Chapter Seventy-Five: The Decapitation Operation

There is a saying: misfortune rarely comes alone. Just as Shi Qian had left, the spies from the Liao Kingdom in the Central Plains returned with troubling news.

The Song Dynasty had mobilized an army of two hundred thousand, with Tong Guan as commander, preparing once more to reclaim the Yan-Yun territories.

When Zhao Yu and his companions learned of this, it was already somewhat late, for more detailed news must have already been sent to Shangjing.

“Yulang, is the Emperor of Song out for your life? Is he really your biological father?” Xiao Yiyi teased, and Zhao Yu could only reply with a bitter smile. He had always learned from novels and television dramas that imperial families were ruthless, but now he was experiencing it firsthand. His so-called imperial father had not a shred of paternal affection for him.

In his memory, Tong Guan had only moved troops north after quelling the Fang La rebellion in Jiangnan. Moreover, while Liao’s army was no match for the Jin, they could easily handle the incompetent Song troops. Now, with Jiangnan at peace, Tong Guan was beginning his northern campaign—perhaps that cheap father of his had been provoked by the Song Prince title he held.

“How do you think your imperial brother will handle this?” Historically, Emperor Tianzuo was hardly remarkable—his temperament rivaled that of Emperor Huizong of Song—so no one could say what he might do upon receiving this news.

“Don’t worry, as long as I am here, no one can harm you.” Xiao Yiyi’s voice was gentle, but her resolve unwavering.

“Send word to your imperial brother: the Song army’s show of force is merely a bluff. They won’t be able to fight their way through.” In ancient times, mobilizing two hundred thousand soldiers would require four hundred thousand laborers—such numbers could not be mustered by mere words. More importantly, with troops from all regions gathering at the border, Fang La, given his nature, would surely seize this opportunity to stir up trouble. Otherwise, he would not be Fang La.

On the road out of the pass, Zhao Yu had learned that the acting prime minister had not only been reinstated but had also joined forces with Zhu Mian to oppress the people of Jiangnan more fiercely than ever. With Fang La’s covert incitement, chaos in Jiangnan was inevitable.

Jiangnan had always been the financial backbone of the Song court; if the situation there deteriorated, Tong Guan would have no choice but to withdraw his troops.

Xiao Yiyi was half-convinced by Zhao Yu’s argument, but she followed his advice nonetheless. She was increasingly unable to see through her prospective husband.

Xiao Yiyi sent a messenger to Emperor Tianzuo, informing him that the Song court had instigated war to force Liao into the crime of murdering a Song prince. She cautioned him not to fall for the Song’s schemes, relaying Zhao Yu’s words as well.

No matter what, Zhao Yu had to be cleared of suspicion first, otherwise his future in Liao would be fraught with hardship.

The further north they traveled, the colder it became. To avoid detection by Mongol scouts, the troops had to rest by day and march by night.

Zhao Yu had never endured such hardship before. The biting northern wind left his hands and face covered in tiny wounds, the cold seeping deep into his bones.

Yet he kept smiling, as if the pain belonged to someone else.

There was no other way; to rise above others, one must first endure suffering.

Xiao Yiyi saw this and felt both pain and admiration. She had always heard that Han men were weak and easily bullied—but that was because they had never met a true man.

A true man like Zhao Yu kept his suffering to himself. Fortunately, these days of hardship did not last long, for Shi Qian soon returned.

The Mongol camp was forty li ahead, with more Mongol troops joining daily. Although Shi Qian couldn’t estimate their numbers from the camp alone, he had located the exact tent of the Jin envoys and discovered that the Mongol leaders quarreled constantly during their councils.

When Shi Qian reported to Zhao Yu, both Yelü Min and Yelü Huan were present. After hearing the details, they all looked at Zhao Yu with newfound respect—this young man was extraordinary.

Zhao Yu had no time for their admiration. He spoke gravely, “Generals, give the order: let the brothers rest well and attack at the fourth watch tomorrow morning.”

The fourth watch was still before dawn, the time when people are most weary.

Before Yelü Min could respond, Zhao Yu continued, “Let my brothers lead the charge. Tell the troops to minimize bloodshed—except for the Jin envoys.”

The target was the Mongol camp. If they truly angered the Mongols, their force of just over three thousand would not escape alive.

Shi Qian would lead the way. Lin Chong, Wu Song, Lu Zhishen, and Yelü Min would command the assault, while Yan Qing and Yelü Huan would lead three hundred men to protect Zhao Yu, Xiao Yiyi, and their attendants.

Zhao Yu would have liked to join the fray himself, but Xiao Yiyi would not allow it.

As she said, Zhao Yu’s noble status should not be risked so lightly.

Seeing her stubborn expression, Zhao Yu sighed inwardly. They were not even married yet, and already she was managing him—when would it ever end?

Zhao Yu was not especially prescient. In truth, before Temujin rose to power, the Mongol tribes were as loose as sand. They had first submitted to the Khitan, then suffered under the Jin. The Jin had not yet destroyed the Khitan, so the Khitan were still a formidable presence to the Mongols, who dared not betray them lightly.

Therefore, it was necessary to act swiftly and decisively, to crush the Mongol tribes’ will to resist.

It was not surprising Zhao Yu looked down on the Mongols of this era; their three thousand cavalry had crept within forty li of the camp without encountering a single Mongol scout, a clear sign of the Mongols’ lax military discipline.

At the fourth watch, three thousand Liao cavalry led their steeds forward, moving slowly in the dim light to ensure the horses were ready for a charge.

When the shadowy Mongol camp finally came into view, Yelü Min gave the order, and all three thousand Liao soldiers mounted. Lin Chong, Wu Song, and their companions protected Shi Qian at the front, with the rest following close behind, charging into the Mongol camp with a thunderous roar.

The pounding of iron hooves soon woke the sleeping Mongols, but by then it was too late.

Three thousand cavalry pierced the camp like an awl, following Lin Chong and the others in a furious assault.

Zhao Yu had placed Lin Chong and his brothers at the front not only to lead and show force, but also to capture a Jin envoy alive.

This ambush was not simple. It was likely someone on the Song side had informed the Jin, or struck some secret deal. Even if Zhao Yu could not uncover the truth, he wanted to at least gain some insight.

The sudden assault left the Mongol army utterly confused; by the time they realized what was happening, the outcome was already decided.

The Khan of the Mergid tribe, named Tuo Tuo, was so frightened upon hearing the Liao army was attacking that he tried to flee without even putting on his trousers.

He soon realized something was wrong—there had been no reports of a large Liao troop movement nearby.

Still half asleep, his mind foggy, he had barely grasped the situation when another attendant reported that thousands of Liao troops had stormed the camp—not slaughtering the Mongol tribes, but killing the Jin envoy outright.

Upon hearing this, Tuo Tuo leaped up, only to slump back onto his couch in a stupor.

At this point, the purpose of the Khitan assault was obvious even to a fool…