The Emperor ordered Zhao Tang

Chapter 316 The Final Transfer (Part 1)

The sandstorms of the Western Regions raged again, just like springtime in Youyan, blowing everything into a vast, desolate landscape.

The Shule River is directly north of Dunhuang, which was the very place where the Guiyi Army was excited.

Half a century ago, the Tibetan Empire was in decline. Zhang Yichao, a powerful figure from Shazhou who had harbored rebellious ambitions since childhood, seized the opportunity and led the Han and Tibetan leaders of the Suo, Li, Yin, and Cao tribes in a single uprising. Hundreds of thousands of Han Chinese, Turks, Tuyuhun, Tatars, and other non-Han peoples, carrying provisions and following him, rose up in the Shule River basin. Using wooden poles as weapons and bamboo poles as flags, they overthrew the Tibetan rule in one fell swoop. This led to a great rebellion, a bloody struggle between prime ministers, the sudden death of military officials, the conquest of Pingliang and Shan, the recapture of Loulan in the west, and the eastward expansion of Yuegu, thus completing a magnificent undertaking that has lasted for fifty years.

From the time of the Three Saints to the present day, the rule of the Guiyi Army has degenerated as rapidly as that of the barbaric Tubo that ruled it. Generals rebelled, powerful clans rose up, the people suffered, and foreign tribes from the west invaded. Yet, it remained the first crossroads between the East and West. Along the Shule River, a line of military cities, beacon towers, and post stations testified to its crucial position.

After years of chaos and wars of annexation, the Guiyi Army was gradually devastated, and resentment was rampant within its borders, with frequent cries of anguish at its gates. Meanwhile, the simultaneous struggle for supremacy among warlords in the Central Plains and East Asia greatly damaged production, resulting in a significant reduction in the goods available for exchange and an unprecedented decline in commercial activity, which in turn reduced the number of merchants traveling between East and West.

It's almost the season when the mountain snow melts and the peach blossoms are in full bloom, and there's very little activity in the river basin.

This great river is now deserted and desolate. Merchants are rarely seen, and there is hardly any bustling activity.

In a dilapidated military city, only a few white-haired old soldiers with wrinkled faces drilled or sunbathed and daydreamed on the upper floors. Recalling the nearly one million people who once clamored and eventually formed a sea of ​​people, vowing to return to their homeland and crowding around Zhang Yichao, breaking through the military headquarters and daring to change the world, those who know the story cannot help but feel as if it were a different era.

The town's commander was a greenhorn who had sided with Zhang Yichao during the great upheaval.

This minor military leader, named Duan Feichao, was originally a slave.

On that day, an uprising broke out, and suddenly a group of Turks rushed into the house, dragged the Tibetan family, whose name was on his name, to the front door, and chopped them all into mincemeat without distinguishing between men, women, the old and the young. Then they threw him and the other slaves a weapon and dragged them away.

Afterwards, Zhang Yichao recruited Han Jin and strongly promoted the kingship. This child, who was only twelve or thirteen years old, relied on his bloodline that was no different from Zhang Yichao's in appearance and his good Chinese language skills to actually receive military pay and become a child soldier.

Later, the rebel army was reorganized by the Tang Dynasty into the Guiyi Army, and everything was standardized according to the Eastern regional military governor system. He was unwittingly assigned to a military post outside the capital. However, he was born mediocre, had no noble birth, and his martial arts and education were mediocre, so he naturally had no chance in the chaotic world. After serving as a soldier for so many years, although he had risen to the rank of tenth general, his position was still that of a garrison commander in a dilapidated earthen city far from Shazhou City, leading a few dozen men and just waiting to die.

This garrison actually numbered thirty-seven, with one-third being veteran soldiers, one-third being newly recruited mixed-race soldiers, and the rest being teenage boy scouts. It was extremely poor.

In the small earthen town, a bunch of children and bastards just stood there listlessly.

Old Duan kept shouting, his noise was ear-splitting, but no one was bothered to practice seriously. Old Duan's throat was parched, his limbs ached from standing, and finally, unable to bear it any longer, he threw down the command flag and cursed, "Damn it! Stand up straight with your butts tucked in, hold your guns steady! This half-hearted, fancy-fisted training is just pathetic; you really don't want to fight!"
After cursing, he turned to look at the city wall: "A few old bastards, coming down here to train these bastards! With my qualifications, I could stay in Shazhou and serve in a matter of minutes... Look at these bastards, they're not good enough for ordinary people, they're ruthless and vicious. I came to train them out of kindness, but this is how I get treated!"

Upstairs, all the people were white-haired old men with wrinkled hands and feet, just like him.

Hearing him call, the sunbathing boy didn't even bother to move, and someone was spitting and muttering, "Training soldiers... what a load of crap. Kids with arms no thicker than a spear shaft, they should be sent home..."

"In this state of affairs, what's the point of training troops? We can't defeat Li Renmei in the east; he's a master at sucking up to people, backed by his sage grandfather. And the west is even worse. The Long family doesn't listen to orders either... In just two prefectures, the villages and towns are deathly still. What's the point of training troops? It's only because I disdain singing barbarian songs and wearing demonic clothes that I'm old enough to be buried in the yellow earth; otherwise, I would have run away long ago!"

"If you want to train, then take responsibility for it yourself. Let's see what effect you can achieve by training 10,000 soldiers."

Old Duan glanced at the half-dead soldiers, listened to the old men's discussions, and considered their various predicaments; he too felt disheartened. He sat on a small stool for a while, growing increasingly annoyed, until he finally stood up, put on his tattered red cloak, and, wearing straw sandals, left the earthen city. A sandstorm immediately enveloped him.

Old Duan shielded his eyes, gazing back at Tucheng. Desolate and silent, devoid of human presence, it was nothing more than two rows of shacks, like a deserted village. The Guiyi Army had fallen to this state; it was truly speechless. Their decline was evident; they were merely struggling to survive under the leadership of the Zhang family and a few powerful clans. The more they fought, the weaker they became. Having been reduced to this wretched state, who knew who they would die to in the end!
Why doesn't the Emperor attack? With Chang'an's support, he might be able to regain his glory, but it's said that the Central Plains are in chaos, and he's too busy to help himself. Who knows when he'll be able to cross Liangzhou!

Walking through the vast sandstorm, Lao Deng became increasingly annoyed, so he simply went to the riverbank to enjoy the scenery.

As soon as I sat down, I saw a disheveled young man's face suddenly appear at the edge of the woods.

The young man wore a turban, with a pair of long ribbons fluttering behind his head. He wore a bright green round-necked robe, the sashes of which were washed until they gleamed and reflected light, and were adorned with daggers and various embellishments. In his hand, he held a dirty sword.

The moment their eyes met, the man gave him a crooked smile.

Then, the sword was pressed against his stomach with lightning speed. The man stepped forward slowly, his left hand firmly gripping his shoulder. Old Duan's heart pounded wildly. The young man patted his arm, his voice colder and harder than the steel blade in his hand: "Move, and your intestines will spill out."

Duan Feichao didn't say a word, only nodded. A seasoned veteran of decades of battles and conflicts, he knew when not to play the hero. He simply watched quietly as the young man unsheathed his sword, and then, from behind the man in blue, another man in blue and a dense swarm of disheveled, mixed-race figures emerged from the dust, each carrying a weapon, surrounding him completely!
"Who are you?" Old Duan asked hoarsely, seeing that the newcomer seemed to have no ill intentions. "Li Renmei's spy?"

"Me." The young man pressed him down to sit, sheathed his sword, and looked down at him: "I am Cui Xuan, an envoy of the Holy Tang Dynasty and a remonstrator under his command."

Old Deng was stunned.

After a long while, he rubbed his cloudy eyes and asked, "Really? Why did it take you so long?"

Cui Xuan's face was grim, and he angrily said, "Did you come to see your pathetic state? If I hadn't come on a diplomatic mission, I, a mere civil official, could have taken down your earthen city! You couldn't even defend against a wild boar... No wonder the Uyghurs were able to overwhelm you."

As he spoke, he handed the token to Lao Duan.

Old Duan watched for a while, about to say something, when Cui Xuan lifted him up with a strong pull. Then he laughed, waved his hand, and turned to walk away: "Old man, go back and give your comrades a message, saying that the imperial edict has arrived, summoning General Zhang to court. You will naturally be reorganized into the national army. Those who can join the Imperial Guard can join the Imperial Guard. Those who want to enter the pass and become civilians, just come."

After taking a few steps, he turned back and stared at Lao Duan, his tone cold: "During this time, without my orders, you are not allowed to move. Your future is in my hands! Remember, my name is Cui Xuan, and I am one of the first envoys! The Western Regions have been restored by the Holy Tang! Behind me are tens of thousands of tigers and wolves, fully prepared. You can try to see if they will immediately set off on the Long March once news of my death arrives."

...............

Outside the north gate of Shazhou City, Zhang Chengfeng, a burly figure, sat on his horse, his iron armor blackened, and his fiery red cloak fluttering in the strong wind.

Thousands of officers, soldiers, elders, commoners, and local leaders, dressed in formal attire, stood in formation at the rear.

This scene was just like when Zhang Chengfeng welcomed Xu Yanruo, the military commissioner of Xiliang, and his retainers. But the expressions on everyone's faces were no longer those of ease and pride; instead, they were all heavy-hearted.

(End of this chapter)