In the Palace of Insight within the imperial compound of Bianliang, a perpetual air of despondent decay seemed to linger, like a shadow that time itself could not dispel.
Behind a magnificently carved imperial desk sat Zhao Huan, the emperor of the Song dynasty, his brow tightly furrowed in evident distress.
He was a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven, whose features bore the handsome refinement inherited from his father, Emperor Huizong. Yet, he lacked the youthful vigor and resolute spirit expected of a sovereign. His complexion was pallid, lips bloodless, and eyes dim with exhaustion. Beneath his crimson robes, his figure was emaciated and frail, entirely devoid of majesty. In short, he looked every inch unworthy of his station — less a ruler, and more a shadow of one. Indeed, he appeared even more pitiable than his artist-emperor father.
By all accounts, Emperor Qinzong, who had only recently ascended the throne, was not a man of decisive character. Born in the deep recesses of the palace and reared under the care of women, his education had been steeped in poetry and moral essays rather than governance or strategy. Though eloquent and refined in manners, he was but an amateur in statecraft and military matters — and yet fate had thrust him into an era of unprecedented calamity.
— It was as if Hu Shi had been placed in Chiang Kai-shek's role to lead the resistance against the Japanese invasion — a scholar caught in the tempest of war and betrayal.
The first year of the Jingkang era had already seen a cascade of disasters: the ferocious and relentless Jurchen cavalry, the utterly incompetent and repeatedly defeated Song armies, the unmanageable cabal of ministers and scholars, the meddling retired emperor, and the scheming royal siblings — all of whom had nearly driven this fragile scholar-emperor to madness. All he wished was to abdicate responsibility, shut himself away, and see no one, hear nothing. Yet the throne bound him still.
And so, he was forced to summon his last vestiges of strength to confront the steadily worsening tide of war.
Since the previous autumn, the ruthless Jin invaders had swept across the northern territories like a scythe through grain, becoming the greatest nightmare of the Song court.
In October of the preceding year, the Jin launched their first incursion into the Central Plains. Guo Yaoshi and other traitorous Liao generals, once stationed in Youzhou, once again betrayed their allegiance and sided with the Jin. The Jurchen cavalry then ravaged Hebei, their superior mobility and ferocity swiftly dismantling the Song's front-line defenses. Military forces stationed east of the Taihang Mountains and north of the Yellow River were devastated in large-scale annihilations.
Within two short months, from Hebei to Shandong, flames of war spread like wildfire. The entire front collapsed, leaving only the isolated city of Taiyuan holding out in grim defiance. The artist-emperor Huizong was so terrified he abdicated in panic, fleeing south to Jianghuai, and hastily passed the throne to Zhao Huan. Before the disoriented court could even devise a strategy, the Jin forces appeared at the gates of Bianliang. One can only imagine the sheer terror and helplessness that gripped the long-pampered citizens of the capital, confronted for the first time with the specter of foreign conquest.
Fortunately, it was in this hour of peril that loyal subjects saw their moment to rise. Armies from across the realm marched to the defense of the capital with great fanfare, as if united in common cause against the invaders. Yet the results were tragically underwhelming.
In the First Battle of Bianliang, the Song court mustered all available resources: Western troops, imperial guards, volunteer militias — over six hundred thousand men in total came to the city's aid. But they were routed by a mere sixty thousand Jin soldiers, who crushed them across a two-hundred-kilometer radius around the capital. Crippled or dispersed, the once-mighty forces of the Song were decimated. In despair, Emperor Qinzong was left with no recourse but to bribe the enemy with vast sums in exchange for their withdrawal — thus narrowly surviving the calamity of early spring in the first year of Jingkang.
Thereafter, though the Song court barely regained its footing, it retained a vestige of its celestial pride and refused to concede defeat. Like a gambler maddened by loss, it hurled every ounce of remaining strength into the fray. Generals such as Zong Shidao, Yao Gu, and Zong Shizhong were summoned from the northwest to reinforce the front lines in Hedong and Hebei, throwing the last chips onto the blood-soaked table in a desperate bid to reclaim Taiyuan.
Alas, the new emperor awaited only one defeat after another.
— In May, Yao Gu reached Weisheng, only to flee in panic upon hearing of the Jin general Wanyan Zonghan's approach, plunging Hedong into turmoil. The Song's defensive line along the Taihang range collapsed entirely. In August, Zhang Hao was routed at Wenshui. Days later, Wanyan Wolibu abandoned his attack on Guangxin and Baozhou and instead turned toward Zhen Ding. Commander Zhang Sizheng's nighttime assault scored a minor victory, but he was soon defeated again, with tens of thousands slain and Sizheng fleeing to Fenzhou. General Zhe Keqiu's forces were routed at Zixia Mountain. Civilians from Weisheng to Longde and Zezhou fled south across the Yellow River, leaving towns deserted. The Jin pressed on and captured Taiyuan in September, taking Zhang Xiaochun captive and killing other officials. Thus, the Hedong front — modern-day Shanxi — collapsed completely, and the Song faced an ever-deteriorating strategic crisis.
With the fall of Taiyuan and the annihilation of tens of thousands of elite Song troops, Bianliang lay exposed to the advancing Jin armies. In October, Fenzhou fell, its defenders perishing bravely. Soon after, the enemy took Pingyang, Weisheng, Longde, Zezhou, and other vital strongholds. The Song's room to maneuver shrank with every defeat.
In November, the Jin once more crossed the Yellow River. The twelve thousand troops stationed there disintegrated at the mere sound of war drums. Bianliang was encircled once again, and the once-mighty Song empire teetered on the brink of ruin.
Thus, in the very first year of his reign, Emperor Qinzong found himself compelled to defend the capital for the second time.
Yet the city's plight was now worse than ever. The Hedong provinces had all fallen or surrendered; Hebei retained only scattered remnants. The armies outside Bianliang posed no threat to the invaders. Forces dispatched by loyalist regions had been recalled by treacherous peace factions, leaving the capital utterly isolated.
Worse than the military defeats was the collapse of morale.
…
There is a modern analogy that aptly illustrates this: The forty-year Cold War between the U.S. and the USSR was, at its core, a psychological struggle. Once the Soviet people lost faith in their ability to triumph over the United States, even their vast and formidable military could not prevent internal disintegration.
— So too with the Song. Once emperor, officials, and commoners alike were gripped by despair and lost all confidence in victory, even the most impregnable city walls could not guarantee salvation.
Before the invasion, the citizens of Bianliang were proud. The Song, after all, was the most prosperous and cultured nation of its time. Bianliang was the jewel of the world, a metropolis brimming with poetry, art, and elegance. This civilizational self-assurance was deeply ingrained — akin to the future reverence afforded to America as the "beacon of the world."
Though not as dominant as Han or Tang dynasties, the Song people still retained a sense of cultural superiority — perhaps more akin to post–World War II Europe, conscious of their illustrious past and still believing themselves the heart of the world.
But the catastrophic defeats of the Jingkang era shattered these illusions. The citizens of Bianliang were forced to face an unbearable truth: the mighty Song empire was little more than a decorative pillow — splendid on the surface, but stuffed with straw.
In the first siege, many believed defeat stemmed from corrupt ministers and the chaos of imperial transition. They had faith that once the new emperor settled into power and loyal generals like Li Gang, Wu Min, and Zong Shidao took command, the Song would surely rally and avenge its shame.
But reality defied all expectations. The court dispatched every available force to Taiyuan, only to see them defeated by a mere twenty thousand Jin troops under the young general Wanyan Yingge. Zong Shizhong fell, Zhe Keqiu was routed, Zhang annihilated, Zong Shimin killed, Yao Gu defeated, and Zong Shidao succumbed to illness. The last military hope, Li Gang, was exiled. The Song's defeats were beyond humiliating.
When the enemy returned to the capital's doorstep, the citizens of Bianliang finally awoke to the grim truth: no number of purges or patriotic appointments could reverse their fate.
No one knew what to do. The entire city was engulfed in fear and hopelessness, as if the end of the world had arrived.
— Fires raged through the once-glorious city. Crowds surged through the streets in chaos. Countless families, desperate to flee, rushed toward the city gates, only to be turned back by martial law. They cried, they screamed, they ran in circles — and Bianliang descended into unbridled turmoil.
Faced with this second siege, Zhao Huan fared no better. At times he was paralyzed with terror, yearning to flee the capital. At other moments, he boasted of exterminating the Jin. His mind seemed unhinged, veering into madness.
In truth, he wished to escape, but how could he abandon the ancestral temple? The guards' families were all within the city. Were he to force them to flee with him, the entire army might mutiny on the spot.
As the emperor wavered and the court bickered, Bianliang stood on the brink of collapse under the Jin onslaught.
A weak-willed, vacillating monarch — in such an age of chaos — was a figure both pathetic and contemptible.
In this atmosphere of utter despair, charlatans like Guo Jing found a golden opportunity. Proclaimed a Daoist master, he was treated as a savior by the emperor and commoners alike. Lavished with praise and honors, he promised miracles, and few dared question him.
Some rational-minded officials tried to sound the alarm: "This man, once a mere commoner, has ascended to command through sorcery and trade. His methods are laughable. He leads troops as if playing at war. Though the wise are alarmed, the foolish believe they have found salvation. The populace is restless, rumors abound, and the army teeters on the edge of disorder."
Their concerns were reasonable — but ultimately futile.
They underestimated the desperation of the human heart. In such darkness, people will cling to any glimmer of hope — even a false one. No one, from nobles to beggars, was immune.
— In despair, there is either revolt or madness: sometimes both.
Thus, Emperor Qinzong dismissed all protest and placed his hopes in the arcane arts of Daoist "immortals."
In true history, Guo Jing's so-called "Six Jia Divine Soldiers" failed, leading directly to the fall of the capital and the infamous humiliation of the Jingkang Incident.
But in this altered timeline, in this world distorted by time travelers, the soul now inhabiting Guo Jing's body delivered a miracle.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Rejoice! Rejoice!"
A palace eunuch burst into the throne room, breathless with excitement. "Immortal Guo has just performed a ritual at the East Water Gate. First, he dispersed the snowstorm and summoned clear skies — then he conjured a great stone that repelled the Jin invaders! The people are rejoicing! Heaven has blessed our great Song!"
"Is this true?" Zhao Huan sprang from his desk, and sure enough, sunlight streamed in from beyond the palace steps.
— Though the situation on the walls remained uncertain, the golden rays bathing the marble were undeniable.
All doubt vanished from the emperor's heart, replaced by an overwhelming surge of joy.
"Quick! Summon Immortal Guo at once! Such divine powers cannot be ignored. I must learn the secrets of the Dao from him!"