and they urgently needed reinforcements.

If it works, keep doing it; as long as it inflicts heavy casualties, even failure holds strategic value.

Winning early isn’t winning; the final victor is the true winner.

For Central Plains dynasties fighting steppe peoples, the best strategy is attrition.

Fight in spring, fight in summer.

Fight in autumn, fight in winter.

Keep the entire year in a state of war; within a few years, you’ll wear the enemy down to death.

Historical texts are full of such theoretical cases, but few dynasties could sustain the constant spending.

“Thank you, Marquis, for your guidance. I am young and have much to learn.”

The Nine Border front needs seasoned veterans; I won’t go there to cause trouble!”

Li Mu declined firmly.

He was a single man, with no wife or children—what talk of honoring his wife and protecting his descendants?

Not only did he not want to go to Liaodong—he had no interest in the entire Nine Border frontier.

The border armies were dominated by entrenched military clans; he’d be an outsider there.

If he wasn’t driven out, he’d count himself lucky.

Achieving merit? Pure fantasy.

Just paying his soldiers’ wages would drive a man to despair.

Better to stay home and enjoy comfort than go there to eat dirt.

The court’s grand strategy? That’s for the Emperor and the senior ministers to worry about.

For military officers, unless they reach the very top, they have no voice in strategy.

…

Wen Family Camp.

“General, urgent report from Xinghua!”

“Yesterday, General Wu led troops into battle and suffered a crushing defeat; his fate is now unknown.”

“The enemy’s advance now points straight at Xinghua County; the defenders are all old and weak—they cannot hold…”

“Crash!”

Before the young officer finished reading the letter, Wen Feiyang slammed his palm onto the table.

“Who authorized that fool to march out and engage the enemy?”

“I’ve ordered him three times, five times: hold Xinghua County! Is this how you hold it?!”

Facing their furious commander, all officers lowered their heads, avoiding his murderous gaze.

In all this time since the rebellion began, Wen Feiyang had never before felt murderous intent toward his own men.

Militarily, Xinghua County was a bone with little meat—but losing it now was terribly timed.

If Xinghua fell prematurely, annihilating the Five City Garrison troops within its territory became a fantasy.

The plan to strike south first, then north, to defeat the rebel forces piecemeal, had collapsed; the Wen army’s position suddenly grew perilous.

“General, it’s done now; no amount of cursing will change it.”

“Wen Jianshao’s blunder can be discussed later.”

“The urgent task is to adjust our strategy immediately.”

“The Xinghua rebels were defeated yesterday; by now, the enemy has likely seized Xinghua County.”

“Even if we rush there immediately, the enemy will hold the city; we won’t break through quickly.”

“Strategically, we are now encircled from north and south by imperial forces; we must prepare for the worst.”

Wen Feiyang spoke up beside him.

He too was furious at Wen Jianshao’s foolishness.

But the man was now missing—dead or alive—he had no chance to punish him.

“Issue orders: turn the army around and return to fight the Capital Garrison!”

“As for the Five City Garrison troops, the chaos in Xinghua should hold them for two days—ignore them for now.”

“If we move fast enough, defeat the Capital Garrison before they can disengage, and we still achieve our strategic goal!”

Whether others believed it or not, as commander, Wen Feiyang believed it first.

Failure? The consequences were too terrifying.

He couldn’t bear it. The Wen family couldn’t bear it. The entire rebel army couldn’t bear it.

…

Taizhou City.

“Big brother, stop drinking!”

Huang Renliang frowned as he urged.

Since the great defeat at Yangzhou, Huang Renlong, unable to bear the blow, had lost his former fighting spirit and spent his days drunk and numb in the city.

With the commander fallen, the officers below followed suit, living for today’s wine and today’s joy.

“Little brother, come, have a drink with me.”

“Only now, on this day, do I understand what life truly is!”

In the past, we scurried after the Zong family—what kind of hellish life was that?”

After raising troops, I did right by the Zong family—yet still got betrayed by that bastard Zong.”

These are Zong Guangtai’s wife and his concubines—look, aren’t they all beautiful?”

Pick whichever one you like—she’s yours.”

We’re all brothers; what’s mine is yours—don’t be formal with your big brother!”

Huang Renlong chuckled.

As a salt smuggler, he was never short on cruelty.

Back in Taizhou, the first thing he did was exterminate the entire Zong family, keeping only their wives and daughters for his pleasure.

“Big brother, the imperial troops are coming!”

If we keep sinking like this, our good days are over!”

Huang Renliang said helplessly.

He had always been a lustful man; naturally, he wouldn’t be polite with his big brother.

These women before him—he’d sampled them all, more than once, in secret.

After savoring the novelty, he grew even more attached to his life.

Only by living could he ever hope to bed more beautiful women.

If he lost his life now, this fine existence would belong to someone else.

“Nonsense! How could the imperial troops arrive so fast?”

Taizhou’s walls are strong; the imperial garrison in Yangzhou alone is nowhere near enough.”

The capital troops are still stuck in Gaoyou, tangled with the Wen family—they won’t arrive anytime soon.”

The southern imperial forces reached Zhenjiang and then couldn’t move forward—they’re nothing but rabble.”

Just relax and enjoy it. When the big battle starts, we’ll be back to a life of wandering and hardship.”

These good days are numbered—after this, you’ll never get to live like this again!”

It was clear Huang Renlong had already lost his will to fight.

He had once been nothing but a salt smuggler, his only goal to earn more money and buy a few hundred acres back home.

Marry a wife, have children, send his son to study for the civil exams, and join the gentry class.

An unexpected twist had thrust him into the spotlight, making him an insurgent leader overnight.

But ambition forced upon him was always fragile.

After one defeat, his fledgling grand ambitions vanished entirely.

“I’m not lying—the enemy is truly approaching.”

I sent scouts to verify: Yangzhou’s garrison split in two.”

One part chose to head north, seemingly aiming to retake Xinghua and attack the Wen family from two directions with the capital troops.”

The other part is marching south—now less than twenty li from us.”

The enemy will reach Taizhou’s gates by tonight at the latest, or tomorrow morning at the latest.”

If we don’t prepare now, once they arrive, it’ll be too late.”

These past days, we’ve ravaged Taizhou badly—the people here are restless.”

Whether to stay or flee—you must decide quickly!”

Huang Renliang couldn’t help but urge.

In truth, even if the imperial troops didn’t come, they couldn’t stay in Taizhou much longer.

Living off stored supplies is unbearable; no matter how rich Taizhou was, it couldn’t sustain hundreds of thousands of mouths.

Burning villages and forcing people into the ranks boosted their numbers—but also increased consumption.

When we attacked Yangzhou, we relied entirely on the Zong family’s grain and funds.

No matter how great a fortune, it couldn’t withstand such heavy depletion.

The Zong family’s extermination wasn’t just for revenge—it was also because they had no more grain left.

Their stores were exhausted; the court had tightened inspections, so they could only buy from merchants via sea routes.

The price was exorbitant, and the quantity extremely limited.

To solve the food crisis, every gentry merchant in Taizhou was plundered without exception.

Even so, the grain seized wouldn’t last long.

After all, when farming, people could survive on half rations; during lean seasons, they could still make do with wild greens and tree roots.

Now that they’ve all rebelled, living without tomorrow, why not eat their fill? That would be a waste.”

After one mutiny, the Huang brothers feared their soldiers rising up more than anything—they dared not cut rations.

“Issue orders: prepare for battle. I’ll face the enemy myself!”

Huang Renlong growled with murderous intent.

He had lost too unfairly last time—he still resented it deep down.

But Yangzhou’s walls were too strong, and his own forces had suffered heavy losses—he couldn’t retaliate.

Things are different now: the enemy is split, and we’re fighting on home ground.

Even if we must retreat, we’ll fight first.

After rebelling once, if we have no notable victory to show,

we won’t even dare introduce ourselves on the road ahead.”

…

On the plain, among the chaotic imperial troops, a battle standard fluttered, embroidered with the character “Rong.”

For his first campaign, beyond initial nervousness and curiosity, all he felt was boredom.

The rebels fled at the sight of imperial troops; every village and market they passed was in ruins—no amusement to be found.

“Commandant Rong, we’re nearly at Taizhou—shall we keep advancing?”

Hearing his companion’s reminder, Commandant Rong, who had been dozing in his carriage, snapped awake.

He’d dawdled all along, yet here he was, already at the enemy’s stronghold.

The rebels’ retreat didn’t mean they’d abandon their base.

He wanted to say no—but remembered the bluff he’d put on, and couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

He knew nothing of warfare, but he’d watched plenty of operas.

On the battlefield, orders were law; failing to carry them out meant losing your head.

Though he had Imperial Consort Rong’s protection, Duke Wuyang was the Emperor’s own uncle—his status dwarfed his.

If Duke Wuyang chose to be ruthless and cut him down, even that might be excusable.

“Of course we advance! Duke Wuyang’s order was to retake three counties—do you intend to defy military command?”

(End of Chapter)