Three Hundred Gallant Souls of the Great Song

On the twelfth day of the twelfth lunar month in the first year of Jingkang under the Great Song Dynasty, Guo Jing—the so-called Immortal Guo—led his Northern Expedition forces quietly out of Bianliang City through the Fengqiu Gate.

—It was not that Emperor Qinzong Zhao Huan was overly frugal or begrudged Guo Jing a ceremonious send-off. The real issue lay in the pitiful state of this so-called army, which was so meager it was scarcely presentable: even including the laborers pushing wheelbarrows and bearing loads, the entire force barely numbered three hundred souls.

Thus, rather than parade such a paltry contingent before the imperial palace for inspection and flag presentation—inviting ridicule from the million citizens of the capital—it was deemed far wiser to let them depart in silence, their banners furled, and only later trumpet their departure as a gallant endeavor.

—Three hundred brave souls crossing the river to march northward… was this a noble sacrifice, or a tragic farce?

Come on—this is the Song Empire, not Sparta!

And these three hundred northbound warriors were clad head to toe in full gear—far from the near-naked Greek warriors of legend.

In truth, even mustering this motley band was a stroke of luck for Guo Jing. Just as the "Divine Armies of Liujia" were slipping away before the branding irons could mark them as soldiers for life, Zong Ze, Vice Marshal of the Hebei Expeditionary Command, arrived in Bianliang with two hundred "Loyalist Troops." Before he could even catch his breath, the court had crowned him vanguard of the Northern Expedition and promptly handed him over to Guo Jing.

(In the Song Dynasty, "Marshal" was not a fixed rank but rather a temporary designation akin to that of a regional war commander.)

—Unlike Prince Zhao Gou, the Marshal of Hebei's forces, whose covetous eyes had long been set upon the imperial throne, and his scheming deputy Wang Boyan, who dreamt of securing glory by enthroning a new emperor, Zong Ze—governor of Cizhou and now also a vice marshal—was a steadfast loyalist with his heart firmly devoted to the throne.

Even earlier, upon intercepting Prince Zhao Gou, Zong Ze had used the prince's banner to rally the scattered Song remnants in Hebei under the banner of loyal resistance. At that time, the Jin army had launched a direct assault on the eastern front, and many strategic towns remained under Song control. The Jin supply lines were tenuous at best, sustained only by ruthless foraging. After the shocking annihilation of over 100,000 invading Jin troops outside the walls of the capital, Zong Ze rode south with a handful of cavalry to personally report to the emperor and seek a path forward.

Zhao Gou and Wang Boyan did not oppose this—despite having gathered some 40,000–50,000 men in Xiangzhou, their forces barely matched those in the capital. With the Jin threat neutralized, open confrontation with the court would be suicidal: after all, Emperor Qinzong still reigned as the legitimate Son of Heaven. His edicts had already mobilized loyalist forces from Fujian, the southern coasts, and Sichuan. In time, the court's power would swell, overwhelming the Hebei faction.

Though these regional troops were hastily conscripted commoners, led by no famed generals, they were still more than a match for the ragtag volunteer militias under Zhao Gou. And whether the Hebei forces would follow Zhao Gou to ruin was uncertain—after all, no prince had ever succeeded in a military coup throughout the Song era. For the warlords of Hebei, handing Zhao Gou over in exchange for titles or land seemed far more appealing than staking everything on a doomed gamble.

—Though the situation echoed the Jingnan Campaign of old, and Qinzong was perhaps no better than the Jianwen Emperor, Zhao Gou was no Zhu Di.

Moreover, Bianliang still housed the awe-inspiring figure of the so-called Immortal Guo, a man who had, with divine might, annihilated the Jin army—leaving nothing behind but scorched earth. If even the savage Jurchen cavalry had crumbled before him, what chance had the scattered and uncertain troops of Zhao Gou? Rebellion with such meager means was a fool's dream.

Thus, the situation in Hebei was far less dire than Chancellor He Su and his peers feared. Even Zhao Gou himself lacked faith in his own army and fretted more over how to resolve the chaos than in pursuing the throne.

So, once the court had gained some clarity on the Hebei command structure from Zong Ze, they shamelessly sent him back out, now under Guo Jing's banner, to lend credibility and strength to the Northern Expedition.

—Unlike the ornamental palace guards of Bianliang, the battle-hardened veterans Zong Ze brought from Hebei—though defeated by the Jurchens—had seen blood and slaughter and bore a chilling aura of men forged in war.

Initially, Guo Jing had fretted that he might not be able to rein in these seasoned and unruly warriors until he had a chance to display his divine powers. But he soon realized such worry was unwarranted.

In the Song realm, the status of soldiers was abysmally low. Once conscripted, there was no discharge; military service was for life, and vacancies were filled from soldiers' own kin. Desertion or crime meant brutal punishment—often extending to one's family and hometown. To prevent escape, soldiers were branded with tattoos on their faces, much like slaves. Even the famed general Di Qing, who rose to the rank of Privy Councillor, was scorned by the literati due to his facial tattoos—mocked even by courtesans. Such was the disdain for the martial class.

The soldiers bore deep-rooted inferiority, ever submissive before civil officials.

As for Guo Jing, though not a Confucian scholar, he was held in even higher regard—as a divine immortal! Even the emperor treated him as a master, and the court scholars bowed with utmost reverence. The scorched wastelands surrounding Bianliang and the floating city of "New Tokyo" in the skies bore testament to his otherworldly power.

Word had it the emperor found the celestial city too desolate and was preparing to send loyal citizens to populate it—so they might live as "Heavenly People."

—Such exalted stature, such apocalyptic power, commanded awe. Now that the soldiers beheld this Immortal in person, how could these humble warriors dare to speak out of turn?

Thus, at least as they departed the capital, this hastily assembled force was, for the time being, in solid accord.

…

Beyond the gates of Bianliang, they found themselves surrounded by snow-covered desolation.

—Just a month prior, the "Fully-Automated Plasma Convergence Cannon" wielded by Nobita Nobi had obliterated the Jin army and their tens of thousands of captives in a single, devastating blast. Not even ash remained.

Though there were no bones strewn across the fields, the ground itself had been scorched and vitrified by unimaginable heat, and its silent testimony chilled the soul more than any battlefield corpse.

In grim silence, the column passed over this vast grave of the dead.

It was only when it came time to choose a route north that tensions rose.

The usually placid Zong Ze for the first time clashed with Qin Hui and the others.

—In the Northern Song, those traveling north from the capital would typically exit via Fengqiu Gate and head northeast, crossing the Yellow River at the floating bridge near Yanjin County. Though the bridge had been burned by the Jin, it remained the most direct route.

(Fact: The Song Dynasty had indeed constructed several floating bridges across the Yellow River to facilitate north-south travel.)

But Zong Ze insisted they detour westward, crossing the river near Zhengzhou or Zhongmu—adding more than a hundred li to their journey.

When Qin Hui and Guo Jing pressed for a reason, the northerners offered only vague answers: "A man on foot might cross, but not carts or horses."

Such evasiveness could not satisfy the Bianliang contingent—especially since Qin Hui, a censorial official, carried the haughty air of a Song scholar-official. Before long, voices were raised in argument.

Guo Jing, equally perplexed, had no choice but to mediate, proposing they first go to the Yanjin crossing and see for themselves.

There, at last, the reason for Zong Ze's insistence became clear.

—The Yellow River had ceased to flow.