Chapter 1

"Is this a dream? This isn't real, this is a dream, it's not real..."

Chen Guodong muttered to himself, then suddenly closed his eyes and opened them again. The morning light was generous, shining brightly and causing a slight pain in his eyes. Before him stretched a vast, endless wasteland, flat like a tabletop, with no trees in sight, only various low green plants swaying gently in the wind. The silence around him was suffocating, with no sound of insects chirping or animals moving. The only sound was a deep, powerful breathing, as if thousands of people were exhaling softly.

Amidst this breathing, a piercing horn suddenly cut through the sky. Chen Guodong lifted his head sharply and looked straight ahead. His eyes immediately stiffened, revealing a look of despair and helplessness.

In the distance, at the horizon where the sky and earth met, several white banners suddenly appeared, followed by pointed helmets, then the faces and bodies beneath the helmets, and the warhorses they rode. Due to the distance, Chen Guodong couldn't see the features of their faces, but he could clearly see the black leather armor they wore, which covered them from the neck down, and even their warhorses were clad in armor.

Each of these armored horsemen held a long spear, the metal tips glinting coldly in the sunlight. From a distance, they looked like a forest of spears. Silently and slowly, they advanced toward Chen Guodong.

There were so many horsemen, continuously appearing on the horizon, then changing formation to form one cavalry phalanx after another, extending to both sides of the plain and quickly covering the entire land. Everywhere he looked, there were fluttering banners and spear-wielding knights, majestic and invincible.

'The Northern Barbarians! They are the cavalry of the Northern Barbarians!'

A voice in Chen Guodong's heart shouted, filled with fear, resentment, and sorrow. Then a trembling image appeared in his mind.

First, a towering wave roared toward him, as if it would crush him completely! Then the scene changed rapidly, becoming countless armored horsemen, brandishing spears and sabers, shouting and charging forward! Next, the ground quickly receded and then rushed toward him again... Finally, a beautiful ancient girl with bright red eyes looked at him tenderly.

"This isn't a dream, this is real, this isn't a dream, it's real, this is a穿越重生 (穿越 means '穿越' and 重生 means 'rebirth'), this is actually real, but this isn't scientific..."

Chen Guodong continued to mutter to himself, as if he had encountered the most unscientific and incredible miracle in human history—soul transmigration.

"Who am I? Who am I..." he suddenly shouted loudly.

"Second Master! Second Master, what's wrong with you? Wake up, this is a battlefield..." A familiar yet strange voice sounded in Chen Guodong's ear.

Chen Guodong turned his head and saw a dark, thin face with a snub nose and triangular eyes, filled with worry and urgency.

"Second Master, don't scare me. If anything happens to you, how will I explain to the master?" The face spoke in a heavily accented Chinese dialect that Chen Guodong couldn't immediately place, but he could understand it.

"Who am I? Tell me, who am I?" Chen Guodong spoke in the same dialect.

The face twisted and sighed heavily, "You are Chen Dexing, the training officer of the Central Army of the Wu Rui Army of the Great Song, with the courtesy name Qingzhi, from Anfeng Army in Huai'an, holding the rank of Chengxin Lang, a ninth-rank official, twenty years old, born on the third day of the ninth month of the second year of the Jiayi era of the Great Song..." He had said this many times over the past three days.

"What year is it now?" Chen Guodong asked again.

"It is the ninth month of the sixth year of the Baoyou era of the Great Song..."

"The sixth year of the Baoyou era of the Great Song, that is..." Chen Guodong muttered in a barely audible voice, "So, I really have transmigrated! Why? Why me?"

"Second Master, wake up! The battle is about to start! You can't be like this..." The face was almost in tears.

At that moment, a dull drumbeat suddenly sounded, and a dense forest of spears appeared on the horizon again.

This time, however, the spear bearers were not horsemen but black leather-armored infantry, emerging from the gaps in the cavalry phalanxes and forming one tightly packed infantry formation after another on the plain. If you looked closely, you would see that not all the infantry held spears; some carried round shields and longbows. Banners embroidered with Chinese characters flew in front of these infantry formations, and Chen Guodong focused for a moment and recognized the characters "Zhang," "Li," "Dong," "Yan," "Shi," and "Xiao."

'These are the Han military governors of the Northern Barbarians, aiding the tyrants and deserving the most hatred!' A voice in Chen Guodong's heart spoke, filled with hatred. 'Kill them all, kill them all...'

"Men, the Chancellor has ordered: today's battle concerns the fate of the Great Song. I swear to stand or fall with Yangzhou. I hope all of you will fight bravely and not辜负 (辜负 means 'disappoint') the emperor's grace and the people's support!" Several loud voices shouted together, apparently conveying the Chancellor's orders. Chen Guodong didn't know who this Chancellor was.

The name that suddenly appeared in his mind made his jaw almost drop to the ground: Jia Sidao! The Grand Secretary of the Duanming Hall, Deputy Chancellor, Chief of the Privy Council, Grand Commissioner of the Two Huai, Governor of Yangzhou, and Duke of Linhai, Jia Sidao! The same Jia Sidao who, according to history, was uneducated and responsible for the downfall of the Great Song, the notorious cricket chancellor...

"The Chancellor has ordered: those who die in battle today will be granted a hundred guan in paper money!"

"Agreed!" It seemed countless soldiers shouted in unison.

Chen Guodong looked around in a daze. On his side, there were indeed countless soldiers in scale armor, forming equally tight formations. These formations consisted of shield bearers, spear bearers, archers, crossbowmen, and axe bearers. At the front were shield bearers with large shields, followed by two rows of kneeling spear bearers, each holding a four-meter-long spear resting on the shield's edge, pointing slightly upward. Behind the spear bearers were three rows of archers, each with a longbow and two quivers of arrows. Behind the archers were three rows of crossbowmen, using the famous Song Dynasty weapon, the repeating crossbow. Behind the crossbowmen was a row of axe bearers, their large axes gleaming, ready to cut down not only the enemy but also any Song soldiers who tried to flee.

"The Chancellor has ordered: anyone who retreats without orders will be executed without mercy!"

"The Chancellor has ordered: for every Northern Barbarian head taken, one rank will be promoted, three heads for two ranks, six heads for three ranks, ten heads for four ranks, fifteen heads for five ranks... up to the rank of Wugong Lang!"

"The Chancellor has ordered: for every head of a Northern Barbarian Han military governor taken, fifty guan in paper money will be granted, three heads for one rank, six heads for two ranks, ten heads for three ranks, fifteen heads for four ranks... up to the rank of Wugong Lang!"

"Agreed!" The Song soldiers on the battlefield shouted in unison, clearly finding Jia Sidao's rewards very attractive.

Chen Guodong, or rather, Chen Dexing, now gathered his thoughts. He was a senior officer of a Chinese shipping company in the 21st century, the second mate of a Panamax bulk carrier, a man in his middle age with a successful career and a happy family. If not for the sudden tsunami in the Bermuda Triangle, he would have already arrived at the Port of New Orleans in the United States. Now, whether he liked it or not, he had been living in the late Southern Song Dynasty for three days and had been brought to the battlefield in a daze.

A heavy suit of armor, made of countless iron plates, was now on his body, and a shiny iron helmet was on his head. He felt a heavy weight on his back, which he vaguely remembered was a family heirloom sword. In his right hand, he held a longbow, and two quivers of arrows were at his waist. He was in the leftmost position of the first row of archers in an infantry formation, and the tall, thin man who called him "Second Master" stood beside him, dressed the same way.

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