The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wang Zhonghua's words were impeccable, highlighting his own "merit" in suppressing the bandits, attributing the credit to Di Qing, and presenting a substantial "pledge of allegiance."

Di Qing took the account book but didn't immediately look at it. He simply placed it on the table, his fingers lightly tapping the surface, making a clear, resonant sound in the quiet tent. He stared at Wang Zhonghua, as if trying to see through his youthful appearance to his inner soul.

"To settle down and make a living..." Di Qing repeated these four words, a slightly mocking smile curving his lips. "A fine 'settling down and making a living.' Do you know that in some people's eyes, your act of 'settling down and making a living' is nothing more than forming cliques, amassing military power, and plotting treason?"

The atmosphere inside the tent instantly froze.

Qin Tiedan clenched his fists instinctively.

Wang Zhonghua, however, remained calm and said frankly, "General, you are wise. All my actions have been done in broad daylight. I provided hot and sour soup to feed the people, 'Drunken Eight Immortals' cooperated with Master Lü, and paid taxes according to the law. Suppressing bandits was also to protect the country and its people. If such beneficial things are falsely accused of 'plotting rebellion,' then I have nothing to say but to sigh... 'If you want to condemn someone, you can always find a pretext.'" He spoke the last eight words clearly and slowly, his gaze calmly meeting Di Qing's.

A glint flashed in Di Qing's eyes, and his fingers, which had been tapping the table, stopped. He didn't reply immediately, but stood up and walked to the map hanging on the tent wall, gazing at it for a long time.

That was a map of the Song Dynasty's territory. In the northwest, a striking place name was circled in vermilion ink—Xingqing Prefecture. The capital of the Western Xia Dynasty.

"Do you know how the Western Xia came to be?" Di Qing suddenly asked, his voice low, as if he were asking Wang Zhonghua, or perhaps himself.

Wang Zhonghua's heart stirred. Although he knew something about the Western Xia, he felt a different way of understanding it from Di Qing, a "person involved".

The Western Xia was the greatest pain of Emperor Renzong of Song's reign, and also a nightmare that Di Qing could never shake off throughout his life.

"In the first year of Baoyuan," Di Qing said without turning around, his finger tracing the land occupied by Western Xia on the map, "Yuanhao declared himself emperor and established the state of 'Great Xia.' His Majesty was furious, stripped him of his bestowed surname, and offered a reward for his capture and execution. The following year, Yuanhao invaded Yanzhou. In the Battle of Sanchuankou, two generals, Liu Ping and Shi Yuansun, were killed and captured respectively. More than 10,000 Song soldiers were almost completely wiped out."

His voice was calm, but Wang Zhonghua could hear the suppressed turmoil beneath that calm.

"In the first year of Kangding, Yuanhao attacked again. This time, it was me." Di Qing turned around, his eyes blazing. "As the commander of Yanzhou, I was always the vanguard in every battle, with my hair disheveled and wearing a bronze mask, charging into battle. In four years, I fought twenty-five battles and was hit by arrows eight times. In the battle of Haoshuichuan, Ren Fu's entire army was wiped out, and I managed to break through the encirclement by chance; in the battle of Dingchuanzhai, Ge Huaimin died in battle, and I was ordered to rush to his aid. After three days of bloody fighting, I finally repelled the enemy."

He walked to the table, suddenly lifted the hem of his robe, revealing a gruesome scar the size of a bowl on his thigh: "This was left by Dingchuan Village. An arrow pierced through my thigh and was embedded in the saddle. I pulled it out and continued to fight. In that battle, of my eight thousand men, less than three thousand survived."

Qin Tiedan held his breath. He had been on the battlefield himself and could imagine the carnage of those mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

"And what was the result?" Di Qing's voice suddenly rose, filled with suppressed resentment and unwillingness. "We repelled the Western Xia, recovered the lost territory, and all we got in return was an impeachment! 'Possessing military power for personal gain,' 'Arrogant and domineering,' 'Looking like an actor'! Looking like an actor! Just because of the tattoo on my face, just because I was born a convict, I'm not qualified to lead troops into battle?!"

He abruptly ripped open his collar, revealing a line of dark characters tattooed on his neck—a mark from when he was young, taken the blame for his brother's crime, and was exiled to the army. These characters had followed him for twenty years, a permanent shame, a brand he could never erase from his life.

"Those civil officials, all they do is talk big and spout nonsense, but how many of them have actually seen real blood on the battlefield? How many dare to face the charge of the Western Xia cavalry?!" Di Qing's voice echoed in the tent. "Han Qi and Fan Zhongyan, I respect them as true gentlemen, courageous and responsible. But those pedantic scholars who only know how to dabble in literature and spread rumors in the court, do they even deserve to talk about military strategy?!"

Wang Zhonghua remained silent.

He knew Di Qing was telling the truth. During the Northern Song Dynasty, civil officials were valued more than military ones, and military generals held extremely low status. Di Qing, despite his scarred face, rose to the position of Privy Councilor—the highest rank a military official could attain. However, Wen Yanbo's words, "The court doubts you," and Ouyang Xiu's memorial, "A sign of impending dominance," led to this renowned general being sent to Chenzhou as a judge, where he died in fear and anxiety.

The Northern Song Dynasty's emphasis on civil affairs over military matters was not merely lip service, but deeply ingrained. Emperor Zhenzong of Song once said, "Even if the top scholar in the imperial examination were to lead hundreds of thousands of troops, recover Youzhou and Jizhou, return in triumph, and present the victory at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, his glory would still not surpass that of the top scholar."

Take Ouyang Xiu, a leading figure in the literary world, as another example. He once wrote a letter requesting the dismissal of Di Qing, on the grounds that "his appearance resembled that of an actor"—that his appearance was detrimental to the dignity of the nation! How absurd and cruel this was.

Therefore, Di Qing's tragedy was not due to personal grudges, but to systemic discrimination—the civil service group instinctively feared military generals taking charge of the Privy Council, regardless of their military achievements.

"General, please calm down," Wang Zhonghua said slowly. He knew it was time to speak, and to get to the point. "His Majesty's wisdom is profound; perhaps this action... has a deeper meaning."

"Oh?" Di Qing turned around abruptly, his gaze sharp as lightning. "What deeper meaning lies behind this?"

Wang Zhonghua took a deep breath; this was the most crucial moment for him to open his heart to Di Qing. He had to say what Di Qing was thinking but dared not say aloud, but he couldn't appear to be too knowledgeable about the secrets of heaven and arouse suspicion.

"This humble commoner dares to ask the general," Wang Zhonghua said neither humbly nor arrogantly, "that although Western Xia has temporarily retreated, can its foundation be damaged?"

Di Qing shook his head: "Yuan Hao is a man of great ambition and ambition. Although the battles of Haoshuichuan and Dingchuanzhai resulted in the loss of tens of thousands of our Song soldiers, his own strength was also damaged. He is only licking his wounds now, and when the time is right, he will surely make a comeback."

"That's it." Wang Zhonghua nodded. "As long as Western Xia remains undefeated, the Northwest will never have peace. Your Majesty is in the prime of your life; how could you not know this? Since you know this, why did you demote the general to Chenzhou?"

Di Qing's pupils contracted slightly, but he did not respond.

"If I may be so bold as to ask again," Wang Zhonghua continued, "General, you command a large army in the Northwest, and your military achievements are numerous. Are any of the officials in the court sleeping soundly?"

These words were blunt, even somewhat harsh, but they hit the nail on the head. Di Qing was silent for a moment, then gave a bitter smile: "It's not just that I can't sleep well, I'm afraid I dream every night that I'm raising an army in rebellion."

"That's it," Wang Zhonghua said in a deep voice. "General, your achievements are so great that they threaten the emperor's power. Secondly, the officials in the court are wary of the power of border generals. But has the general ever considered that if His Majesty truly believed those impeachments, why did he only strip you of your military power and demote you to a minor military commander in Chenzhou, instead of imprisoning you, confiscating your property, and exterminating your entire family?"

Di Qing was startled.

"What kind of place is Chenzhou?" Wang Zhonghua stepped forward. "It's in the heart of the Central Plains, a key hub for the Grand Canal, and only three hundred li from the capital. It may seem idle, but it's actually right under the emperor's nose. What can those who want to kill the general do?"

He paused, then lowered his voice even further: "General, you are well-versed in military strategy, do you know the principles of 'retreating to advance' and 'openly repairing the plank road while secretly crossing the Chencang pass'?"

Di Qing's breathing became rapid. He had vaguely considered this idea before, but never dared to delve into it. Now, with a young man dissecting it so clearly, he felt as if the huge rock that had been pressing on his heart for so long had suddenly loosened a little.

"You mean... His Majesty..." Di Qing's voice was a little hoarse.

"This humble subject dares not presume to know Your Majesty's will." Wang Zhonghua took a step back, bowed, and said, "This humble subject only feels that General has spent half his life fighting for the country and its people. If he were to end up being discarded after his usefulness is over, it would not only be a tragedy for the General, but also a tragedy for the Song Dynasty. Your Majesty is wise and would not allow such a thing to happen."

Di Qing remained silent for a long time. Only the faint crackling of the burning candlelight filled the tent. After a long while, he exhaled a long breath, sat back down behind his desk, and looked at Wang Zhonghua with a complex expression.

"How do you, a sixteen or seventeen-year-old farm boy, know these things?" he asked, his tone no longer scrutinizing, but filled with confusion and curiosity.

Wang Zhonghua had anticipated this question and answered frankly, "General, have you ever heard the saying, 'You can't see the true face of Mount Lu because you are in the mountain yourself'?" Seeing Di Qing's astonishment, he couldn't help but feel ashamed. At this time, Su Dongpo had not yet made his name, so of course no one knew those two lines of poetry.

"I am but an outsider, and having read a few books of leisure, I am merely trying to explain principles that others cannot see. If I have offended you, please forgive me, General."

Di Qing shook his head and smiled wryly: "Offend? So many officials and generals have come and gone in my tent, and not one of them dares to say such things to me. They are either obsequious, flattering, or secretly spying, waiting to find something to use against me. But you..." He looked at Wang Zhonghua, his gaze gradually becoming deep, "You young man, you are interesting."

Wang Zhonghua knew that the time was right.

He suddenly lifted his robe, knelt on one knee, and solemnly said, "General, I have a request to make."