Iron Dynasty Chapter 983

“General Luo, launching an attack at this moment could prove somewhat hasty.”

An uneasy grin crossed Qi Guangyi's face once Luo Quan had laid out the plan for the offensive.

With a furrowed brow, Luo Quan turned to Qi Guangyi and inquired, “What’s on your mind? Got some alternative suggestions?”

Both Niu Ben and Luo Quan stood as renowned and influential commanders in the Great Yu Empire, earning deep admiration from Qi Guangyi and fellow officers. Yet, amid the empire's ongoing military overhaul, they felt certain their adaptability outpaced these veteran leaders, allowing deeper insights into key strategies.

Pausing briefly in uncertainty, he ventured, “General, having assembled 140,000 soldiers in Raozhou, rushing into action would hinder our full fighting potential. In my view, we ought to have the rifles and cavalry run joint drills to sync up properly, or else errors are bound to crop up in battle. This holds especially true for the 8,000 carbines granted by His Majesty this round—we'll require dedicated training time once they're distributed.”

“Of course, that's essential.” Luo Quan regained his composure. His earlier words aimed to dismiss fears of the 260,000 barbarian horsemen, not to push for an instant troop deployment.

Niu Ben regarded Qi Guangyi with approval. He declared, “Qi Guangyi makes a solid point. Waging war demands complete readiness. Starting today, we'll have the cavalry, artillery, and infantry run combined drills to hone tactics against those barbarian riders.”

“Understood, General.” Qi Guangyi let out a quiet breath of relief.

For him, the top priority lay in forming this rifle cavalry unit while figuring out ways to maximize its strengths.

He knew full well that firing from horseback sacrificed precision. Still, much like the old flintlock rifles, precision wasn't the goal—instead, unleashing a hail of bullets would suffice to wipe out foes.

Besides, though the carbine's reach fell short of the Han-style rifle, this percussion firearm still extended to five hundred meters. For mounted troops, that qualified as an exceptional long-distance option. Paired with the two short-barreled weapons each rider now carried, it formed a perfect blend of far and near combat.

Furthermore, this fresh cavalry force opened doors to more versatile fighting styles. In essence, the horses served merely as transport, and under the right circumstances, riders could dismount to engage as foot soldiers, switching seamlessly between cavalry and infantry roles.

Exiting the command tent, Qi Guangyi promptly instructed his officers to pick 8,000 top-notch troops and establish the First Division of the Rifle Cavalry for real.

Over the following month, he pulled in some army officers to guide the cavalry through morning sessions on fundamental marksmanship and infantry tactics. Afternoons focused on horseback shooting drills and coordinated formations at full gallop.

Beyond the routine cavalry workouts, Niu Ben and Luo Quan worked on integrating the artillery, infantry, cavalry, and rifle cavalry. Soon, Raozhou hung thick with the acrid scent of gunfire.

…

Qingzhou.

Reports from Raozhou had stacked up to the height of a clenched fist on Xiao Ming’s desk. From the instant Niu Ben and Luo Quan showed up, he’d stayed fully informed on the troop preparations there.

In every age, dispatching a massive force far from the capital stirred intense scrutiny at court, for if field commanders harbored rebellious thoughts, it could devastate the realm and even topple the ruling house.

Yet Xiao Ming harbored no such fears. Unlike the old days of spotty intel, he now tracked Raozhou’s developments in real time, ready to act swiftly if needed.

That said, to keep the cabinet calm, he shared updates with them now and then, sparing himself their constant prodding.

“Rest easy now. But today, I’ve got a crucial issue to raise with you both.”

Within the Imperial Study, Xiao Ming spoke once Pang Yukun and Fei Ji had scanned the latest report.

“We await your guidance, Your Majesty.”

Pang Yukun and Fei Ji replied together.

After pondering briefly, Xiao Ming announced, “Lately, I’ve been mulling over our nation’s title. Ever since taking the throne, I’ve driven sweeping changes that breathed fresh life into the Great Yu Empire. Still, that old name clings to the legacy of entrenched clans and outdated powers. To fully sweep away those shadows, a fresh name could mark our rebirth. Your thoughts?”

Pang Yukun chuckled at the idea. He responded, “Over a decade in, Your Majesty has crushed the warlords, dismantled the noble houses, boosted trade and manufacturing, and repelled the barbarians. Such feats rival the greatest sage-kings of history. As we vie on the global stage, our name should evoke grand unity.”

A subtle shift flickered across Fei Ji’s face. He agreed, “Chief Grand Secretary Pang hits the mark. The old Great Yu Empire lay in pieces, but with unity restored, we need a title that screams consolidation. Plus, we should scrap divisions like Wei land, Zhao land, and Yan land to prevent any rifts among the populace.”

Xiao Ming’s gaze lingered on Pang Yukun and Fei Ji. Joy lit Pang Yukun’s features, naturally—he’d stood by Xiao Ming through the empire’s forging. To him, the Great Yu had already transformed, rendering its name an outdated weight.

Besides, a new era would etch their names bolder in the annals for those loyal to Xiao Ming.

He noted Fei Ji’s reluctance too, stemming from the sense that purging the old targeted the elites they’d once championed.

After all, the fallen houses had defied Xiao Ming, while his backers, though dimmed in splendor, retained vast fortunes.

In the dawn of industry and commerce, that wealth handed them a head start, letting numerous clans evolve into merchant dynasties.

Every official, civil and martial alike, knew this truth, and Xiao Ming grasped it too. But he felt powerless against such shifts in influence.

These clans posed just one issue, though. Far graver was how his core followers, in reshaping the land, had quietly supplanted the old elite to form a new one.

No need to belabor the Luo clan under Luo Xin’s banner. Even a rough figure like Lu Fei saw his kin rocket to lofty posts on his rising tide.

This trend riddled the cabinet.

They might not have schemed to favor kin amid national growth, yet once officials learned of ties to court heavyweights, special treatment followed inevitably.

Thus, renaming the realm struck at both camps—Pang Yukun’s enthusiasts and Fei Ji’s holdouts—not merely one side. Pang Yukun simply hadn’t foreseen Xiao Ming’s evolving vision.

“With your support, the Great Yu Empire shall become the Chinese Empire. How does that sound?” Xiao Ming proclaimed boldly.

“China, China. From antiquity, sages dubbed the Central Plains as Huaxia territory. In elder days, Huaxia folk built their seats along the Yellow River’s banks, centered amid the four quarters, earning the name China. It’s also the heartland of the Han race. As dynasties swelled their domains, all realms under rule became known as China. Your Majesty’s choice of Chinese Empire fits our era perfectly.” Pang Yukun beamed with delight, thrilled by the selection.

Fei Ji gave a faint nod. He discerned how “Chinese Empire” stirred a sense of shared identity in Xiao Ming’s pick. Long had the Central Plains squabbled inwardly.

Yet surrounded by foes abroad, only a solid, united Chinese Empire could stand against them.