CHAPTER 135: CHAPTER 84 ANOTHER YEAR OF AWAITING THE KING’S ARMY_2

"Blind Bei, are you sure we’re not lost?"

Is this the frontier? Is this the frontier? Is this fucking frontier?

It was said that farming wasn’t allowed on the frontier. Yet, the sight of these vast, fertile fields, coupled with the rosy complexions on the faces of the peasant men and women here, was striking. Beifeng Prefecture’s harsh, cold northern climate naturally couldn’t compare. But even the commoners in Yan State’s interior counties like Huwei and Sanshi, or even Tiancheng County, the heart of Yan’s capital region—their lives and surroundings didn’t seem as prosperous as what lay before them.

"My lord, the road, it’s definitely not wrong," Blind Bei replied.

Very well. If the human radar claimed they weren’t lost, Zheng Fan was inclined to believe him.

Consequently, Zheng Fan had no choice but to order,

"Slow the horses! Anyone whose warhorse tramples the crops will be killed without mercy!"

After Zheng Fan issued the command, Siniang reached out to A Ming.

A Ming asked, puzzled,

"What?"

"Lend me your nail clippers first."

"What for?"

"I might need to help My lord cut his hair later."

A Ming was initially perplexed but soon understood. He shared a smile with Siniang but didn’t hand over the nail clippers.

The journey itself had also served as a continuous military drill.

After the first day’s "hellish" experience, these Barbarians harbored a fear of Zheng Fan that was practically seared into their bones. This, combined with Liang Cheng’s expert military training and Blind Bei’s nightly ideological and political indoctrination sessions after setting up camp, had a profound effect. Blind Bei would lead the Barbarian soldiers in recounting their tragic past in the desert: how they were ostracized and suppressed by the large tribes and nobles, their families detained, and they themselves forced to serve as penal battalions—essentially cannon fodder. Every night, the camp echoed with sounds of weeping.

In short, this five-hundred-strong cavalry troop had been successfully integrated. Coupled with the fact that these Barbarians were already skilled in horsemanship and archery, they were truly an elite force.

At Zheng Fan’s command, the cavalry column began to advance slowly along the road.

The nearby farmers showed no fear; some even approached to watch the spectacle. Of course, there was no heartwarming scene of civilians rushing to offer them food and drink.

This left Zheng Fan slightly disappointed. He wondered if, next time he led troops on a march, he should have Blind Bei hire some shills in advance.

These commoners weren’t afraid of soldiers. Passing by with his troops, he felt like a monkey on display.

And because most of Zheng Fan’s troops were Barbarians, whose appearance differed significantly from that of the Yan people, the local commoners’ curiosity was further piqued.

After proceeding for several li, entire villages had apparently heard the news and rushed over to see the novelty. The already narrow road became even more congested.

The history of war between the Yan people and the Barbarians was exceedingly long. However, for the past hundred years, due to the House of the Earl of North Border, the Barbarians had been consistently forced into a passive, beaten state. The Barbarians were long past the days when they could readily invade the Yan heartland, causing alarm and lighting beacon fires throughout the entire Yan State.

Therefore, the local commoners held no significant resentment towards Barbarians.

In their daily lives, they often saw Barbarian merchant caravans, and within the borders of Yan State, Barbarian slaves were also frequently seen.

However, seeing Barbarians clad in standard Yan military armor was indeed a first for them.

Bringing them from the north to their new southern post had caused some ripples. Fortunately, incorporating Barbarians into the military was not uncommon in Yan State. The House of the Earl of North Border itself supported four major surrendered tribes—oh, right, only three remained now.

Furthermore, perhaps it was the intense national pride, born from a century of Yan’s unparalleled military might, that made it so; they didn’t consider employing Barbarians as soldiers to be wrong, nor did it instill any fear in them.

This reminded Zheng Fan of the Great Tang from his other world.

The Tang people were also immensely proud, exceedingly so, which allowed them to readily assimilate foreign peoples into their system, absorbing foreign elites for their own use.

Flip through the Tang Dynasty’s history books, and you’ll find an overwhelming number of Tang military commanders with names that are clearly foreign.

Of course, this was of no consequence when your national destiny was flourishing. But when your national power was in decline, the adage ’those not of our race surely harbor different intentions’ would inevitably be validated.

The night before last, while drinking with Blind Bei, Zheng Fan had even joked about when Yan might also produce an An Lushan.

Then, Blind Bei had simply fixed his white eyes on him. Staring.

Reflect on it. Reflect carefully, was the unspoken message. He, Blind Bei, didn’t know if Yan would produce an An Lushan, but Yan had already produced *me*. An Lushan was a Sogdian; I, Zheng Fan, am not even a person of this world...

"Make way!"

To allow the column to advance, Zheng Fan had to order his Barbarian soldiers to clear the way.

The folk customs of the Yan region were indeed robust, true, but they weren’t all fools. They wouldn’t go so far as to pick a fight with soldiers just to watch a spectacle.

Finally, after what felt like a long two hours on a short stretch of road, Zheng Fan led his troops to his assigned post—Green Willow Fortress.

Then, Zheng Fan felt like he’d gone blind.

A fortress, not a city—Zheng Fan understood that. It was more akin to the forts in Beifeng Prefecture, which varied in size, but this one carried a stronger implication of being directly under official governmental authority than a mere fort.

The ’fortress’ before Zheng Fan’s eyes... If you could still call it a fortress...

Its area was, in fact, not small. At least, it was evident that it *had been* quite large once, easily spacious enough to accommodate over a thousand soldiers for battle without feeling cramped.

But now... its outer walls had clearly collapsed countless years ago, the dilapidated walls overgrown with moss.

As they drew closer, Zheng Fan even saw several Plymouth Rock chickens strutting out from within.