Chapter 1293: The Grand Review at Linqing

By the sixth month, the Shandong days had already turned hot. Standing in full armor, arrayed in orderly ranks and marching — this was no light task. And after entering Northern Zhili from Shandong, despite victory after victory, the marching and fighting had been anything but easy. From that time until now, from Zhao Jin down to the common soldiers, everyone was weary and worn, with hardly any rest.

Yet few complained or cried hardship over this review. A warrior trains hard in camp every day and fights bloody battles on the field — these things have no onlookers, nor would there ever be any. And the strict military discipline meant they had no chance to throw their weight around and flaunt their might.

People all have a nature to display themselves, to show what they are. Warriors are naturally the same — they too want others to witness their valor and strength, to be awed by it, to win admiration. But when did such an opportunity ever arise? Most even thought no such chance would ever come. Deep in their hearts, there still lingered a bit of the traditional view that the civil was noble and the martial base. After all, they had grown up in the Great Ming; though they themselves were warriors, they still thought this way.

Now, the officers and soldiers of the Zhao Family Army began to think a layer deeper. Zhao Jin had not only given them benefits and tangible rewards — he also meant to give them glory and standing. After the great victory at Jinghai, soldiers and even squad leaders were all talking, wondering what the future would hold. Almost with one voice they said: we have followed the right man. We stake our lives following Lord Jin to conquer the realm; Lord Jin will certainly not shortchange us. Once our generation has a family foundation and status, we'll have our children study well — after all, when it comes to holding the realm, the civil scholars get the greater share of benefits.

Everyone had seen what the Great Ming was like. Those commanders and chiliarchs in the guard battalions, hereditary military officers from martial households, yet they sent their sons and younger kin to study for the civil examinations. Wasn't it precisely because in times of peace, wielding blade and spear held no value, and only scholarly learning was precious?

But now, many clear-headed people suddenly realized one thing: what Lord Jin was doing was different from the Great Ming, and it seemed different from the traditions of every dynasty in the storytellers' tales and legends. Lord Jin's regard for warriors was not merely because he himself was a warrior, nor because warriors were needed right now. It was a regard in itself, a pure and genuine respect. Perhaps being a martial man generation after generation was no bad thing? Perhaps — no one could really judge.

Only those who thought deeply would consider such things. Most were simply excited — the thrill of displaying valor, of showing martial splendor. The brigade commanders and regiment commanders checked again and again, unwilling to overlook any detail, unwilling to let the battalion they led make a fool of itself at the review and be laughed at by brother units. The soldiers below polished their weapons, washed and brushed their horses, burnished their arms — wanting to show their very best to the crowd.

On the early morning of the Linqing review day, only the northern gate of Linqing city was opened. Those going in and out on business could only pass there, and the southern gate area where the review was held was off-limits — this was for order and public safety. But the review was not closed off to the people inside Linqing. They could go up onto the city walls and watch from high above; the view was actually much better than from below.

On this day, even the Linqing Subprefect, the Deputy Prefect, the Assistant Magistrate, and the clerks and runners all went up onto the wall. Once they let themselves go, matters of moral integrity and such no longer weighed much. A spectacle like this, everyone wanted to see — and they could conveniently decide what choice to make in the future.

The only ones somewhat unhappy were the runners and constables below. Because the Zhao Family Army had specifically instructed them, the subprefect's yamen had specially assigned runners to stand guard on the wall. Safety was watched over by the Li family's private guards; the key concern was preventing overcrowding. If someone fell from the Linqing city wall, lives would be lost. Everyone else was enjoying the spectacle, while they had to busy themselves with duties — it was uncomfortable no matter what.

Besides the Linqing officials, gentry, and commoners on the wall, the Internal Guard had also placed personnel on the wall, especially at the positions closest to the review platform.

Everyone arrived early. No one knew who came up with the idea, but aside from officials and gentry, going up onto the wall required paying ten cash. This kept the wall crowded but not jam-packed. The wealthiest and most prominent families even set out tea and pastries, arriving early full of anticipation. But below the wall, there were only those powerful gentry and magnates who had come from all over Shandong. They stood waiting on either side of that crude wooden platform, the sun beating down on their heads. Though Shandong had suffered many disasters, people of their status could still live in comfort and ease. Waiting like this was truly arduous. Yet the Zhao Family Army had provided them no seats, nor allowed them to bring servants — just gave each man a gourd filled with water, saying they could drink when thirsty.

By rights, those Linqing gentry sitting on the wall, with tea and pastries, at ease and comfortable, were far more content than those standing below. Yet the people on the wall took no pleasure in this at all — because among those standing below were also local Linqing gentry. The reason they themselves were sitting on the wall was that they were not qualified enough to receive an invitation. Only those with the standing had the right to stand down there and suffer. Thinking of that, their feelings were truly complicated.

At the Zhao Family Army's main encampment, every brigade, regiment, and company was already arrayed and standing at solemn attention, waiting there. The formations were strict and orderly. From the brigade commanders down to the common soldiers, every man stood with chest out and head high, armor and weapons gleaming under the sunlight. Though there were over twenty thousand men in this camp, apart from the neighing of oxen and horses, no one spoke; there was hardly any other sound.

Every regiment was arrayed in its wartime defensive formation. The brigade commander stood as the first man at the right end of the first row of his brigade's first regiment. The brigade banner and regimental banners were right behind him. According to the prior arrangement, Chen Sheng was supposed to ride as an escort to Zhao Jin, the two of them riding one in front and one behind to inspect these formations. But Chen Sheng had firmly insisted on standing within the ranks to receive Zhao Jin's review.

Lu Da and Li He were not in the ranks. Lu Da, holding the great banner, followed behind Zhao Jin, while Li He served as the head of the review escort guard, attending closely at Zhao Jin's side. The two regiments that had remained to garrison Linqing had also rendered great service — this arrangement was a reward and a mark of regard for them.

Zhao Jin, mounted on horseback, was guarded by twenty armored cavalrymen. The armor worn by these cavalrymen and the standard-bearer was all brand-new; every metal fitting on the horse tack gleamed — a sight of imposing majesty. But what truly drew the eye was the armor on Zhao Jin himself: the dark-gold Xuzhou Heavy Armor.

This armor had not accompanied the army on the northern campaign. In fact, it was only after the army had turned back in triumph and passed Cangzhou that this specially crafted armor was delivered to Linqing. The original plan had been to forge it from pure gold, or to plate the surface with gold; the idea of applying gold leaf had also been considered. But all these schemes were rejected. Pure gold was too soft and too heavy, utterly unsuited for forging armor. Gilding and gold leaf, meanwhile, looked too fake. In truth, a bright, glittering gold color was not suitable for armor coloration — such a brilliant gold could only display wealth, but could not project authority.

So the armor was forged from fine brass, and following the advice of Johann Adam Schall von Bell and the others, the color was darkened. The resulting armor was solemn, weighty, and imposing — perfectly suited to Zhao Jin. This suit naturally differed in many ways from armor meant for battle. The pauldrons and vambraces bore beast motifs and swallowing-maw designs; the relief carvings by master craftsmen looked fiercely intimidating. But the dragon and tiger motifs across the entire suit were the key points. To create these, jewelers had been specially summoned from Yangzhou to inlay silver wire into the armor. Under the sunlight, the intricate dragon and tiger patterns reflected a silvery gleam, as if the dragon and tiger had bent down and come alive upon it.

The armor projected authority, but it carried another meaning as well. Xuzhou and the Zhao Family Army had always developed quietly and operated with a low profile, maintaining a tacit understanding that many found puzzling. But this use of dragon motifs signaled a change. In truth, it was more a confirmation to the people within, so that no one would speculate wildly.

Zhao Jin's mount was a carefully selected pure-black horse, the most spirited and robust steed picked from the Zhao Family Army's horses. Though the Great Ming tradition held gold, silver, and purple as noble colors, the Zhao Family Army promoted the more solemn black and red. Zhao Jin was tall and powerfully built to begin with; clad in this suit of exquisitely wrought armor, riding a pure-black sturdy horse, he looked truly divine and martial beyond measure.

Thirty-six ox-hide great drums sounded in unison. After a rapid, urgent roll, the beat shifted to a monotonous, spaced rhythm: one unified boom, a brief silence, then another unified boom. Under this rhythm, the atmosphere grew solemn and grave.

Amid this monotonous drumbeat rhythm, Zhao Jin, draped in a crimson greatcloak and surrounded by his guards, rode into view before the formations. Every brigade, regiment, and company of the northern campaign army stood at attention in the same instant. The simultaneous movement produced a thunderous crash, as if the very ground trembled with it.

Every company commander and squad leader was scanning his own formation from the corner of his eye, fearful that this square formation — as precise as if hewn by blade and axe — might have any slant or flaw. Every soldier stood with chest out and head high, making his stance as perfect as possible, terrified that his bearing might not be spirited enough.

A military review is a grand ceremony. In all ages and all lands, in every dynasty, reviews have involved elaborate procedures, magnificence, and solemnity. In Wang Zhaojing's view, Zhao Jin's review this time was not only for internal but also for external purposes; it should also establish formal regulations and institutions, to show that the Zhao Family Army was not some bandit rabble risen from the wilds. But Zhao Jin's intent was very clear: to give his officers and soldiers glory, and to display his military might to the Shandong region.

Zhao Jin's mount was very well-trained, moving slowly forward. The first unit Zhao Jin reviewed was the First Regiment of the First Brigade. Brigade Commander Chen Sheng stood at the rightmost position of the first row of the First Regiment's square formation, in full armor, exceptionally solemn.

Seeing Zhao Jin pass before him, Chen Sheng held his saber in his left hand and raised his right arm across his chest in a military salute. His motion was the signal; the entire brigade and regiment followed suit, producing another thunderous crash. Zhao Jin smiled as he looked at Chen Sheng. Having grown up together since childhood, Chen Sheng immediately understood what Zhao Jin was thinking: he wanted to call Chen Sheng to join him — perhaps he even wanted to call every brother to join him.

Chen Sheng's face showed no smile. He looked at Zhao Jin and nodded, then straightened his posture to an even more correct stance, struck his chest heavily with his right fist, and roared at the top of his lungs: "Long live! Long live! Long live for ten thousand years!"

The scene fell silent, but this silence was only the gap between drumbeats. The drums boomed in unison again. Then, starting from where Chen Sheng stood, ragged cries of "Long live" began to rise. Some voices brimmed with excitement, some were hesitant, some were trembling and fearful — some even did not shout at all. But more and more people shouted, and the shouts grew more and more unified, until at last it became a single, thunderous cry: "Long live! Long live! Long live for ten thousand years!" — a roaring, surging tide.

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