Guangnan West Circuit.
Yong Prefecture.
"The fields here are so barren!"
Huang Shang gazed at the patches of wasteland and sighed.
The fields in Yong Prefecture were the most desolate he had ever seen.
The local farmers built no irrigation ditches, used no fertilizer, and sowed and reaped without care.
As a result, even along the river, almost all the fields were dry.
At this rate, the yield per acre wouldn't even reach a third of Jiangnan's.
Murong Bo analyzed, "There are only a few ways to increase yields: immigration, better seeds, and improved farming methods. Yong Prefecture lacks all three, and Jiaozhi has been harassing it year after year. So this is the way things are."
Huang Shang nodded.
The two traveled through the prefectures of Guangxi. At every stop, Huang Shang did his best to visit local homes and record what he learned.
He had no attendant to carry his things, and as his notes piled up, he had to shoulder them himself each day.
Murong Bo watched in silence, his gaze flickering.
At last, they reached a place called Guwan Stockade.
It was Yong Prefecture's southern gateway. Together with Yongping Stockade and Taiping Stockade, it formed a defensive line against Jiaozhi.
Their names were all auspicious, but peace remained nowhere in sight.
The latter two lay farther out, and Huang Shang had no intention of going out of his way to invite trouble, so he made Guwan Stockade their final stop.
Of the three stockades, this one was indeed the largest. It stood on a major route, with merchants and travelers coming and going.
Ten years earlier, when Nong Zhigao raised an army against the Song, he had captured Guwan Stockade and occupied Yong Prefecture. Later, Di Qing defeated him, and his army fled. In the years since, Guwan Stockade had grown again.
Merchants traveled not only within the military stockade; a small town had also sprung up outside its walls, with more than a thousand homes.
But when Huang Shang arrived, he was told that no one was allowed to leave the stockade.
The garrison had firmly blocked the gates. Even the high ground, where one might look out over the area, was guarded, and no one was allowed near.
The merchants took it in stride, but at Murong Bo's suggestion, Huang Shang climbed the mountain path and went around Guwan Stockade.
What appeared before them was a horrifying sight.
The little town that should have nestled beside Guwan Stockade was gone.
In its place lay a stretch of gray-black ruins, scorched by fire.
Walls had collapsed and houses caved in. Charred beams and pillars jutted crookedly from the ashes.
Bodies had been laid out in the open. Every one of them had been burned beyond recognition.
"An attack by fire," Murong Bo said. "It was the Jiaozhi army!"
Indeed, just last night, several hundred Jiaozhi soldiers had suddenly attacked. Most of the townspeople had fled into the stockade, but some elderly and infirm residents hadn't made it out in time.
Those barbarian bandits had slaughtered and looted at will outside the stockade, while the garrison within Guwan Stockade hadn't dared take a single step beyond its walls.
Only after the Jiaozhi soldiers had indulged their bestial appetites and set the town ablaze did the survivors begin searching the ruins in the daytime for their loved ones' remains and whatever possessions they could salvage.
Huang Shang stared at the scene, stunned.
On Earth, people could see the horrors of war-torn countries in photographs.
But no matter how vivid a photograph was, it could never match the shock of witnessing it firsthand.
The adults' numb expressions stood in the most brutal contrast to the children sitting among the ruins, wailing in grief.
Huang Shang couldn't quite understand why these people lived in such a dangerous town, but he knew this wasn't the first time it had happened, and it wouldn't be the last.
From Eastern Capital Kaifeng Prefecture to Yong Prefecture in Jinghu South Circuit, all had been filled with song and dance.
After seeing the learning and integrity of the great Confucian scholars, he'd thought that the Song Dynasty, later branded the Great Suck by posterity, wasn't so worthless after all.
But now the bloody truth stood before him, tearing the fig leaf to shreds.
It wasn't the Liao Kingdom. It wasn't Western Xia. It was Jiaozhi!
A wretched place, worthless as a dog's fart, could still bully the Great Song!
Murong Bo studied Huang Shang's expression and deliberately sighed. "A tiny country like this has never lacked ambition!"
His voice rang with sorrow and indignation, while his heart secretly rejoiced.
Huang Shang's anger flared up in an instant.
But he said nothing, only gazing deeply at the scene before him.
"I'll start with Jiaozhi when I make the foreign tribes submit!"
"Now that I've come to this world, I don't want to turn a blind eye."
Huang Shang understood why the Heavens Consciousness had given him a Universal Card and let him infiltrate the story as a character.
It was about making the experience feel real.
A Reincarnator passing through in haste might see something like this and move on, never feeling this way.
But someone who lived in this world couldn't just look away.
Huang Shang wasn't noble enough to offer his head and spill his blood to defend the Heavens Consciousness against the Main God Temple.
He only wanted to be different, to have advantages that Reincarnators didn't.
But at least, he felt a growing connection to the identity of Huang Shang.
It was no longer just about completing a mission.
It was a new life.
And in that life, he would do something.
Huang Shang turned and left.
He'd finished touring Guangxi. Next, he would go to Guangdong.
Along the way, Murong Bo probed, "Dear brother, what do you think of Jiaozhi?"
Huang Shang replied coolly, "Jiaozhi consists of no more than a few former Tang border prefectures. Together, they can hardly compare with Guangnan West Circuit. But for decades, the Great Song has focused its strategy on the northwest to guard against the northern Liao and Western Xia. That's why the people of Jiaozhi have grown more greedy and arrogant with each passing year. But that ends now. If you want something to perish, you must first drive it mad!"
"If you want something to perish, you must first drive it mad..."
Murong Bo turned the words over in his mind, unable to hide his surprise.
As a modern man, Huang Shang had learned a great deal about the present age from Murong Bo along the way. Murong Bo, in turn, had found much to learn from Huang Shang.
In Murong Bo's eyes, this young man, who was forever making astonishing remarks, was not only a disciple of the great Confucian Zhang Zai and the top graduate of the provincial examination in Yong Prefecture, but also a man of outstanding learning who had caught the attention of those strange people. They said he was certain to place on the imperial examinations and become the top candidate.
That was why Murong Bo had deliberately befriended him.
But Murong Bo had also come to Guangxi to assess the situation. He wasn't satisfied with Huang Shang's assessment of Jiaozhi. "The Prince of Jiaozhi is ambitious. He's reforming the military and promoting respect for Confucius and the study of Confucianism. I fear Jiaozhi may become a grave threat to the Great Song!"
The Great Song called him the Prince of Jiaozhi. Historically, he was known as the third emperor of Vietnam's Ly Dynasty, Li Shengzong.
In 1054, he changed the name of his state to "Great Viet," proclaimed himself emperor behind closed doors, and stopped paying tribute. His ambition to invade was plain for all to see. Starting in 1059, he repeatedly invaded the Song border and plundered it on a massive scale.
Having gained quite a few advantages, the people of Jiaozhi were now as excited as if they'd been injected with chicken blood. Some had even begun to dream of a snake swallowing an elephant.
But Huang Shang asked only one question: "Where is Nong Zhigao?"
Murong Bo's heart turned cold.
Nong Zhigao might have an odd-sounding name, but he was actually a leader of one of Guangxi's ethnic minorities. Ten years ago, he had rebelled against the Song, sweeping all before him, killing several famous generals and repeatedly defeating the imperial forces sent to suppress him. Yang Wenguang had been among them.
Yes, that Yang Wenguang.
In the legends, Yang Wenguang was the son of Mu Guiying and Yang Zongbao, though he played a far smaller role than his parents.
In reality, Yang Zongbao and Mu Guiying were both fictional. Yang Wenguang was the one who had truly existed.
But back to the point: at the height of his power, Nong Zhigao had claimed he could shake the Song Dynasty's rule. And what happened in the end?
He was still wiped out.
The gap between them had simply been too great.
Jiaozhi was no different.
The more it jumped around now, the more惨惨ly it would be defeated in the future.
Murong Bo wasn't a fool. He immediately understood that this trip had been a waste.
He had gone to considerable lengths to stir up another war.
He'd tried the Liao in the north and Western Xia in the west. Now he'd even tried Jiaozhi in the south.
He wanted to be a persuader like those of the Warring States period.
One display of anger, and the feudal lords trembled; one spell of peaceful repose, and the world fell quiet.
That was undoubtedly the highest praise, elevating the persuaders above the rulers of the various states.
But the truth was the opposite.
When the feudal states were at war, persuaders traveled from court to court, thriving like fish in water. Once the world was mostly at peace, they had no choice but to fall silent.
They had nowhere left to put their talents to use.
Now Murong Bo wanted to play the persuader, forging alliances and shifting loyalties, but that depended on whether the world was in chaos.
The Liao in the north was falling apart even faster than the Great Song. Western Xia had declined greatly since Li Yuanhao's death. Now it was Jiaozhi's turn to make a racket.
There might be small skirmishes, but a major war was unlikely.
Murong Bo wasn't willing to give up. He looked at Huang Shang.
Outside Guwan Stockade, he had sensed the anger in Huang Shang's heart.
This was a man who favored war.
He could be useful.
But though Huang Shang was young, he had a mind of his own. A few words would never be enough to sway him.
Murong Bo needed someone close to him who could influence him little by little.
At that moment, Murong Bo suddenly remembered a phrase the Reincarnators often repeated.
"No investment, no return."
It made sense!
Murong Bo quietly made up his mind and extended an invitation. "Dear brother, would you care to visit Zhejiang West Circuit? I have a friend outside Gusu City who recently died, leaving behind a son—a promising young man!"
Before you continue