Chapter Thirty: The Beastmen Arrive

The Anglian Empire was the first to establish a mobilization system. Being just a rather large island, its population was naturally small, numbering only a few million. Under a backward feudal regime, they could scarcely muster even a hundred thousand troops. However, after the collapse of the Dwarven Empire and the full assimilation of advanced technology, Anglia, having been little influenced by the Radiant God, was the first to develop a comprehensive industrial base. This surge in national strength led to a dramatic increase in the production of flintlock weapons. Once these simple firearms—which could be operated after merely three months of peasant training—were widely issued, the Anglian leadership realized that, in future wars, manpower would be the crucial factor determining victory or defeat. Of course, this was before the Anglians suffered a thorough thrashing at the hands of the Holy Knights.

A primitive mobilization system was thus established in the Anglian Empire, essentially a carrot-and-stick policy that used money and increased taxation to prod civilians into military service.

The pay and benefits for Anglian soldiers were significantly raised. Still afraid to enlist? Very well, if you refuse, you’ll be taxed more! Any household with more than two able-bodied adults not serving in the army had to pay an additional war tax. The Anglian officials were not about to miss such an opportunity for profit, and under their greed, most ordinary families were forced to send at least one man into the military.

Thus, Anglia successfully raised an army of over a hundred thousand, and in the subsequent decade of civil wars among humankind, they dealt heavy blows to the natives of Gold Continent and the people of Madrid.

Likewise, after the war ended, Anglia, having gained the vast Foneybo region—far larger than its homeland—continued to uphold its traditions, even intensifying its mobilization efforts. Franknia and Madrid, witnessing this success, soon followed suit. As for the Moris Empire, it had already adopted such a mobilization mechanism during its resistance against the High Elf invasion, bolstered by a sense of racial justice that made their cause all the more righteous and inspiring. Across the Europa continent, apart from the dominion of the Radiant God, the common folk, even after peace returned, once again found themselves burdened by heavy conscription.

Of course, the fate of the Europa masses mattered not a whit to Sun Li; even if he wanted to care, he’d first have to see if those powerful nations’ military might could be challenged.

The Great Song Empire under Sun Li’s rule was far more unusual than any of the Europa states: twenty thousand regular troops, some twenty thousand civilians, and hundreds of thousands of orcs—half of whom were not under direct control—yielded a human military-to-civilian ratio of one to one.

To the native humans of this world, this was nothing short of a miracle—a miracle the kings of Europa could only dream of possessing. With such a ratio, raising an army of several million to sweep across the continent would be a trivial task.

Only a ruler like Sun Li, supported by a system artifact and maintaining an army with astonishingly low expenses, could afford such a military-to-civilian ratio. Absolute loyalty, naturally, was also indispensable.

However, Sun Li had also recognized the enormous hidden danger in this ratio. Though food and drink were not an issue, normal men have their physiological needs! With twenty thousand troops cooped up in barracks where even the mosquitoes were all male, not even Sun Li could guarantee how much longer these men could restrain themselves.

Thus, aside from constant training to burn off excess energy, going to war to gather more civilian recruits had become Sun Li’s top priority. He had no desire to see his army turn into a band of hooligans from prolonged pent-up frustration.

Fortunately, with strict discipline and Sun Li’s towering prestige, no bizarre harassment incidents had occurred within the Song realm.

Once Sun Li had sorted out domestic affairs and military organization, the head of the Embroidered Guards, Gestapo, brought news that the Orc Emperor Mansmasher was once again assembling an army supposedly a million strong (though only the gods knew the real number), marching towards them.

To these lovable orcs who had come of their own accord to provide an outlet for his army’s energy, Sun Li responded with great enthusiasm, immediately gathering his forces and setting out to intercept them on their route, determined to fight a proper pitched battle. He would let these backward savages witness firsthand the might of technology, and in the process, rack up more points to strive for the rank of Grand Knight at one million points. This, after all, was Sun Li’s true aim.

Sun Li knew well that once the Orc Emperor Mansmasher was destroyed, there would be no more organized, “advanced” orc forces left on the southern continent. No matter how backward their weapons or how slow-witted their minds, their courage in battle was still worthy of respect—the one thing orcs could truly be proud of, or so Sun Li believed.

After he had advanced into the gunpowder era and swept through distant tribes never ruled by the Orc Empire, Sun Li found that, at the first volley of musket fire, these tribal orcs either surrendered or fled, displaying not a shred of courage. He found this disappointing—there was not even a chance to rack up points. This was Sun Li’s chief complaint against the orc tribes.

He thus understood all too well that, once this orc force was destroyed, the opportunity to gain points from orcs would be virtually gone.

As for sparing this orc army, after all, they were now at his doorstep, bent on a fight to the death. Was Sun Li, the great Emperor of Song, supposed to cower in his palace?

Moreover, Sun Li saw no value in negotiating with stubborn orcs. For these muscle-bound fools, the best method was to defeat them, eliminate their opposition, and have them obediently contribute to the construction of Song.

With this resolve, Sun Li did not hesitate for a moment. He was determined to annihilate these insolent orc invaders and see whether sheer numbers could offset the advances of civilization and technology. To that end, he diverted all recent gold mine production into manufacturing a corps of Napoleonic artillery.

The accursed system had set the cost of artillery crews higher than the cannons themselves. A six-pounder was already expensive enough! When Sun Li protested, the system’s AI, Xiaobai, merely retorted:

“You must understand, not everyone is qualified to handle artillery. Though firing a cannon is not difficult, striking the enemy without blasting your own troops is a profound art! In the Napoleonic era, artillery was a technical arm, highly prized. That the cost of training a crew should exceed that of the gun itself is only natural—personnel value is dictated by the difficulty of their training. I hope you recognize this principle!”

Very well, Sun Li was only venting. Pricey or not, at least these artillerymen had good aim. Given the dismal accuracy of cannons in this age, such skill already made them elite by any standard.

Thus, Sun Li finally assembled forty Napoleonic six-pounders and, brimming with confidence, led his twenty-thousand-strong army to meet the orcs head-on, ready to let this backward race taste the wonders of technological might.