Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Morale of the Troops Is Reliable

In the northern region during February, the weather remained bitterly cold. Even within the Great Wall, the vast open fields were nearly deserted.

This was exactly the effect Zhao Yu desired. The ten thousand cavalrymen under his and Yelü Huan’s command had all donned the uniforms of Song dynasty soldiers. Anyone who saw them would truly believe they were a Song army.

After several days of traveling by day and resting by night, the army had stealthily advanced to a mountain pass over a hundred miles from Taiyuan.

The soldiers were exhausted from the relentless march. As soon as the order to rest was given, they wrapped themselves in woolen blankets and lay down on the ground, some too tired even to eat.

Whether Han or Khitan, soldiers stationed in the north had grown up enduring harsh conditions and were exceptionally resilient.

Wu Song and Shi Qian had already infiltrated the city with a squad, tasked with gathering intelligence on Taiyuan and pinpointing the granaries’ locations.

News of the Liao army’s large-scale invasion had long spread, and Taiyuan was on high alert. Even if Zhao Yu had thirty thousand men instead of just over ten thousand, conventional tactics would not break through. Fortunately, they were not here to fight.

Indeed, it was only because Zhao Yu led this force that these fierce Liao soldiers restrained themselves from turning into ruthless wolves, wreaking havoc in the Central Plains.

However, each soldier could only carry limited provisions. If they failed to secure food supplies, Zhao Yu might lose control of the troops. After all, this was Song territory, and soldiers causing trouble here felt little remorse.

Zhao Yu was fully aware of this, yet he could only suppress his worries, showing no sign of them on his face.

According to the plan, Yelü Min would lead the main army to charge directly at Zhending Prefecture, creating the illusion of an impending surprise attack on a Song city to cover Zhao Yu’s westward advance.

Once Zhao Yu’s force had moved far enough, Yelü Min would turn back with his troops and move west to rendezvous with Zhao Yu’s group after they exited through Yanmen Pass.

This was a necessary tactic. Their numbers were too few, and if the Song army uncovered their scheme, they would not only fail to capture provisions but might not even escape unscathed.

At this moment, Zhao Yu wore the plain uniform of an ordinary soldier. Among the troops, apart from his somewhat youthful face, no one could discern his true identity.

In the mountain pass, soldiers gathered in small clusters. The horses, well-trained and fed, quietly stayed by their riders’ sides.

Among men, women were always a favorite topic. The accompanying laughter and banter served more to ease their own tension than anything else.

“Too bad this is a secret mission, or we’d have caught a few Song women to take back,” one joked.

“Look at you! Can’t even take care of your own wife, yet you want to catch other women?” came a teasing retort, drawing laughter all around.

“I say, you’re all hopeless. When you become generals, what kind of women won’t you have? Why bother snatching others?” another chimed in.

“Bah! If being a general were that easy, everyone would be one!” someone scoffed.

“That’s because you’re useless. Now Instructor Lin and Instructor Wu are vigorously training officers. Work hard, and if you catch their eye, becoming a general isn’t impossible,” another encouraged.

“Hey! The prince is here!” someone suddenly announced.

At those words, the soldiers stood and warmly greeted Zhao Yu as he approached.

On the march, there were fewer formalities—a rule Zhao Yu himself had established.

“Stop the chatter! I can hear you all the way from over there. Don’t waste time laughing—everyone sit down, sit down,” Zhao Yu commanded.

“Your Highness, are we going to war with the Song?” a young soldier voiced what everyone was thinking. After traveling so far without action, they were filled with questions.

“Good thing I know you’re not a spy, or I’d have you arrested for that question,” Zhao Yu replied. “I can’t tell you the specifics yet, but I promise you won’t be sent to die. Soon, I will lead you home.”

Hearing this, the soldiers brightened. As Zhao Yu sat down, more gathered around him.

“I heard someone wants to be a general,” Zhao Yu said. “Good thought. A soldier who doesn’t want to be a general isn’t a good soldier. As for those always talking about women, I only despise you. Remember, a man’s worth isn’t in his lower half. Like someone just said, if you truly become a general, the women will come to you willingly.”

“Your Highness, we’re just rough country folk. Following you is a blessing from past lives. How could we dare to hope for more?” a soldier responded humbly.

“Hmph! You’re rough, but don’t you want to build a legacy for future generations? An ancient saying goes: ‘Are nobles and generals born or made?’ Meaning anyone can rise through hard work. Here’s a little secret: when we return, I plan to open schools and provide free education to your children, so they won’t be rough country folk and will have better chances to become officers or officials.”

Zhao Yu had many plans for Youzhou but feared the capital might not give him a chance. With the food shortage causing unrest, the best way to stabilize the troops was to fill their hearts with hope.

“Is what you say true, Your Highness?” someone asked.

“Of course. As long as I’m in Youzhou, I’ll do everything to ensure the people of the Yanyun region live well. I’ll double your pay and make sure your families enjoy better treatment than ordinary citizens.”

Zhao Yu spoke earnestly and was indeed working toward that goal.

“I believe you, Your Highness. I used to be a slave of the Xiao family. If not for your decree abolishing slavery, my family would still be living on the edge,” a burly black-haired man said, drawing everyone’s attention. The soldiers recalled the many benevolent measures Zhao Yu had enacted after arriving—opening granaries, abolishing slavery, and more.

“This brother speaks truly. With Your Highness here, our lives will improve. We swear to follow you to death…”

“Keep it quiet, keep it quiet. Don’t alert the Song army,” Zhao Yu interrupted, amused yet pleased. The morale was high—his efforts had not been in vain. If he persisted, the Yanyun region would one day be his.

“Your Highness, Brother Shi Qian is back,” a voice called from behind.

Zhao Yu had been awaiting news from Shi Qian’s group. Gesturing for the soldiers to rest, he turned and followed Yan Qing to his temporary command tent.

Inside, not only Shi Qian but also Yelü Huan had arrived.

No time for pleasantries—before Shi Qian could salute, Zhao Yu asked directly, “Brother, what’s the situation in Taiyuan?”

Shi Qian’s grave expression brought a faint unease to Zhao Yu’s heart...