From the battle at Shaman City, Wei Yuan gained seven heavenly merits.
Though few, their significance was extraordinary—it meant a Great Shaman had suffered fundamental damage to their origin. He just did not know whether it was the one seated on the altar or the one who had burst out from underground. Wei Yuan leaned toward the former; after all, that blood had spurted quite spectacularly.
When Wei Yuan had concealed himself atop the city wall, he had clearly observed the situation inside: the bombardment had inflicted nearly ten thousand casualties among the Shaman warriors, while civilian dead and wounded reached a full sixty to seventy thousand—a third of all civilians in Shaman City. From now on, whether in repairs or construction, Shaman City would inevitably be severely impacted.
Those who could be dispatched to Shaman City included no elderly or frail, only prime-aged Shamans who could take to the battlefield with a bit of training. To have nearly a hundred thousand wiped out by Wei Yuan's single barrage of artillery fire would sting even the largest tribes.
Wei Yuan had also depleted his entire stock of gunpowder, making it difficult to launch a second bombardment anytime soon.
For now, Shaman City's grand defensive formation and central altar were completely ruined, all three Great Shamans were wounded, and their able-bodied numbers had suffered grievous losses; recovering their vitality would take considerable time.
In this round, Wei Yuan was merely bleeding the Shamans, with no intention of truly leveling Shaman City just yet. Once several months passed and the Shamans actually built it into a magnificent fortress, only to see the Qingming Domain looming right over their heads, one could only wonder how those Great Shamans would feel.
With the Shaman threat temporarily eliminated, Wei Yuan seized every moment to drill his cultivators. Now that vitality thrived within the domain, the number of individuals he could empower with Outlaw of Heaven and Earth had increased once more.
Presently, Wei Yuan could normally empower three hundred cavalrymen, boosting their strength by fifty percent; the core fifty required karmic luck to empower, doubling their strength. As for Wei Yuan himself, apart from dao power, depending on how much karmic luck he consumed, he experienced comprehensive enhancements in every aspect, multiplying his strength by an undetermined degree.
The cavalry unit under Wei Yuan's direct command had steadily expanded from an initial sixteen riders to fifty, and now to three hundred. Within Ten Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains, azure qi was as numerous as cattle hairs and constantly growing. Yet even though Outlaw of Heaven and Earth had not reached its limit, the cultivators within the domain had.
Currently in Qingming, mining required Dao Foundations, farming required Dao Foundations, firing cannons required Dao Foundations, and even forging iron required Dao Foundations—Dao Foundations were needed everywhere. After all, Dao Foundation cultivators were no mortals; when working, one could match a hundred mortals.
Wei Yuan had always wondered why there were so few Dao Foundations; right now, there were only some six hundred in the entire domain.
In ordinary times, Wei Yuan's cavalry barely trained at all, mostly doing odd jobs. Yet Wei Yuan felt that his cavalry hardly needed training anyway, especially the core fifty. Once blessed with karmic luck, Wei Yuan could fight in their stead entirely. With his formidable origin soul, controlling fifty riders simultaneously was effortless; only at three hundred would it become somewhat of a burden.
Wei Yuan had equipped every rider with a spear, a war saber, and heavy armor as standard issue. This made many riders accustomed to fighting freely quite uncomfortable, forcing them to undergo extra drills to master both weapons. But Wei Yuan ignored all voices of objection, so the riders had no choice but to practice obediently; an army was supposed to have uniform equipment, after all.
Yet Wei Yuan's insistence on uniform weaponry came down to a single reason: it made controlling them far less troublesome. Otherwise, if one wielded a cleaver and another dual hammers, wouldn't he have to practice saber and hammer techniques as well?
On the battlefield, a spear was far simpler: just thrust. It was vastly quicker than any blade or axe. Thrust true, and one gained promotion and wealth; miss, and one simply thrust again.
While Wei Yuan drilled this cavalry unit, Yu Zhizhuo was working at full tilt forging equipment. Now that they had the iron-forging machines, and given the large quantity and urgency of Wei Yuan's order, Yu Zhizhuo built several special anvils. Steel plates were placed atop them and hammered directly by the iron-forging machines into two curved halves; fitted front and back, they formed a cuirass.
The leg and arm armor received similar treatment, ultimately making the riders look as if several iron buckets were sleeved over their bodies and limbs. Bare steel cylinders looked rather unsightly, so Wei Yuan had no choice but to add another step: painting them all black. Now, the look came together.
At this juncture, word came from Sun Chao'en that the Zhao diplomatic mission had already departed and would enter the Shattered Lands in a matter of days. Upon receiving the news, Wei Yuan intensified training. Knowing they were about to pull off a major operation, many newcomers felt a mix of fear and excitement, throwing themselves into grueling drills as if their lives depended on it.
Since the Marquis of Xiang wanted to see Wei Yuan's strength, Wei Yuan would show him three hundred Dao Foundations. Whether it would catch the old lord's discerning eye remained to be seen.
According to the mission's planned route, the location of Wei Yuan's ambush was about four thousand li from the domain. The domain's radius had now expanded to one hundred and thirty li, extending Wei Yuan's operational range at full combat power to six thousand five hundred li—more than enough.
***
In the garrison army camp of Bianning Commandery's seat, a stern-looking general sat upright, sweeping his cold gaze over the commandants in the tent. With a chilly expression, he said, "Where is General Yue Qilin? I have arrived to assume office, yet he is nowhere to be seen. How are we to conduct the handover?"
A commandant on the right stepped forward and said, "General Yue packed his belongings yesterday and rode out of the city on a hunt. There is no telling when he will return. He has already entrusted all seals and tallies to me, for this subordinate to hand over to General Feng."
The Feng-surnamed general rose, strode up to the commandant, took the seals and military tallies from his hands, inspected them, and then suddenly kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him flying straight out of the tent!
The kick was exceptionally brutal. The commandant immediately spat blood, collapsing onto the ground and unable to rise for the moment.
As if nothing had happened, the Feng-surnamed general looked down the line of commandants on the right, inspecting them one by one. Those on the left of the tent were the ones he had brought with him, while those on the right were Yue Qilin's former subordinates.
The Feng-surnamed general said slowly, "I have heard that General Yue is formidable in battle and that the troops he trains are proud and fierce. Seeing you today, it is indeed so. Every one of you looks at me with ferocious eyes. What, you refuse to submit?"
General Feng stopped in front of a heavily bearded commandant and reached out to pat his cheek mockingly. Unable to endure it any longer, the commandant swatted General Feng's hand away with a slap.
General Feng smiled. "Excellent. Striking a superior officer—that is an aggravated offense. Men, throw him into the water dungeon and starve him for ten days first! The rest of you are his accomplices. Drag them all down and lock them up; I shall interrogate them at my leisure when I find the time."
A crowd of personal guards rushed into the tent, pinning down all of Yue Qilin's old subordinates and binding them. One indignant commandant shouted, "Feng, don't rejoice too soon! When General Yue returns, he will certainly uphold justice for us!"
General Feng laughed loudly. "How many men have you seen climb back up after being demoted? Had it not been for that good uncle of his, he wouldn't even have lost his post this time."
The bearded commandant roared in fury, "You pack of dogs! Marshal Yue is fighting a bloody war at the front, yet you plot against him from behind! Doing such vile, underhanded deeds, aren't you afraid your bloodline will end with you?"
Feng Lin walked over and kicked him across the face, sending several teeth scattering to the ground. A bizarre smile surfaced on his lips as he said, "Whether my line ends, I do not know. But you, most likely, will not survive these ten days."
After ordering Yue Qilin's old subordinates escorted away, Feng Lin felt thoroughly refreshed in body and mind. "Beat the drums and assemble the troops! Let me see what kind of soldiers Yue Qilin has left behind."
A quarter of an hour later, looking at the dense ranks of soldiers standing on the drill grounds, Feng Lin felt his scalp tingle.
A trusted commandant beside him gasped in shock, "This... how could this be? There really are eight thousand men?"
Feng Lin's expression darkened like stagnant water. He had never expected Yue Qilin's forces to actually be at full complement. When he arrived to assume his post, he had brought his own division of five thousand troops on paper, but in reality, there were only one thousand eight hundred men in camp, though commandants and other officers were fully staffed for a five-thousand-man roster.
Suddenly remembering something, cold sweat broke out on Feng Lin's forehead. "Take me to the granaries!"
The granaries sat in a corner of the main camp. Channelling his dao power, Feng Lin threw open the heavy doors of several granaries. Staring at the half-filled bins inside, his heart sank steadily.
Before taking office, he had sent a trusted commandant in advance to inspect the weapons, provisions, and fodder. At the time, that commandant deemed the supplies normal and signed the handover documents. If Yue Qilin had been present today, all that needed transferring would have been a single military tally and an official seal.
When Feng Lin heard the grain figures reported by his commandant back then, he had also thought them normal. The problem was, what Feng Lin considered normal was based on the standard situation across Western Jin: virtually every army in Western Jin was understrength, generally fielding only thirty to forty percent of their roster.
Feng Lin had assumed Yue Qilin's unit would be no different—at most forty percent strength—in which case the grain would have been sufficient. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Yue Qilin would actually keep a full complement!
Thus, a massive deficit in military rations appeared instantly.
Several commandants realized the severity of the situation. Feng Lin slapped the commandant who had signed the handover papers across the face, sending blood spurting from his mouth and nose.
Another commandant ventured, "Could some of these soldiers merely be filling out the numbers..."
Yet halfway through, he trailed off. These commandants had led troops for years; how could they fail to distinguish warriors from commoners?
Every one of these eight thousand soldiers was tall and robust, their muscles corded and knots of sinew bulging—clearly, they had all cultivated the Sinew and Muscle Realm, making them fully qualified soldiers anywhere in Western Jin. If soldiers like these weren't fed, they would mutiny.
At the thought of a mutiny, cold sweat broke out across the commandants' backs.
Feng Lin snapped immediately, "Ready my horse! I am going to the commandery governor and the vice prefect to demand grain!"
An hour later, Feng Lin returned to camp, his face dark enough to drip water. Those two old foxes, Li Weisheng and Sun Chao'en, refused to budge on anything, unwilling to part with a single grain from the official granaries.
Feng Lin had danced around in circles with them for nearly an hour until he could bear it no longer and had to return to camp. He knew staying would achieve nothing; those two old foxes could ramble about irrelevancies all day, but he could not afford to waste time.
Seeing Feng Lin's expression, the commandants knew things had gone poorly. Though foul-tempered, Feng Lin suppressed his rage and sat in the tent, thinking carefully.
Once his initial fury passed, Feng Lin formed a suspicion: those official granaries were probably mostly empty anyway.
After a long silence, a vicious look crept onto Feng Lin's face. He summoned a commandant and instructed, "Leave the city immediately and find Brother Xu. Tell him to bring a sizable contingent of his private troops. In a few days, when we escort the Zhao diplomatic mission north, have him disguise his men as mounted bandits and ambush us. As for you lot, go through the soldiers in camp with a fine-tooth comb: pick out the poor, the ones without family backing, and the troublemakers. When the time comes, they will accompany us on the mission's escort."
The commandants exchanged glances. One asked hesitantly, "General, you mean..."
Murderous intent flashed across Feng Lin's face. "Yue Qilin dared to set this trap for me, so there is no need for me to show him any courtesy! Isn't there not enough grain to go around? Once there are fewer mouths to feed, there will be plenty."
Chapter 252