Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 34: The Verbal Duel on Magic and Technology, Part 2

“Hah, that’s utterly absurd!” Wei Xuezheng stroked his long beard and interrupted the heartfelt exchange between Master Yu and Zuo Shuijing with a cold laugh: “On the battlefield, what good is individual bravery, no matter how great? Does the Empire really need a little girl to slay generals and capture flags? If the Zuo family’s Sixteenth wants to become a great general like General Zuo, she’d better study hard and take the entrance exam for the Military Academy.” The old man turned to look at the silent Zuo Yunyi: “Commander Zuo is also a military commander. Would you choose a mage who can be replaced by a 20-jin cannon, or a highly skilled Chief of Staff?” Before General Zuo could answer, the Commissioner of Education jumped in and concluded for him: “Of course, the Chief of Staff! Our imperial army has long since provided the answer! The highest rank a mage has ever attained in the military is Chief of the General Staff, yet of the nine Chief of the General Staffs to date, only one was a mage! This clearly shows just how negligible the mages’ contribution is to the Empire’s formidable military might.” “That’s utter nonsense! What do you mean a mage can be replaced by a 20-jin cannon? A spellcaster isn’t just a simple artillery piece! Take our campaign in Lingxi, for example—a spellcaster can dispel heavy snow, allowing the army to advance rapidly and seize the initiative! Can you, Minister Xue, dispel heavy snow with a 20-jin cannon?” “Hahahaha!” Wei Xuezheng laughed heartily, his laughter carrying an almost intimidating presence: “If you want the army to advance rapidly, just bring more sleds. Why go to the trouble of dispelling the snow?” “There are also enchantment spells that can bewitch enemy generals! And illusion spells—a single mage can create the aura of a hundred men!” “Sobriety Charms cost twenty yuan each—we have as many as we need. Why fear any charm spells? Besides, do you really want the Zuo family’s Sixteenth Young Master to learn such underhanded tricks?” Magistrate Xue Zheng shot Master Yu a contemptuous glance and continued, “As for the Illusion Spell, it’s nothing more than a scare tactic. If a thousand illusionists could create the atmosphere of a hundred-thousand-strong army, I’d admit it’s genuinely useful. Unfortunately, with your teaching method—where one person takes on just one or two apprentices—where on earth are you going to find a thousand Illusionists?” ‘Holy cow!’ Ou Yang sighed inwardly, then whispered to Zuo Hengbai, who had been standing behind Wei Xuezheng ever since entering the room: “Wei Xuezheng truly lives up to his reputation as a Jinshi. I don’t think Master Yu stands a chance against him—he won’t even need my help.” “Brother Ou, you’re just being used as an example. Don’t worry—it’ll be your turn in a moment.” “Since you’ve produced so many students, why bother competing with us for these few apprentices?” Master Yu snapped angrily. “Don’t think I don’t know—in government-run elementary schools in the interior, a single teacher has to handle over fifty students, and even in high schools, it’s nearly thirty! It’s one thing if they’re all average students, but what about the few promising ones? How can a teacher possibly handle them all? They’re all just being molded from the same rigid, dogmatic template! Promising students deserve a dedicated teacher who can nurture them wholeheartedly! If you ask me, your principle of ‘educating all without distinction’ is a good thing, but you can’t turn geniuses into mediocrities—that’s a waste!” Ou Yang found it amusing and chuckled to himself: ‘It’s shifted from the Low-Science vs. Low-Magic debate to a critique of exam-oriented education. Just like the nonsense on forums in my past life. Only the arguments here aren’t very well thought out.’ He scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Zuo Yunyi: ‘As long as the moderator doesn’t take sides, in a war of words like this, even if you all band together, you’re no match for me.’ “Ahem.” Ou Yang cleared his throat ostentatiously, drawing the attention of everyone in the large hall to himself. Since he was already sitting here, he figured it was better to take the initiative rather than get dragged into the argument. “Master Yu, I don’t know how skilled Miss Crystal is in the arts, but as for her academic ability, I think Minister Xue has already seen it clearly.” He turned to look at the old man with the goatee, who nodded repeatedly in agreement. “If she applies herself to her studies, she’ll earn the Xiu Cai qualification within three years. Achieving at least the Ju Ren qualification within ten years won’t be a problem—and even the Jin Shi isn’t out of the question.” “If Crystal studies diligently under me, she might even become a Grand Sorcerer within ten years!” Master Yu’s delicate face flushed crimson with anger at Ou Yang’s remark—it sounded as if she were the one holding her beloved disciple back. Ou Yang didn’t know what studying sorcery entailed, but he knew that there were no quantifiable test scores for it. All spellcasters in the Empire were broadly divided into four tiers: Apprentice, Mage, Grand Sorcerer, and Grandmaster. While the distinction between Apprentice and Mage was clear, even the spellcasters themselves couldn’t agree on exactly what level of ability constituted a Grand Sorcerer. So Ou Yang asked again, “What defines a Grand Sorcerer?” “If you can cast ‘Thunderclap,’ then you’re naturally a Grand Sorcerer!” “How long did it take you to learn the ‘Thunderclap’?” “T… twenty years…” The middle-aged Taoist nun seemed embarrassed even to herself. Ou Yang spread his hands, making a gesture that no one else understood, though his movements and expression made the general meaning clear. His gesture could certainly be considered impolite. The fact that Master Yu could argue with Wei Xuezheng for so long in the General’s residence spoke volumes—needless to say, his status was far higher than that of Ou Yang, a mere squad leader. However, Ou Yang’s status as a scholar prevented him from freely choosing sides; on matters involving science, he, as an educated man, had to take a serious stance. “Miss Crystal,” Ou Yang seized the moment when Master Yu was temporarily at a loss for words to begin persuading the person in question. “Master Yu just said you enjoy fighting and killing, and as an outsider, I don’t know if that’s true or not. But judging by what you did at the city gate just now, you certainly live up to the title of ‘a tiger’s daughter from a military family.’ ” Zuo Shuijing blushed at Ou Yang’s praise. She curtsied to him, and Ou Yang quickly returned the gesture with a bow, continuing, “But if you truly intend to follow this path, what Magistrate Wei said earlier is the correct approach.” “Young man, you…” Master Yu was about to rebuke him, but Ou Yang—adhering to the online debating style from his past life, where silencing your opponent was considered victory—cut her off immediately. “Actually, there’s no need to compare the strength of cannons and the ‘Thunder Striker.’ Just look at the history of the wars between our Huaxia and the Tartars—spanning over 150 years. Setting aside minor skirmishes, there were dozens of major battles involving hundreds of thousands of troops. In which single one was the outcome decided by sorcery?” At these words, everyone paused in surprise. Magic had always been a crucial element in large-scale warfare, yet none of them could recall a single instance where victory had truly been achieved through magic alone. “That’s a valid point.” Wei Xuezheng cast an appreciative glance at Ou Yang. ‘This young man recommended by my old friend Murong really does have some talent.’ “When it comes to strength on the battlefield, historical examples speak most persuasively.” Ou Yang turned to Zuo Hengbai beside him and asked, “Which battle marked the turning point in the Hundred-Year Grassland War? Brother Zhengming, surely you know?” “The Defense of Yaozhou.” This was the standard answer known to every Imperial officer. In the thirty-eighth year of the Hetai era, the late Emperor—then still the Prince of Qi—led a massive army on a transoceanic expedition, crushing Bohai, a vassal state of the Tartar Empire, and seizing the southern Liaodong Peninsula. The Golden Khan of the Tartar Empire flew into a rage and mobilized 520,000 soldiers from various northern tribes to lay siege to Yaozhou at the mouth of the Liao River. Prince Qi led the 370,000-strong garrison in a stalemate against them until the fall of the 40th year of the Hetai era. Taking advantage of the enemy’s low morale—caused by heavy casualties and a complete lack of gains—the Huaxia army launched a counterattack that routed the Tartar army in one fell swoop, beheading 220,000 enemy soldiers! From that point on, the Golden Empire of the Steppes—whose mere sneeze had once sent shivers through the entire civilized world—began to rapidly decline. “So, Brother Zhengming, where do you think the turning point of the Battle of Yaozhou was?” “Well…” The young captain pondered for a moment. “Was it the battle in the tenth month of the 20th year of the Hetai era, when General Yang Yi, a Grand Guardian, led a night raid on the enemy camp and burned their provisions?” “Of course not,” Ou Yang shook his head in disagreement. “By then, the Tatars’ 500,000-strong army had been besieging the fortified city for over a year and a half. The provisions General Yang burned were those the Tatars had forcibly seized from Bohai and the Three Han—there wasn’t much left to begin with, and besides, the Tatars mainly relied on the cattle and sheep they’d brought with them. That campaign dealt the Tartars a greater psychological blow than it yielded actual military gains. It was important, but it cannot be considered a turning point.” General Zuo Yunyi, who had been sitting silently in his chair, suddenly said to his son in a firm tone, “He’s referring to the Third Battle of Lüshun in June of the nineteenth year of the Heta era.”