Chapter 1295: This Is Strength

The suona sounded only that once. Once the crowd calmed down, discontent simmered in their hearts — they felt that if this was meant to cow them, there was no need to frighten people with such a commotion; it was far too childish.

But after that piercing note rang out, they saw the banner of the foremost square formation wave, the drumbeat's rhythm shift, and every soldier's vertically held spear tilt forward. Their strides lengthened, as if they were meeting the enemy on a battlefield, charging forward with valor.

The moment they made this movement, a murderous aura suddenly erupted from the already formidable ranks. The grandees, already taut with tension, were instantly seized by terror. Where had they ever seen troops like these — hardened by training, confident from victory, tempered by iron and fire into a grim ferocity the Shandong grandees had never witnessed? With only a handful of exceptions, many faces turned deathly pale, and many began to tremble uncontrollably.

Holding their breath, they watched formation after formation pass before them. In every infantry regiment's square, the arquebusier companies marched in front and the pikemen companies behind. By now, no one had any objection to this order of march, for on the battlefield, it was indeed these arquebusier companies that inflicted the most casualties on the enemy. Now everyone understood Zhao Jin's arrangement — no wonder he chose the finest soldiers to wield the arquebuses and open fire.

"Such troops should not exist in this world... such troops should not exist in this world..." someone could not help but murmur to himself. What they beheld surpassed anything they had ever seen, even exceeded the bounds of their understanding. They knew the Xuzhou army was a strong force, but before seeing it, they had roughly estimated in their hearts that it would be on par with, or perhaps a bit stronger than, a Grand Coordinator's standard battalion or a Regional Commander's personal troops. Who could have imagined it would be like this?

This was not a matter of men being robust and martial, nor of them looking fierce — it was an overwhelming, all-encompassing shock. As that square formation of over a thousand men marched past, it was like a mountain on the move. Looking at it, one felt utterly insignificant, and a shudder rose in the heart. Even those with some knowledge of military arts could not guess how such a force had been trained.

"Could it be with the aid of ghosts and gods..." someone murmured. Men of their wealth and status, even when reverent toward gods and Buddhas, remained thoroughly level-headed and did not fall into blind superstition — otherwise they would have long since squandered their family fortunes or been swallowed up by others. Yet even such men could not help uttering words like these, because they simply had no other way to explain it.

Most people saw something else entirely. These men managed household and clan affairs, ran businesses and accumulated wealth, and were deeply knowledgeable about matters of goods and coin. They were awed by the mountain-like formations, but only half-understood what they were seeing. Yet as they watched company after company of Zhao's troops pass before their eyes, what those soldiers wore on their bodies and held in their hands was solid, genuine good iron — and that was what truly left them dumbstruck.

They saw the helmets, shoulder guards, breastplates, armored skirts, and even iron on the legs and feet of Zhao's soldiers, to say nothing of their weapons. The spears went without saying, and those arquebuses looked thicker and heavier than fowling pieces. A quick mental calculation of the iron used and the labor spent on forging — measured against what they themselves used and consumed — immediately defied belief. The expense, the labor — the numbers were simply staggering. To say nothing else, even the Great Ming, richest realm under heaven, might not be able to equip such a force.

"Old Zhou, your family does plenty of business on the canal, and you're often in Xuzhou. Is it really that rich over there? Look at this armor and these weapons — how much silver must that cost? Don't tell me they scraped the very earth clean, or maybe it's the salt tax or something?" someone quietly asked an acquaintance.

"Truth is, they really haven't scraped the earth much. When we in Shandong suffered the great disaster, Xuzhou was doing just fine. You're over in Qingzhou Prefecture, news doesn't travel well — this Zhao Jin is a master at making money. The few businesses in his hands are like gold mines; the wealth is simply uncountable!"

"You lot really have no eye. At a moment like this, what are you looking at armor and weapons for? Look at those soldiers — where do you see any that are too thin? They're all stout, strong men. One look tells you they eat their fill. Tens of thousands of men, every single day, grain and provisions flowing like water, and Xuzhou has sustained them this long — that is truly extraordinary!"

Once the initial shock passed, they relaxed slightly and began discussing in hushed voices. They understood things far more clearly than common folk, yet after witnessing the spectacle of Zhao's army, they grew only more bewildered. So many men, such superb equipment — just how many means of generating wealth did Xuzhou possess to supply it all? Xuzhou had no profits from the grain tribute canal, no gold or silver mines, its farmland could hardly be called fertile, and the Yellow River's flooding was a catastrophe — how could it have achieved such a state?

They were puzzled, and so were the men atop the city wall. The murmur of discussion and commotion grew louder. Zhao's cavalry regiments and cavalry battalion companies were combined for the review, and when the cavalry arrived, the chatter grew even louder. Someone familiar with the livestock trade hurriedly spoke up.

"See that? Now that's what's truly valuable. One of these horses costs a hundred taels of silver, even up to a thousand. These are all fine horses — tsk tsk, I doubt even the steppes have many such fine horses left."

Hearing this, someone whispered, "Could it be the Tartars are backing him from behind?"

"Nonsense. If the Tartars had that kind of ability, Shanxi, Shaanxi, and Northern Zhili would have long since ceased to be part of the Great Ming. Xuzhou is far away, separated by heaven and earth," the knowledgeable man from before said disdainfully. Everyone nodded in agreement.

After the cavalry passed, the artillery came through. As they watched cannon after cannon being hauled forward by oxen and horses, the grandees, who had just begun to relax and converse loudly, fell silent. At first, only light cannons passed by, and someone made a snide remark: "I've never seen cannons pulled along so easily. Could it be they've specially carved these out of wood just to intimidate us?"

But this remark was immediately refuted by the ruts the cannons crushed into the earth. The ground had been paved with sand and gravel beforehand and even rolled with a stone roller, yet deep grooves were still carved out. When the nine-pounders, twelve-pounders, sixteen-pounders, and eighteen-pounders passed by, silence reclaimed the scene. Everyone stared at these massive, heavy metal constructs, speechless. When the heavy cannons at the rear were pushed through, they no longer bothered with any formation. A single sixteen-pounder required nearly a dozen oxen and horses, along with men helping to push, and even men carrying thick wooden planks ready to wedge under the iron wheels of the gun carriage at any moment. The oxen, horses, and manpower needed for just one cannon were enormous; each cannon's procession was practically an independent column.

The Shandong grandees had seen cannons before, but never cannons like these. Those with true insight could even tell that Xuzhou's largest cannons were not as large as the court's largest cannons, but they could also vaguely sense that Xuzhou's cannons were more finely made and far more powerful. More crucially, whether they understood the subject or not, none of them had ever seen so many cannons appear at once — not even in the ranks of the imperial court's official armies.

Looking at the infantry and cavalry up front, they recognized them as elite and formidable, yet in their hearts they did not think it insurmountable. Privately they reasoned: such a force might fight one against ten, but send twenty, thirty, or even more against them, and perhaps they could not hold. After all, the imperial court held ten thousand li of territory and a population of hundreds of millions; in theory, it could still mobilize. But once these cannons appeared, everyone felt that the Great Ming court no longer had any hope of victory.

Though no one cried out in exclamation or sighed aloud, what everyone thought was nearly identical. This Xuzhou army seemed to have materialized out of thin air. Such a powerful, elite force could not be measured by common sense. Even those versed in military arts and strategy — the model of an elite, strong army they held in their minds was utterly different from this force before their eyes.

"A single shot from one of these cannons can shatter mountains and split stone. Someone from my family went to Tianjin on business and passed through Jinghai — an entire section of city wall, connected to the gate, was blasted to rubble. When they asked the locals, they said the moment it fired, it was like thunder in broad daylight, the earth shaking and the mountains swaying..." Someone could not resist showing off his knowledge. Everyone focused intently on the spectacle, ears pricked to listen.

But after a few sentences, he steered the conversation back: "These Xuzhou troops truly commit no outrage against the people. All along the canal, as they fought their way through, they never once plundered civilian wealth, nor did they wantonly take lives. They even dispatched soldiers to maintain order and restrain those scoundrels who loot in the chaos. That can truly be called benevolent and righteous."

"I've also heard from people who passed through Xuzhou that they do things by the rules there, with none of those customary 'tributes.' Given our standing in the countryside, we still have to constantly share our profits with the yamen folk — but in Xuzhou, that's not necessary," someone chimed in, and everyone nodded in agreement. But then this man shifted his tone and lowered his voice: "But aren't you afraid? This Zhao Jin, this way of Xuzhou — have you ever heard of it or seen it before? We've all read our books — has there ever been anything like this in previous dynasties? I can't figure it out, and I'm afraid!"

At these words, the area around him fell silent. Everyone was lost in thought. If this were truly like the dragon heads of the rivers and lakes, the outlaws of the greenwood, everyone knew how to deal with them. If it were like the officials, clerks, and runners of the government offices, everyone also knew how to deal with them. Or if they were simply local grandees, everyone naturally knew how to treat them as well. But Xuzhou was none of these. Although the Xuzhou Zhao force bore none of the vices of those others — cruelty, greed, harshness, and the like — the crowd still felt uneasy, even a fear deep in their hearts.

Ever since Zhao Jin raised his army, people had been searching history for a similar example, but they had never found one. What people fear and guard against most is the unknown, and to them, Xuzhou's Zhao army was precisely that — unknown. Thus, every one of them felt fear and unease. They did not know what Xuzhou's Zhao army wanted, nor what they themselves would have to face.

After the artillery column passed, all the brigades and regiments of Zhao's army formed up and stood at attention before the reviewing stand. The personal guard began running from the reviewing stand toward each battalion, with one man stopping at set intervals. This procedure they understood — these men were to relay messages for everyone. After all, the grounds were so vast that no matter how loud Zhao Jin shouted, many would simply not be able to hear him.

Everyone assumed the review had ended, and that next they would hear a few words from Zhao Jin, or perhaps simply disperse. They did not expect the drums to continue beating in rhythm. They looked toward the direction of the approach road but saw no banners. Only those on the outermost edge noticed several hundred men advancing this way in a very loose array, seemingly dressed in white. What was this about?

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