Chapter Forty: The Target

The next morning, when Yang Wentian entered the main camp, most of the commanders and vice-commanders were already seated in Wang Luo’s tent.

It was clearly a victory celebration. Wang Luo was discussing strengthening the soldiers’ training and outfitting everyone with new gear, and the officers were arguing among themselves...

“What did you just say? Repeat that!” As Yang Wentian found a seat and had just sat down, Wang Luo suddenly stopped his explanation and, with a stern voice and intimidating glare, shouted at a young vice-commander in front of him.

The tent instantly fell silent. The young vice-commander seemed terrified and fell to his knees. “I... I didn’t say anything...”

“Thanks to the blessings of the gods, and the protection of the Great Virtuous Teacher.” Wang Luo turned to the officers beside him. “Is that what he said?”

After a brief pause, several officers nodded.

“In that case, some things need to be recalculated.” Wang Luo flipped through the register in front of him. “You beheaded three enemies when you stormed the Han camp this time. Normally, you’d be rewarded with ten strings of coins and a suit of armor. But since you’re so devout, clearly you have no need for such things—after all, if the gods are watching over you, let the merit be recorded for them instead.”

Hearing this, the officers murmured in discontent. Wang Luo stood up. “Gentlemen, every merit we claim on the battlefield is earned by your blood and sweat! It’s you who risk your lives! It’s you who strive! So when it comes to rewards, it is you who should receive them!”

“You’ve all fought many battles before—were you devout then? Did devotion decide whether you won or lost? Now, I rack my brains, making plans and seizing opportunities; you march and fight with all your might, and we win the day—that is our own achievement! To thank the gods or some Great Virtuous Teacher—what nonsense! Are your heads filled with water?”

This speech drew much support. Zhang Xiong, Iron Pillar, and several others even shouted their agreement.

“Gods! Spirits! They may or may not exist, but it’s none of our concern! Pass the order: if anyone dares use talk of gods or spirits to disturb the morale of the army, all military merit will be disregarded, and they’ll receive no rations! If they believe in gods, let the gods feed them! I won’t support such people!”

Such a declaration caused little stir. Yang Wentian thought that the vice-commander didn’t really believe in gods; he’d just spoken without thinking. As for those truly devout, they had probably already defected to Lin Qi’s band and had all been wiped out.

Now that he thought about it, this must have been deliberate—deliberately dragging things out on the front lines to create the illusion of possible defeat while holding off the enemy, so that the Han army would wipe out the Yellow Turban religious force he despised, and then he could deal with the Han army himself.

Just as he had said before—psychological breakdown. He played everyone, including his own men, for fools.

After this brief episode, the meeting continued for a while longer. Most of the content was Wang Luo’s plans for the next steps: strict training, preparing to wipe out the remaining Han forces and powerful local landlords in nearby areas, reassuring peasants who had fled because of the war, redistributing the landlords’ land to local peasants, recruiting soldiers from among them, persuading Han captives to surrender, and so on.

A small portion of the meeting was dedicated to publicly commending officers who had fought bravely in the previous battles, giving them praise and appropriate rewards. Matters regarding contact with the main Yellow Turban force were not mentioned at all.

It was clear that these commendations and rewards made the officers very happy. Those who received rewards were in high spirits, and even those who didn’t felt encouraged.

After the meeting ended, the officers gradually left. Yang Wentian stood in front of Wang Luo, hesitating, unsure how to begin.

Seeing his friend approach, Wang Luo tossed his pen onto the table and rolled his shoulders. “I’m exhausted.”

“You’re still tired, even though everything is data-driven?”

“Who knows? Maybe I’m just thinking too much, with too much to do... Mostly it’s mental exhaustion.”

“You know, according to historical records, the population is about fifty million right now; if things follow their course, by the time the Western Jin reunifies the country, there’ll be just over seven million left. The numbers might not be exact, but they’re more or less accurate.”

“Before, the pressure was immense. Just surviving was an achievement. That’s no longer the case. Now that we’ve won, what I intend to do next isn’t much different from the last scenario: I want to save these forty-some million people.”

…Is he dreaming? That’s impossible! “How? We can only stay here for thirty days! You’ve beaten a small Han force and taken this place, but do you think that’s the end of it? The Han will keep coming in endless waves!”

“And you have no love for the Yellow Turbans either, do you? The world follows its main storyline! We’re just contractors, passersby! Why burden yourself with all this pointless responsibility?”

Yang Wentian was agitated; his voice rose, and his tone wasn’t so polite anymore.

“I’m not shouldering any responsibility,” Wang Luo tried to calm his friend. “I just find this goal interesting, so I chose it. It’s not about achieving it at all costs—I just want to do what I can. I don’t insist on the result; I’ll do my best.”

“Is it hard? Very. I know that well. But so what? Do you really like following someone else’s rules? Marching to someone else’s drum? Having everything under someone else’s control? Isn’t it far more interesting to do something unexpected?”

Wang Luo’s eyes were still fixed on Yang Wentian, but his pupils had taken on a distant focus. “It’s human nature to fight against established rules. If there were no opportunity, so be it. But since I’ve stumbled upon one, I can’t let it go. Of course, if you think it’s too dangerous…”

Yang Wentian raised both hands in surrender.

Perhaps, only with such a mindset could those earlier successes have been possible. There was no point in overthinking it—just do your best.

“Forget what I just said. As before, as long as nothing goes terribly wrong, I’ll support you.”

“Good, thank you.” Wang Luo picked up his pen. “You looked like you had something on your mind?”

“Yes.” Having recovered from his earlier shock, Yang Wentian found it easier to speak. “The Shadow Team—the enemy contractors you tricked, who led those two small Han detachments—they hope to exchange some equipment and supplies as well.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Wang Luo’s mouth. “So what can they do?”

“If you refuse, I’ll go back and tell them… Wait, what did you say?”

“They’ve surrendered, haven’t they? I need to know what skills they have, what work they can do. If they meet my requirements, I’ll help them make an exchange.”

“Alright!” Yang Wentian dashed out excitedly. “I’ll let her know right away!”

“Revolution means uniting all who can be united, to strike at the common enemy.” Watching the swaying curtain as Yang Wentian left, Wang Luo recited softly.

“And at different stages, the enemy is different. For now, there is no doubt—it’s the Han army.”