Chapter 1592: The Footsteps of Expansion Never Cease

Outside Busan Port lay a stretch of rolling hills. Low mounds rose on all sides, blocking the line of sight and twisting the roads into winding curves. Following these meandering paths, the group soon vanished into the cloud-wreathed mountain folds.

Having lain awake all night, Hashimoto Sanemura quickly grew weary. Yet seeing the Crown Prince, a mere youth, walk so steadily along the mountain paths without the slightest sign of fatigue, he could only suppress his own exhaustion and follow them step by step.

Still, deep in his heart he remained utterly perplexed — just what did His Highness intend to do with him?

The answer soon unfolded before his eyes.

Led by the soldiers, they rounded several mountain paths and arrived at the summit of a small hill. Gazing out past the slightly steep slope, they saw a small valley nestled among the low hills, its floor appearing quite level.

It was the season when spring flowers bloomed in riotous profusion. A gentle breeze whispered across the hilltop. Shrubs covered the slopes, their countless green tendrils spreading in every direction, and dense woods blanketed the entire plain. The flowers vied to burst into blossom — red like flame, white like snow, pink like sunset clouds, a dazzling array of colors. The peach blossoms on the hillside looked from afar like banks of rosy mist. This fresh, natural beauty filled Hashimoto Sanemura with a sense of peace and clarity. Having always lived in cramped, bustling Kyoto, how many chances did he ordinarily have to see such lovely scenery?

Breathing the crisp air, he felt all the weariness in his body swept clean away. He was even seized by a surge of poetic inspiration and felt like composing a verse.

His poetic mood, however, was swiftly interrupted — for he suddenly sensed a thunderous roar rolling in from the distance.

"Have they arrived?" the Crown Prince asked the person beside him in a low voice.

"Your Highness, they are drilling here today. This is the largest-scale drill in recent times — infantry, cavalry, and artillery are all to go through their exercises," a nearby officer quietly replied. "We scouted the area beforehand. This valley is spacious enough, and with mountains enclosing it on all sides, the key access points are easily guarded. Moreover, Your Highness, this spot is the optimal viewing position — you can see the entire panorama quite clearly."

As he spoke, he took a telescope from someone nearby and respectfully offered it to the Crown Prince.

"Give him one as well," the Crown Prince said, taking the telescope while issuing the order.

Promptly, in compliance with his command, a telescope was also handed to Hashimoto Sanemura.

Hashimoto Sanemura stared at this rather strange object, momentarily baffled.

It was a long, cylindrical, iron-clad contraption of peculiar make, yet it also resembled a funnel — narrow at the front and wide at the back — with transparent glass set into both ends. The casing was engraved with decorative patterns and even bore inscribed characters.

Since it had been presented to him, he took it almost without thinking, feeling only a cool chill against his hand. What exactly was this thing, and how was it supposed to be used?

To avoid embarrassment, he averted his gaze and glanced toward the youth beside him. Just then, he saw the other pick up the same cylindrical object, grip the narrow end, pull out a section from the back, and then raise it level to his own eyes.

He hurriedly did the same. Though his movements were somewhat clumsy, he still managed to make the object work.

Through this cylinder, he suddenly discovered that the distant scenery seemed to have been forcibly dragged right before his eyes, and then—

"Ah!" He let out a startled cry, then reeled backward in panic and plopped onto the ground, the cylinder in his hand flung aside.

He had discovered a group of men on horseback, clad in uniform red attire, charging straight toward him!

These horses were all tall and powerfully built, nearly twice the size of the horses he had seen in Japan. Meticulously groomed, their coats were sleek, their manes gleaming with luster. Arrayed together, these horses pressed toward him like a wall, swift and overwhelming. The riders were all sturdy and robust, their faces calm yet bearing an undercurrent of lethal intent. Their uniforms were brilliantly bright — even the buttons seemed to be brass, flashing with a blinding glare.

Because of the cylinder in his hand, he felt as if he had been placed directly in their path, as though he were about to be mercilessly trampled by those horses. Panic sent him stumbling backward until he toppled to the ground.

"What are you doing? Don't break the telescope!" The nearby officer immediately barked, then picked the telescope up from the ground.

After the founding of the Great Han, thanks to the flourishing of domestic industry, the quality of glass and steel products had greatly improved compared to the former Ming era. As a result, telescopes also began to be mass-produced, gradually driving Western-imported telescopes out of the Great Han market. However, compared to civilian telescopes, military-grade ones were far more finely crafted and quite costly, so officers guarded them jealously and were loath to allow any damage. Seeing Hashimoto Sanemura drop it to the ground naturally pained them.

"Don't scold him. Seeing such a display for the first time, it's only natural to panic." Fortunately, the Crown Prince came to his rescue, ordering someone to help him up and then handing him another telescope. "Watch carefully, envoy. Today is a drill of our Great Han army. After observing these exercises, you will likely gain a rough understanding of our nation's military strength."

Indeed, today was a collective drill of the Great Han army. The commander-in-chief of this expedition against Japan, Zhao Song, along with the three regimental commanders under him, was personally directing the exercise, while the Crown Prince observed.

Zhao Song had previously remarked that the three regiments under his command each hailed from different regions. While this was beneficial in allowing each corps to earn its share of glory, it was hardly a good thing for his own command. He had therefore been single-mindedly focused on unifying the command of these regiments so that these troops could truly bring their full combat power to bear under his leadership.

To further integrate his forces, he had drawn a portion of soldiers from each of his three regiments for combined training, determined to break down the barriers between troops of different corps origins and forge them into a single legion capable of engaging at a moment's notice. Though he did not expect them to truly meld into one, he at least needed them to move as his own arm and finger, united in purpose from top to bottom.

This drill carried great significance, so he had specially invited the Crown Prince to lend his presence. Precisely because they knew His Highness the Crown Prince was watching, the morale of these officers and soldiers was extremely high — every one of them wanted to distinguish himself before His Highness.

The first to take the lead was the cavalry battalion. Though not large in numbers, this cavalry unit had been handpicked from the Liaodong Army. They were an elite cavalry force, battle-hardened through a hundred fights and adept at fighting in all manner of terrain and climate. Their training was exceedingly rigorous, their discipline ironclad.

Because firearms were extremely widespread and immensely powerful in the Great Han army, internal debates and forward-looking assessments all concluded that the role of cavalry would gradually diminish in the future. They would no longer be the force that could turn the tide in a decisive battle, but would instead take on more auxiliary tasks such as flank harassment or raiding enemy supply lines. However, considering that the firearms of the Japanese shogunate army were exceedingly crude, Zhao Song felt that this cavalry unit should be able to play a significant role in the coming campaign. He had also designated this unit as directly subordinate to the commander himself.

At this moment, these immaculately uniformed cavalrymen were galloping into the valley on their warhorses. Thanks to their excellent training, their formation remained remarkably orderly even in a charging state, sweeping forward like row upon row of crimson waves. The thunder of hooves reverberated throughout the valley floor, awe-inspiring and majestic.

Zhao Song and his three regimental commanders also rode on horseback, following behind the cavalry at a measured pace. They too held telescopes in their hands, their gazes fixed intently on the galloping cavalry ahead. However, although they were all regimental commanders, Bi Su — the commander of the regiment drawn from the Liaodong Army — deliberately kept a slight distance from the three men ahead of him.

His regiment had been meticulously selected by Zhao Song, Duke of Ji, and Grand Marshal Chen Sheng from the veteran ranks of the Liaodong Army. It was already regarded as the single most elite unit in the Liaodong Army. In today's exercise, he harbored the intention of putting his troops on full display before the brothers from the other corps, and so he purposely refrained from joining in their conversation.

Moreover, he was well aware that although he had become a regimental commander, there was still a gap in status and rank between himself and the three men ahead. Zhao Song — a great general of the Liaodong Army and the Emperor's cousin — went without saying. The other two were also publicly acknowledged rising stars within the Great Han army, eldest sons of the Great Han's top-tier noble houses, destined to inherit their fathers' titles in the future, and deeply trusted and relied upon by the marshals of their respective corps. Though he had confidence in himself, he had no desire to intrude upon the conversation of these top-tier aristocrats, deeply afraid he might overhear something he was not meant to hear.

Though the dust kicked up from the earth by the pounding of so many hooves blurred their view like flowers seen through mist, they could still feel the visceral shock delivered by a massed cavalry charge.

"The cavalry of the Liaodong Army are truly the finest soldiers under heaven!" After watching for a while, Ma Tongji — eldest son of the Marquis of Julu, Ma Chonghao, and a regimental commander — exclaimed with heartfelt admiration. "Even just watching, you can feel an oppressive might that makes sweat bead on your brow. I can't imagine how panicked the enemy must be when facing them in battle!"

"Indeed, even a single battalion can produce such an effect. Who knows what sight it would be if thousands upon thousands of horses charged together!" Another regimental commander beside him, Li Huanghe — son of the Marquis of Yingchuan, Li Dajin — chimed in. "It seems there truly is a reason the Liaodong Army can send the Mongols, masters of mounted archery, fleeing like beaten rats!"

The two of them praised in unison. Though partly intended to flatter their commanding officer, their words were, to some extent, genuinely heartfelt. Ma Tongji had been campaigning with Marshal Shi Manqiang in the Yunnan-Guizhou region, while Li Huanghe had previously served under Marshal Dong Bingfeng in the Guangdong-Guangxi and Nanyue regions. The war zones they had experienced were all rugged, mountainous terrain plagued by severe miasma — hardly suitable ground for cavalry, with combat dominated instead by light mountain infantry. They had not witnessed a large-scale cavalry charge in a very long time, so they were naturally shaken by it.

"The mounted archery of the Mongols is nothing to boast about, and defeating them is no great feat." Zhao Song smiled and shook his head in a show of modesty. "Ever since the former Ming drove them back into the great desert, they have been divided, warring endlessly among themselves. They long ago lost the heroic spirit of their ancestors, and their equipment and weapons are all exceedingly crude. How could they possibly be a match for our Great Han cavalry? As I see it now, the only ones who could contend with our Great Han cavalry are those cavalry of the Far West."

"Far West cavalry?" The other two were somewhat puzzled.

"Yes, the cavalry of the Far West. According to the descriptions of those missionaries, their cavalrymen are all noble lords and their retainers, superbly equipped and diligently trained in martial skills from childhood. Their tactics and coordination are highly refined. Moreover, the nations of the Far West are constantly at war with one another, so every country's army is continuously tempered in conflict, with experience passed down through generations. In terms of cavalry technique, they are somewhat superior to our own. Though these missionaries surely exaggerate when speaking of their homelands, one must assume they are formidable forces indeed, and thus we cannot afford to disregard them."

After Zhao Song's explanation, the two young regimental commanders finally understood, and both felt a degree of admiration for him.

"We never imagined that the brigade commander's considerations ran so deep — that you are already paying attention even to the military affairs of the Far West."

"There's no choice — I cannot afford not to pay attention..." Zhao Song sighed. "Westerners have long since arrived in great numbers upon the shores of Huaxia. China is no longer an isolated great power unto itself. We may well cross swords with the Westerners at any time. If we don't start preparing for a rainy day now, wouldn't it be disastrous if we actually run into them later?"

"Clash with the armies of the Far West... is that really likely?" The two young men exchanged glances, both finding the notion somewhat preposterous. They had both studied military science and basic geography at the military academy and knew that the Far West lay tens of thousands of li away. They found it hard to believe those nations could dispatch a great army to attack the Great Han. They therefore felt that, at least for now, there was no real possibility of a major war between the Great Han and the Far West — at most, some harassment at sea, which the navy could easily fend off.

"Why not?" Zhao Song, however, smiled dismissively. "You two have spent so long in the south that you always assume Westerners must come by sea. You don't realize they can just as easily come by land — it's merely a bit farther, that's all. Have you heard of a country in the West called the Rakshasa Kingdom?"

"We have heard of it, actually. It's a country at the western end of the Far West, with Moscow as its capital. But its level of civilization seems rather low — its people are savage and crude. Even the missionaries speak of them with great contempt..." Ma Tongji answered according to his impressions. "The name 'Rakshasa' seems oddly fitting for them."

"It is precisely because they are savage and crude that we must be all the more wary." Zhao Song replied in a low voice. "You've been in the south and aren't very clear on this, but we in the north frequently receive intelligence about them. The Rakshasa Kingdom has been continuously expanding its territory, and expanding eastward at that. They have already swallowed up quite a few Mongol tribes, and even the Golden Horde was long ago destroyed by them. Now, wherever their blades point, large numbers of Mongols have been driven toward our northern corps. Heh... speaking of which, the Mongols are rather pitiful now. Back then they swept across the world, yet now they are being crushed between two walls, one to the east and one to the west..."

Zhao Song spoke lightly, but who knew how much blood and tears of the Mongol tribes were contained within those words? Now, caught between the pincers of two empires from east and west, the territory the Mongol tribes could control was shrinking by the day, and their casualties were grievously heavy.

"Judging by the current trend, I fear it won't be long before we and the Rakshasa Kingdom come face to face." After a pause, Zhao Song continued. "Since the Rakshasa Kingdom is rapacious by nature and possesses a powerful army, there's no telling when we might run into them and fight a war. Even if our generation doesn't encounter them, the next generation or the one after surely will. So we ought to prepare for a rainy day as early as possible..."

Zhao Song's reflections deeply moved the two young men. They had campaigned north and south with the army and considered themselves reasonably versed in military affairs, yet they had almost never pondered such questions. Regardless of whether his concerns were truly valid, his breadth of vision was clearly more than a cut above their own.

Only now did they realize that his being so highly valued by His Majesty and entrusted with such a great responsibility was indeed due to genuine ability, and not merely by virtue of his status as "a member of the Zhao family."

"What the brigade commander has said is indeed profoundly reasonable, and we shall keep it firmly in mind at all times." Ma Tongji inclined his head. "But I believe that with the military might of our Great Han, we can surely defeat any enemy. Whether Westerner or Easterner, so long as we are united in purpose, we can grind them all to dust!"

"Exactly — that's the spirit we need." Zhao Song nodded with a smile. "We now possess an army without equal under heaven. Even if other nations' troops are roughly comparable in quality, how could they possibly match our numbers? So long as we maintain our current morale and continue to prioritize the development of weaponry, we shall be the foremost power in the world, with no need to fear anyone. To be honest, this is also a good thing. Since ancient times, dynasties have always hacked through thorns and campaigned on all fronts in their early years, only to be beaten back step by step in their middle and later periods. Why? Simply because prolonged peace makes everyone, high and low, indulge in comfort — no one is willing to exert themselves for the state, each thinking only of their own ease and pleasure. Now, with enemies on all sides and campaigns east and west, this is actually a good thing for our Great Han army. It allows us to remain in a constant state of combat readiness, so that no one grows slack. I suspect... that His Majesty's insistence, against all opposition, on launching this campaign against Japan may well have been informed by such considerations."

As the realm gradually settled into peace, the Great Han's territory had expanded to an unprecedented breadth, and the enemies on its borders had been scattered and sent fleeing — either vanishing without a trace or barely clinging to life, none capable of posing a threat to the Great Han. This was, of course, a good thing. Yet for the army, enduring peace without enemies to fight would lead to decay. Everyone knew the story of how hardship fosters survival and ease breeds ruin. Thus, the Great Han Emperor and his senior ministers and generals had no desire to halt the march of war. They fought one campaign after another precisely to maintain the army's combat effectiveness and focus, and to ensure that military technology continued to receive attention and impetus.