Chapter 68: Don’t Panic, It’s Not a Big Deal

Li Gang, upon hearing this, looked at Yang Feiyan with suspicion. Although Yang Feiyan seemed to know him, he did not know her at all. He had assumed she was a new concubine brought into the palace by Zhao Huan, but to his surprise, she showed a keen interest in military and national affairs.

Li Gang ignored Yang Feiyan and instead turned to Zhao Huan.

Zhao Huan waved his hand and said, “Don’t panic. It’s not a serious matter. You may leave for now.”

“But Your Majesty, Li Baoji is truly dead!” Yang Feiyan, worried that something had gone wrong with her assassination attempt, spoke with some agitation.

Zhao Huan nodded, replying, “I believe you. It seems Li Qianshun is not so easily deceived. Our scheme to sow discord has failed.”

Hearing Zhao Huan say this, Yang Feiyan felt somewhat relieved and asked, “Your Majesty, is there anything more this general should do?”

Zhao Huan waved her away. “Take a leave for now. If there is anything, you will be notified.”

Yang Feiyan withdrew.

Li Gang was still somewhat puzzled by Yang Feiyan’s identity, but at this moment, sensibly pretended not to care. He said, “Your Majesty, Wu Jie has already set out to meet the enemy. However, the Western Xia forces number two hundred thousand, while we have only sixty thousand. I fear that if Guanzhong falls, our western gate will be wide open, allowing the Jurchen forces to sweep in unimpeded. The situation is dire!”

The more one fears something, the more likely it is to occur. The Song Dynasty was already exhausted dealing with the Jurchen army, and now with Western Xia joining in, the peril facing the Song court was evident.

“Western Xia!” Zhao Huan muttered through gritted teeth, despising the state. Western Xia was like a wolf cub that could never be tamed; despite receiving annual tributes from the Song, it showed no gratitude, and now, in the nation’s hour of crisis, it had stabbed the Song court in the back.

“What movements are the Jurchen forces making?” Zhao Huan inquired.

“According to reports from our scouts, the Jurchens have detached an army of one hundred thousand under Wanyan Chang, marching towards Hanzhong, intending to join with Western Xia in encircling and annihilating our sixty thousand-strong Western Defense Army,” Li Gang said.

Three hundred thousand allied troops against sixty thousand Song soldiers—by any measure, this was a war impossible to win.

Zhao Huan could not help but suck his teeth in frustration.

Military strategy dictates that a three-to-one numerical advantage is needed to besiege a city; now the coalition had five times the numbers. Wu Jie was under unimaginable pressure.

Rubbing his temples, Zhao Huan knew that Guanzhong could not be lost. It was the western gateway to the Song realm; if it fell, the dynasty would be in mortal danger.

“Issue orders: Liu Qi is to lead sixty thousand Southern Defense troops to reinforce Guanzhong and hold Jingyuan Road at all costs. Guanzhong must not be lost!” Zhao Huan instructed Li Gang.

Li Gang expressed his concern, “Even with Liu Qi’s sixty thousand added, it is still three hundred thousand against one hundred twenty thousand. The disparity is too great; I fear we still cannot hold.”

“We must hold, even if it seems impossible. If Guanzhong falls, the western gate is open, and all the defenses in the east will be for nothing,” Zhao Huan said sternly.

Li Gang naturally understood Zhao Huan’s logic, but this time the situation was truly perilous.

“Your Majesty, in my view, it would be wise to allow local recruitment of militia forces to alleviate our shortage of troops,” Li Gang suggested.

Zhao Huan shook his head. “No. Quality matters more than quantity. Even if we raise more men, if they are a disorderly rabble, they are less effective than a well-trained force.” Zhao Huan knew well that fear was contagious; if a single soldier fled in battle, those around him would surely follow, triggering a chain reaction. Conversely, if a soldier fought bravely, he would inspire those beside him. This was the essence of morale.

“But Your Majesty, our army is critically undermanned. If we cannot replenish our forces, the situation may become disastrous,” Li Gang said anxiously.

“Then recruit more Imperial Guards,” Zhao Huan replied. He knew that if local forces grew too numerous, the tail might wag the dog—something he was determined to avoid.

“But the treasury is already under immense strain. Recruiting more guards will be a heavy expense. Zhu Shengfei has already complained to me about it many times,” Li Gang said, voicing his distress.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a major problem. I’ll find the money. You just focus on recruiting the soldiers,” Zhao Huan said.

After Li Gang departed, Zhao Huan rubbed his aching head, feeling troubled. Others who crossed time found themselves enjoying wealth and power, or perhaps aided by some miraculous system and able to do as they pleased. But as for him, though he was an emperor, he was forced to scrape together money from all directions. The palace he lived in—he’d long wanted to renovate it, but simply didn’t have the funds.

It seemed he would have to ask his treasurers for money once again.

Zhao Huan glanced at the bamboo slips in his hands. Cai Jing, Tong Guan, and Zhu Mian had all met justice, but three slips remained: Wang Fu, Liang Shicheng, and Li Yan.

Wang Fu and Liang Shicheng were both tough adversaries. Like Cai Jing, Wang Fu was a Grand Chancellor, and although Liang Shicheng held the title of Grand Commandant, he was known as the “Hidden Chancellor.” Both men wielded immense court influence and were even neighbors. To deal with them now, amidst such internal and external crises, would not be wise.

That left only Li Yan.

Zhao Huan held Li Yan’s bamboo slip and smiled faintly—he truly seemed doomed by fate.

Like Gao Qiu, Li Yan was a eunuch, and during Zhao Huan’s father’s reign, he had served as Chief Steward of the Inner Palace.

“Zhang Xin!” Zhao Huan called out.

The commander of the Imperial Guards, Zhang Xin, entered.

Zhao Huan instructed, “Bring me all the charges collected against Li Yan.”

Zhang Xin, aware that Zhao Huan was about to move against Li Yan, dared not inquire further. In his position, he was privy to many secrets. He hurried out and soon returned with a thick stack of indictments.

The first was a summary by Chen Dong, a student from the Imperial Academy.

During the tenure of Li Yan’s predecessor, Yang Jian, the policy had been to “enclose” land—seizing vast tracts from the people for personal gain. After Yang Jian’s death, Li Yan succeeded him and outdid his predecessor, annexing all previously seized lands into the Western City Office. Over thirty-four thousand hectares thereby fell under his control.

Li Yan’s actions left countless families in the Western District destitute and homeless. Some who began the day as wealthy landowners ended it as beggars on the street. For the sake of these lands, Li Yan ruthlessly ordered the slaughter of over a thousand innocent citizens, stirring an outcry across the northwest.

Li Yan’s crimes were heinous. By law, he deserved death, and his removal would be an act of justice, restoring the court’s reputation.

Zhao Huan drew a red circle on Li Yan’s bamboo slip and muttered, “Given the danger in the northwest, you will be the one to appease public anger and reestablish the court’s authority.”

“Summon Minister of Personnel Zhao Cheng, Minister of Justice Zhao Ding, and Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review Wang Shu to the palace!” Zhao Huan commanded.