The sky poured down heavy rain, while inside the Biyong Hall, a light drizzle fell.
This was supposed to be one of the key institutions of the Great Jin Dynasty, yet it had fallen into such a state of disrepair, much like the crumbling empire itself.
Grain and military supplies were stored in a few relatively intact rooms.
After personally inspecting them, Mi Huang walked out to the corridor, gazing at the dark, heavy sky, his mood far from pleasant.
"Two days ago, several Yamen troops stationed in Henei Commandery defected and surrendered to Ye," Mi Huang said, his expression a mix of bitterness and irony.
"How many men?" Shao Xun asked.
"At least ten thousand."
"Elite troops or weak ones?"
"They can fight."
Both men fell silent.
This was something Shao Xun had long feared.
During the reign of Prince Zhao Sima Lun, the imperial guards had turned on each other.
Last time, they had stayed on the sidelines, but who could guarantee they would do the same this time?
After Prince Changsha came to power, his first task was to reorganize the imperial guards.
His actions were drastic—he even personally took on the role of Northern Army Commander, trying to fully control the seven imperial guard armies and the Yamen troops.
This had frightened many.
But the imperial guard system in Luoyang had existed for so long that it had become its own entity.
Changing it wasn’t easy.
As a result, many began to secretly align with the Princes of Chengdu and Hejian, and the relatively capable imperial guards effectively split.
The ten thousand who surrendered this time were likely not the only ones.
The situation was dire.
"This is truly disheartening," Shao Xun said with a bitter smile.
"With this, the Grand Commander (Sima Yi) will probably have to pull back his forces and retreat to Luoyang to defend it."
"Troublesome," Mi Huang nodded in agreement.
If Sima Yi no longer trusted the troops stationed outside, he would have no choice but to order a retreat, pulling them back to the vicinity of Luoyang, where he could keep a close eye on them.
But retreating wasn’t without consequences.
First, it would damage morale.
Retreating before even fighting—what would others think? In a situation where the enemy outnumbers you, this could be fatal.
Especially since many scholars didn’t understand military affairs.
They would judge strength purely by numbers, without considering factors like soldier quality, equipment, or the presence of elite troops.
Three thousand men are fewer than thirty thousand, but sometimes three thousand elite soldiers could crush thirty thousand rabble, capturing or killing ten to twenty thousand without issue.
Thus, judging strength purely by numbers was foolish.
But the battle lines don’t lie…
If you retreat, people will wonder—are you afraid? Can you really not win?
The second negative effect would be the loss of many key outposts.
These outposts weren’t insignificant.
Some were crucial, like transportation hubs, water sources, supply depots, and even pastures.
Losing these places, relying solely on the isolated city of Luoyang, it was hard to say how long they could hold out.
Both of these were very real difficulties.
Mi Huang, though not well-versed in military affairs, could understand this.
Shao Xun, who was deeply familiar with warfare, saw it even more clearly.
This was going to be tough.
"Why think so much? Take it one day at a time," Mi Huang suddenly stomped his foot heavily, preparing to leave.
Before he did, he turned and said, "I’ve petitioned the Minister of Works to conscript over a thousand commoners from Kaiyang Gate Street. Building walls and fortifications won’t be a problem. If we run out of materials, we can dismantle civilian houses."
"Understood," Shao Xun replied.
He was growing to like Mi Huang more and more.
The man spoke politely, unlike many scholars who looked down on him.
He was straightforward, not playing mind games, and dealt with things as they were.
His military skills were indeed weak, and he didn’t spend much time in the barracks, but whenever Shao Xun had a problem, Mi Huang did his best to solve it.
As the saying goes, "In your position, do your duty."
As long as he was in the role of Battalion Commander, he took his responsibilities seriously.
Such a man was rare.
"Once the outer walls and halls are repaired, whether to release the conscripts or not, discuss it with Yang Bao," Mi Huang added after taking a few steps.
The so-called "thousand commoners" were truly commoners—ordinary people with no power or influence.
As for the children and families of noble families, few remained in Luoyang.
Most had fled to the outskirts to seek refuge.
Some had gone far, taking their retainers and servants to the mountains near Xincheng and Luhun in the south.
Those who couldn’t leave tried to move into the inner city or banded together in groups of ten or so families to help each other.
War was like this.
When the chaos came, no one was nobler than anyone else.
In fact, the wealthy were more likely to be targeted for plunder.
Over a month passed in the blink of an eye.
By the time August arrived, the situation grew increasingly tense.
Almost every day, troops were mobilized to leave the city, while others returned, battered and exhausted.
It had been a long time since Shao Xun had seen Princess Pei.
During this period, only a steward from the prince’s residence had come to deliver a message: essentially, stay calm and composed.
Shao Xun took the opportunity to request a large amount of supplies—arrows, medicine, equipment, grain, cloth, and even a significant amount of stationery.
He continued to methodically teach the children and youths, urging them to ignore the outside world and focus on their studies.
Of course, training was also essential.
Today, they were practicing archery.
Shao Xun had been thinking about how to train soldiers.
In this era, soldiers were specialized.
Spearmen were spearmen, trained only to thrust with their spears.
Swordsmen were swordsmen, and even archers and crossbowmen had their own dedicated units—this was called "pure units."
But military standards evolved over time.
By the Tang Dynasty, the requirements were much higher.
Every soldier had to know how to shoot a bow.
Spears, bows, and sabers were standard equipment for every soldier.
In other words, at the very least, a soldier had to master three skills: saber, spear, and bow.
In reality, it went far beyond that.
A standard unit also included weapons like long-handled axes, hook spears (for fighting cavalry), wooden clubs, crossbows, greatswords, and long sabers, issued to certain soldiers.
In the Jin army, once crossbowmen fired their bolts, their job was done.
In the Tang army, crossbowmen would pick up their long sabers and join the melee.
This was called "mixed units."
If you were to rate soldiers, pure unit soldiers would score lower, while mixed unit soldiers would score higher because they had more skills, were more adaptable to complex battlefields, could pick up any weapon and use it, and gave their officers more tactical options.
But the problem was that training mixed units was costly, and they could only be professional soldiers.
Traditional farmer-soldiers had to tend to their fields and couldn’t devote themselves fully to training.
This was a real challenge, tied to military reform.
In the upcoming defense of Luoyang, the advantages of mixed units would be magnified.
The more complex the environment, the more it tested a soldier’s versatility and individual combat ability.
Shao Xun thought about it.
Given the level of his men, it was too late to train them in swords, spears, axes, halberds, and bows.
So, he had to be realistic and focus on the most important skill first: archery.
"Only about thirty of these men can shoot," Shao Xun said, watching the soldiers practice their archery in the temporary training ground.
"Form them into a separate unit, with Li Chong as the unit leader."
"Understood," Li Chong, who was standing nearby, immediately replied.
"Pick four tall, strong men and bring them to me. They’ll be under—" Shao Xun looked at Chen Yougen.
"You’ll lead them as the squad leader. If anyone shows cowardice in battle, execute them on the spot."
"Understood," Chen Yougen said excitedly.
"Use the newly forged greatswords," Shao Xun added.
He liked greatswords—or longswords—these two-handed weapons.
They evolved from the long sabers of the Tang Dynasty and became very popular in the late Tang.
Many regions had greatsword units, like the Black Cloud Greatsword Unit and the Left and Right Greatsword Armies, usually elite troops.
Those who wielded greatswords well became famous, like Zhang Shenjian of Huainan and Shao Shenjian of Weibo.
People even forgot their real names.
Greatswords sacrificed defense for offense, trading blows and lives.
Facing an enemy spear formation, a greatsword wielder would charge in, swinging their weapon.
It was a weapon perfectly suited for desperate men.
At Panyuan, Shao Xun had personally instructed the blacksmith to forge a two-handed greatsword.
Chen Yougen had taken a liking to it, so two more were forged for him to carry as backups—it was common for weapons to become dull in battle, so it was best to have replacements ready.
After arriving in Luoyang, Mi Huang had arranged for ten more to be made.
Shao Xun planned to have Chen Yougen lead four tall, strong men as his personal guard.
Each would be given a set of iron armor, a crossbow, and a greatsword, and they would follow him at all times—after all, a "supervisor" was essentially a "battle overseer."
"The other three units will spend time each day practicing archery," Shao Xun continued.
"I’ll teach them myself. Remember, you’re professional soldiers now. Farmer-soldiers have to tend to their fields and can’t master multiple skills, but you can’t afford to slack off. You have to earn your keep."
"Understood," Huang Biao, Zhou Ying, and Zhong Huan’er replied in unison.
"Training is the key to winning battles," Shao Xun said.
"Some people just gather a bunch of farmers and hope to win with clever tactics. That’s pure gambling. Gentlemen, even if we’re going to fight tomorrow, you must train hard today. Take a short break. In the time it takes two incense sticks to burn, we’ll continue archery practice."
While the men rested, Shao Xun walked over to the children and youths of the first, second, and third units.
They had trained yesterday, so today they were focusing on their studies.
Seeing the supervisor approach, the youths quickly bowed.
"No need for formalities. Review your lessons well," Shao Xun said gently.
His attitude toward these children was relatively good, though he wasn’t above using the whip during training.
What the refugee army lacked was precisely these people.
Without a reserve of capable leaders, you couldn’t govern a region.
Without governance, you couldn’t establish a lasting foothold.
A time traveler was just one person.
No matter how many good ideas he had, he needed people to execute them.
A reserve team of leaders who shared his vision was the key to effectively implementing his will.
A few new instructors had arrived at the camp.
With war looming, prices were soaring, and many were struggling to make ends meet, especially the ordinary scholars—mostly merchants or local gentry—who had no power or influence.
For various reasons, they couldn’t return home, so to make a living, they accepted positions teaching the youths at Biyong.
This gave Shao Xun more free time.
Now, he mostly taught arithmetic and martial arts, occasionally the Thousand Character Classic.
However, he remained deeply involved in the daily management of the youths, with Wu Qian acting as his proxy.
There was no shame in admitting it—these youths were his greatest asset.
If the opportunity arose, he would establish a camp school near the army’s base, serving as its headmaster and producing batches of officer candidates and reserve leaders.
The noble families indeed monopolized education, which was precisely why they needed to be challenged.
Without a talent pool outside the noble families, what choice did you have but to rely on them?
(End of Chapter)