Traveling back to the Northern Song Dynasty: Picking up a princess as my wife

"Next!" A conscription officer's voice boomed across the bluestone slabs of the drill ground, startling the sparrows on the eaves into flight. The veins on the back of his hand, which held the vermilion pen, bulged. The long queue in front of him stretched all the way to the flagpole of the City God Temple.

In the chilly February air, the drill ground of Tangyin County was steaming with the sweat of young men. Zhang Erniu tightened his coarse cloth coat, his palms sweating as he clutched the household registration documents. Suddenly, a commotion broke out at the front of the procession as two soldiers dragged a man with a pockmarked face away.

"Why? Just because my father is a pig butcher, does that mean we're not a respectable family?" The pockmarked man's face turned red, his neck stiffened, and he stomped heavily on the bluestone slab, leaving two conspicuous white marks on his heels, raising a cloud of dust.

The officer moved with lightning speed; his sword gleamed at his waist, and with a flick of his sharp tip, he snatched a smooth jade pendant from the man's belt. "Hmph, this was still pawned at the gambling den yesterday. Did you really think I knew nothing about it?" The officer's tone was full of disdain.

Before the words were finished, a flash of light appeared, like the coldest gust of wind in winter, and the jade pendant shattered in two. "The Han army recruits upright and honest warriors, not scoundrels like you who mingle in the streets and are tainted by petty squabbles!" The officer's words were firm and authoritative.

A sudden silence fell over the ranks; even breathing seemed heavy and slow. Zhang Erniu quietly reached out, his fingertips gently stroking the wooden plaque in his arms. The two powerful characters "Loyalty and Bravery" on it, carved by the village head himself, carried boundless expectations and glory. Looking beyond the crowd, on the distant city wall, the newly applied lime gleamed with a slightly damp sheen. Several craftsmen were intently painting a magnificent mural—a depiction of the Han army's triumphant victory over the Jin army. In the mural, the banner bearing the character "Yue" fluttered in the wind, echoing the black military flags flying in the drill ground before them, creating a dialogue across time that resonated deeply with every viewer.

"Name?" The officer's voice was steady and powerful, piercing through the surrounding silence.

“Zhang Erniu, from Zhangjiazhuang in the western suburbs of Bianliang, comes from a family where three generations have made a living by farming.” As he answered, his back was ramrod straight, like a tenacious ear of wheat on a field ridge. A scar was faintly visible on his elbow, a mark left by countless hours of sweating and harvesting hope. The officer’s gaze lingered for a moment on that scar, a testament to years of hard work and diligence. Then, his vermilion pen gently fell, drawing a striking circle on the roster, as if acknowledging and remembering this simplicity and courage.

On the east side of the training ground, on the ancient martial arts stage, a burst of enthusiastic cheers suddenly erupted, the roar breaking the surrounding silence. Zhao Wenqi, this tall and upright young man, responded with a fluid backhand sword flourish. His white robes fluttered, dancing lightly in the chilly early spring wind, like a white crane soaring freely in the clouds. He came from a prominent aristocratic family in Jiangnan, and at his waist hung his family heirloom—the Longquan sword, its blade gleaming with a faint bluish-green light in the bright sunlight, exuding a chilling aura.

With a flash of sword light, Zhao Wenqi had already channeled his strength into his wrist. The test stone lock standing in the center of the platform shattered under this fierce blow, with fragments flying everywhere, demonstrating his extraordinary martial prowess and precise control.

"Excellent swordsmanship!" A hearty shout rang out from a corner of the training ground. The deputy general in charge of the examination stood up abruptly, his eyes filled with admiration. "Such armor-piercing swordsmanship is a rare skill even in my Iron Blood Army. Brave warrior, my camp needs talents like you. From now on, you are a soldier under my command!"

Chen Tiezhu, squatting in the corner, silently munching on a steamed bun, chuckled upon hearing this. He was a blacksmith's apprentice, his hands a size larger than average, his knuckles as thick as old tree roots. The sound of his leg bindings snapping when he lifted the 300-pound stone roller just now filled him with more pride than the clang of Zhao Wenqi's sword.

As the sun began to set, the new recruits on the drill ground were already lined up in square formations. Yue Peng walked past the ranks, his leather boots crunching through a carpet of magnolia petals. "Remember! You eat the rations of His Majesty the Han Emperor, and wear clothes woven by the common people." His voice was like tempered iron. "Three months from now, only those who stand here will be worthy of receiving the iron plaque of the Han army."

At this moment, a thousand miles away on the banks of the Songhua River, Wang Changdao squatted on the frozen surface. His sheepskin gloves were soaked with dark red liquid, and he held a broken arrow, the wolf head pattern of the Jin Dynasty on the arrowhead gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Three days ago, Kaoshantun, thirty miles away, was massacred.

"Commander, we've found a survivor." The soldier's voice trembled.

A little girl of eight or nine years old was curled up in the snowdrift, her left ear now just a bloody hole. When Wang Changdao took off his cloak and wrapped it around the child, he touched something hard in her arms—half a frozen corn cake.

Memories suddenly flooded back. Twenty years ago, on that snowy night, he, at the age of ten, was curled up in his mother's arms just like this. As the sound of Jin soldiers' hooves crushed the earthen wall, his mother stuffed the last half of a bran cake into his mouth and pushed him into the cellar. When he crawled out, he only found half a bloodstained wooden comb with the words "Long life and a hundred years" carved on it.

"Report!" A scout broke through the thin ice, reporting that Jin cavalry had been spotted fifty li to the southeast; judging by their attire, they were defeated Jin soldiers.

Although the Jin Dynasty was destroyed by the Han Dynasty, many Jin soldiers scattered throughout the land, becoming outlaws. They not only attacked Han army supply convoys but also caused great damage to surrounding villages and towns. These people were very clever; as soon as they saw a large Han cavalry force arrive, they dispersed into the dense forests, leaving Wang Changdao with no good way to deal with them.

Wang Changdao handed the girl to the physician, his armor clanging as he turned. "Gather two hundred light cavalry, without rations." He took a swig from his wine flask, the cheap liquor making his eyes red. "Tell the men, this time, no prisoners."

Inside the ancient and solemn imperial palace in Huining Prefecture, Li Zhen was intently sketching the frontier defenses with a vermilion brush before an intricately carved sand table. The flickering candlelight softly projected his gaunt face onto the "Landscape of Mountains and Rivers" behind him, weaving the winding ink lines of the map into a profound scene.

Just then, Wang Changdao burst in, looking travel-worn, as if carrying with him the biting wind and snow from beyond the Great Wall and a faint, almost imperceptible, pungent smell of the snowfield, adding a touch of urgency and liveliness to the tranquil room.

"My lord, the Northeast Army you requested is ready to go." Wang Changdao's voice was steady and powerful, and his finger involuntarily pointed to the location of Liaoyang Prefecture on the sand table. "The three guards are all equipped with the latest rifles as you instructed. Although they have not yet experienced the baptism of war, as long as a few experienced veterans go to lead them, they will be able to quickly form an army."

Wang Changdao stared at the desert north, which was covered with black flags on the sand table: "Although the Jin Dynasty is gone, those wolf cubs of the Jin army are not all dead. In less than two months, they have almost turned the entire northeast region upside down." As he spoke, he took off his sword and slammed it on the table. The thirteen engravings on the scabbard were shocking—the number of Jin generals he had personally beheaded.

Wang Changdao: "Look, these are the Jurchen scum I killed in the Northeast. Your Majesty, you didn't see how they harmed the people. I wish I could skin them alive with my own hands."

Li Zhen knew that the situation in Northeast China was complex and volatile. The region was characterized by towering mountains, dense forests, and sparse population, making it difficult to detect even a force of tens of thousands of people hidden in the woods.

He gazed at the slightly thin-looking Wang Changdao beside him, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and slowly said, "This time, my mind is made up. I will establish a Northeast Army in the Northeast, and you will be its leader. The position of army commander is none other than yours. In addition, I will also send capable officials from the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Agriculture to the Northeast. At that time, I will need your strong support to help them successfully complete the construction of military camps in various places."

"Once our military strongholds spring up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, and the people of the Northeast are able to move in and live in peace and prosperity, those Jurchen bandits will find it difficult to rob them. With nothing to steal, they will naturally disappear." Li Zhen's words exuded composure and confidence, as if everything was under his control.