The long pavilion and ancient road stretched endlessly, with wild grass covering the horizon. In the southern breeze, the faint aroma of food wafted through the air. The millet in the steamer was already cooked, and the soldiers lined up with wooden bowls to receive their meals. The food looked unappetizing, likely mixed with husks and sand. There were no vegetables to speak of, just a bit of fermented beans and pickles to go with the meal. The bowls were blackened, with suspicious stains at the bottom, but no one cared. They wolfed down their food ravenously.
Left Sima Liu Qia was somewhat worried. The number of soldiers he had brought with him was close to five hundred, but what kind of soldiers were they? Before setting out, Mi Huang had mentioned to him: "Out of the 490 soldiers, more than 150 are between seven or eight years old and sixteen or seventeen years old.
Over 200 are in their sixties or older..." In short, a third of the soldiers were children under sixteen or seventeen, and over forty percent were elderly men in their sixties or seventies. The number of able-bodied young men barely reached a hundred.
The quality of these troops was abysmal!
"Sim Liu," Mi Huang, the Protector-General, approached and exchanged greetings with Liu Qia before asking, "We are entering the capital tomorrow. How should we explain this to the Minister of Works?"
Liu Qia was stunned for a moment before asking, "Protector-General Mi, do you think these soldiers are... usable?"
Mi Huang, being straightforward, replied honestly, "The two hundred men over sixty can barely eat porridge. Some are even blind, deaf, or senile, unable to see or fight. They can only serve as a rough deterrent against petty thieves. As for the children, they might be useful for scaring away birds."
Liu Qia sighed deeply.
The Kingdom of Donghai did have soldiers, numbering around two thousand. The kingdom's troops were divided into three grades. A large kingdom had a central army of two thousand, with upper and lower armies of fifteen hundred each, totaling five thousand.
A medium-sized kingdom had an upper army of two thousand and a lower army of one thousand, totaling three thousand. A small kingdom only had an upper army of two thousand. These soldiers were hereditary military households, meaning they inherited their positions from their fathers, generation after generation.
They farmed during peacetime, trained during their free time, and went to war when needed. They were similar to the local militias of the late Tang Dynasty—or even worse, since they had seen little combat. After the fall of Wu, they had not been deployed for years, and their combat effectiveness had declined sharply.
The Grand Minister of Works and Prince of Donghai, Sima Yue, found it inconvenient to mobilize Donghai's troops to Luoyang. So, he pulled some strings and asked the Governor of Xuzhou (also known as the Governor of Qing and Xu), Sima Mao, to do him a favor and send a battalion of soldiers to support him.
However, he overestimated his influence. Sima Mao had no respect for him and ended up sending this ragtag group, leaving Liu Qia and Mi Huang utterly speechless. Sima Mao had truly gone too far, treating the Minister of Works with such contempt.
They would make him pay for this in the future!
After the meal, Mi Huang assigned tasks to set up the camp. Given the quality of this battalion, it was impossible to strictly follow military regulations. After much thought, Mi Huang decided to arrange the carriages and ox carts in a circle, with the nobles staying in the center, protected by him personally. The rest of the soldiers were divided into teams and stationed around the perimeter.
Once everything was arranged, he approached a luxurious carriage.
"Is everything in order?" A woman in her early twenties lifted the carriage curtain and asked.
Maids surrounded the carriage, setting up several small tables. On the tables were over ten pieces of dining ware. Seven servants stood in a row, holding bottles, bowls, cups, spoons, and other utensils, ready to serve at any moment. One servant knelt in front, presenting the first dish.
Camping in the wild meant things had to be "simple." There was no room for extravagance; they had to make do.
"Rest assured, Princess Consort, everything is in order," Mi Huang replied with his head bowed.
The woman nodded slightly and said softly, "You've worked hard, Mi Jun."
The woman was beautiful, likely having lived a life of luxury since childhood. Her skin was fair and delicate, and her figure was striking. As she leaned forward slightly, her chest seemed ready to spill out, while her waist tapered dramatically, giving her an hourglass figure.
This woman was something else.
Perhaps out of boredom, she asked, "Mi Jun, you've shown great skill in leading the troops along the way. But what do you think of these soldiers?"
Mi Huang hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. "As you can see, Princess Consort, most of them are unusable."
The Princess Consort fell silent for a while before asking, "Last year, the king recruited brave men from the kingdom to enter the capital. Were there any capable ones?"
"There were a few," Mi Huang replied. "There's a brave young man named Shao Xun, from Qu County. He's fifteen years old, an expert archer, and skilled with both spear and sword. He might be of great use."
"Which family does he belong to?" the Princess Consort asked with interest.
"Well..." Mi Huang paused before saying, "Shao Xun's ancestors were soldiers for generations."
"So, he's a soldier's son," the Princess Consort said, her expression turning indifferent as she lost interest.
A soldier's son, meaning the child of a soldier.
Shao Xun's status was too lowly.
If he had been from a noble family, he could have been cultivated and groomed. What a pity.
Seeing that the Princess Consort had nothing more to say, Mi Huang bowed and took his leave to inspect the camp.
Night gradually fell.
The evening breeze swept through the camp, blowing toward a distant village.
In the dilapidated houses, ghostly lights flickered, and foxes and rats scurried about. The few remaining households dared not light fires and had closed their doors early to avoid trouble.
Even in Luoyang, the capital of the empire, things had come to this state. Pitiful and lamentable.
The next day, this "eye-catching" group entered Luoyang.
The city's residents, already burdened by life, couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the soldiers—some old, some young. But upon closer thought, the armies stationed inside and outside the city also had their share of elderly men and children, though not as concentrated as this battalion.
In the Jin Dynasty's hereditary military system, it was explicitly stated that military households with members under seventeen or over fifty should not be conscripted. But laws were one thing, and reality was another. During Emperor Wu's reign, an edict was issued allowing soldiers over sixty to return home, showing that in practice, military commanders did not strictly follow the court's laws. They only cared about filling the ranks.
Under the hereditary military system, when a father died, his son would take his place. If your family was called upon, you had to provide a man, even if you had to pay someone to take the place. In reality, this wasn't unique to the Jin Dynasty. During the Wei period, Cao Zhi had submitted a memorial, shocked to find that among the conscripted soldiers were many seven or eight-year-old children.
That said, after years of peace and recovery, the Jin Dynasty should no longer have such issues. The battalion conscripted by the Minister of Works was likely the result of someone snubbing him. It was rare to see so many elderly men concentrated in one battalion.
The Sima family, with its internal strife and superficial unity, brought suffering to the people. Alas.
The soldiers soon moved into an empty barracks.
The central army in Luoyang originally numbered over a hundred thousand, the most elite and combat-ready force in the Jin Dynasty. It included not only hereditary soldiers but also professional mercenaries, well-equipped and highly trained. For years, they had been the stabilizing force that kept the barbarians and powerful families in check.
To be fair, during this period, the Jin army's external achievements were somewhat respectable—not because the Jin army was strong, but because the barbarian cavalry was weak.
Over twenty years ago, Ma Long led three thousand five hundred infantrymen. Surrounded, cut off from supplies, and without communication, they marched over a thousand miles to Liangzhou, killing tens of thousands of barbarian cavalry and leaving Tufa Shujineng in despair.
In the face of overwhelming numbers of barbarian cavalry, skilled and determined elite infantry were simply unstoppable.
But in recent years, the empire had fallen into chaos. The imperial relatives had each raised their own armies, fighting repeatedly near Luoyang. The elite imperial guards had split into factions, consuming much of their strength in civil wars. As a result, many barracks were left empty.
Shao Xun was now staying in one of these barracks.
Hereditary soldiers had a "rotational rest" system, meaning they were not always on duty or deployed. They took turns resting. The rest periods varied, from a few months to several years. During this time, they could return home, but they had to report back by a specified time. Those who failed to do so were considered deserters, and not only would they be punished, but their entire family would also be executed. The rules were harsh.
Now in Luoyang, there was no chance for rotational rest at home, nor would the rest periods be long. At best, they would take turns guarding the Minister of Works' residence with a few other squads—last year, the Prince of Donghai had recruited forty hereditary soldiers from his fiefdom, divided into two groups for rotation.
After the newcomers entered the barracks, the place became noisy and chaotic.
Shao Xun looked at the dozen or so young boys gathered around him and barked, "This has nothing to do with you. Keep practicing your characters."
"Yes," came the scattered replies from the boys, who were using sticks to practice writing characters on the ground.
Shao Xun stood up and looked at the new arrivals, both old and young, in astonishment.
Several squad leaders and platoon leaders also came over, equally dumbfounded, and looked at Shao Xun.
"What a disaster," Shao Xun sighed.
The squad and platoon leaders chimed in, "Indeed, a disaster."
Although Shao Xun was only a platoon leader and just fifteen years old, his skills were exceptional, and he was strong and robust. In a fight, he could take down several of them without breaking a sweat.
They knew their own limitations.
Hereditary soldiers, generation after generation of soldiers—it sounded impressive, but in reality, they spent most of their lives farming.
Some couldn't shoot arrows.
Some only knew how to use spears but couldn't wield swords.
Some didn't even understand the signals of drums and flags.
In essence, they were just farmers with some military training.
Shao Xun's skills stood out like a crane among chickens.
Some couldn't figure out how he had become so skilled and tried to investigate, but they found nothing.
The Shao family of Qu County seemed to have suddenly produced this extraordinarily brave and skilled young man, as if his fighting prowess had been bestowed by the heavens. It was enviable.
The lower ranks of the military were a pragmatic place, where strength ruled.
Shao Xun was so formidable that the other three platoon leaders—Zheng Gou'er, Yang Bao, and Qin San—didn't dare challenge him. What they thought in private, only heaven knew.
When Shao Xun suggested that during rotational rest, they should teach the younger soldiers to read, no one objected. On the contrary, they were in awe—this guy could read?
At this point, some began to suspect that the Shao family of Qu County might have been a humble scholarly family that had fallen into military service after declining in status.
You had to admit, this theory had some traction, and many believed it.
Shao Xun didn't care what they thought. At the moment, he was just staring at the new arrivals.
Over a hundred children, mostly from Donghai...
"Be friends with time," a phrase suddenly popped into his mind. Interesting.
(End of Chapter)