48. The Gentry Propose a Grand Maneuver

Swallowing hard several times, Zhang Xun managed to steady his footing. Chujiu, beside him, covered his mouth with one hand while supporting Zhang Xun's arm with the other. When Zhang Xun looked at him, he tried to squeeze out a smile. Unfortunately, that smile looked far worse than crying.

Killing tigers or crocodiles was merely killing beasts. In this era, unlike future generations where some could not even bring themselves to kill a chicken, neither of them felt much about slaughtering animals. However, with over forty grotesque, bloody corpses piled haphazardly against the camp wall, that kind of scene was naturally incomparable to killing a tiger.

Not only were the soldiers throughout the camp terrified, but Zhang Xun himself was also appalled.

As for Li Rang, he had run off to vomit outside and had not followed them in at all. That was quite normal; his father had experienced the trials of the Sichuan Song-Mongol meat grinder, but he had not. Li Zhu's reluctance to bring him along was probably because he knew his own son was not cut out for this.

Upon entering the camp, Zhang Xun clearly saw someone trying to call out to him for help. But before the cry could escape, a horsewhip lashed down across the man's face, and a commander of the personal guards drew his sharp saber with a ringing sound. Whether they were preparing to cry out for help or simply wishing to do so, everyone instantly clamped their mouths shut.

Whether Zhang Xun would save them was another matter, but Ma Yong dared to kill people right on the spot. In just these past two days alone, he had already killed more than forty. Judging by his expression, Ma Yong did not seem to have satisfied his bloodlust yet.

Judging merely from the outside, the bearing and stance of the camp had taken on an entirely new look.

"Commander." Zhang Xun had gone out to raise funds from the gentry across the commandery; entering the city, waiting for people, holding meetings, and gathering contributions—taking two days was already considered fast.

"My lord," Ma Yong said, leaning on his saber and loudly greeting Zhang Xun.

A steady stream of people arrived outside, some carrying strings of coins, some bearing bolts of silk, and others loaded with grain, each varying in what they brought. These were the provisions and funds extracted because whatever amount Zhang Xun put up, the gentry were forced to double.

"Roll the call!" Once Zhang Xun stood still, Ma Yong signaled him to wait a moment, as the rewards had now arrived.

Governing an army required strictness, but severe penalties had to be accompanied by generous rewards. An army maintained solely through harsh punishments could not endure for long; clear rewards and punishments, with both aspects balanced, was the correct principle.

The various troops below roared in assent. The roll-call officer held the roster and checked off names on the platform. For every man present, five hundred coins and a bolt of silk were awarded and handed out on the spot.

"The General truly understands military affairs, deeply understands them," Zhang Xun said, cupping his hands in salute to Ma Yong.

"It is entirely due to the General's trust and support, ensuring our supplies are without lack," Ma Yong returned the salute.

***

He was a valiant warrior who had emerged alive from the flesh-grinder of Xiangyang and Sichuan. At the same time, because Zhao Kui had passed away and Zhao Huai had retired from office, he had spent nearly ten years sidelined in obscurity, deeply understanding the ways of the world.

Serving as a soldier and leading troops in the Song dynasty meant accomplishing nothing without support. Ma Yong was fully aware of why Zhang Xun was backing him so strongly.

"With just this army here, Changzhou can be secured."

"The Tatar barbarians are ferocious. These two thousand men are at most enough to withstand a single wave." Ma Yong was not nearly so optimistic.

If his two thousand men were thrown into the meat grinder of Xiangyang, when the Tatar armored cavalry arrived in a wave, with several thousand fierce horsemen charging wildly and splitting to the left and right, they would not hold out for even a single hour. This was warfare; in the clashes between the Song and the Mongols, two thousand men were only worthy of a single ripple in the current.

"Does the General still remember his hometown?" Zhang Xun did not pursue the topic further, promptly shifting the conversation, for he naturally harbored other plans in his mind.

"Queshan County in Caizhou," Ma Yong replied, a trace of reminiscence crossing his face.

"Perhaps one day, we shall return to our homeland."

"Return for what? There is nothing worth returning to. When the white-capped winter gales blow up, the wind is full of frozen balls of dead men's hair. You eat reed stalks, drink yellow mud slurry, and die dry like a bundle of firewood."

"Ha..." Zhang Xun closed his mouth and merely let out a sigh.

Ma Yong said no more, fixing his gaze on the soldiers below. Swept by his gaze, the assembled troops shuddered, involuntarily quickening the pace of their marching feet.

Though not few, two thousand men divided into six commands meant the roll call and sign-in did not take much time. The troops below had now received their rewards, and the previously wavering morale instantly stabilized.

Training must continue; what Zhang Xun needed to do now was find a way to keep this army stationed in Changzhou. He needed to make this army his capital after surrendering, ensuring the Tatars would not dare to bully him to his face.

The gentry within the commandery also came to look twice thereafter, realizing that Ma Yong actually seemed to possess some genuine capability, and moreover, he was a household general sent by the Old Zhang family's in-laws—the so-called "one of us."

Ordinary commoners only felt the heavy tax burdens and endless military corvée, lacking any notion of a dynasty changing hands. How could these well-informed gentry possibly remain ignorant? The Jinghu front line had nearly collapsed everywhere, and while the court was frantically recruiting soldiers everywhere, it could fail to muster enough strength to hold Ezhou.

***

Once Ezhou fell, the Yuan army would inevitably drive straight along the river into Jiangdong. By then, Jiangdong would also be plunged into the flames of war; although Changzhou was not a major military stronghold, it still required a modicum of self-preservation capability.

This was why, during their previous meeting, Zhang Xun and the gentry had agreed that it was feasible to train local militia and defense corps. The gentry were indeed willing to spend money to train them, because the militia archers protected their home soil of Changzhou. These were the foundations and capital of the gentry, so spending money here was necessary.

As for training soldiers for the imperial court...

That was not entirely out of the question, provided the troops remained stationed in Changzhou. A group of them had even thought: no wonder Zhang Xun sent his personal servants into the army. He must have been harboring the idea that once fighting broke out, he could gather up all his servants, take them home, and secure his own independent military strength.

Had they known earlier, they would have sent all their own servants and pages to Ma Yong for training. When troubled times arrived in the future, having a bit of armed force in one's hands along with the family granaries would allow one's heart to rest easy.

Openly and covertly, some people began arranging to find a residence for Ma Yong within the city, offering him two beautiful concubines, adding clothing and furnishings, and ideally hoping he would father a son or daughter there.

The large gathering of gentry had never fought a battle or trained soldiers; having finally laid hands on someone who knew how, they were determined to hold onto him tightly.

Their previous passive attitude toward recruitment shifted toward a positive one the moment they saw Ma Yong drilling the troops with considerable proficiency. The best example of this was everyone coming to invite Zhang Xun to a general assembly and council.

What were they discussing? They planned that after the summer harvest, they would carve out a window of ten days or half a month to hold a grand drill for the militia archers from all the counties of Changzhou commandery, particularly those from Jinling and Wujin counties. They would follow behind Ma Yong's regular troops, drilling together to raise the training proficiency of the local forces.

For no other reason than to at least enable the commandery's archers to assemble properly.

Do not underestimate this ability to assemble. When forces exceed ten thousand men, stretching endlessly without horizon, merely gathering them together and arraying them into a specific number of battle formations was something very few people in ancient times could accomplish.

In fact, very few people could do it in modern times either. Being able to concentrate ten thousand men without chaos made one at least a qualified "mediocre general." If one could lead ten thousand men to advance and retreat, pitch camp, and dismount in order, one was an "able general" worthy of employment.

Going further up, anyone who could successfully lead ten thousand men hundreds or thousands of miles out to wage war invariably found their names recorded in history books.