I summon all the famous generals in history in another world

Chapter 1481 Zhide Manchu Mongolian Invasion

If he persists in this course, he may lose the support of the people. Yuzhou is no longer something he can control.

"Food and supplies can be allocated, and refugees can be appeased, but military power must never be handed over."

"If you wish to march north to defend against the enemy, I can provide you with 20,000 troops from various prefectures and counties, along with sufficient provisions and equipment. However, your logistics and supplies must be under my command and you are not allowed to use them without authorization!"

He took a deep breath, slowly bent down to pick up the ledger from the ground, and said in a complicated tone.

Upon hearing this, a glint of light flashed in Zhao Kuangyin's eyes. Although the quality of the 20,000 garrison troops in the prefectures and counties was uneven, it was still better than nothing.

As long as he can head north, he will have his own ways to win over the people and expand his power.

"Okay! I promise you!"

"But I have one condition: the border guards must be under my command, and anyone who disobeys will be punished according to military law!"

Zhao Kuangyin responded in a deep voice.

"Fine, but if you dare to take this opportunity to cause trouble, I will personally lead a large army to suppress you!"

Li Yujing pondered for a moment and then nodded.

Their eyes met, and an invisible spark seemed to fly through the air. The debate in Yulu City temporarily came to an end, but the crisis in Yuzhou had only just begun.

Soon after, the north gate of Yulu City creaked open, and the north wind blew in, carrying snowflakes that pelted Zhao Kuangyin's black armor, making a soft crackling sound.

He had just come out of the prefectural government hall, his brows still showing some fatigue from dealing with Li Yujing, but he could not hide the joy in his eyes. Although the 20,000 prefectural garrison troops could not be considered elite, once they arrived at the military camp, with his years of experience in military command, they would be able to develop some combat strength in less than half a month. When they marched north to resist the Mongol cavalry, it would be the beginning of his true control over the military power of Yuzhou.

The autumn grass outside the city had long since withered and turned yellow, blown by the wind and lying flat on the ground. In the distance, the poplar forest was vigorous and its branches were like iron. You could vaguely see the smoke rising from the edge of the forest—that was the military camp where his remaining troops were stationed. His 20,000 elite troops and more than 30,000 brothers gathered along the way were waiting for him to go and command them.

"General, the poplar forest is just ahead. After passing through this forest, it's another three miles to the camp."

The head of the guards reported in a low voice, his hand on the scimitar at his waist, scanning his surroundings warily. The area around Yulu City had been rather unsettled recently, with Mongol cavalry frequently appearing, so they had no choice but to be cautious.

Zhao Kuangyin nodded, mounted his horse, and placed the dragon-patterned staff horizontally in front of the saddle.

"Speed ​​up, make sure to get to the camp before dark, and pass on my orders that the brothers get a good rest tonight, and we will begin reorganizing the troops first thing tomorrow morning."

No sooner had he finished speaking than his warhorse suddenly pawed at the ground uneasily and snorted.

At the same time, a strange chanting came from deep within the poplar forest. The sound was not loud, but it seemed to have a certain penetrating power. It drifted over with the wind and landed in people's ears, making them feel inexplicably uneasy.

"No! There's an ambush!"

The head of the personal guards' expression changed drastically. He shouted sharply, and dozens of his personal guards immediately formed a circle, protecting Zhao Kuangyin in the middle. Their scimitars and spears were drawn from their sheaths, gleaming coldly.

The chanting grew louder and louder, and accompanied by footsteps, a group of people slowly emerged from the poplar forest.

The leader was a monk wearing a red robe. He was tall and slender with a fair complexion. There was no trace of murderous intent in his eyes. Instead, he exuded a detached tranquility. He was Phagpa, the fifth patriarch of the Sakya school and a Mongolian monk with the strength of a late-stage Celestial being!

He held a string of sandalwood prayer beads in his hand. With each step he took, the beads would turn slightly. He was surrounded by a faint golden halo, seemingly gentle, yet carrying a strong sense of pressure.

To Phagpa's left was an old man in a gray-blue Taoist robe, with a cultivation level of mid-stage Celestial Realm. His face was gloomy and his eyes were slightly narrowed. He was none other than the Hundred Losses Taoist, famous for his Xuanming Divine Palm.

His hands were clasped behind his back, his fingertips faintly bluish-black, and he exuded a chilling aura that seemed to freeze the surrounding air, instantly covering the withered grass beneath his feet with a layer of white frost. To his right stood a burly monk, clad in a yellow robe, with five wheels of different colors—gold, silver, bronze, iron, and lead—hanging at his waist. These wheels, each with a distinct color, gleamed with a heavy metallic sheen. He was also one of the revered figures of the Mongol people, the Golden Wheel Monk, whose strength was at the peak of the Grandmaster level.

He strode forward, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly, his face filled with arrogance as he swept his gaze over Zhao Kuangyin and the others as if they were prey.

Behind the three, dozens of Tantric monks dressed in yellow robes lined up, their hands forming mudras and chanting incantations. Their auras intertwined, forming an invisible aura that made it hard to breathe.

Zhao Kuangyin's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected the Mongols to send so many experts to ambush him, especially the leading Tibetan monk, whose aura was far stronger than any martial arts cultivator he had ever seen.

Phagpa, a late-stage Celestial Being; Bai Sun Daoren, a mid-stage Celestial Being; Jinlun Fawang, a peak Grandmaster; and dozens of Tantric monks with considerable cultivation—this lineup clearly showed their determination to take his life.

"Are you Mongolian monks?"

He gripped the dragon-patterned staff tightly, but remained calm—he had anticipated the Mongols' actions, but hadn't expected them to come so quickly.

“Amitabha, General Zhao, there is no need to ask any more questions. Yuzhou is already in the hands of the Mongols. If you are willing to surrender, this old monk can guarantee your body will be intact.”

Phagpa spoke, his voice gentle yet penetrating, the prayer beads still spinning on his fingertips.

"fart!"

"I, Zhao Kuangyin, have fought half my life and have never been afraid of anyone! If you want my life, you'd better ask the stick in my hand if it agrees!"

Zhao Kuangyin was so angry that he laughed instead, and stood up on his horse with a stick across his body.

"You've got quite the nerve, but unfortunately, you're doomed to die today."

The Taoist Master Bai Sun chuckled sinisterly, his dark blue fingertips slightly raised, and a chilling aura emanated from him towards Zhao Kuangyin.

"Let this old Taoist priest test your skills and see if Zhao Kuangyin's Dragon Staff of the Night Fiend Army is really as powerful as the legends say."

Just then, two figures suddenly flew out from the personal guards behind Zhao Kuangyin, one in green and one in white, like two streaks of light landing in front of him.

The old man in the green robe had a thin face and white hair and beard, but his complexion was ruddy. He was none other than Huang Shang, a late-stage Celestial Realm cultivator and Zhao Kuangyin's trump card. He was originally one of the famous Taoist masters on the Tianwu Continent. He was won over by Zhao Kuangyin after many attempts to win him over. He was Zhao Kuangyin's last trump card in terms of internal energy cultivators.

The white-robed Taoist priest, with a long sword at his waist, was dashing and elegant. He was none other than Wang Chongyang, the leader of a Taoist sect called Quanzhen Sect in Yuzhou, who had been won over by Zhao Kuangyin.

"I have long admired the great master Phagpa of the Sakya school of Tantric Buddhism."

"I have just finished compiling the Daoist classic, the Nine Yin Manual, and I am looking forward to learning a thing or two from the esoteric teachings of the Sakya school."

Huang Shang bowed slightly, his tone indifferent.

“Fellow Daoist Baisun, the Xuanming Divine Palm is extremely insidious and harmful to the harmony of heaven. Today, I will act on behalf of heaven and cripple your insidious martial art.”

Wang Chongyang bowed to Bai Sun Dao Ren, his long sword humming as it was drawn from its sheath, the blade radiating a faint pure yang energy that counteracted the chill emanating from him.

"So it is Master Huang Shang of the Taoist school. I have long heard that you are well-versed in the martial arts of various schools. It is a great honor to be able to spar with you today."

When Phagpa saw Huang Shang, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, which then turned into a knowing smile.

The prayer beads in his hand suddenly stopped spinning, and the golden aura around him suddenly surged, with a powerful Tantric aura spreading out.

(End of this chapter)