Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 44: Strategic Planning

“Our plan is similar to what that lion did,” Zuo Hengbai continued. “The difference is that we cannot limit ourselves to building a single outpost on the western edge of the Great Forest; the orcs’ approach is far too risky. We intend to move westward using a system similar to relay stations and beacon towers, continuously establishing garrisons and fortified settlements at key points—roughly the size of half a village or a single Pai Jia Village. Each unit will recruit manpower and gather supplies by subduing nearby savages in the area.” “Qubing, you’re one of us, so I won’t keep this from you.” General Zuo picked up where his son left off: “This approach is already the absolute limit of my authority—after all, that lion has never actually launched a proactive attack on our villages. However, as the commander-in-chief of the two garrison forces, I must prepare for the worst. Once we reach the west, I will organize an expeditionary force to conduct a military reconnaissance of the situation among the western nations near the edge of the Great Forest.” “The Farming and Garrison Army isn’t strong enough. Last time, we only managed to kill one lion after losing five men—and that was mostly due to good luck. If another one shows up, accompanied by a few hundred green-skinned barbarians, even half a squad of plate-armored soldiers would likely struggle to hold their ground.” Ever since he’d nearly lost his life last time, Ou Yang had remained deeply wary of the combat prowess of the lion-orcs. “The Colonization Army’s primary mission is defense. There’s only one trade route through the Great Forest, and it’s not an easy one to traverse. The General Staff doesn’t believe Xidi can maintain a force there that’s much larger than ours. Surely the Colonization Army can at least hold the fortifications.” Zuo Hengbai paused to think, then continued, “The Thirteenth Army will also provide some military support.” “Would you mind elaborating on what kind of support that entails?” This time, General Zuo replied: “I plan to station a field army at the westernmost fort. If there really is only one road, then the westernmost fort should be the first target of the orcs’ counterattack. I have confidence in the lads of the field army. As long as they have sufficient supplies, a force of about three hundred field soldiers equipped with artillery will be enough to hold out against a siege by an army of several thousand until reinforcements arrive.” That was indeed a possibility. In the historical Second Battle of Ou Yang, there had been the embarrassing incident where 800 Russians were besieged for ten months by nearly 10,000 enemy troops before finally succumbing. There was no doubt that 300 Imperial field troops were more combat-effective than 800 Cossack thugs. “In addition, I’ll find a way to reserve a force in reserve, making maximum use of the field army’s cavalry to reinforce the defenses of the fortified settlements in the western part of the Great Forest. The rest will be up to your colonization troops. I’ll require each fortified settlement to maintain a mobile force of at least fifty men to serve as reinforcements for the forward settlements.” Holding out in an isolated fortress far from the homeland—this plan is passable. However, given the severe lack of intelligence, how things will actually play out can only be a matter of speculation. “I’ve already been internally designated as the commander of the garrison at the outermost fort.” Zuo Hengbai asked Ou Yang, “Brother Qudang, are you interested in joining us?” ‘Of course I am—otherwise, why would I have come all the way out to this godforsaken place in the Western Regions?’ Ou Yang thought to himself. But to be honest, seeing a “second-generation” like Zuo Hengbai charging to the very front in an expedition where the outcome is so uncertain really shows that one cannot underestimate the drive of the people of the current empire. “When do we set out?” “There’s no rush. We’ll have to wait until next spring, after each village has replenished its manpower. The selection of soldiers is up to you village officials to handle, and you’ll need to provide your own rations—we’ll need time to prepare. This time, the expeditionary force is expected to spend a long time in the West and in the Great Forest.” Ou Yang offered one final suggestion: “Since our main opponent this time is an empire that calls itself ‘Beastmen,’ they certainly won’t be on high alert against the Di people. I think we could form a reconnaissance team made up of trusted Di people and use them to conduct the initial reconnaissance once the expeditionary force arrives.” Commander-in-Chief Zuo thought for a moment and replied, “That’s feasible, but the force shouldn’t be too large. Let’s tentatively set it at thirty men, operating alongside the vanguard field army.” He turned to his son and ordered, “Make it clear to the officers below: these men’s rations and equipment are to be supplied by the field army. If there are any losses, for every man who dies, I’ll replace two—and have them provide the best slaves.” Ouyang knew that the entire Lingxi region—and perhaps even Lingdong—would have to prepare for a campaign in the coming months. Ever since the remnants of the Tartar Khanate migrated west following its collapse, there had been no major battles in the entire Western Regions for over twenty years. Officials from both civil and military branches would certainly not let this golden opportunity to earn merit and secure promotions slip by. Winter days in Lingxi were short; by the time he left the Commander-in-Chief’s quarters, dusk was already approaching. The older generation was still drinking and reciting poetry, while the siblings Zuo Hengbai and Zuo Shuijing saw Ou Yang off. Before taking his leave, Master Yu presented Ou Yang with a stack of talismans. Each talisman was roughly 1/128th the size of a standard sheet of paper, apricot-yellow in color, and covered with scribbles that looked like gibberish, written in what appeared to be cinnabar or a similar pigment. Upon closer inspection, Ou Yang recognized each individual character, but when taken together, he had no idea what they meant. Zuo Shuijing explained it to him—this set of talismans consisted of Tai Chi incantations personally crafted by Master Yu, a form of instant-cast defensive magic. They had tested them, and their performance was equivalent to that of a heavy cavalry breastplate. While they offered no protection against firearms, they provided decent defense against shrapnel, crossbow bolts, pikes, and certain offensive spells, with each talisman remaining effective for over ten minutes. Not only were these items extremely expensive, but they were often unavailable on the market. Master Yu prepared some for General Zuo every year; this time, he had given Ou Yang twelve of them as a token of gratitude for his advice. Magical items are indeed extremely valuable gifts. By comparison, as an officer, Ou Yang’s settlement allowance was only fifty yuan—enough to buy just two and a half of the cheapest magical items, such as the “Clarity Talisman.” Ou Yang had previously heard of defensive talismans like the “Tai Chi Charm,” which cost at least eighty yuan. Even setting aside Master Yu’s promise to him, such a generous gift was more than enough to make Ou Yang feel embarrassed. In comparison, the magical beast crystal he’d given General Zuo a few days earlier seemed rather meager. Besides, the idea Ou Yang had suggested to Master Yu was far from simply about helping the Magical Arts Society. After all, in his previous life, he had been a staunch materialist, and in this life, he was about to join the Scientific Society—there was absolutely no doubt about which side he was on. Ou Yang glanced at Zuo Shuijing, whose face was beaming with excitement. Ever since Master Yu had announced that it was time to serve wine, this innocent young girl’s attitude toward him had done a complete 180-degree turn. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should dampen this young beauty’s high spirits. It wasn’t until they reached the doorway that Ou Yang’s gaze hardened, and he slowly delivered the words he’d been preparing for some time to Zuo Shuijing: “What the imperial court intends to reform is the Magical Arts Society, not sorcery itself. If you’re truly set on learning to cast spells, Miss Shuijing, these matters won’t affect you. However, if Master Yu genuinely cares about the future of sorcery, and there are those within your association who oppose reforming the Magical Arts Society, you can simply propose merging the Magical Arts Society into the Scientific Society.” Zuo Shuijing stared at Ou Yang with her beautiful, wide eyes for quite a while. She was innocent, not foolish; she certainly understood the implication behind his words—after all, Master Yu was merely a Grand Sorcerer, renowned within the Magical Arts Society but lacking any real authority. It was hard to say what the truly influential old fogies within the Association actually thought, or whether they would accept a reform that amounted to bowing to the current educational system. If they truly opposed it, then it would be better to demand the moon and let them haggle over the price. The proposal to merge the Magical Arts Society into the Scientific Society was the highest possible demand; let’s see which terms those decrepit old men would accept. However, if that happens, the position of Master Yu—the very spearhead of the reform—within the Magical Arts Society would become quite precarious. Moreover, the Magical Arts Society cannot simply reform as it pleases; once this proposal is put forward, the imperial court will deem it mandatory and will no longer accept any compromises. What then? Zuo Shuijing said with a light chuckle, “Didn’t Magistrate Ou just say he wanted to wait until the Magical Arts Society was in utter turmoil over the reforms before making this final proposal public?” If such a proposal—one that cuts off the Magical Arts Society’s very foundation—were presented at that point, the Magical Arts Society would truly be doomed. “Let me tell you, Minister, I care only about my master. Whether the Magical Arts Society lives or dies is of no consequence to me. As for my master, she cares even more about the development of Huaxia’s sorcery. Having the Magical Arts Society as a platform is naturally beneficial, but if the Magical Arts Society becomes an obstacle to the development of sorcery, then so be it—it’s no big deal.” Having said this, Zuo Shuijing bowed deeply to Ou Yang. “I thank Your Excellency for the reminder. In truth, even if you hadn’t mentioned it, the imperial court would likely have considered this—your Scientific Society has long sought to absorb the Magical Arts Society; how could you possibly pass up such a golden opportunity?” ‘I actually very much hope that the reform of the Magical Arts Society will succeed. Competition breeds pressure, and the Magical Arts Society’s existence helps the Scientific Society maintain its own cutting-edge status.’ It was just a thought; Ou Yang didn’t dare say this out loud, as if it were to get out, it wouldn’t bode well for his future in the Scientific Society. “I hope Your Excellency will visit often in the future; I greatly appreciate your perspective on these matters.” “Now, I wish Your Excellency great success in your military endeavors!”