Chapter 1315 – Defeating Huang Song, Unifying Dongqing (Fifty-Seven)
“Just the harvest from the Zhuanghe County alone could sustain a whole province. I used to hear stories about how fruitful the Hujun region was, but I had never witnessed it myself. Now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I realize the rumors were true.” Huang Song hurried to harvest the autumn crops, fully aware of the malicious intent Jiang Pengji harbored against him. Anyone with functioning eyes could tell he was fully conscious of the situation. The autumn harvest had already been ongoing for two days, and the amount of grain collected left him astonished.
Once a dreaded place, Hujun had turned into a treasure thanks to Liu Zhi’s reforms.
Whether in times of peace or war, food is a hard currency more valuable than gold.
Having grain means having peace of mind.
Yet, Huang Song was in dire need of food, and thankfully, the autumn harvest had finally arrived, providing two to three million stones of new rice from Zhuanghe County.
Due to the earlier fighting, the nearby common people had dispersed early, leaving the fields unattended for several months.
Fortunately, Zhuanghe County was in a good geographical location, and this year the heavens favored them, allowing the harvest to barely reach the previous year’s average.
On the first day alone, they gathered two hundred fifty thousand stones of autumn grain!
When Huang Song heard this number, he was moved as stated at the beginning.
In order to prevent delays, Cheng Jing split the workforce into four groups, implementing a four-shift system, harvesting day and night.
No need to rush, according to the scouts’ reports, Jiang Pengji had been mobilizing her forces quite frequently in the past couple of days, resembling a predator sharpening its claws for the hunt. If they didn’t hurry to gather food now, when war broke out, they’d be trapped between harvesting grain and fending off Jiang Pengji’s relentless attacks. How could they withstand that?
Cheng Jing and the others under Huang Song were busy to the point of exhaustion; the flames in the tent burnt through the night, and with dawn, they continued their frantic efforts.
With so much work to juggle, Cheng Jing didn’t have a moment to groom himself properly, the dark circles under his eyes deepening, blood vessels creepily visible.
He was hard at work, and others were struggling too, like Yuan Chong on patrol, who collapsed in exhaustion every night, his muscular frame now gaunt.
Huang Song’s camp operated like a massive machine on high gear, with every part working overtime. To put it in the words of the audience, Jiang Pengji hung over their heads like the Sword of Damocles, forcing them to push their limits.
Cheng Jing had never felt time dragging so slowly; according to his plans, the autumn harvest would finish in half a month, but today was just the second day, requiring them to be on edge for thirteen more days. He had a good understanding of what “waiting for doom” felt like—
Just as he finished accounting for the grain harvested on the second day, he perked up at the sound of galloping hooves approaching.
The hoofbeats sounded urgent and tense. Upon hearing it, Cheng Jing rushed out of the command tent and saw the scout hurrying towards the main tent, so he sped up to catch up.
The scout, who had been gathering intelligence on enemy movements, yanked on his reins and leapt off his horse, drenched in sweat.
“Urgent report for the lord!”
The soldiers guarding the main tent didn’t dare slack off and immediately conveyed the news to Huang Song.
When Cheng Jing arrived, he found Huang Song livid, throwing the bamboo slips to the ground, his eyes wide and chest heaving.
He hesitated a moment, then bent down to pick up the palm-sized bamboo slip, reading it rapidly until the end.
The slip was small, yet it contained a significant amount of information, and after reading it, Cheng Jing understood why Huang Song was so enraged.
The slip contained three pieces of bad news, each extremely disadvantageous for Huang Song.
First, the long-stalemated Wanzhou frontline had seen a shift; Qi Guanrang had gone on the offensive, pretending to fall for Feng Jin’s trap, cleverly navigating through to entrap Feng Jin’s troops. Feng Jin’s army suffered a breakdown, forced to retreat twenty miles, morale plummeting.
Second, Feng Jue had secured the Cang and Chen states, gathering an army of one hundred thousand aimed at Haoshou, and the commander at Haoshou had suffered significant losses, sending urgent pleas for help.
Third, Jiang Pengji had been sharpening her blades for war, having mobilized one hundred twenty thousand troops in Hujun, ready to attack Zhuanghe County at any moment.
Cheng Jing saw all this and quietly added another piece of bad news in his heart.
Fourth, Meng Heng and his group stationed at the San Mountain Gorge had not retreated, and should Jiang Pengji launch an attack, they would strike from both sides.
Each piece of news was like a heavy weight on the soul, let alone receiving them altogether at Huang Song’s doorstep.
Huang Song merely threw the bamboo slip down in anger, which already showed remarkable restraint.
Cheng Jing studied it carefully, swiftly realizing that some parts seemed off.
For example, in the second report, Feng Jue’s forces were at most thirty or forty thousand, so where did this one hundred thousand number come from?
In reality, Feng Jue didn’t have many troops, but he included Huang Song’s captive remnants in his count.
Feng Jue had spent one to two months training these captured soldiers, pushing them to the front lines as cannon fodder when attacking Haoshou.
In times of chaos, human lives are the cheapest; using cannon fodder to claim enemy heads and create space for the elite was a standard strategy.
Feng Jue’s one hundred thousand men were inflated figures, but Jiang Pengji’s one hundred twenty thousand elite troops were the real deal. A solid one hundred twenty thousand elite were focusing on Huang Song, leaving him with a sudden feeling of being trapped—perhaps it was more than just a feeling.
Huang Song suppressed his thoughts fiercely; until the outcome was clear, he couldn’t surrender, let alone show weakness in front of his own men!
“Lord?”
Cheng Jing’s voice interrupted Huang Song’s spiraling thoughts.
Huang Song looked up at Cheng Jing and said, “Given the current situation, does Youmo have any strategies?”
Cheng Jing replied, “Wanzhou has been in a deadlock for too long, and continuing this way is pointless; it’s better to let Huai Zhen retreat to guard Haoshou.”
He had a certain understanding of Qi Guanrang, who was known for his patience. He wouldn’t attack unless he was confident it would be decisive. Qi Guanrang had held his ground in Wanzhou for months without moving, which hinted at how much frustration he had bottled inside—Feng Jin was the perfect target for release.
Now that Qi Guanrang had changed his strategy to an offensive stance, it was clear he had seized on Huang Song’s vulnerabilities to strike.
Feng Jin couldn’t possibly break through Wanzhou’s defenses in such a short time, but Jiang Pengji could easily breach Zhuanghe County’s defenses.
With no more worries, Qi Guanrang would no longer stick to a defensive stance and instead take the opportunity to strike at Feng Jin.
Unlike Qi Guanrang, Cheng Jing understood Feng Jin better.
Different from Feng Jue’s collected approach, the young Feng Jin was not just young in age but also in temperament.
Because of his exceptional talents, Feng Jin learned quickly—he could surpass his peers without needing to study hard, leaving others in the dust.
This unbroken success had built up an inflated pride, thus he couldn’t stand failure, let alone the idea of defeat.
The stalemate between Feng Jin and Qi Guanrang at Wanzhou wasn’t merely due to tactics; Feng Jin’s stubbornness was likely at play.
At this point, telling him to back off and return to Hejian County to guard Haoshou would send him into a furious rage.
Thinking about this made Cheng Jing’s head feel a bit heavy.
Could the situation possibly get any worse?
