Chapter 395: Raising Fire to Make a Torch

The sky was overcast, the moonlight obscured. Though there was no excessively harsh wind, it was a winter night, so the biting cold needed no elaboration. And under such conditions, on both banks of the northern fork of the Yellow River's southern channel, a battle was underway involving nearly a hundred thousand combat troops on both sides.

Yet the entire battlefield presented a bizarre state in the dim, shifting darkness of the night.

The city of Great Ming on the east side of the river and Yuancheng on the west side were undoubtedly the core focal points of the battlefield. The commanders-in-chief of both sides, along with their actual headquarters and central army camps, faced each other across the river. The straight-line distance between the forward positions might have been only six or seven hundred paces, but the presence of the great river forced them to remain in a standoff.

What was even more unsettling was that while the river's course would not easily shrink, the water level was growing shallower and shallower, and it was increasingly likely to freeze solid completely, turning it instead into a smooth thoroughfare that could reverse the battlefield situation at any moment.

South of the two cities, no fewer than ten thousand Song troops from the central army, led by several Commanders under the overall command of Tang Huai, suddenly crossed the river, creating a tremendous uproar and a grand spectacle... The clamor of drums, shouts of battle, and fires large and small stretching for over ten li formed the most active and chaotic area of the entire battlefield, and also the brightest place second only to Yuancheng.

But both commanders knew full well that this was the least important area. For now, Tang Huai's main task in crossing the river here was to create a disturbance.

To the north, although there were also scattered points of firelight, the overall situation was one of quiet and stillness.

And both commanders also knew that this was the ultimate foundation of the battle, the place where the killing intent was hidden. Because a bit further north, within Guantao territory, a large main force of Jin Jun was stationed. They held back, ready to sweep south and clear this area at any moment, and could support Yuancheng at any time. If the Song army wanted to attack the city, they had to seize the initiative in this open area and block the Jin reinforcements to have any chance.

This gap was itself a trap and a bait.

To the west, that is, the Jin-occupied territory further west of Yuancheng, the fires gradually dimmed. By the Yongji Canal, or rather the western fork of the Yellow River's northern channel, there was no movement or firelight at all, like a pitch-black backdrop.

It was conceivable that in the originally densely populated towns there, after most of the able-bodied men had been conscripted into the army, they would be extremely cautious in the face of the war to the east.

However, perhaps in the near future, a massive main combat force, one worthy of being recorded in the annals of history in any era, would gather there—an unprecedented army of cavalry and infantry.

To the east, that is, the general area occupied by the main Song army behind Great Ming City, although there was no deliberate clamor or excess, the lights from various strongholds and the constant movement of soldiers and crowds created a commotion and overall illumination that could not be concealed.

Here, the ultimate success or failure of tonight's operation was brewing. Boats were being moved across land, laborers were working with all their might to prepare fortification timbers, hauling and transporting, and even cooking meals. A large, elite main force was also standing by.

Yet the strangest place of all was still the central node of the battlefield. The vast Yuancheng, where Gao Jingshan, the Commander-in-Chief of the Jin Jun's Great Ming Prefecture Field Headquarters, resided, was brightly lit. Orders were strict both inside and outside the city, and order was well-maintained. At the same time, the smaller Great Ming City, where Yue Fei, the Marshal of the Song Jun's Hebei Field Army, was located, was pitch dark. Apart from the necessary lights, it was terrifyingly silent.

There was no help for it; this was a "covert crossing." It should have been launched in the first ten days of the month when there was no moonlight. Now that it was the middle of the month, they had no choice but to pick a night when the sky was overcast and the moon was hidden. Under these circumstances, Great Ming City "had" to minimize light to be "correct."

It was precisely because of this that the light over the increasingly narrow river channel between the two cities was exceptionally obscure and hard to define.

Yet, in the mingling light and shadow on the river, some things could not be easily ignored just because of insufficient light; their presence was too strong.

Tian Shizhong was waiting north of the city, Wang Gui was directing the land-based boat movement at Gucheng Town, and Zhang Rong was nowhere to be seen. Most of the other officers had also received their orders and left early for other places. At this moment in Great Ming City, beside the high platform near the western water gate, the one specially used for hot air balloons, Yue Fei sat alone on a chair. Within dozens of paces around him, there was only You Xuejiu, a staff officer of the Imperial Guard Navy, and Bei Yan, a commander specifically in charge of the hot air balloons, attending him.

Only two or three torches were lit around the entire high platform, making it impossible to see Yue Fei's expression clearly. You Xuejiu had lost his earlier composure and boldness in front of his own commander. He just squatted dejectedly with his hands tucked in his sleeves at the base of the platform, not daring to move. As for Bei Yan, he was clearly flustered to the point of not knowing what to do, yet he also dared not move easily. He could only stand there, silently accompanying the other two in enduring the situation.

That was right—enduring. All three of them were enduring.

Standing in this place, although the shouts of battle from the south were clearly audible, they could not drown out the whistling of the Jin stone trebuchets firing from a few hundred paces away, nor the dull thuds of the projectiles hitting the water, nor the crisp cracking sounds when they struck wooden materials... That last sound was the most unbearable, even more so than the occasional screams.

Because no one knew whether behind that crisp sound lay the Song army's complete lack of damage or an even greater scale of loss.

And this was precisely why the matter that Xiao En and his men were undertaking was so hard to accept, why Zhang Rong was so conflicted, and why You Xuejiu was on the verge of collapse but dared not flee.

This was not some glorious sacrifice on the battlefield, nor the indiscriminate slaughter of large-scale combat. Rather, from a direct perspective, the lives of this group of brave men were being thrown away. This assault, destined to incur heavy casualties, was a vague, uncertain feint that no one could guarantee would be useful, but which seemed necessary from the highest, strategic level.

But the problem was precisely this: in this way, its usefulness or uselessness seemed entirely dependent on the skill and judgment of the opposing commander, Gao Jingshan. At the same time, although everyone might still understand this in their hearts, the Song commander-in-chief Yue Pengju could not produce clear evidence that these men's actions were critical and necessary.

He could not produce it for his superiors, for his subordinates, for Xiao En and his men, or for the soldiers of other units who might later be dissatisfied because Xiao En and his men had taken the credit. Yet, for the sake of the overall battle plan's success, he had to send these many brave men to their deaths for nothing.

There was no help for it. The so-called Imperial Guard Army was merely a force hastily assembled and integrated only eight years ago. Although it had already become a complex system with mature routines—such as the secret dispatch system, the Commander system, and the personal guard culture—it had not yet developed specific military terminology for this particular tactic, allowing people to readily recognize the value of such sacrifice, just as everyone would automatically acknowledge the necessity of scout cavalry.

Of course, Yue Fei on the city wall and Xiao En in the river were undoubtedly in the process of establishing such a mechanism... because when Yue Fei issued this military order, Xiao En executed it without hesitation.

Yue Fei sat there rigidly. He did not know what Xiao En was thinking, nor what You Xuejiu was thinking. But for him, who was naturally given to reflection, he could not help but feel a bit dazed at this moment... "A kind heart cannot command troops, a righteous heart cannot manage wealth." Words could be spoken lightly, military orders could be written with gritted teeth, but when one truly sat here like this, forcing oneself to listen to the sounds of stones flying through the air, smashing boats and wounding men, only then would one realize what one had actually done.

The Northern Expedition was just, recovering the Two Rivers was necessary, and national unification was great. No one could deny this, just as the Zhao Emperor had said in the latest official gazette... At this point, no one could deny that the Great Song Dynasty and this era were jointly writing their own grand chapter... This somewhat convoluted and peculiar statement, upon first reading, would inevitably make one suspect that it was something the Zhao Emperor had written while drunk, after being overjoyed by the capture of Yangliang South Pass at the southern end of Queshu Valley in the Hedong direction.

How does the Great Song Dynasty write an article?

An era is a period of time. How can a period of time write an article?

And write it jointly?

But upon careful reading, it had a unique charm.

The previous issue had published an old poem recited by Prince Han when he requested to fight on the front lines, which had shaken the roof tiles of Tieling Pass on the spot and, after publication, had shocked the entire realm. But even he only spoke of "fulfilling the emperor's great affairs, winning fame before and after death." What he earnestly sought was merely a place in history. But a person could achieve fame in history, a state was formed by people, an era was created by people, and the metaphor of a state and an era jointly writing an article was actually quite brilliant.

After reading it at the time, he, Yue Fei, had also felt a sense of "a true man should be like this"—I, Yue Fei, also want to write my own grand chapter.

Moreover, combined with the ten years of hardship and experience before, Yue Fei had enough confidence and courage to tell everyone, just as the Emperor's article said, that this chapter was just, necessary, great, and beyond doubt, with a clear distinction between friend and foe.

Yet, between light and shadow, in the darkness, while listening to the sounds from the river ahead, Yue Fei had to admit that this chapter was too vast, vast enough to crush anyone.

The decade-long empty hopes of the people in the Two Rivers, the years of emptiness in the Central Plains, and the heavy taxes on the people of the Southeast that had persisted for years were all footnotes to this chapter.

This was not about helplessness or selfishness, nor was it entirely lacking the awareness and greatness of sacrifice. It was merely the pure insignificance of the individual, their triviality in the tide of the times.

Just like at this very moment, countless lives of brave men were being effortlessly erased by the night through those sounds.

"Marshal."

Breaking the silence was Bei Yan, who had been in a state of panic. He suddenly stepped forward and called out hastily.

"What is it?"

Yue Fei responded in a deep voice.

"The sound of stones hitting the water has increased by half," Bei Yan explained hurriedly. "Either half the boats have been lost, or half have made it across, or the boats are damaged, unable to move, and are bunched up..."

Yue Fei glanced at this familiar man and immediately realized that the other was reminding him that whether it was a real assault crossing the river or a feint, the operation at this point had either succeeded or failed. There was no need to continue.

He just didn't know if Bei Yan, as a low-ranking officer, could guess that it was a feint.

Of course, this thought lasted only a moment. Yue Fei immediately forced himself to calm down and listen carefully to those unbearable sounds of the trebuchet stones. And indeed, as the meticulous and cautious Bei Yan had said, the dull thuds of the Jin stones hitting the water had noticeably increased.

But Yue Fei still found it difficult to give the order, because he only knew that over a dozen boats had made it to shore before the battle, and Wang Gui had not yet told him how many steamboats had successfully reached the river behind Yuancheng.

Moreover, tonight was not just about crossing the river.

As if seeing through Yue Fei's thoughts, Bei Yan quickly added cautiously, "Marshal, if it's a feint, meant to keep the Jin army from paying attention to other places, our grand, ostentatious rescue itself can actually buy time... If we suffer such losses and still don't retreat, it might instead arouse the enemy's suspicion."

Yue Fei was finally stunned for a moment. Then he looked up and down at this old acquaintance, who was now less than two or three paces away, as if seeing him for the first time... But after only a moment, he put aside extraneous thoughts and made an immediate decision:

"In that case, light the torches immediately and launch a large-scale rescue on the river!"

Once the order was given, You Xuejiu and Bei Yan both felt a great weight lifted. They hurriedly ran off to relay the command. In a short while, the soldiers waiting in the city swarmed into action, instantly illuminating all of Great Ming City as brightly as Yuancheng on the opposite bank. The entire city camp seemed to come alive.

Then Song troops went down along the river embankment, shouting loudly, telling their navy brothers in the river to abandon their boats and armor and escape back to this shore.

Seeing this scene and hearing the order to abandon ship, the Jin troops on the opposite side cheered and celebrated, feeling they had won a great victory. The Imperial Guard Navy men, who had been suffering in the river without even knowing their own casualties, also felt a sense of relief.

But soon, a new problem arose.

"Marshal, there are many sunken boats in the river, and the light is insufficient. Many of our wounded men can't find their way," You Xuejiu reported, sweating profusely as he hurried back. "Being knocked about, bumped into, and frozen in the river—even staying a moment longer is deadly."

It turned out that times had changed; originally, the Song Army's "surprise attack on the river channel" should have avoided lights as much as possible, but now that they were retreating, and the Jin Army's catapults were all fixed in position, this kind of "firepower" was fixed no matter what. At such a time, sufficient brightness was actually needed instead.

The brighter the river was, the greater the chance that Xiao En and his subordinates would survive after abandoning their ships, and the greater the possibility that the wounded would be rescued.

Since he had already decided to abandon the fight and focus on rescue, how could Yue Fei refuse? He quickly issued another military order, gathering torches and braziers from the surroundings, and piling up fuel on the riverbank to light bonfires.

But once again, quickly—after illuminating the devastated river channel for only a moment—the Jin Army on the opposite bank also realized the problem. While they continued their sustained bombardment of the river channel, they gradually extinguished all unnecessary light sources except for those at the catapult positions.

Above the river, it once again became a state of one side bright and one side dark. Coupled with a light mist that had drifted in unnoticed during the night, the river channel became dim and indistinct once more.

And this time, neither Yue Fei nor You Xuejiu, including the hastily mobilized Song Army from top to bottom, could do anything about it for the moment… They could only control the light on their own side—how could they manage the light sources of the Jin Army on the opposite bank?

At the same time, the catapults on the opposite bank continued firing without pause.

Under these circumstances, even Yue Fei was somewhat flustered inside, merely forcing himself to stay calm… This was truly an unpredictable, sudden need and an unforeseen incident.

"Marshal, I have a plan!"

Just then, it was Bei Yan again, suddenly rushing to Yue Fei's side. "It can both light up the river channel and show that we are truly defeated, not faking it, so the enemy on the other side will remain complacent…"

"What plan?" You Xuejiu grabbed him, both hands trembling.

"It depends on whether the Marshal is willing to part with it!" Bei Yan dragged You Xuejiu along, straining to look at Yue Fei. "There's no wind tonight."

Yue Fei was about to scold him, but in almost an instant, he understood the other's plan, and then let out a sigh: "If you are willing to part with it, how could I not be? Do it quickly!"

Although You Xuejiu did not understand the riddle the two were playing, he immediately let go. And just one incense stick's time later, he too knew what the plan was… In the darkness, catapult stones continued to fall into the river channel. The Song Army was still struggling to rescue and save themselves. At the same time, a huge hot-air balloon was carefully and quickly set up on the launching platform. Then the fire was lit in the furnace, and wax oil was stuffed into it without regard for cost, with unprecedented effort put into working the bellows.

With this effort, coupled with the fact that winter nights were naturally suitable for using hot-air balloons, after about a quarter of an hour, the balloon began to swell slightly, then pulled on the ropes around it, and roughly revealed a tiger pattern… But at this moment, the tiger looked a bit listless, as if it had just woken up, which made both Yue Fei and You Xuejiu feel it was somewhat unreliable—they were just treating a dead horse as if it were still alive.

As for Bei Yan, he was drenched in sweat, steadying the basket, gauging the force, and issuing orders nonstop. He had people continuously pour charcoal and firewood into the four sides of the basket, while constantly reducing the sandbags outside, and also had to watch the fire's intensity and the balloon's inflation to maintain balance.

Gradually, the tiger finally opened its eyes. At this point, the hot-air balloon was still unstable and not fully inflated, but for the purpose of this operation, it seemed to be enough.

After estimating it was about right, Bei Yan gave the final order: to pour some lard into the four corners of the basket, and then have people throw in four torches at the same time. After doing all this, he quickly left the area around the basket, shouted orders, and had all four ropes cut, leaving only one exceptionally long tow rope, which he and several dozen soldiers dragged together.

Then, the hot-air balloon, now freed from restraint but initially still maintaining stability, rose into the air at a slow yet steady speed. At the same time, under the dragging efforts of Bei Yan and several dozen soldiers, it slowly and steadily shifted direction slightly, drifting toward the river channel.

During this time, the fire in the basket grew larger and larger, and even the long rope soon reached its end and was released. But from the very beginning, it had already captured the attention of everyone in both cities and both armies. In the end, when it turned into a blazing torch before the stunned eyes of both sides on both banks, burning itself out over the river channel like a flaming moon, it must have captivated tens of thousands of people on both sides with its splendor and heat.

Clearly, even the rhythm of the Jin Army's catapults became chaotic. At the same time, the river channel was momentarily as bright as day, illuminating the dozen or so ships—or rather, shipwrecks—in the river with perfect clarity. Many soldiers of the Imperial Guard Forward Army, after an initial daze, began rushing down into the river without regard for anything, scrambling to rescue people.

Many soldiers of the Imperial Guard River Force also mustered their courage again, either shouting vigorously or struggling to head east.

Xiao En, whose leg was trapped by a wooden plank, had struggled several times and failed. He stared fixedly at the fireball overhead, suddenly let out a bitter laugh, but amidst the noise, he gathered his courage again and called out loudly for help.

Beyond the river channel, countless people were also stunned and lost in thought.

Yue Pengju stared fixedly at this great fireball that was continuously burning itself out. He had never imagined that such a familiar military asset could achieve such powerful self-worth in this way.

Even as the flames soared into the sky, the tiger's head on the hot-air balloon, now fully swollen and soon to disappear, seemed to respond to the disdainful Yue Pengju, baring its fangs and brandishing its claws.

In the Yuancheng tower, Gao Jingshan, who had earlier personally ordered the lights extinguished in the southeast of the city while keeping the catapults firing, was also completely beside himself. He no longer sat there eating fish, drinking wine, chatting, and reading the gazette. The fish soup had been knocked over the moment the fireball rose, the official report was soaked in fish soup, the wine was spilled, and his attendants were frantically dealing with the remaining charcoal in the stove.

At this moment, Gao Jingshan was just stunned, leaning on the window, his expression identical to that of Gao Qingyi beside him, staring at the fireball, lost in thought and speechless.

There was no help for it—this scene was too spectacular, too bizarre.

Zhang Rong, of course, also noticed the fireball. His reaction was the most straightforward: he dropped the tow rope, didn't even bother to look for his padded jacket, and directly mounted his horse, galloping at full speed toward Great Ming City.

The fireball drew everyone's gaze, but it didn't last long, nor could it pierce the increasingly thick fog to spread its light across the entire battlefield. In just two quarters of an hour, the flames had burned from the outer layer to the tiger's claws, and then the entire balloon wobbled and teetered, crashing toward the ground in the southwest.

Then, as if afraid it wasn't enough, a second hot-air balloon followed closely into the sky, continuing the course of the first, and once again capturing everyone's attention.

This was a good opportunity.

"How many have crossed?"

It was a little past the third watch. As the fireball in his field of vision gradually faded, Tian Shizhong, who had been squatting by the river south of the city eating flatbread and drinking soup, turned his head to ask.

"Before the fireball rose, there were seventeen small steamboats and eight large steamboats," Zhang Zigai blurted out in reply. "Plus two damaged ones, laid up on the bank."

"Then now I estimate there are twenty small steamboats and ten large steamboats… right?" Tian Shizhong squeezed the flatbread in his hand tightly, speaking calmly.

"Yes," Zhang Zigai replied through gritted teeth.

"Is the pontoon bridge ready?" Tian Shizhong ignored the dense pontoon bridges already built in front of him and asked again in a deep voice.

This time, Zhang Zigai did not reply.

"Then let's go!" Tian Shizhong stuffed the crushed flatbread in his hand into his mouth, swallowed it in one gulp, then stood up and spoke in a slightly muffled tone. "After crossing the river, you lead the Beiwei Army to continue resting, conserve your strength—no work, and no need to carry the planks!"

Zhang Zigai nodded heavily, then rose with him, cupped his hands, and took his leave.

After Zhang Zigai left, in the faint light, Tian Shizhong and one of his personal guards lifted from the ground where they had been sitting an object that resembled a shield, but was much larger and longer than a shield. They strained to hoist it up, and Tian Shizhong took the lead, carefully stepping onto the pontoon bridge and heading toward the opposite bank.

Seeing this, the surrounding soldiers, from the Commander down, all followed suit. Then countless soldiers of the Imperial Guard Forward Army waiting there on standby, along with the conscripted civilian laborers, also moved together. Soon, in the darkness, a tide surged from the east bank of the river to the west bank—the Song Army began a large-scale crossing of the river south of Great Ming City, advancing toward the narrow area south of Yuancheng, which was almost equivalent to a death trap swept by the Jin Army's cavalry.

As for what Tian Shizhong was carrying, it was actually an object made of three wooden beams, fixed together with ropes and crossboards, with both ends sharpened.

This was one of the most common items in the army, used for setting up camps. Whenever they arrived somewhere, the civilian laborers would first go cut wood, then make these objects, and finally dig pits and gather them together to form a stockade.

These planks, which only lacked the final step of digging pits and burying them, were piled up like a mountain on the east bank of the river.

PS: I don't expect everyone to forgive me; I only hope to write as well as I can and strive to be a decent person.