Chapter 41: The Tides Have Turned, The Hidden Dragon Must Remain Dormant

The forces of the Xiangzhou Marshal’s Office began their mobilization toward Daming Prefecture (the Northern Capital of the Song Dynasty). Meanwhile, the border defense troops retreating from the Hedong and Hebei circuits began to receive orders to勤王 (protect the throne), gradually converging toward Zhao Gou.

In one’s youth, when the body is healthy and male hormones are surging, there arises a dangerous illusion of being invincible and omnipotent. This illusion is much like an ant roaring between heaven and earth, claiming it can move a piece of wood a hundred times its own size. Yet, one cannot entirely dismiss this youthful arrogance and blind passion, for it is precisely this arrogance and fervor that drive young people to hack through thorns and brambles, enduring scars to carve out their own paths, eventually forging the wisdom and fortitude of adulthood.

However, for some, once this youthful passion cools as they enter adulthood, it does not transform into wisdom or fortitude, but rather into something tawdry and pathetic. Take, for instance, a certain Mr. Wang, or Zhao Gou. Perhaps this is the potency of power—it can turn a dragon-slaying youth into the very dragon he once sought to destroy.

In Zhao Ning’s assessment, his arrival and the actions he had taken thus far would not produce any drastic changes in the world outside the city of Tokyo within the first month or two. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface. In the main thread of history, the only thing he had achieved was to prevent the fall of Tokyo in the intercalary eleventh month, forcing the war into a stalemate.

Why did he say it only *appeared* that way? Because the butterfly effect had yet to manifest. As the saying goes, let the bullets fly for a while. What was the true impact on the entire chess match of whether Tokyo fell or held? To put it simply: if Tokyo had fallen on the twenty-fifth day of the intercalary eleventh month as it did in history, a significant portion of the royalist relief armies would have developed ulterior motives.

How to explain this? The reason is simple: if the capital falls, the imperial regalia may be tarnished, and the Son of Heaven may be captured. The world might change hands. All factions would naturally have to consider their own paths for the future. When a center of power is shattered and a power vacuum emerges, a crowd will inevitably emerge to covet that throne. The likes of Wang Boyan and Huang Qianshan in history were exactly such people.

But could Zhao Gou have already revealed such ambition and cold-bloodedness at this very moment? That is impossible; Zhao Gou was only twenty years old. For the first twenty years of his life, he had been raised within the confines of the imperial palace. As the ninth prince, had the Jingkang Incident not occurred, he would have remained a peaceful, unremarkable prince for the rest of his days. Most of those who claim Zhao Gou had ambition that year are merely judging him from the perspective of posterity, standing in the shoes of God. In that year, Zhao Gou was not even as ambitious as Zhao Kai. At this moment, Zhao Gou was more likely feeling helpless, lost, and perhaps even a little afraid.

Of course, there was also the excitement of nascent power. A prince possesses little real authority, but now he was the Grand Marshal of the Armies; the relief forces and volunteer militias from Hebei, Hedong, and Shandong were all converging upon him. At such a time, his actions were influenced not entirely by himself, but by those around him. Zhao Ning pondered who would be by Zhao Gou’s side. Wang Boyan, and shortly thereafter, Huang Qianshan. These two clowns of the capitulationist faction were capable only of disastrous advice.

Zhao Ning took a deep breath and walked to the map, staring at the region north of the Yellow River. Many prefectures in Hebei and Hedong (Shanxi) had already fallen, but volunteer militias were rising everywhere, and the war was far from over. This was his greatest trump card and the key to forcing the Jin army to retreat.

Truth be told, Wang Boyan was not a born capitulationist. It was entirely a matter of interests. At the beginning of this year, Wang Boyan had even presented the "Ten Strategies for Hebei Border Defense" to Zhao Huan, which was why the imperial court had sent him to be the Prefect of Xiangzhou to oversee border defense. However, the situation had become truly delicate; after the fall of Tokyo, the world seemed poised for a change in leadership. In such a sensitive period, the true natures of men were revealed as they began to plot their own futures. Men like Wang Boyan began to cling to Zhao Gou without any moral bottom line, purely to climb the ladder of power.

This was the difference between the capital falling and it remaining intact. Thus, while Zhao Ning’s actions might seem to have no influence on the overall situation, in reality, they were pulling the strings of the entire game. As long as the capital held, the relief armies would slowly gather. Even if Zhao Gou harbored wavering thoughts in the coming days, as long as the true master of the world remained in Tokyo, others would continue to urge him to march south to save the throne.

In the afternoon, Zhao Ning climbed the city wall once more. Amidst the vast, white expanse of ice and snow, the Jin army’s camps stretched out like endless, rolling waves. In the distance, the Jin soldiers were forcing civilians to construct massive siege engines. The next, larger-scale siege was likely not far off.

On the twentieth day of the twelfth month, the Yellow River froze over, and snow drifted across the land for ten thousand miles. It seemed as if only the sound of the wind and snow remained in the world. The area was sparsely populated, as many had already fled south. Those who remained were mostly those who could not escape. Near a small village ahead, the sound of shouting and cursing was faintly audible, carried by the wind. A group of Jin soldiers was forcibly conscripting the villagers at the entrance of the village.

The leading Jin officer shouted, "Hurry up! Whoever delays will be beheaded!" The officer’s Mandarin was clumsy, his pronunciation inaccurate. By the looks of it, he was not Han, but likely Khitan. The villagers ahead were sallow-faced, shivering in the cold, struggling to walk through the snow. A few had tried to resist earlier, only to be killed on the spot; now, no one dared to resist. After all, everyone wanted to live; they had wives and children at home, and if they died, they would have nothing left.

"Hurry up, or that will be your fate!" the Jin *Mouke* (a commander of one hundred) roared at the peasants.

Suddenly, a small cavalry unit appeared on the snow-covered field ahead, charging rapidly toward them. Wang Gui asked, "Commander Yue, could there be an ambush by the Jin thieves?"

Yue Fei did not answer, but instead led his three hundred cavalrymen in a swift charge. The Jin *Mouke* turned and looked; the other Jin soldiers also noticed the approaching force. "Enemy soldiers!" The Jin troops immediately grew vigilant and arrayed themselves for battle.

Yue Fei, however, came like the wind. Initially, these few hundred men had been reluctant to engage the Jin in direct combat, as everyone harbored fear in their hearts. But Yue Fei charged at the forefront, wielding his twin maces. Seeing their commander (a Song centurion) act with such courage, the men followed his charge. As they closed the distance, Yue Fei swung his right mace, striking the head of the nearest Jin soldier. With a dull thud, the helmet was deformed, and the soldier fell to the ground, dead.

As his warhorse neighed, Yue Fei was the first to charge into their ranks. What of Yue Fei’s personal combat prowess? According to historical records, Yue Fei learned martial arts in his youth from the late Northern Song master Zhou Tong and was renowned for his skill in archery. The records state: "Born with divine strength, before reaching adulthood, he could draw a three-hundred-jin bow and an eight-stone crossbow. He studied archery under Zhou Tong, mastered his techniques, and could shoot equally well with either hand." At the time, the highest record in the Song Dynasty was only three stones; Yue Fei could draw an eight-stone bow, a draw strength of over 379 jin, and a waist-tensioned crossbow of over 1,200 jin.

In this world, there are geniuses in every field; for example, Emperor Huizong of Song, Zhao Ji, was a genius in calligraphy and painting. And then there was Yue Fei, a genius in strategy and warfare. Geniuses are not born fully accomplished; they simply learn and grow faster than everyone else.