Chapter 121: The Locust Plague

At the stroke of noon, Wang Lun was escorted to the execution ground.

On a high platform within the Jin army camp, Wang Lun stood with his hands bound behind his back. Beside him, the executioner held a gleaming broadsword, awaiting the precise moment.

Since ancient times, the Middle Kingdom has held to the doctrine of Yin and Yang: the living represent Yang, the dead represent Yin; the world of the living is the Yang realm, and the underworld is the Yin realm. Executions are matters of Yin energy, and people have always feared that the deceased might return as vengeful spirits to haunt their executioners. Thus, executions were traditionally carried out at the stroke of noon—the hour when Yang energy is at its zenith—believing that even the most formidable ghost could not manifest its malice under such potent light, lest it be scattered into nothingness.

"Vengeance has its source, and debts have their debtors. I am merely following orders. If you harbor grievances after you die, do not come looking for me," the executioner muttered under his breath before preparing to strike.

Suddenly, Wang Lun spoke: "Wait!"

The executioner paused. By custom, the final requests of the condemned were usually granted.

"What is your request?" the executioner asked.

Wang Lun said nothing. He struggled to his feet, turned to face the south, and knelt. He shouted, "Your Majesty, I was born a subject of the Great Song, and in death, I shall remain its ghost. My only regret is that I shall not live to see the royal armies march north to reclaim the Central Plains."

The executioner ignored him and raised his blade, but at that moment, Wanyan Chang approached from a distance. He waved his hand, signaling the executioner to stop.

"Are you going to thank me for granting you a few more moments of life?" Wanyan Chang asked, looking down at the kneeling Wang Lun with a smug expression.

"Bah!" Wang Lun spat at Wanyan Chang. He did not believe for a second that Wanyan Chang had come to save him; it was like a weasel paying respects to a chicken—nothing but ill intent.

Wanyan Chang hopped back to avoid the "projectile," his face darkening. "You little brat, you are courting death." He paused, then chuckled, "I forgot, you are a dead man walking. Why should I be angry with someone who is about to perish?"

Wang Lun grinned. "A defeated general like you dares to act so arrogant before me? I truly wonder where you find the courage."

Wanyan Chang, stung by the reminder of his failure, truly wanted to kill Wang Lun with his own hands.

"Forget it. You are dying soon, so I won't hold your words against you," Wanyan Chang said with a laugh. "I came to tell you that according to our scouts, a locust plague has struck your Song Dynasty. Now, even the Heavens have turned against you. Honestly, I wish you could live to see how our Jin cavalry systematically wipes out your empire."

Upon hearing this, Wang Lun was stunned; this was dire news indeed.

"Hahaha..." Wanyan Chang roared with laughter. "Yes, that is the expression I wanted to see! I love it."

Wang Lun, hearing the taunt, began to laugh as well. "His Majesty is a peerless genius. Such trifles could never defeat him."

"I don't know where you get your confidence!" Wanyan Chang sneered.

Wang Lun laughed even harder. "Naturally, from you. If not for His Majesty's brilliant stratagems, how could your army of one hundred thousand have been annihilated?"

"Execute him! Execute him at once!" Wanyan Chang was furious. He gestured for the executioner to hurry, fearing that if he spoke another word to Wang Lun, he would lose control and kill him himself.

Meanwhile, in the imperial court of the Song Dynasty, Zhao Huan had received the urgent dispatches sent up from the provinces.

In the Shu region, persistent drought and lack of rain had led to a locust infestation that was ravaging several districts. These locusts devoured every crop in their path, leaving the fields barren and the people facing total harvest failure.

Zhao Huan tossed the report aside and asked Zhu Shengfei, "How much surplus grain remains in the national treasury? Dispatch it to the disaster areas immediately."

Zhu Shengfei stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we are currently in the lean season before the new harvest. The grain from the lower provinces has yet to be gathered, and the remaining reserves must be prioritized for the military front. There is no surplus in the treasury to supply the disaster regions."

Zhao Huan had previously worried about money; now he had to worry about food. He could find ways to manage wealth, but he could not simply conjure grain out of thin air.

"Do any of you have a sound suggestion?" Zhao Huan asked his ministers.

"The only hope now is to reach an agreement with the Jin Kingdom," Zhao Ding stated. "If the war can be temporarily ended, we can divert military rations to the disaster areas."

Zhao Huan remained non-committal. Relying on the enemy was far too uncertain.

"Do not place too much hope in the Jin army. The most pressing issue is to find a strategy that solves both problems," Zhao Huan said, waving his hand. He knew that forcing the Jin to retreat would surely come at a heavy price.

Li Ruoshui, the Minister of Rites, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the years of continuous warfare have surely stirred the Heavens, resulting in this divine punishment. In my view, Your Majesty should choose an auspicious day to perform a ritual sacrifice to Heaven, seeking its protection."

*Damned divine punishment!* Zhao Huan cursed inwardly. As a traveler from another time, he had no patience for such superstitions. The locust plague was clearly the result of drought, which allowed these herbivorous insects to breed uncontrollably until their numbers necessitated a search for food, forming the swarm.

However, Zhao Huan understood that the "Mandate of Heaven" was the bedrock of his imperial authority. As the supreme ruler, he could not deny it without undermining his own legitimacy.

Zhao Huan nodded. "Since my ascension, war has been constant, and I have yet to properly offer sacrifices to Heaven. We shall follow your suggestion. Let the Bureau of Astronomy determine an auspicious date, and I shall perform the rites to seek divine protection."

"Your Majesty is wise!" the ministers chorused.

"Your Majesty," Li Ruoshui continued, "during the reign of Emperor Taizong of the previous dynasty, there was once a locust plague of the century. The Emperor offered prayers to Heaven and, during the ceremony, consumed a live locust. From that moment on, the plague ceased."

Although Li Ruoshui did not say it explicitly, the implication was clear: Zhao Huan should follow the example of Li Shimin, humble himself during the ceremony, and eat a locust. If he did so, it would surely move the Heavens, and the plague would be brought to an end.