Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 27: Junwei City

From the moment the beastmen launched their charge until the jackal-man was brought down, the entire battle had lasted less than half an hour. Wukeshan and Batu looped the rope around Fat Cat’s neck, dragging him over like a dead dog and tossing him into the pile of prisoners. Not counting Guli and the jackal-man whose limbs had been severed yet still howled in agony, they had captured eleven prisoners this time, including eight Pig-headed Barbarians and three Di-Qiang—there had been twelve moments ago, but one Pig-headed Barbarian, whose nose had been pierced by an arrow, was wailing so loudly that Tong Zhongjian casually cut him down with a single stroke of his blade. At that moment, soldiers from various units were brandishing their weapons to deliver the final blow to enemies who hadn’t died yet but were unable to stand or walk on their own. Upon spotting the Di people, they simply severed their heads and tossed them into baskets, then stripped them of their clothing—most of these men wore a set of flimsy leather armor, apparently tanned from a single piece of deer hide. While it offered little protection, it was better than nothing. There were also hemp garments, which could be taken home and cut into patches to mend their own clothes. Everyone was poor, so nothing could be wasted. As for the giant wolves, they were killed outright by striking their heads with the flat side of an axe. After a headcount, a total of ninety-two wolf carcasses were found. These wolves were also valuable spoils of war and were temporarily piled together, awaiting further processing once they were hauled back to the village. Yang Gudai sat atop the headless corpse of a green-skinned barbarian, surveying the battlefield with satisfaction. He had performed well on this mission; not only would he surely be promoted by Huang Qianzong upon his return, but the spoils of war were also exceptionally bountiful. It had been well worth the effort he’d put into setting up such a complex battle formation—his men were not Han field troops, and maneuvers like shifting the front ranks to the rear during combat could easily cause unnecessary chaos. Fortunately, the troops participating in this battle were all veterans. The soldiers in the three small squads were neighbors or villagers who had worked together for a long time, and since their numbers were small, no confusion arose during the formation changes. Several soldiers opened the burlap sacks and earthenware jars on the sleds to inspect their contents, discovering that the orcs had been transporting buckwheat, black beans, and murky liquor. There was also a considerable amount of dried meat and long strips of black bread as hard as thick wooden sticks. Additionally, the last few sleds carried several hundred iron spearheads and axes—clearly intended to arm the local Di and Qiang tribes. Had there not been so few prisoners, the spoils from this raid would have surpassed those obtained during the previous campaign led by Huang Qianzong with a force of eight platoons. Moreover, casualties were minimal—three killed and seven wounded. “No, eight wounded,” Yang Gudai said, touching his forehead, which was wrapped in burlap; he hadn’t counted himself earlier. His face was slashed with numerous gashes from the jackal-man’s fangs, and though it looked rather terrifying, covered as it was in blood, the injuries weren’t actually serious. “Throw the heads and the wolf carcasses onto the sled!” Yang Gudai commanded loudly. “Let’s head back to the village first—we’ll feast on meat tonight!” The group erupted in cheers. Following this resounding victory, Yang Gudai’s personal prestige and control over the team had increased significantly. There were no living war wolves left on the battlefield, so the prisoners who were still able to move were naturally put to work pulling the sleds. Every two Pig-headed Barbarians were assigned to one sled, and every three Di-Qiang to another, but there were simply too few prisoners, so the soldiers had to handle the remaining eight sleds themselves. December 4, Year 30 of the Republic When Yang Gudai and his men returned to Anxi Garrison after their victory, Ou Yang and his party had already arrived at the city gates of Junwei, the capital of Lingxi Road. This was the westernmost point reached twenty-two years earlier by the Imperial Army as it pursued the Tatars migrating westward. It was here that the Golden Khan of the Tartar Empire had erected his Golden Tent (according to Tartar custom, the site of the Golden Tent served as the capital), leading a coalition force of 60,000 troops from various tribes to hold off the Empire and buy time for the Tartars’ westward migration. It was also here that General Zuo Helin, a Grand Guardian of the Empire, slew the Golden Khan of the Tartar Empire in battle and massacred all 32,000-plus prisoners. This officially brought to an end the life-and-death struggle between the Huaxia Empire and the Tartar Empire of the Steppes that had lasted over 150 years. Consequently, this place is renowned throughout the world as the final capital of the Tartar Empire, which once made the world tremble. The name “Junwei” also derives from this event. From that time onward, the Empire expanded westward each year by establishing new Pai Jia Villages. Troops also ventured deeper and deeper into the Great Forest—ostensibly to hunt down the remnants of the Tartars, but in reality merely to plunder the primitive tribes living there. Today, the imperial forces west of the Ridge have deteriorated to the point where even the lowest-ranking officers of a garrison consisting of only a few dozen slave soldiers—such as Ou Yang and Liu Chenyong—dare to venture deep into the Great Forest to attack the indigenous peoples. Moreover, because victories have always come too easily—with the few casualties being nothing more than slave soldiers—even the merit awarded for decapitations has depreciated to the point where the heads themselves have become almost irrelevant. For example, during this recent sortie led by Huang Qianzong, excluding the dozen or so orcs from the Oak Empire, if even two of the over one hundred Di and Qiang heads were counted as a single merit, that would be considered a generous gesture by the superior officer toward his subordinates. Compare this to imperial soldiers expanding in other directions: Expansion to the east is primarily the navy’s domain. Currently, the navy falls directly under the Privy Council, with the Crown Prince serving as its nominal Admiral. The navy is regarded as the future Emperor’s personal guard; whenever captains set sail and discover an island—even if it’s barren—simply erecting a boundary marker counts as a merit. Six years ago, the Navy discovered a massive island east of the South Seas. According to surveys by the Scientific Society, its area is nearly equivalent to the combined total of all the Empire’s inland provinces! The fleet admiral at the time was directly promoted to the rank of Grand Guardian for this achievement. In the Empire’s eyes, this feat is on par with that of Zuo Helin, who once slew the Tartar Golden Khan in battle! The tropical forests of the South Seas were once regarded by the Empire as a perilous frontier. But once the Scientific Society found a way to deal with common tropical diseases, the region became a treasure trove. Not to mention the spices, sugar, and minerals shipped out annually—even the local farmland is so fertile that it yields seven harvests in two years. Combined with the tributes from vassal states, the Empire’s plantations in the South Seas could export 27 million shi of rice to the interior annually—a figure that was nearly on par with the total agricultural tax revenue of the interior! This stood in stark contrast to the Western Regions, where fields yielded only one harvest per year, transportation was difficult due to their deep inland location, and prices were sky-high. A military officer stationed in the South Seas could amass in two years a fortune equivalent to what Huang Dexia, a thousand-man commander, had accumulated over a decade. After the fall of the Tatars, the garrison troops expanding northward and their counterparts in the Western Regions were in the same boat. But at least the northern regions had access to the sea and were close to the interior; for the past decade, they’ve been the top destination for Han Chinese immigrants from the Empire. Whether farming or working, the high efficiency of the Han people is known throughout the world. Moreover, it was rumored that an expedition hunting seals and whales had crossed the Ice Sea Strait and discovered a massive gold mine in a place so remote that even a drop of water would freeze instantly! This made the people in the west green with envy. The war-torn Land of the Rising Sun had been the Empire’s most important source of gold and silver for the past twenty years, and now, to their dismay, a new gold mine had emerged to the north. With this gold rush on the verge of taking off, it’s likely that slaves from the northern regions—whether captured Jurchen or Mohe, or purchased from Goryeo and Fusang—will all be thrown into the gold mines. There, while there’s certainly no great merit to be found, the Empire’s attention and the investments of wealthy magnates from all over are absolutely indispensable. Only the Western Regions—and only those who venture west—have neither prospects nor financial opportunities. Even when they manage to capture a few people, they’re still exploited by monopolistic enterprises like SF Express. Now, an enemy with a population exceeding ten million has extended its tentacles right to the empire’s doorstep. How can we allow others to sleep soundly right beside our bed? At the very least, shouldn’t we increase our support for the Lingxi Route? This is the purpose behind Huang Qianzong’s dispatch of Ou Yang and others to the Lingxi Route to report. I trust that at the very least, the officials in the Route will understand. After all, they, too, are among the unlucky souls tasked with westward expansion—albeit at a slightly higher rank.