Chapter 62: Marshaling Troops on the Battlefield

Early the next morning, Li Baoji was summoned by Li Guang to hurry to the Imperial Army camp in Bianjing.

“Li Honglu, why are you dragging me to your camp so early in the morning?” Li Baoji eyed Li Guang suspiciously. Weren’t envoys usually received in the palace? Why had the new ruler of the Song turned the place for his audience into a military parade ground? Li Baoji truly could not fathom what scheme Zhao Huan was plotting.

Before they even reached the camp, Li Baoji could hear thunderous shouts echoing from within. Every man harbors a certain bloodlust, especially one like Li Baoji, who came from a military background—truth be told, he was an expert in such matters. Yet these cries of battle sent a tremor through his heart; this was nothing like the Song army of legend.

Once they arrived, Li Baoji could see from afar a young man in his twenties standing on the viewing platform, clad in military garb and exuding vigor.

“Prince Xiao, this is our current emperor,” Li Guang whispered in introduction.

Li Baoji was stunned. He had not expected the emperor of Song to be so young. Years of diplomatic service had honed his ability to read faces and gestures. Upon seeing Zhao Huan, Li Baoji suddenly felt an ominous foreboding. It seemed Zhao Huan was a wise and capable ruler, and for the small neighboring kingdoms, a wise monarch in Song was hardly good news.

After all, throughout the dynasties before Song, neighboring kingdoms were required to pay tribute to the Han emperors, especially during the Tang—when all nations bowed and offered tribute. Such a situation was not what Li Baoji wished to see.

Li Baoji was shrewd. In Western Xia, his words carried great weight. When the Jin sent envoys to provoke conflict with Song, Li Baoji had advised Li Qianshun that the Jin were powerful, and cooperating with them was like seeking skin from a tiger—dangerous and disadvantageous for Western Xia. If Jin destroyed Song, they could just as easily destroy Western Xia. A tripartite balance was the most stable arrangement.

He also realized this was a prime opportunity to extort Song—though Western Xia did not intend to send troops, he could threaten to do so and demand double the annual tribute. Song was a subordinate state; a little more tribute was nothing to the pleasure-seeking emperor.

But unfortunately, Li Baoji’s plan was foiled. Song was no longer the feeble nation it once was. The ruler was no longer the hedonistic Zhao Ji, nor the equally weak Zhao Huan, but a young man from a new era, returned from the future.

While Li Baoji was lost in thought, Li Guang led him up to the central platform.

“Your Majesty, the envoy of Western Xia, Prince Gong Li Baoji, has arrived,” Li Guang announced to Zhao Huan.

“Prince Gong, this is the new emperor of Song,” Li Guang formally introduced.

Snapping out of his reverie, Li Baoji hurriedly bowed to Zhao Huan. “Li Baoji, envoy of Great Xia, offers greetings to the Emperor of Song.”

After the customary courtesies and settling into their seats, Zhao Huan addressed Li Baoji, “Prince Gong, I have summoned you today to join me in reviewing my Song soldiers.”

Li Baoji inwardly scoffed at the cleverness of the young emperor. Clearly, this was meant as a warning for Western Xia not to send troops. Negotiations alone were pointless; real strength must be shown. Once the other side perceives your power, they dare not act rashly—just as the art of war teaches, winning without fighting.

“Review, begin!” At the command, a deafening shout rose from the distance.

“One… two… three… four… thump, thump, thump…”

Li Baoji turned to look. Hundreds of soldiers marched as a single entity, forming perfect lines no matter the angle.

“This... this... is truly remarkable,” Li Baoji was startled by the Song army’s disciplined march. Everyone moved in unison, not a single discordant sound—like one person. Li Baoji wished to praise these soldiers, but after searching for words, he could only repeat “remarkable” to express his inner shock.

Zhao Huan caught the expression on Li Baoji’s face, feeling a hint of pride. This Feathered Army was trained entirely according to modern methods he brought back from the future—a corps of ten thousand able to march in perfect unison. The sheer momentum alone could awe outsiders, though only a thousand or so participated in today’s review.

When they reached the platform, the commander shouted, “March in step!”

All the soldiers immediately shifted to a straight-legged march, their steps crisp and unified. It must be admitted, this method was even more impressive to watch. Seated on the platform, Li Baoji was dazed; all his years of dealings with Song, he had never seen such a spectacle.

The sudden changes left Li Baoji’s mind reeling. He was genuinely awed, so much so that he barely noticed the subsequent reviews of cavalry and special forces, letting the whole event pass in a haze.

“Prince Gong, how do you find my Song army?” Zhao Huan asked with a smile after the inspection ended.

Li Baoji was still bewildered, only responding after Li Guang nudged him. He replied, “To borrow a phrase from Cao of the Three Kingdoms: ‘To have a son, let him be like Sun Quan.’ Surely, that describes the Song army at this moment.” His words were full of praise.

Zhao Huan was pleased, but he keenly sensed the deep apprehension in Li Baoji’s gaze. Zhao Huan frowned inwardly, wondering if he had just shot himself in the foot; by displaying Song’s military might, had he inadvertently encouraged the formation of a Xia-Jin alliance?

“Prince Gong flatters me. These soldiers are mainly for show—fancy moves and nothing more. True battle isn’t won by marching in step,” Zhao Huan replied with a laugh, hoping to dispel Li Baoji’s concerns. Yet once a first impression is formed, it is difficult to change.

“Your Majesty is too modest. Under your leadership, Song grows stronger by the day. Upon my return, I shall report all I have witnessed today to my own emperor,” Li Baoji said respectfully—a respect born from genuine admiration.