Chapter 1: Rebels Dare to Threaten the Throne
Damn it!
Zhao Ning suddenly sat up in bed, tragically realizing he had become one of the most unfortunate transmigrators in history.
He had transmigrated into the body of Emperor Qinzong of Song, Zhao Huan!
Who was Zhao Huan?
He was the one who, upon learning he was to become emperor, stubbornly refused and eventually fainted in tears in the palace restroom.
His name might not be well-known, but his reign title certainly was.
Jingkang!
Yes, the Song emperor during the infamous Jingkang Disaster!
He was the older brother of the ninth prince, Zhao Gou.
How humiliating was the Jingkang Disaster?
The entire royal family was captured by the Jin forces and taken north, imperial princesses became spoils, and a hundred thousand commoners were driven northward as well.
Afterwards, the Central Plains lay devastated, with starving corpses scattered everywhere.
All this was caused by Emperor Qinzong Zhao Huan and his father, Emperor Huizong Zhao Ji — a truly bizarre father-son pair.
But the problem was, Zhao Ning hadn’t done anything wrong himself, so why did heaven make him transmigrate into Zhao Huan?
Zhao Ning was a 21st-century overworked employee at a financial company who died in a melodramatic car accident on his way home.
Even now, the terrifying image of a large truck barreling toward him lingered in his mind.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he found many unfamiliar memories flooding his mind.
He sighed deeply. Zhao Huan! Bad luck indeed. If you were going to give me a body, why not Liu Che or Li Shimin? Failing that, even Emperor Renzong of Song would have been better.
Zhao Huan faced a situation that was pure hell difficulty!
Over a century since the founding of the Song dynasty, internal interest groups had swelled to an outrageous degree.
The Song dynasty’s treacherous ministers came in waves — scholar-officials, landlord classes — each more parasitic and treacherous than the last!
As he was still groggy, voices came from outside.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty.” The eunuch Wang Huaiji entered the Wende Hall, voice tinged with anxiety.
Zhao Ning snapped to attention, his head still dizzy.
What year of Jingkang was it now?
Could it be the second year of Jingkang?
If it was Jingkang 2, he would soon be captured by the Jin and taken north!
In that case, he might as well bash his head against the palace walls.
If it was the first year of Jingkang, there might still be hope.
Actually, the Jin forces couldn’t breach the capital city of Dongjing (the Northern Song capital); it was Emperor Qinzong’s own recklessness that doomed them.
At that time, Dongjing still had 70,000 troops, and most civilians voluntarily contributed money to resist the Jin.
And yet?
Emperor Qinzong lost his mind and trusted a charlatan sorcerer named Guo Jing.
Guo Jing stood on the city wall chanting: “Urgent decree! Supreme Lord Laozi, please manifest your spirit! Heavenly soldiers, attack!”
Not only did he set up formations, he even opened the city gates for the enemy!
The Jin troops, frustrated from their prolonged siege, stared in disbelief at the open gates.
“Wow, the city gates opened themselves? The Song emperor must be welcoming the Jin for a sightseeing tour!”
Believe it or not, that’s exactly how history recorded it!
Absurd?
Absolutely absurd!
Yet Zhao Ning had transmigrated into this ridiculous era.
He rubbed his temples, still dizzy, memories merging.
He silently prayed: Please don’t let it be Jingkang 2! I hope it’s early Jingkang 1—that way, there’s still a chance! He must firmly resist battle! Never open the gates! Never trust that Guo Jing!
He absentmindedly asked, “What is it?”
Wang Huaiji entered and said, “Your Majesty, Prime Minister Sun sent word that Master Guo has already set up formations at the South Gate, preparing to summon heavenly soldiers and divine generals.”
Master Guo?
Which Master Guo?
Was there really a high official called Master Guo during the late Northern Song?
Guo...
Damn!
Zhao Ning had been groggy, possibly due to aftereffects of transmigration, but once he realized who this Master Guo was, he shot up from his seat.
Yes, he literally jumped up!
Wang Huaiji trembled in fright and hurriedly asked, “Your Majesty, are you alright?”
The memories in Zhao Ning’s mind were fusing rapidly!
Damn! Damn! Damn!
It was already the eleventh month of the leap year in Jingkang 1!
What was the difference from Jingkang 2?
Heaven! You’re playing a huge joke!
Outside Dongjing, more than a hundred thousand Jin troops surrounded the city!
Most importantly, that old fraud Guo Jing was about to start his ritual!
That was how the Jin broke the city — and they could do it today!
Though the weather was bitterly cold, Zhao Ning was sweating cold sweat.
“Quick! Prepare the horses! Hurry!”
Wang Huaiji hadn’t yet processed the emperor’s sudden urgency and panicked, “Your Majesty, are you alright? Should we summon the imperial physician?”
Zhao Ning almost roared, “Quick, prepare my horse! I’m going to the city gate myself!”
Wang Huaiji was terrified and scrambled away.
Zhao Ning’s memories continued to fuse rapidly. His steps were unsteady as he moved forward, but palace maids rushed over to support him.
He shoved them all aside and dashed outside.
The ancient robes were too long, so he grabbed them up and continued running wildly.
Before long, the commotion attracted the attention of the imperial guards.
Wang Zongchu, commander of the palace front guard, hurried over. “Your Majesty!”
“Prepare the horses! Quickly!”
Any discomfort from the recent transmigration was now meaningless.
If the old fraud Guo started his ritual atop the city walls, who knew if the gates would really open?
What then?
The Jingkang Disaster!
Did they even realize how tragic the Jingkang Disaster was?
He had just transmigrated, his behind barely warm in this body, and now he was about to be captured by the Jin and taken north?
His memories were still merging, but Wang Zongchu’s memories were intact.
Wang Zongchu was Zhao Huan’s maternal uncle.
How to put it?
The man was utterly useless, even worse than the notoriously corrupt Gao Qiu.
Yes, the same Gao Taiwei who was famous for kicking a ball.
But now was not the time to argue with Wang Zongchu.
Nothing else mattered right now; the most important thing was that fraud Guo.
Oh my goodness!
He had just transmigrated — did it have to be so thrilling?
Wang Zongchu said, “Your Majesty, I have prepared the imperial carriage for you.”
Zhao Ning didn’t want to sit in a carriage.
He vaulted onto a horse; fortunately, Zhao Huan’s body could still ride, and muscle memory remained.
He spurred the horse and charged out of the palace gate.
The imperial guards behind him hurriedly followed.
It was the eleventh month of the leap year, bitterly cold with heavy snow falling.
As Zhao Ning burst out of the palace, the scene of Dongjing city unfolded before him.
This was the world’s largest city of the era.
Paris and London had populations around 100,000, while Dongjing (Kaifeng) exceeded one million.
Constantinople, the so-called center of Europe, held only a few hundred thousand.
Undoubtedly, this was the center of human civilization at the time, a dazzling gem resting beside the Bian River.
Human technology, literature, commerce, and art were at their peak here.
But due to military weakness, the Jin army now besieged the city, and order within was unlike before.
Zhao Ning glanced around and saw panicked faces hurrying through the streets.
The biting wind and snow struck his face, but he paid no heed.
If the city gates of Dongjing truly opened today, it would be a nightmare for the city and for over a million souls.
In the following decades, war would ravage the Central Plains, leaving houses empty and the land scorched.