klisemfg Chapter 354 Princess Chang's Rebellion 15
Chapter 354 Princess Chang's Rebellion 15
A light rain fell on the northern battlefield before dawn, mingling with blood seeping into the scorched earth.
Zhao Wushang stood outside the makeshift military tent, his iron mask hanging at his waist, letting the rain wash away the bloodstains on his face.
During the three days and three nights of joint operations, he witnessed firsthand how the Xinxia army resisted the barbarians while organizing the evacuation of the people.
"Commander Zhao."
A cool, clear female voice came from behind.
Zhao Wushang's muscles tensed instantly, his right hand instinctively pressed on the hilt of his sword, then slowly released it.
When he turned around, he saw that Ji Xiaosong's white armor was covered with knife marks, and the bandage wrapped around her left arm was still bleeding.
“Princess,” he knelt on one knee, splashing mud, “our army’s casualty statistics have been submitted to your command.”
"Get up. From now on, just call me Governor. The title of Princess is not appropriate."
Ji Xiaosong raised his hand to indicate, "The barbarians have retreated for now, but they will surely counterattack after dawn. Our scouts have discovered a road in the western valley that can be bypassed, which can escort the last 20,000 civilians to safety."
Zhao Wushang looked up, raindrops dripping down his jawline.
He had seen too many times these days how the governor personally covered the rear, how he carried the wounded onto stretchers, and even gave his warhorse to a pregnant woman.
The dark circles under her eyes showed that she hadn't slept for several days, but her back was still ramrod straight.
"This humble general is willing to lead the troops to cover the rear," Zhao Wushang suddenly said.
Amidst the sound of rain, Tie Zhenshan roared, "Don't even think about it! Who knows if you're trying to take advantage of the situation..."
"General Tie," Ji Xiaosong said softly, her gaze piercing Zhao Wushang like a sword, "Why?"
“Because…” Zhao Wushang took out a piece of blood-stained linen from his bosom, on which the three words “People are the most important” were sewn crookedly, “the dying entrustment of Prime Minister Sima.”
Ji Xiaosong's pupils contracted slightly.
She recognized it as the fabric of the prison uniform specially made for the imperial prison, with bits of flesh still stuck to the edges.
She suddenly stepped forward, so close that she could smell the metallic scent of blood on Zhao Wushang: "You were the one who carried out the order to massacre people in the south of the city."
This is not a question.
Zhao Wushang felt a spasm in his stomach, as if he could see the woman protecting the child again.
He closed his eyes briefly: "Yes."
"How many people died?"
"Seven hundred and sixty-three... no, thirty more bodies were discovered buried there yesterday..."
"Enough," Ji Xiaosong interrupted him. "Now you want to atone with your life?"
Zhao Wushang suddenly knelt down, his battle robe soaked with mud and water: "This humble general dares not beg for life! I only beg... I beg the governor to give these sons of Ying a chance to choose."
He abruptly ripped open his collarbone, revealing a freshly branded scar on his collarbone—the insignia of a new summer rice seedling. "Last night, three hundred soldiers secretly came to surrender..."
Tie Zhenshan drew his sword in a rage, but Ji Xiaosong stopped him with a raised hand.
She crouched down to be at Zhao Wushang's eye level, and suddenly reached out and pressed her hand on the brand on his collarbone.
Zhao Wushang trembled with pain but dared not dodge.
“Do you know the rules of the new Xia branding punishment?” Ji Xiaosong said softly, “Those who voluntarily undergo branding must wash their wounds with salt water every day until they recover, to show that they will not forget the pain.”
"This subordinate...understands."
"Then you should know that Xinxia never accepts those who slaughter civilians."
She suddenly exerted force, and Zhao Wu's vision blurred with pain, but he gritted his teeth, "Unless..."
Blood seeped from between her fingers, and Zhao Wushang heard his own teeth chattering: "Unless what?"
"Unless you live." Ji Xiaosong released her hand. "Live to remember this pain, live to protect more people."
*
As dawn broke, the Allied forces began to withdraw in batches.
Zhao Wushang stood on the dilapidated city wall, watching the last group of people pass through the western valley.
Behind him stood eight hundred remnants of the Ying Kingdom's army, all of whom were suicide soldiers who had volunteered to stay behind to cover the retreat.
"Commander..." The lieutenant handed over a water bag filled with salt water. "The barbarian vanguard is already three miles away."
Zhao Wushang took the water pouch and slowly poured it onto the brand on his collarbone.
The excruciating pain made his vision go black, but he could still clearly see the dust rising on the horizon.
He put the iron mask back on, his voice coming through the metal: "Give the order to light the beacon fire on the east side."
This is a strategy to lure the tiger away from the mountain.
When the main force of the barbarian tribes is drawn to the firelight in the east, the civilians can safely cross the canyon.
The cost was that the rearguard unit had less than a 10% chance of survival.
"The governor left this behind before he left." The lieutenant presented a sheathed short sword.
Zhao Wushang drew his sword from its sheath, its cold light reflecting off the rain, the words "Protect the People" engraved on the blade.
This is the design of the sword of the new Xia governor, but it is three-tenths shorter than the official standard, symbolizing temporary authorization.
“She said…” the lieutenant suddenly choked up, “that after we defeat the barbarians, please ask the commander to personally go to Xinxia… to return the sword.”
A gasp, sounding like a mix of crying and laughing, came from beneath the iron mask.
Zhao Wushang tied his short sword to his waist and turned to face the approaching barbarian army.
Eight hundred soldiers stood in silent formation. Most of them still had the dragon patterns of the Ying Kingdom on their armor, but now they were all tied with white cloth strips.
"Gentlemen," Zhao Wushang's voice was no longer cold for the first time, "today we are not for emperors, nor for territory..."
"Fight for the people!" Eight hundred people shouted in unison, their voices shaking down the rain that had accumulated on the wall.
When the barbarian arrows rained down, Zhao Wushang swung his sword and cleaved one of them in two.
He suddenly remembered the oath he had taken when he first joined the Imperial Guard many years ago:
"To protect the nation."
Back then, he thought the state was the person on the dragon throne. Now he understands that the state is these people who fled with their families, the farmers working in the fields, and the peddlers and laborers in the streets and alleys.
"Fire rockets!"
Fire dragons rose from the eastern city wall, and the barbarians indeed divided their forces.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zhao Wushang led his troops in a surprise attack on the enemy's flank, and blood blossomed wherever his short sword struck.
This sword was three degrees lighter than his usual sword, but it reminded him of Ji Xiaosong's seemingly slender yet powerful hands.
The battle continued until noon.
When the last barbarian cavalryman fled, less than two hundred of the eight hundred elite warriors remained.
Zhao Wushang's iron mask was split in two, revealing a deep, bone-revealing forehead wound.
He knelt amidst the pile of corpses, his trembling hand reaching for his waist.
The short sword is still there.
"Commander! Look!" The lieutenant, his face covered in blood, pointed westward.
At the canyon exit where the morning mist had dissipated, the flag of Xinxia was prominently displayed.
It turned out that Ji Xiaosong hadn't left at all; she had personally led light cavalry to circle around to the rear of the barbarians and delivered the fatal blow.
When the white-robed governor rode up, Zhao Wushang tried to stand up and pay his respects using his broken sword, but he stumbled and fell to the ground.
In a hazy state, he felt someone supporting his shoulder, and smelled a faint scent of herbs.
"The sword... I haven't returned it yet..." He struggled to reach for his waist.
Ji Xiaosong pressed his hand down: "Keep it."
She took off her cloak and wrapped it around Zhao Wushang, saying, "The First Legion of New Xia is short of an instructor, someone to teach how to deal with barbarian cavalry."
Before Zhao Wushang fainted, the last thing he saw was a clear, azure sky.
The dark clouds that had been hanging over us for years have somehow dissipated.
*
When news of the enemy's defeat reached Xinxia, the whole country rejoiced.
Ji Xiaosong stood on the dilapidated city wall of the northern border, gazing at the vast, desolate mountains in the distance.
The cold wind whipped her cloak, making it flutter loudly.
Tie Zhenshan stood beside her and said in a deep voice, "Your Majesty, although the barbarians have retreated, the three cities in the north are already in ruins, and the people are displaced. If we withdraw our troops now, the barbarians will surely make a comeback."
Ji Xiaosong did not answer immediately.
She looked down at the busy New Summer soldiers below the city walls, who were setting up temporary camps, treating the wounded, and distributing food to the fleeing people of the North.
"General Tie," she finally spoke, her voice low and firm, "do you think the Northern Territory should be incorporated into New Xia?"
Tie Zhenshan frowned: "Does governing mean... direct annexation?"
“It’s not annexation,” Ji Xiaosong shook his head. “It’s liberation.”
She pointed to the desolate fields outside the city walls, which had once been fertile farmland but were now abandoned due to years of war.
"The border people have suffered from the plundering of enemy countries for many years. In the past, as a vassal state, the Ying Kingdom's court never truly protected them. If we leave now, they will only become fish on the chopping block again."
Tie Zhenshan was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "But if we occupy it directly, it may provoke a counterattack from the remaining forces of Ying Kingdom."
Ji Xiaosong smiled slightly: "So, we are not 'occupying' the territory, but rather 'being invited'."
Tie Zhenshan was taken aback: "Invited?"
Ji Xiaosong turned around and looked at the refugees from the northern border gathered below the city wall.
They were dressed in rags, but their eyes were full of hope.
"Send the order," she commanded, "to summon the surviving elders, gentry, artisans, and farmers from all the cities in the North. Anyone who wishes to represent the people's will may come here to discuss matters."