Chapter 64: The Preceptor-Prime Minister Leads an Army of Thirteen Hundred Thousand

Unlike Zhang Xun’s calm demeanor, the students inside Hangzhou city were filled with righteous indignation. Especially since the Ministry of Rites provincial examinations were about to be held, scholars from all over the realm had gathered within the city in droves.

Since Liu Zheng was already dead, why hasn’t Jia Sidao taken the field yet?

Liu Zheng, who supposedly knew China best among the northern barbarians, had dropped dead suddenly. Lü Wenhuan was originally nothing more than a minor captain under your own command, Jia Sidao, what are you afraid of? And as for the Tatars?

You have linked iron cavalry horses, I have long-handled hooked sabers; you have Jin Wuzhu, I have Grandfather Yue; you have wolf-toothed clubs, I have a human skull.

Why on earth do you, Jia Sidao, dare not clash with the Tatars? The world has reached such a pass; as the chief minister of state and the head of all nobles and officials, this is the moment for you to shoulder your responsibility and go have a proper clash with the Tatars.

You have enjoyed twenty years of glory, wealth, and honor, and the gracious patronage of the royal House of Zhao is greater than the heavens itself—now is the exact time for you to repay that debt.

More importantly, the Emperor, Zhao Qi, was ill. His illness was growing increasingly severe, and he no longer had sufficient energy to suppress the public discussions and media opinions from both sides of the court, nor to continue propping up Jia Sidao in his lofty position of "Preceptor and Chancellor."

In a feudal era, while an emperor's actual power might vary in size, the mere existence of an emperor embodied the so-called righteous cause of the realm. If the emperor stepped forward to exert suppression, even if it could not be completely quelled, working in tandem with the prime minister would always yield some result.

Now that the Emperor lacked the energy to make arrangements, even with power that shook the court and the country, Jia Sidao suddenly found that much of his power no longer functioned smoothly. After all, holding power that overawed the court naturally corresponded to having opponents filling the entire court.

Power was finite in quantity and scope; the more one person monopolized, the less another naturally possessed. As long as there were still three people left in the world, power struggles were inevitable.

According to recorded human history and civilization, the world had never truly produced a completely selfless, magnanimous, and benevolent saint.

And so, Jia Sidao finally submitted his fifth memorial, petitioning the court to personally serve as the Supreme Ambassador, commanding the loyalist troops from all circuits across the realm to head to the Upper Yangtze and engage the Yuan army.

This time, there were no exceptions. Both inside and outside the court, the demand for Jia Sidao to lead the expedition was nearly unanimous. Even his own partisans knew that if they didn't send troops to resist now, they truly wouldn't be able to hold on any longer.

The prerequisite for fighting for power and profit was that there was still power left to seize. If the rivers and mountains themselves couldn't be preserved, would surrender really bring any good outcomes?

Heh, they had guessed wrong—surrender actually did bring quite good outcomes. It was just that the news of endless surrenders along the Upper Yangtze hadn't arrived yet, and they were still unaware of Bayan’s official edicts of appointment and even lavish promotions and rewards. Therefore, they still held a faint air of "active resistance." Once they learned the truth, well, that might not be the case anymore.

The court’s previous nationwide open edict calling for loyalist reinforcements had not yet been settled, and this new mobilization edict was even harsher. It was no longer just about recruiting troops for self-defense; the court's idea was that all troops already recruited across various regions should immediately report to the imperial court, and any soldiers deemed usable would automatically be promoted by five ranks.

That’s right, a promotion of five military ranks.

This showed just how desperate the court was for soldiers and how thirsty for military force it had become, reaching the point of indiscriminately bestowing official ranks and titles. For now, it was just handing out "lieutenants" all over the streets; it wouldn't be long before it started scattering "junior officials" everywhere. Could honorary titles of senior grand masters be far behind? Not far at all.

As it happened, more than ten generals and several hundred mid-level officers who had been defeated at Ezhou had returned to the court to plead guilty. The court was precisely lacking in commanding officers and school-grade leaders, and for these men to make a clandestine journey of a thousand miles from Ezhou back to Hangzhou, they truly were supreme loyalists.

Not only were they spared from punishment, but each received promotions. Figures like Zhang Shijie were promoted to the position of Imperial Commissioner of the Baokang Army. Wang Anjie was appointed Observation Commissioner of Zhenzhou, and Liu Shiyong was appointed Observation Commissioner of Chuzhou. Jiang Cai, who had long languished in subordinate positions, was granted the title of Prefect of Yangzhou and promoted to commanding officer.

With everyone receiving varying promotions, where were the troops supposed to come from?

The Front Palace Division, the Imperial Bodyguard Division, the Royal Camp Division, and various pre-stationed units of the temporary capital were ordered to carve out over forty thousand soldiers, to be commanded by Sun Huchen, the Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Front Palace. In addition, over thirty thousand men were recruited from Jiande, Shaoxing, Wuzhou, Quzhou, Chuzhou, and other places, bringing the total to seventy thousand troops.

The newly recruited army was handed over to the various generals who had come to court for command, with each leading three thousand or five thousand men respectively.

Furthermore, merchant and civilian boats were heavily requisitioned from towns such as Mingzhou, Taizhou, and Wenzhou—including many large ocean-going trading vessels—along with numerous boatmen, helmsmen, local Chongning garrison soldiers, and inspection archers. All were forcefully rounded up to the towns. Altogether, over thirty thousand naval forces were gathered and handed over to generals like Liu Shiyong.

Another twenty-odd thousand land and water troops recruited from Jiangxi, Fujian, Guangdong, and Hunan were added. Because of language barriers and unclear leadership, they could not be immediately fused into an effective army. Consequently, they were all assigned as oarsmen, helmsmen, and reserve personnel, serving collectively in the rear transport lines of the three armies.

Hong Qiwei, a disciple of Jia Sidao and the current Prefect of Runzhou, was appointed as the Transport Surveillance Commissioner, taking overall charge of logistics.

To boost the morale of the three armies, Zhao Qi, already bedridden, opened the inner treasury and dispatched one hundred thousand liang of gold, five hundred thousand liang of silver, and thirty million strings of cash to be transported along with the army. Anyone who performed meritorious service would be rewarded immediately, without the slightest delay.

As expected of the Song dynasty, even with whatever little money remained, at this juncture, they still possessed that final breath of fighting to the death.

Whether it was the final resurgence breath before death or the death rattle itself, no one could tell.

The army of one hundred and thirty thousand, apart from the more than forty thousand existing regular government troops, consisted entirely of hastily cobbled-together forces. Upon hearing that he was to be dispatched for combat, Sun Huchen threw himself from his horse on the spot; unfortunately, things did not go as he wished, and he failed to break his leg. Thus, under Jia Sidao's intense coercion, he was still forced to follow the army into battle.

To ensure the court remained under his control, Jia Sidao appointed his favored student Chen Yizhong as Vice-Manager of Administration and Concurrent Signer of the Privy Council, taking charge of military and political affairs. He then appointed his confidant Han Zhen as the Front Palace Commander-in-Chief, holding authority over the remaining troops in Hangzhou.

Believing that both the civil and military factions were in the hands of his trusted aides, Jia Sidao finally gathered his courage and set out.

However, before he had even departed, Hong Qiwei’s official dispatches had already arrived in Changzhou. It wasn't to mobilize Changzhou's personnel and military forces, but rather to demand that Changzhou prepare fifty thousand bushels of grain to provision the one hundred and thirty thousand troops and thirty thousand mules and horses.

Additionally, they needed to prepare hemp cloth, horse fodder, bamboo rain hats, carrying poles, oars, oil, and a series of other military supplies. In short, the imperial army would arrive shortly; if you had everything prepared, the government troops would quickly pass through your territory.

If you weren't prepared, the government troops were in no rush either—they would simply eat and drink at your expense in Changzhou until you got everything ready.

When the dispatch was delivered to Zhao Rujian, he fell into deep distress and immediately summoned the gentry of the entire prefecture to Jinling County for consultation. Fifty thousand bushels of grain was relatively manageable; this year's autumn harvest was considered an average year, and at least no severe famine had occurred. The official granaries still held a tiny reserve of grain, and if everyone chipped in with a bit of "voluntary donation," it could be arranged immediately.

However, those messy military supplies were simply not something Zhao Rujian could handle alone. Even if they ransacked the entire city, there was no way to gather them in such a short time.

As he spoke from his seat of authority, the gentry below cast their gazes one after another toward Zhang Xun. Such apportioned levies were never something Zhao Rujian could decide on his own; everyone operated purely out of regard for the prestige of the old Zhang family.

"Is the court purchasing these, or are they..."