Shao Song - Vol 2.4 Chapter 20

The King Wei and the fourth prince Wanyan Wushu had a dream at night.

In the dream, the person who won the Huaishang battle became him. Zhao Guan’s family escaped from Jiankang and abandoned the city. He followed the south across the river, biting each step, and then chasing to Lin’an and Mingzhou. Chase out of the sea. Seeing that the corners of Emperor Zhao Song’s clothes were about to fall into his hands, he escaped! The only thing left is that he was seasick and subverted in the sea and sighed…The heavy unwillingness and frustration in the dream swept Wushu, causing him to sink continuously and sink to the bottom of the sea. This even turned into despair.

Even in a whimsical dream, he still failed to catch him…

A burst of crying power exploded on Wu Shu’s scalp like a burst of sky light. His eyelids trembled, he opened his eyes suddenly, and found that he was cold all over, his forehead and chest were dripping wet, and there was only his rough panting in the room.

Outside the dilapidated window, the night is dark and moonless, but Wu Shu’s heart is bored and anxious, like a bottle of wine pouring over and over in his heart. For several consecutive nights, he dreamed of the big buns more and more, and when he woke up, he could often hear the sobbing of the soldiers. He almost became a frightened bird, as if in the next second, the symbol of the Zhao official family would be surrounded by the army, rushing from the horizon like a black and white tide, overtaking him and engulfing him.

In poor dreams, he successfully crossed the river under Huai, and searched the mountains and seas all the way. The prospects were great, but he couldn’t catch up with the Zhao official family. It seemed… this was destined! His desire to destroy the Southern Song Dynasty’s ambitions is destined to be a spectacle.

Thinking of this, Wu Shu didn’t feel the tears. It seemed that the cold wind outside the window was also grieving with him, and for a while, even the buttocks behind him felt a faint pain.

But it is impossible for him to know how to tell people how to tell people about this inexplicable sadness and dead end of the hero. Wu Shu held his head in the middle of the night, but felt a splitting headache and impetuous heart. Think that the Dajin Kingdom destroyed the Liao in ten years after its army and the Song Dynasty in two years. Three successive emperors were captured as slaves and captured the ground. The dignified generation of big countries went to dynasty, with a vast territory and a large number of students. How could the Jurchen, who has always been invincible, look like this now? What are they inferior to the weak and untrustworthy Song Dynasty?

Now, what step did he do wrong in which battle?

Everything shouldn’t be like this, Wu Shu feels unbelievable in the dark, and can’t help thinking about it, something must have happened…

The young Zhao official’s house.

Many years ago, when Wu Shu met King Kang, who represented the Song Dynasty for peace talks, in his second brother Zongwangjun outside the city of Bianjing for the first time, he felt that he was nothing like a descendant of the Zhao family. Faced with the golden soldiers, the prime minister Zhang Bangchang next to him was so scared that he wept bitterly, but he didn’t change his face and faced him coldly. Angrily, the second brother Zongwang said that the Song people were cunning, and he might have sent a fake prince to deal with us.

Since Huai Shang, this Zhao official family, who is not like his father and brother, has been fighting against his Wushu again and again, and resisted everything rigidly. He doesn’t look like a Zhao at all!

Thinking of the Zhao official’s house, who almost got it and flew away a few years ago, now he has gone from suffering from scabies to being a confidant. But his Daikin looked like a fate, and his luck was reversed and he turned sharply all the way.

And where did his Daikin lose? Why violent prosperity, and why violent death?

This night, Wu Shu held his face painfully and anxiously, a cold star shining on the ground, but the darkness swallowed him. In the end, he Wanyan Zongbi, what is worse than that of Zhao Song’s official family? Was he slightly inferior to the frivolous man, or did his subordinates and Tiefutu weakened him? Is it the Jurchen aristocracy’s unity, not more than intrigue in the court, or is it insufficient to reward the subordinates, wealth, and beauties?

In fact, during these days of rushing for life in the daytime and having trouble sleeping at night, Wu Shu has been looking around the court repeatedly, thinking about this question, but the more he thought about it, the more puzzled he was. I have to use “Ji Sheng Yu, He Sheng Liang”, and the hero is always the hero.

If it was Wu Shu’s question that Zhao Guanjia heard, Xu Ye would have to laugh for a while.

Zhao Jiu will tell Wu Shu that the answer is not in the court he has been around, nor in the former “Emperor’s Village”, and now the Huining Mansion of Shangjing. The real answer lies at the feet of Wu Shu’s disdain, on the blood-stained and black land and the white bones of the Li people in the ground. The answer lies in the anger of thousands of Han people who have been slaughtered in the city and slaughtered by the flames of war, and the roar and hatred of the wailing of the people.

Wushu can’t see this invisible human power. In fact, it is not just Wushu, most people in Zhao Jiu’s court often can’t see this weak power.

But Zhao Jiu knew well that it might be broken up again and again into sorrowful tears, but it would not disappear. It always grows in the most humble muddy ground, in the heart of the weakest muddy legs. They will also hate, love, cry and laugh, and this power will grow stubbornly from the damp and dry loess and black ground after a few years, decades, or hundreds of years. The people above, such as Wu Shu, the ministers and ministers like him Zhao Jiu, may have forgotten the blood, or may disdain to say that Qianshou is foolish and unknowable. But Zhao Jiu was different after all. He was not a Zhao clan’s concubine raised by the hand of a brooding woman. He also grew out of the mud in the past.

But it is ridiculous to ask Wushu with this kind of question. After all, Wu Shu was only a nobleman born in a barbarian tribe. From his birth to fifteen years old, he followed his father A Gu Da to join the army. What he saw was the shaman in the tribe who made human skulls into wine vessels. Wushu’s name also means head in Jurchen language. In his world, people are either slaves to two-legged sheep or masters of wolves.

However, wolves eat meat after all. It is also because wolves can never see meat.

Today in the daytime, when Wu Shu hurriedly pushed the young lord onto his horse, he heard that he was drunk and crying bitterly: “Uncle Emperor, Daikin is going to die…” He almost fell off his horse. Thinking about coming in the middle of the night is even more chilling.

This is actually their master. He was supposed to be the grandson of Aguda and the son of the proud Sirius, but he actually said: “Dajin can’t go south again”.

Wushu is very regretful. If Zonghan had never been killed, and the big gold war **** was still alive, how could it be embarrassing today, and how could it allow the Han people to be arrogant on the battlefield.

He wrote down and said that he was offering a reward of 30,000 gold for the head of Han Yue and Wu Zhang. He didn’t know that Yue Fei had heard about it, but Zhang Bang said, “Three levels of money to buy the head of Jinwushu”. Wu Shu felt that everyone around him was looking at his neck for a while. com couldn’t help but clenched the sabre wherever he went.

It was late at night, Wu Shu reluctantly closed his eyes again, vaguely in his dream, he once again saw himself vigorously proclaiming that “searching the mountains and the sea is complete”, burning Hangzhou City, and returning home with the gold and silver treasures, he went back to Huining. House. However, the spirit of the dream did not take long, and it quickly changed again, as if it had to reflect the reality of bleak defeat.

He first dreamed of Han Shizhong chasing him fiercely, Wu Xiaowu broke the Iron Buddha in the land of Jingxiang, and then Yue Fei…Then, it was in Yue Fei’s hands that he was defeated once, again, and again with a halberd. From Licheng to Yingchang, to Zhuxian Town… No matter what Wushu tried his best to deal with, defeat and fight again, fight and defeat again. The breathless suffering in reality seemed to penetrate the dream… Wu Shu opened Tongling-like eyes in horror. He sat up suddenly and put on a white robe. Subconsciously stretched out his hand to grab the saber beside him, but threw himself empty.

Wu Shu was stunned, and remembered that before going to bed, he had put the saber humiliated by the enemy Yue Fei on the table. He quickly stood up, reached for it, held it in his hand, and couldn’t help but sit down and put the cold sword on the table. On the knee.

Being so restless for a long time, he slowly withdrew his sword. A drop of tears suddenly dripped from Wu Shu’s pale face.

In the early morning, on the distant horizon, a white and black shadow appeared, like a silent tide, slowly rolling in with the morning glow.

A ray of light broke through the dull night sky.

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