Chapter 510: Drastic Changes in the Northern Frontier

The autumn wind from beyond the frontier swept up the yellow sand, carrying a thick stench of blood, like an invisible hammer smashing the remaining tranquility of the Hebei earth.

The main force of the Jin army, this war machine personally forged by Wanyan Aguda, after completing its preliminary probing and plundering, finally bared its full ferocious fangs.

No longer scattered harassing cavalry, but tens of thousands of elite iron cavalry, like a bursting flood, advancing in multiple columns, overwhelming the sky and earth as they marched south.

The thunderous hooves of the charging warhorses shook the ground; heard from afar, they sounded like continuous rolling thunder, heralding a devastating storm.

The first to bear the brunt was the strategic stronghold of the western Hebei circuit—Zhen Ding Prefecture.

This once towering, deep‑moated northern fortress, garrisoned with heavy troops, now seemed on the verge of collapse.

On the city walls, the flag of the False Song fluttered feebly amid the smoke; the defending soldiers' faces were pale with fright as they gazed at the Jin camp looming like dark clouds beyond the walls, their palms slick with cold sweat as they gripped their weapons.

Arrows rained down like locusts, and massive cannonballs screamed as they smashed into the walls, leaving horrifying craters and flying shards.

Each impact made the defenders' hearts tremble.

"Hold fast! All of you, hold fast for me!"

A blood‑soaked False Song Commander roared hoarsely, swinging his blade to cleave a Jin soldier who had just scrambled onto the wall.

But his voice was soon drowned out by fiercer battle cries and the death‑rattles of the dying.

The Jin assault surged wave after wave; they seemed tireless, braving the thinning arrow fire of the defenders, they fearlessly erected siege ladders and clambered up madly.

Weak points appeared all along the defenses; the defending troops were stretched thin, and morale, under relentless bloodshed and the despair of no reinforcements, melted like ice under the sun.

"Where is the court's relief force? Wasn't it said the troops from the Hedong circuit would come to aid us?"

A young defending army colonel, voice trembling with tears, asked the veteran beside him.

The old soldier's face was smeared with blood and dust, his eyes numb; he merely heaved a huge stone down, hearing a miserable wail from below.

He gasped hoarsely:

"Relief? Hah, they're probably still wrangling in some government office!

Better to hope Heaven opens its eyes than to count on them."

Collapse came faster than expected.

When a city flag was cut down by the Jin, when the first gap was torn completely open, panic spread like plague along the entire line.

"The city is fallen! Run!"

Whoever shouted first, the defenders who had been barely holding on instantly lost all will to fight, scattering like a disturbed ant nest, discarding helmets and armor in a frantic flight for life.

Even the commanders' shouts and the blades of their swords could not stop this avalanche‑like rout.

Zhen Ding Prefecture, the northern frontier's bulwark, announced its fall after holding out less than ten days.

The city gates were blown open, and a tide of wolf‑like Jin troops surged in, burning, killing, looting; flames and thick smoke instantly devoured the city's prosperity and order.

And this was only the beginning.

Zhongjing Prefecture, Zhongshan Prefecture, Xinde Prefecture… the False Song's carefully constructed northern defense line, under the fierce onslaught of the Jin main force, crumbled like sun‑baked clay statues, one after another.

Vast tracts of fertile land were lost; countless towns and villages turned to scorched earth, streams of desperate refugees turned into gray rivers trudging southward with difficulty.

The "Jingkang" catastrophe, originally lurking in history's shadows, had its bloody and humiliating prologue thrust forward at this moment, and unfolded in an even more brutal manner!

The news spread like wings, carried by defeated soldiers and refugees, racing to every corner at the fastest speed.

Liangshanpo, Hall of Righteous Gathering.

When Dai Zong brought back the shocking news of Zhen Ding's fall and the total collapse of the Hebei defenses, the entire hall seemed to have its air sucked away in an instant.

Dead silence.

A suffocating dead silence.

The slight cheer from the earlier small victory at Binzhou seemed utterly insignificant before this mountain‑shattering, tsunami‑like bad news, instantly crushed to dust.

Everyone's faces drained of color.

Song Jiang leapt up from the tiger‑skin chair, his body swaying uncontrollably, his face ashen as paper.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat so dry he could utter no sound.

Zhen Ding Prefecture… that's Zhen Ding Prefecture! Even such a major stronghold could be so fragile?

How could the Jin barbarians' blade reach this point of savagery?

A chill rose from his soles straight to the crown of his head.

"It's over… Hebei is over…"

A leader muttered dazedly, his voice low but unusually clear in the silent hall.

Those words were like lighting a fuse.

"Nonsense!"

Lin Chong's beard and hair bristled, he stepped forward, eyes blood‑red, like a lion forced into a desperate corner.

He fixed his gaze on Song Jiang, his voice trembling from extreme anger and sorrow.

"Brother Gongming! Did you hear? Did you see? The rivers and mountains are shattered, the people suffer! Is this really a reason for our Liangshanpo to stand by and do nothing?"

He waved his hand wildly, pointing north, as if trying to pierce the roofs and walls to point at the bleeding land.

"What's the point of talking about amnesty now? What are we waiting for, an imperial edict? If we delay any longer, the Jin iron hooves will cross the Yellow River and trample our China to barrenness!"

"My Northward Aspiration Army, I beg Brother to issue an immediate order, mobilize all the mountain‑stronghold troops, march north to resist the Jin! Let us fight the Jin to the death!"

"Yes! Fight to the death!"

Ruan Xiaoqi leapt up, eyes wide round.

"Even if my head is smashed into a bowl‑sized scar! To stay hidden in this marsh, watching our homeland be lost, what kind of hero is that?"

Liu Tang, Shi Jin and other Northward Aspiration leaders shouted in agreement, passions surging, battle spirit blazing like fire.

"Nonsense!"

Song Jiang, both startled and angry, slammed the table hard, trying to regain control of the chaotic scene.

His face turned iron‑blue, his chest heaving violently.

Mobilize all the troops of the mountain stronghold? You say it so lightly!

The Jin invaders are mighty; even the Imperial Court's million-strong elite army suffered utter defeat—our few troops throwing themselves in would be no different from using eggs to strike stone!

He forced himself to stay calm, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, especially those leaders whose faces showed hesitation.

To rush out with all our forces would not only fail to save the northern lands, but would also doom Liangshan's foundation, letting thousands of brothers die pointlessly!

We gathered for righteousness—what do we seek? Could it be merely for this pointless sacrifice?

He once again brought forth the treasures of 'preserving the stronghold' and 'brothers' lives'.

The path of appeasement, though it seems winding, is the right way! Only with the aid of the Imperial Court can we...

With the aid of the Imperial Court?

Wu Yong spoke up suddenly, his voice not loud but carrying a piercing sneer, cutting off Song Jiang's words.

He no longer shook his feather fan, merely gazing coldly at Song Jiang.

Brother, do you still think that the Imperial Court, which caused True Tranquility Prefecture to fall in ten days and made the North of the River defenses collapse at the first touch, still has the power to turn the tide?

At this moment, accepting amnesty—does it mean going to fight the Jin, or going to be buried with that foolish Imperial Court?

His words were like a cold dagger, viciously stabbing into the most fragile logical core of the amnesty faction.

Inside the Hall of Gathered Righteousness, the atmosphere instantly plummeted to freezing point.

The leaders of the factions advocating a northern march and those pushing for amnesty glared at each other; arguments, rebukes, and even shoving erupted again, more intense and more charged with the smell of gunpowder than ever before.

The clash of ideals, before this cruel reality of a shattered nation and ruined homes, now leaves no room for compromise.

The split of Liangshan, pushed by the drastic upheaval in the northern borders, has been driven to an irreversible brink.

Several hundred li away, the secret base of the Northward Aspiration Army.

Chen Wen stood alone on the hillside, gazing northward.

He needed no messenger report; the violent turmoil and widespread gloom transmitted via Shi Yong, representing the False Song dynasty's fortune, and the northern killing intent soaring skyward, reeking of blood and destruction, had already clearly told him everything.

It has begun...

He whispered to himself, his tone devoid of surprise, only a cold, weighty stillness.

The true test has now descended.

He turned, looking toward the rapidly expanding, brightly lit camp in the valley, and toward the drill ground where new soldiers, even now sweating profusely, trained bitterly.

His gaze finally settled on Chao Gai and Qian Gui, who had hurried over.

"Order Lin Chong: halt the advance toward Zhending, select a strategic spot on the spot, establish a firm foothold, and gather the routed soldiers and refugees."

"Notify all covert lines, activate the supreme contingency plan."

"We must raise the banner of Northward Aspiration upon this wasteland."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a resolute, unyielding force that, on this night of howling northern winds, clearly reached the ears of Chao Gai and Qian Gui.

The upheaval in the northern borders is a disaster, and also the true test of whether the fire of Northward Aspiration can spread like a prairie fire.