Chapter 341. The Great Battle of Hubodagang — Those Who Took Part 2
Zongwang and Zonghan came riding toward them.
Both men and horses were covered in dust and blood.
The iron plates of their armor were scratched in several places, and the helmet straps beneath their chins had been pulled crooked.
Yet their faces were filled with the fierce smiles of men who had fought their way through a battlefield and survived.
"Hahaha! Commander Yi!"
Zongwang shouted first.
"So this is where you were, Commander Yi!"
Zonghan laughed loudly as he hauled on the reins.
Their horses scraped at the earth with their forelegs as they stopped, and the two commanders almost leapt from the saddle.
There was hardly time for ceremony.
They went straight to Youngwoo and embraced him from either side.
Armor struck armor with a dull sound, and the blood and dust on their shoulders mixed together.
Zongwang slapped Youngwoo hard on the back.
"I saw you drive all the way to the emperor's very nose today. You went in like a madman!"
Zonghan seized Youngwoo by the shoulders and shook him.
"That charge split the center. We hammered at them from outside and they kept holding, but the moment you went in, they began collapsing from within. Magnificent."
Youngwoo laughed as he caught his breath.
Exhaustion had begun to weigh down his legs, but the heat of battle still remained in the grips of the two commanders.
These were not men who spoke of victory in polished words.
They collided with one another, laughed, struck shoulders, and embraced with bloodied hands to make certain that the others had survived.
Before long, Samyoari and Dolhapsok also rode over.
Several broken arrows were still lodged in Samyoari's armor, while Dolhapsok's spear shaft had split near the middle.
They dismounted as well and strode toward Youngwoo, Zongwang, and Zonghan.
Samyoari struck his own chest with a fist.
"Victory! A great victory!"
Dolhapsok shouted after him.
"The emperor of Liao has fled!"
The Jin commanders nearby roared.
Some beat the backs of their swords against their shields—
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Others raised their spears high again and again.
Dust from the pursuit still rose across the battlefield, but the men gathered there could already feel the full weight of victory in their bodies.
They laughed until their voices grew hoarse, struck one another's armor, and looked into the faces of those who had returned alive.
Zongwang pulled Samyoari closer by the shoulder.
"Your right wing was magnificent too. Because you struck the center first, the Liao imperial guards were drawn forward."
Samyoari snorted and pointed at Youngwoo.
"We were the first to close with them and draw out the front rank. Commander Yi went straight through the opening we made."
Dolhapsok raised his spear shaft and pointed toward the direction in which the Liao army had fled.
"And the Iron Pagoda Cavalry forced the road open. I can still hear their shields breaking."
Zonghan laughed in a deep voice.
"Everyone did his part today. The right wing engaged, the left pressed in, the Iron Pagoda Cavalry broke the line, and the Goryeo and Balhae troops drove through the inside. Great things happen when the right people gather together."
Youngwoo looked up at those words.
It was true.
This had not been a battle won by one man.
Aguda's decision.
Zonghan's command.
Zongwang's vanguard.
The courage of Samyoari and Dolhapsok.
The breakthrough of the Iron Pagoda Cavalry.
The relentless advance of the Balhae troops.
The arrival of the Goryeo army.
The joining of his master and the immortals.
All of it had come together in one place.
When something great was meant to happen, people gathered like this.
Youngwoo could see it now.
Zongwang struck Youngwoo's shoulder again and laughed.
"Commander Yi, we have to drink tonight."
Youngwoo smiled through the blood on his face.
"I would gladly drink, but first we should see to those who returned alive and those who were wounded."
Zonghan nodded.
"That is why I like you even more.
"When the battle begins, you charge in before anyone else. When it ends, you look after your own men first."
Dolhapsok laughed loudly.
"That is exactly what makes a man like him so frightening!"
The men burst into laughter again.
It was rough, heated laughter.
Among blood, dust, torn banners, and broken spear shafts, it rang like a drum announcing the end of battle.
On the fields of Hubodagang, the men who had led the victory struck one another's shoulders and praised each other's labors.
Youngwoo raised a hand as though calming a group of excited younger commanders and pointed east.
The men who had been laughing and striking one another's shoulders followed his gesture.
Beyond the dust stood Aguda's banner.
Youngwoo spoke to Zonghan.
"The Great Khan is over there. I do not think it is proper for us to remain here like this. We cannot stand here talking among ourselves forever, can we?"
Among the generation of Aguda's nephews, Wanyan Zonghan was the senior figure.
By Liao standards, he would also have ranked among the emperor's closest kinsmen.
When he moved, the younger commanders naturally followed.
Zonghan smiled and nodded.
"You are right. Let us go. The first report of victory should be made to the Great Khan."
Zongwang rested his spear shaft across his shoulder and laughed.
"We can talk about drinking afterward."
Samyoari, Dolhapsok, and Aribo turned their horses as well.
The heat of battle had not yet left their bodies.
Blood and dust covered their armor, and dried sweat clung to their horses' manes.
Even so, their movements carried the strength of a victorious army.
The men who had been embracing and laughing moments earlier returned to the faces of commanders.
A command tent was already being raised where Aguda stood.
Its location near the battlefield was deliberate.
A battle ending did not mean the work was over.
In many ways, another kind of work began at that moment.
How far should the fleeing enemy be pursued?
How should prisoners be separated?
Where should the wounded be laid?
How should horses, cattle, wagons, and weapons be collected?
All of it had to be decided.
Clearing a battlefield was also part of war.
At the same time, it was an enormous economic undertaking.
Abandoned wagons held provisions.
Chests contained silk and silver vessels.
Horses and cattle would become strength for the next campaign.
Broken spears and discarded armor could be repaired and used again.
Weapons taken from the dead, horses abandoned by fugitives, tents, and even fodder all became the property of the army.
That was why Aguda had established his command tent close to the battlefield.
This was no time to scatter in the intoxication of victory.
The pursuit forces had to continue forward.
The main army had to gather prisoners and spoils.
Each commander had to report his losses.
Now that the Liao emperor's carriage, tents, weapons, and military supplies had fallen into Jin hands, recording and distributing them became part of building the new state.
Youngwoo understood that.
It was good for the younger commanders to laugh and strike one another's shoulders.
It was precious for survivors to look upon one another with bloodied faces and know they were alive.
But the victory at Hubodagang could not end with laughter and dispersal.
Their achievements had to be set in order before Aguda.
It had to be made clear who first shook the Liao center, who held down the wings, and who opened the road toward the emperor's banner.
Those words would become military merit.
Military merit would shape the standing of commanders, the distribution of spoils, and command in the next battle.
The same was true for the Goryeo army.
They had marched far north and arrived at exactly the right moment.
They had pressed between the Liao left wing and center and helped decide the battle.
The same was true for the Balhae troops.
They had only recently submitted, yet they had shed blood opening the road.
Their name also had to be established within the new order.
So now they had to go to the Great Khan's command tent.
There would be time for laughter later.
First, they had to record whose blood and strength had made this victory possible.
There too would be decided who took charge of the prisoners, who distributed the spoils, and who would stand in the next battlefield.
Today's victory became tomorrow's position.
Tomorrow's position became the power to protect people.
So now they had to go to the Great Khan's command tent.
The laughter could come later.
First, the victory had to be placed within order.
Together, they turned their horses.
The commanders, soaked in blood and dust, rode toward Aguda's headquarters.
The fields of Hubodagang still bore the traces of the rout, and far away the faint hoofbeats of Jin cavalry continued in pursuit.
The laughter of victory gradually faded.
The cold work of putting the battlefield in order had begun.
Aguda summoned the commanders one by one, congratulating them on the victory and praising their efforts.
Chapter 342. Traces of the Rout Across Five Hundred Li
The traces of the rout stretched for five hundred li.
True to the wealth of the Liao Empire, expensive goods lay scattered everywhere.
Many had originally come from Song as annual tribute payments.
After the Chanyuan Covenant, Song sent Liao two hundred thousand bolts of silk and one hundred thousand taels of silver each year.
Officially, the two states had established the courtesy of brotherly kingdoms.
In reality, it was a yearly financial payment Song accepted in order to avoid continued military pressure from Liao.
For Liao, it became a major and stable source of outside revenue, especially useful in governing the Han territories of the Southern Administration and maintaining control over the northern tribes.
First, the silk and silver were used for the imperial house and the consumption of the nobility.
The Liao elite were steppe aristocrats, yet they had also adopted much of Chinese court culture.
Silk was well suited for the clothing of the emperor, empress, imperial clan, nobles, and senior officials, as well as imperial gifts and ceremonial supplies.
Liao also imported goods such as silk, tea, and medicine from Song, while exporting horses, sheep, pearls, and iron blades in return.
Second, the annual payments were used as gifts and political rewards.
The Khitan Empire was not a state that moved by the emperor alone.
The imperial clan, the empress's clan, Khitan nobles, tribal chiefs, Han officials, and Balhae factions all had to be continually rewarded, reassured, and bound to the throne.
Silk and silver were ideal for rewarding generals who had distinguished themselves, winning over tribal leaders, and displaying imperial authority during marriages, banquets, sacrifices, and investitures.
The annual tribute was one of the means by which the Liao emperor purchased loyalty.
Third, it funded the army and the frontier.
Silver could be paid directly to soldiers or used to purchase horses, weapons, grain, and fodder.
Silk was more than cloth in that age.
It was also a high-value medium of exchange.
In practical terms, it functioned as money.
When silver and silk were distributed to distant frontier commanders and tribal forces, they became payment for military service and loyalty.
Even though Liao controlled the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun and collected taxes from the Han agricultural lands around Nanjing, Song's annual payments remained a separate and dependable stream of external wealth.
Fourth, they helped drive trade and markets.
Within Liao, pastoral and agricultural economies existed side by side.
The grasslands produced horses and sheep.
The southern territories produced grain and handicrafts.
Trade with Song brought in southern goods such as silk, tea, and medicine.
Silk received from Song might be consumed by the aristocracy, redistributed as gifts, or carried farther north and west as trade goods.
Silk was something to wear.
Something to give.
And something to exchange.
The fleeing Liao army abandoned everything along the road.
At first, the heaviest burdens were discarded.
Sacks of provisions rolled from wagons.
Leather bags of fodder tore open and spilled over the red-earth road.
Wagon drivers whipped their horses without even looking back.
Grain poured across the frozen ground and was crushed beneath hooves.
Then came the tents.
Great pavilions used for the emperor's traveling court.
Command tents belonging to generals.
Silk awnings and cords for standards.
All were abandoned beside the road.
Tent poles lay broken across wagons.
Sheets of canvas caught the wind and dragged across the fields.
Long ropes cut loose by fleeing men tangled around the ankles of soldiers and horses, sending those behind sprawling over them.
Weapons followed.
Long spears leaned with their points buried in the dirt.
Shields lay overturned with the leather straps inside snapped apart.
Bowstrings hung loose.
Open quivers filled with dust.
Hwando and Liao sabers abandoned in their scabbards, broken spear shafts, and torn pieces of armor stretched along the red road.
Objects that had protected men moments before now tripped the feet of those trying to escape.
Valuables spilled out as well.
Lacquered chests fell from wagons and shattered.
Silver vessels, belt ornaments, and rolls of silk tumbled from within.
Decorations from the imperial carriage, metal harness fittings, painted stirrups and saddles, perfume pouches, and document cases scattered across the earth.
Objects wrapped in yellow silk caught on roadside shrubs.
Bundles tied in red cord burst beneath horses' hooves.
The majesty Liao had accumulated over decades now lay scattered in the form of objects.
The fleeing soldiers looked back at them, their eyes wavering.
Only yesterday, they would have risked their lives to protect those things.
The emperor's tents.
A general's chest.
Provisions and weapons.
Silver and silk.
But the moment the hoofbeats of the Jin army drew closer from behind, all of it became nothing more than weight.
Men cut the belts around their waists.
They tore armor from their shoulders.
They even threw away the shields in their hands.
The desire to live overcame rank, dignity, and duty alike.
The Jin followed behind.
When the Jurchen cavalry first saw what lay scattered across the road, their eyes flashed.
The silver and silk that Song was said to have sent every year now lay spilled over the roads of Liao.
Silk once worn by the Liao imperial family and aristocracy.
Silver once bestowed upon tribal chiefs to purchase their loyalty.
Metal ornaments that had decorated the saddles of commanders.
All of it rolled through the dust.
To Jurchens who had lived by horses and bows in poor mountains and plains, the sight was both proof of victory and repayment for old grievances.
One soldier gave a short laugh at the sight of a bundle of silk.
Another kicked a silver vessel aside as he rode forward.
Spoils lay everywhere before them, yet the cavalry at the front did not stop.
Aguda's command still held.
First break the enemy completely.
Drive the emperor's banner farther away.
The silver and silk could wait.
For now, the fleeing Liao army had to be driven on.
Even so, the sight heated the hearts of the Jin soldiers.
These objects had been part of Liao's strength.
With that silk, they held banquets.
With that silver, they appeased tribal chiefs.
With those provisions, they endured winter campaigns.
Liao had used such wealth to bind people to itself, enforce commands, and keep the Jurchens beneath its power.
Now that wealth lay abandoned on the road.
The strength of Liao was being trampled beneath the feet of Liao soldiers themselves.
The troops following behind assigned men to gather the spoils.
Wagons and horses were separated from provisions and weapons.
Silk and silver vessels were collected separately.
Even broken armor was gathered.
Intact bows and arrows were taken.
Horses and cattle were led away and marked.
Prisoners were bound and assembled apart from the rest.
A battlefield was a place where bloodshed ended.
It was also a storehouse for the next war.
Watching it all, the Jin commanders understood something more deeply.
The emperor of Liao had lost far more than a few lines of soldiers.
He had abandoned his carriage and tents.
His provisions and weapons.
His silver and silk.
His horses and cattle.
And even the hearts of the men who had once gathered beneath his banner.
That day at Hubodagang, Jin defeated its enemy.
At the same time, it saw with its own eyes what had sustained the Liao Empire.
A single silver vessel rolling in the dust.
A torn length of silk.
A riderless horse.
Each of them told the same story