Although Dongfang Mao had settled on a strategy of pushing east, he did not dispatch his troops immediately. Instead, he ordered the entire army to rest for a week.
During that time, he carefully arranged a grand ceremony to reward the troops.
On the parade grounds, Dongfang Mao personally bestowed rewards on the soldiers who had distinguished themselves.
Besides the usual money and provisions, he also awarded the mansions confiscated earlier to those who had rendered outstanding service in battle.
When the soldiers—who had once considered even living in a thatched hut beyond their reach—saw box after box of silver and deed after deed being handed to their comrades, the parade grounds erupted.
Heavy breathing rose and fell all around them. Countless bloodshot eyes fixed on the platform.
Someone let out a wolf's howl, and a response like a crashing sea followed.
Dongfang Mao stood on the high platform with his hands behind his back, gazing down at the fervent scene with satisfaction.
"Those who distinguish themselves and build a legacy can seize wealth and glory with ease!"
At his words, the entire army thundered its approval.
"We are willing to die for the Grand Governor!"
Their shouts shook the heavens, clearing even the clouds on the horizon.
Morale had never been higher. Dongfang Mao's smile did not fade, and he felt even more confident about the eastward campaign ahead.
After rewarding the entire army, Dongfang Mao turned his attention to the nearly twenty thousand prisoners of war.
He had no intention of sending these captives to the Labor Camp.
Tsukimiura was only so large. Where would there be enough work for so many people?
And with the coming eastern campaign, the fighting would certainly not be as easy as the capture of Tsukimiura. They would inevitably face brutal siege warfare.
The New Martial Army was the elite force Dongfang Mao had painstakingly trained. Every soldier was precious to him, so he could not casually waste them in sieges.
For this reason, Dongfang Mao decided to reorganize the prisoners into the "New Auxiliary Army."
The twenty thousand men were divided into eight regiments, with 2,000 men in each regiment.
Each regiment had five battalions, with 400 men in each battalion.
Each battalion was divided into four squads, with 100 men in each squad.
Elite soldiers were drawn from the New Martial Army to form supervisory squads, with ten men assigned to each squad.
These ten men would have absolute authority over the New Auxiliary Army, including the power of life and death. They could deal with the soldiers however they saw fit, and Dongfang Mao would not question their reasons.
They would strictly control their respective units, and the possession of private weapons was forbidden. All equipment would be issued uniformly during wartime.
At the same time, a "collective punishment for cowardice" rule would be enforced: if even one person fled during battle, the entire squad would be executed.
While granting the supervisory squads such sweeping authority, Dongfang Mao also promised the New Auxiliary Army that they could earn promotions through meritorious service.
For example:
Those who were first to scale the walls or who took five enemy heads would be allowed to change their status and join the New Martial Army.
Those who rendered extraordinary service in battle could receive additional rewards.
This harsh system, which nonetheless left room for advancement, would both ensure the New Auxiliary Army's combat effectiveness and stir their desire to fight to the fullest.
Driven to the brink by the supervisory squads, they would surely go mad trying to earn merit and rise from the enslaved to the ranks of those who enslaved others!
Once all preparations were complete, Dongfang Mao held a sacrificial ceremony in the southern square, presided over by Minister of Rites Luzhen.
At dawn, the towering bronze altar was already laden with three sacrificial animals and six kinds of livestock.
Wearing a dark battle robe, Dongfang Mao walked slowly up the altar along a scarlet carpet. Twelve black battle flags emblazoned with red "New Martial" characters fluttered behind him.
The youthful softness had long since vanished from his face. His flawless, handsome features had been forged by blood and iron into something keen and stern.
A cold glint flickered in his narrow phoenix eyes. With every step he took, the pressure radiating from him grew heavier, making the officials below the altar hold their breath and lower their heads without thinking.
He accepted the bronze wine cup Luzhen presented and tipped it over the flagstones before the altar.
Then the personal guards drove iron hooks through the collarbones of Inoue Kojiro, commander of the Rice Field Army, and his deputy generals, who were chained below the altar. They dragged them onto the sacrificial platform like dead dogs.
"Today, we offer the blood of enemy commanders to the banners of our eastern campaign!"
As Dongfang Mao raised his sword high, more than ten commanders' heads rolled from the altar.
Blood ran through the grooves between the bricks, staining the entire platform a dark red.
At the hour of the horse, the gates of Tsukimiura swung open.
War drums boomed within the city. The New Martial Army marched out first, their iron armor reflecting a cold gleam that flowed like a silver river.
The townspeople gathered along the streets in great numbers. Whether they came willingly or were made to come, they cheered and shouted the name of Grand Governor Dongfang Mao...
The Daimyo Mansion in the Land of Rice Fields.
"What did you say? We lost?"
The Daimyo stumbled down from his seat and seized the messenger by the collar. His eyes were bloodshot with fury, as though he were about to devour someone.
But beneath that ferocious expression lurked deep fear!
The Land of Rice Fields had long played both great powers against each other, and there had been little fighting in the region. The army had never been a particular concern.
The nobles and officials, from top to bottom, were forever dipping into military funds whenever they could.
As a result, the military had fallen into disrepair. The thirty thousand troops sent out earlier had accounted for nearly half the Land of Rice Fields' entire army.
He had only been willing to mobilize such a massive force to save face. And now he was being told that the whole army had been wiped out?
The air in the Daimyo Mansion seemed to have frozen.
"You... you fools!"
This unprecedented defeat threw the Daimyo, who spent his days drowning in wine and women, into a complete panic.
He abruptly released the messenger's collar and stumbled toward the assembled ministers, his voice shaking as he roared:
"You useless lot! Hurry up and come up with a plan for me! How are we supposed to deal with those damned rebels?"
The great hall fell silent.
The ministers, who had been arguing moments earlier, now kept their heads bowed, wishing they could hide their faces in their collars.
"Speak!"
The Daimyo's face had turned beet red, the veins at his temples bulging.
"Usually you can argue for three days straight over a little money. Why have you all turned mute now?!"
Under such furious pressure, someone finally stepped forward, trembling.
"Your Highness... I believe... perhaps we should send an envoy to negotiate with Dongfang Mao? We could cede Tsukimiura and the surrounding area to him, then conclude an alliance and remain on friendly terms, never attacking each other again..."
His words expressed what everyone present was thinking.
Earlier, they had insisted on suppressing the rebellion only because they could not bear to lose the profits Tsukimiura sent them each year.
Now that they had seen how formidable the rebels were, these pampered nobles were already scared out of their wits.
Rather than launch a major campaign, they could give up a small profit in exchange for peace. In any case, all they would lose was the meager income from a border region.
The border between the Land of Rice Fields and the Land of Fire was so long, after all. It was hardly as if they needed Tsukimiura.
The Daimyo was taken aback. Then he calmed down and paced back and forth across the hall, stroking his chin as if he were seriously considering the matter.
The Daimyo paced back and forth across the hall, his expression shifting between light and dark.
In truth, his thoughts were not much different from those of the officials in the hall.
Giving up Tsukimiura might well be a good choice.
However, he found it difficult to accept the consequences of that decision.
Before you continue