Chapter 308

Were the Liao soldiers still riding horses and shooting arrows, playing "Ride and Slash," a match for the Great Qian army with machine guns and cannons?

But faced with the vast grasslands, deserts, and steppes spanning millions of square kilometers,

the mere tens of thousands of Great Qian troops vanished like a single drop of water thrown into a river.

Counterinsurgency has always been a headache for great powers:

tiny Britain, which later became a world empire (losing three wars),

the Bear (ending a ten-year war without victory), and the Eagle (withdrawing in disgrace after twenty years)

all met their ruin in a small Central Asian nation,

earning it the title "Graveyard of Empires," making it infamous worldwide.

Of course, Zhang Zhang Jie thought even Afghanistan itself probably didn't want that title.

After all, about four-fifths of its territory consists of mountains and plateaus,

with the Hindu Kush range, averaging over 3,500 meters in elevation, cutting straight through its heart,

and such complex terrain is not only a nightmare for invaders,

but also a major obstacle to its own development.

Since ancient times, Afghanistan has been among the poorest even in poverty-stricken Central Asia.

"Your Majesty."

While Zhang Zhang Jie was pondering, Wu Yong smiled and explained: "Although the Liao army claims seven hundred thousand,

most of them are civilian laborers handling logistics;

the actual regular troops capable of fighting number only around one hundred thousand.

This battle has utterly shattered the Liao's backbone."

Zhang Zhang Jie took the battle report and read it carefully, confirming Wu Yong's words.

The Emperor Tianzuo Emperor's proclaimed seven hundred thousand troops included mostly laborers,

and a large portion of the numbers were inflated.

Zhang Zhang Jie found this very familiar!

Since ancient times, inflating troop numbers has been a classic method to boost one's own morale and crush the enemy's will.

With five or six thousand men, they'd claim ten thousand;

with tens of thousands of troops, they'd flaunt a hundred thousand;

if they had one or two hundred thousand, they'd go even further—

fifty thousand wasn't enough, a million wasn't too many.

The Battle of Red Cliffs, which nearly every netizen knows well, is a classic example.

Although official histories like the Records of the Three Kingdoms mention Cao Cao Chengxiang's "eight hundred thousand troops,"

this figure is universally regarded as bluffing, meant to intimidate the enemy.

According to historical records and academic research, the size of Cao Cao's army at Red Cliffs

is generally estimated between 150,000 and 200,000.

The northern troops accompanying Cao Cao numbered about 80,000 infantry and over 10,000 cavalry.

After Liu Cong surrendered, he absorbed Jingzhou's local soldiers, likely numbering between 30,000 and 70,000.

"This Emperor Tianzuo Emperor really is a talent."

Realizing this, Zhang Zhang Jie chuckled bitterly.

This Emperor Tianzuo Emperor, as the Other Shandong gentry claimed, was nearly indistinguishable from a Han Chinese emperor except for his appearance,

and he'd even learned the Han method of inflating troop numbers to bluff—

and he used it so well he nearly fooled Zhang Zhang Jie himself.

Well, he'd probably been intimidated by the Liao-Jin decisive battle, the Battle of Hupudagang,

where the Emperor Tianzuo Emperor claimed to lead seven hundred thousand troops.

"Your Majesty, how should we handle these prisoners?

If we keep holding them much longer, our grain supplies won't last."

Wu Yong added, his face grim.

The Great Qian army had only marched out with tens of thousands of troops,

yet the number of prisoners was several times that.

We can't let them eat freely and risk rebellion,

but we can't starve them to death either.

Even if each prisoner, noble or common, received only a bowl of thin porridge,

the grain consumption still skyrocketed instantly.

"What about the spoils?" Zhang Zhang Jie asked.

The Liao soldiers were human—they needed food too.

If we seized their grain, cattle, and sheep, it might greatly ease our logistical burden.

Wu Yong's already furrowed brow tightened into a knot:

"The Emperor Tianzuo Emperor clearly planned to raid and live off the land,

bringing only enough supplies for less than half a month.

After this major battle, much was destroyed,

and even if we gave just enough to keep the prisoners barely alive, it would last only about ten days."

Now even Zhang Zhang Jie was stumped.

Even if he could kill all these prisoners himself,

he had no magic to conjure enough food to feed them all!

The truth of this world—at least this world's truth:

kill a man, he dies; deny a man food, he starves to death.

"Your Majesty, what if—"

Seeing Zhang Zhang Jie's dilemma, Wu Yong paused, then his face hardened. He raised his hand and slashed it sharply across his throat.

Zhang Zhang Jie asked uncertainly:

"You mean bury them alive?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Wu Yong nodded firmly: "These prisoners are all able-bodied men.

If we release them, they'll inevitably undermine our rule over the steppes.

But feeding them? We don't have enough grain.

Right now, if we can't solve the problem, we must eliminate the source of the problem.

Kill over half the prisoners, and our problem vanishes."

'What a perfect solution! Truly, a perfect solution.'

Watching Wu Yong's face return to calm, as if discussing the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of prisoners

rather than a few chickens, Zhang Zhang Jie internally scoffed.

This Wu Yong, nicknamed "Little Little Zhuge," but in truth a "Ruthless Scholar,"

after broadening his horizons and rising to power, had grown even more terrifyingly ruthless.

Fortunately, his ruthlessness was directed at enemies.

"Your Majesty, I am willing to bear full responsibility for this act—no blame shall fall upon you!"

Zhang Zhang Jie sighed inwardly, but Wu Yong mistook it for reluctance to bear the stigma of killing prisoners,

so he bowed deeply, adopting the posture of "sacrificing everything to relieve his lord's burden."

"Your Majesty, absolutely not! Absolutely not!

Since ancient times, slaughtering prisoners brings ill fortune.

After Northern Wei's Emperor Taiwu, Tuoba Gui, buried alive the Later Yan prisoners,

the city's soldiers and civilians, fearing they'd meet the same fate, fought to the death, prolonging the siege.

Only later, when he pardoned the prisoners, did morale collapse.

Liu Liu Zhiyuan lured Zhang Xian and other officers to surrender, then killed them—this likely contributed to the Later Han's short reign.

Heaven favors life. The goal of war is conquest, not slaughter.

Excessive killing of prisoners drains vitality and loses the people's hearts."

At this moment, Chen Wen happened to arrive to report, and upon hearing Zhang Zhang Jie and Wu Yong's conversation,

he immediately knelt and pleaded desperately.

"Your Majesty, this opportunity won't come again!"

Wu Yong, too, dropped to his knees, his voice piercing like a cuckoo crying blood.

"Enough, enough, get up."

Zhang Zhang Jie raised his hand to help the two men rise.

He needed time to think about whether to bury them alive or not.

Whether this was a massacre or something else, he needed time to think about it.