The generals in the Dengzhou Garrison Camp eagerly clamored for battle, their morale high.
This was no joke. It was true... although the central army led by His Majesty himself and its core supply line were already in a dreadful state, and were destined to keep collapsing, the hundred thousand troops on each flank were all rubbing their fists and flexing their palms. The generals and a considerable portion of the lower- and middle-ranking officers and soldiers all wanted to win merit and make their names.
And this was perfectly reasonable, of course.
The northern and southern armies, based in Hejian and Xuzhou, each had their own independent stores and supply lines, their own distinctive mix of troops, and had largely escaped the main army's disastrous defeat in the Second Dongyi Campaign. Both also had independent military traditions... indeed, for various reasons, the core commanders of both armies regarded the coming campaign as a chance to wash away the shame of the previous defeats.
Rather than saying the hopeless lot in the central army where Zhang Xing served could not understand them, it would be more accurate to say the northern and southern armies could not quite understand the central army. How had simply following the great river brought them to this state?
Wasn't their supply line provided by nature?
Of course, this side had its reasons too. The fact that most of those killed or wounded in the Second Dongyi Campaign and Yang Shen's rebellion had belonged to the main forces directly subordinate to the Eastern Capital was enough to cover for them.
Besides, nobody dared actually ask... if anyone did, once they worked through the figures, it would seem the central army's only extra burden was that blasted emperor. Who would bear the blame then?
Thus, high and