Chapter 772: Vermilion Bird's First Military Council

Chapter 772: Suzaku's First War Council

The geography of this world did not mirror the modern realm known to Zhao Changhe in every detail. A few landmarks, such as Northern Mang and Ancient Sword Lake, differed, but the vast majority remained identical.

Different oceans and monsoons, different mountain ranges and rivers, different plateaus and valleys created entirely distinct climate distributions, bearing a profound impact on species and culture alike. Since a landscape so remarkably similar to ancient China had formed here, the underlying geography had to be nearly identical as well.

The same held true for the lands north of the frontier. There might have been minor anomalies absent from the modern world—such as the jagged peaks of the Black Tortoise Mystic Realm or the Black Tortoise Lake at the Yellow Sand Settlement—but the general layout remained unchanged.

To venture north from Yanmen and cross the Yinshan Mountains was to first encounter a vast, sprawling grassland. This was the land north of the frontier and south of the desert, the domain where the Batu tribe roamed. In the modern world, this was Inner Mongolia, a region blessed with a favorable environment, fertile arable land, and abundant mineral resources. Of course, neither the Batu nor their predecessors had ever bothered to cultivate the soil.

Further north lay the Gobi Desert—not a mere description, but the literal name of the wasteland. The great desert stretched from west to east, serving as the dividing line between the southern and northern reaches of the wilderness. Only after crossing it did one reach the Golden Horde of the northern desert, corresponding mostly to modern Outer Mongolia.

If General Huangfu Yongxian’s army crossed the desert and marched north, it would be a direct strike at the royal court, a strategy reminiscent of General Wei Qing’s historic campaigns.

For such a grand, orthodox campaign, it was impossible to rely solely on the original garrison of Yanmen; they simply lacked the numbers. In truth, after the grand oath-taking ceremony in the capital, only half the imperial forces had followed Suzaku and Zhao Changhe. The rest had departed the capital to report directly to Yanmen. Among them was Cui Yuanyong’s Hebei Army, a force Suzaku found thoroughly displeasing to the eye, so she had simply assigned them to her father. The Grandmaster overseeing that western front was Sanniang.

The Gobi Desert did not entirely cleave the Mongolian Plateau in two; it tapered off and ended to the east. Consequently, the eastern territory formed a continuous north-south grassland corridor, bridging the southern and northern deserts.

To the east, the army led by Huangfu Qing and Zhao Changhe had crossed the Yanshan Mountain range, entering this very grassland corridor. By sweeping northeast from this position, they could drive deep into enemy territory, crushing countless nomadic tribes along the way until they reached a renowned mountain standing on the eastern flank of the royal court.

It was called Mount Langguxu, the seat of the Temple of the Eternal Heaven in this era.

Further north lay another famous body of water, known in the modern world as Lake Baikal, but called the Vast Sea in this realm.

The two marching armies could also pivot midway through their respective routes, agreeing on a specific coordinates to join forces, rather than fighting entirely separate campaigns.

Waging war in such a wilderness, however, presented several immense challenges.

The first was the nature of the terrain. In an environment devoid of distinct peaks, established roads, or reliable landmarks, and completely lacking GPS navigation, the march was akin to sailing the open ocean; losing one's way was perilously easy. While one could judge a general northward heading by the sun, moon, and stars, pinpoint accuracy was impossible. A deviation of just a few degrees could lead an army entirely off course.

The second issue was water and supplies. An army could carry its own rations, but transporting enough water for an extended march was an logistical nightmare. Failing to find a water source for just a few days could bring catastrophic consequences.

Yet, due to the total submission of the Batu tribe, both Han armies were now accompanied by a multitude of veteran local herders. They knew the routes to the sacred mountain and the royal court like the back of their hands. The sacred mountain, in particular, was a place they visited several times a year, making them intimately familiar with every trail. They knew precisely where every water source lay and where the various tribes congregated. Even without storage artifacts, these two existential hurdles were effectively cleared; with the artifacts now serving as a safety net, even losing their way held no terror.

The third problem was the enemy's mobility. The nomads moved like the wind. Unlike the forces of the Central Plains, they did not entrench themselves within city walls to await a siege. It was common to find that while your grand army had marched forward, the enemy had slipped around to strike from the rear. Ambushes and chaotic, unplanned encounters on the road were frequent occurrences, where both sides would stumble into each other and dissolve into a frantic brawl. This was not something that could be avoided through standard scouting alone. Fortunately, the eagle-masters sent by Sisi resolved this dilemma perfectly.

The final problem lay in the fluid nature of the royal court itself. Nomadic tribes rarely maintained a single, fixed center of power; wherever Temür resided, there was the Golden Horde. Grand armies often descended upon what they believed to be the court, only to find an empty expanse, wasting vast amounts of military funds and provisions. The same applied to the Temple. The so-called sacred mountain was actually an entire mountain range; if the people chose to vanish into the peaks, tearing down a temple structure meant very little. Furthermore, the actual dwelling of the God of the Eternal Heaven was highly likely to be an entirely separate mystic realm, making it virtually impossible to locate.

But this time, Temür also desired a decisive battle.

As night fell, Suzaku’s army pitched camp. Zhao Changhe entered the commander’s tent holding a roasted eagle leg, a genial smile on his face. "Come, come, have a bite. This is one of Temür’s eagles—the meat is incredibly fragrant."

A large crowd of officers and generals stood clustered around a sand table map in the center of the tent. Seeing Zhao Changhe walk in brandishing a piece of roasted meat, they all turned their heads away, trying to hide their amusement.

Clad in light armor and a sweeping cloak, Suzaku sat behind the commander’s desk. She glared at her man with exasperation. "We are holding a war council. What do you think you are doing?"

"I don't know the first thing about fighting a war," Zhao Changhe replied cheerfully. "Shouldn't I at least fetch some food for you all?"

"Even so, who enters a strategic briefing brandishing an eagle leg? What kind of display is this? Do you expect everyone to eat with you?"

"Look at you, everyone just ate, didn't they? Consider this a delicacy." Zhao Changhe practically forced the eagle leg into Suzaku’s hand before leaning over to inspect the sand table. "What are we analyzing?"

Holding the bird leg, Suzaku felt her dignified image completely shattered. Yet, looking at the expressions of her generals, she noticed they all seemed to be wearing knowing, indulgent smiles. She wondered what had happened to the military men of this era—had they lost all sense of solemnity?

Resentfully, she took a sharp bite of the meat. "What we are discussing is one thing, but General Weiyang just came to lodge a complaint. Do you care to listen?"

Zhao Changhe looked over in surprise at Wu Weiyang, a powerful general of the Demon Suppression Bureau present in the tent. Wu Weiyang had been dispatched to serve as a deputy to the vanguard, Xue Canghai. This had been Zhao Changhe's own arrangement, fearing that the Blood God Sect might take things too far and offend the laws of heaven; placing a man from the Demon Suppression Bureau beside them was meant to temper the sect's murderous impulses. Yet, before they had even covered a fraction of the march, and without a single hard battle fought, the man had already run back.

Wu Weiyang offered a helpless salute to Zhao Changhe. "Your Highness, we understand that war is no place for mercy. In the past, whenever the nomads were defeated, they would scatter to the winds, only to gather and multiply again later, perpetuating an endless cycle. Therefore, when General Xue demanded the execution of the adult males of the captured tribes, we raised no objections..."

Zhao Changhe interrupted, "Did he try to slaughter the women and children? Didn't I explicitly tell him that anyone shorter than a wagon wheel is to be spared?"

"He did," Wu Weiyang sighed. "But General Xue knocked the wagon wheels flat onto the ground."

Zhao Changhe fell silent.

"I managed to intervene, dripping with cold sweat," Wu Weiyang continued. "But General Xue argued that if we truly leave nothing but women and children stranded out here, they will perish regardless. He suggested that if we wish to be truly merciful, we should herd them past the pass, scatter them across various regions, and integrate them into our populace to replenish our numbers. I found some sense in his words, but executing such a plan would require diverting a significant portion of our forces. Whether this is appropriate is for the Commander-in-Chief and the Prince Regent to decide. Alternatively, delaying the migration until after the war is also an option. In any case, this campaign will not drag on for long, regardless of victory or defeat."

Zhao Changhe cast a glance toward Suzaku. When it came to such matters, his own soft-heartedness often prevented him from making the most pragmatic, ruthless decisions. Suzaku, however, was a notorious figure who could exterminate an entire clan without blinking an eye. He secretly feared she might simply order the wheels to remain flat.

To his surprise, Suzaku nodded in agreement. "It can indeed wait until after the war... A campaign of this nature will not last long. For now, ensure they are provided with basic sustenance to survive."

Both Zhao Changhe and Wu Weiyang breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Wu Weiyang cupped his fists. "Then I shall relay the command to General Xue."

"Do not rush off just yet, Weiyang. You possess a keen military mind; stay and join the counsel," Suzaku commanded. "We are currently analyzing our position. The pincer movement of our two armies cannot be concealed from the enemy, and Temür is undoubtedly aware of it. By all conventional logic, he would not be foolish enough to divide his forces to face both fronts equally. He is far more likely to delay one army while concentrating his superior numbers to crush the other. Where do you all believe his main force will appear?"

Zhao Changhe asked, "What is the consensus so far?"

"The prevailing opinion," Suzaku explained, "is that our eastern column consists primarily of light cavalry. We possess immense mobility and are difficult to pin down. Furthermore, we have three Grandmasters present—myself, you, and Hongling. Therefore, the enemy is more likely to commit their main force against my father’s column, deploying only a blocking force to harass us and slow our advance, lest our deep strike inflicts damage they cannot bear."

Wu Weiyang added, "If you ask me, I share that view. Given the current friction between Temür and the High Priest Bo'e, Temür might even intentionally allow our column a clear path. He could let us drive straight toward their sacred mountain to exhaust ourselves against Bo'e, intending to step in and reap the rewards afterward."

Several generals chimed in, "That seems unlikely. If we truly advance unopposed, we might not necessarily strike the sacred mountain first. What is to stop us from wheeling west to strike Temür’s flank from behind?"

"That is hard to guarantee. The distance between our two columns is vast, after all. Coordinating the timing for such a flanking maneuver would be exceptionally difficult."

Watching the generals debate, Zhao Changhe shrugged. This was precisely why he could never act as the supreme commander. Offering advice was simple; the true test of leadership lay in filtering through a sea of conflicting opinions to make the correct choice. Scholars of later generations could easily criticize a commander in their chronicles for failing to heed proper counsel, but placed in the seat of judgment, few could discern the truth so easily.

The current situation was favorable. While opinions diverged on the finer details, there was a solid consensus that Temür’s main force would confront Huangfu Yongxian. The task of the commander was to decide the next step based on this assumption: should they wheel around to trap Temür’s rear, or drive relentlessly toward the sacred mountain? Furthermore, how should they support her father’s column, at what time, and with what strength?

Divided by vast distances and lacking instantaneous communication, everything rested on intuition and judgment.

Suzaku stared intently at the sand table for a long moment before murmuring, "Everyone thinks so... But would Temür not anticipate that we would think this way?"

Zhao Changhe blinked in surprise, and the gathered officers fell silent. This was no time for endless layers of psychological guesswork; military decisions required rational foundations, otherwise one would fall into an infinite loop of assumptions, rendering any action impossible.

Suzaku waved her hand to dismiss their unspoken concerns. "Naturally, I am not spinning theories out of thin air. Because I personally settled the rebellion in Northern Jin, I am privy to details more intimate than what most of you know. First, the various tribes of Northern Jin surrendered purely out of fear of my wrath; they are entirely unsubmissive at heart. Having been forced to contribute so much wealth, grain, and horses, they harbor deep resentment. While my father’s army was stationed at Yanmen, they behaved themselves. Now that the main army has departed the frontier, what will they do?"

Seeing the generals sink into deep thought, Suzaku continued, "Initially, I intended to march further south, but the Demon God Fengyin was entrenched in Southern Jin, so I chose not to provoke a premature conflict. This means there is an exceptionally powerful entity acting as their backbone. Whether it is inciting the Northern Jin tribes to defect or launching a direct assault on Yanmen itself, it is entirely within that entity's capability. If the Three Jin regions fall into chaos while the families of our soldiers are trapped at Yanmen, what will the consequences be?"

Wu Weiyang’s expression shifted. "The army's morale would shatter; the men would desire nothing but to return to