Chapter 19- Two Song's Emperors End Up As Jin's POW

Chapter 19 kicks off and it's grim. Wuzhu, the djinn leader, he's got this song official, Qin Hui, in his camp and he tells him, go bury Prince Zhao. Right, the official story being he fell off his horse and died. Yeah, he fell off his horse. A death that, let's be honest, immediately shifts the whole game board, doesn't it? Absolutely. And what's striking is Wuzhu's pragmatism. He doesn't waste a second. The prince is dead, but the leverage isn't. Zhao got the power. Exactly. He turns straight to another song official there, Zhang Bangsheng, who's, well, let's just say he's working with the djinn. Collaborating, yeah. And Wuzhu just asks him, point blank, okay, the prince is dead, what's next? Wow, chillingly efficient. It really is. Power just seizing the moment, even in tragedy. And Zhang Bangsheng, ever the opportunist, he has an answer ready and it's brutal. What does he suggest? He suggests they go get another song prince, Kang Weng, who's also known as Zhao Gao. As the new hostage. As the new hostage, just like that. The next turn of the screw from the djinn. So Zhang Bangsheng heads back to the song court. Right. And his performance there, I mean, it's something else. Pure deceptive theater. How so? He apparently puts on this whole show, fake tears, weeping, telling Emperor Daojun that Prince Zhao is dead. Laying it on thick. Oh, yeah. And then he hits him with the demand. Wuzhu still wants a royal hostage, or he's threatening to, quote, kill into the palace. Imagine hearing that. The sheer terror. Absolutely. And Emperor Daojun. Well, the text says he's just overcome with grief and frankly, fear. Understandable. So he summons Kang Weng and Kang Weng's reaction here is, well, it's pretty remarkable. He volunteers, doesn't he? He does. Straight up. Says, for the sake of the nation, I'm willing to sacrifice this humble body to go to the djinn camp. Wow. Knowing it could easily mean his death. Exactly. A huge personal sacrifice for what he sees as the nation's survival. But Zhang Bangsheng isn't the only one involved in this, right? There's a counterpoint? Yes, thankfully. We meet Li Ruoshui, who's the Minister of Personnel, and he steps forward too. In what capacity? He volunteers to go with Kang Weng to escort him. It's this act of just unwavering loyalty. Ah, so you have this stark contrast. Right. Zhang Bangsheng, the betrayer, leading the prince to the enemy, and Li Ruoshui, the loyal minister, walking right alongside him into danger. It really paints a picture of the divisions within the Song court itself, doesn't it? Definitely. I mean, you've got Zhang Bangsheng actively selling out his own people, his own emperors even, and then Li Ruoshui literally risking his life to stand by his prince. Shows you how vulnerable they were, those internal fractures. Absolutely. So, okay, Kang Weng heads off to the djinn camp with these two very different companions. And Zhang Bangsheng, naturally, rushes ahead, eager to report to Wuzhu. Gotta please the new boss. Right. He confirms Kang Weng is there, and makes a point of saying, there are no more younger princes left. Ah, underlining Kang Weng's value as the last available piece. Exactly. And Wuzhu's reaction is interesting. Maybe he's worried about another hostage dying on him. Could be. What does he do? He tells his military advisor, this guy, Hamichi, to personally go and welcome Kang Weng. What do you make of that? Is it respect or something else? I think it's calculated. Wuzhu knows Kang Weng is crucial leverage now. He's managing his asset. You know, making sure he's handled correctly. Right. And just before they go into the camp, Li Ruoshui gives Kang Weng some really critical advice. Oh, yeah. What does he say? He tells him, and this is a direct quote, you should know that strategy is for a thousand years, but courage without wisdom leads to instant destruction. Wow. Powerful words. Isn't it? He's basically telling him, be adaptable, be flexible. Don't just charge in blindly. And whatever happens, don't lose your morale facing Wuzhu. So pragmatism over pure defiance. Survival first. That seems to be the advice. Be smart, not just brave. Which sets up Kang Weng's dilemma perfectly. Okay, so the meeting happens. Kang Weng faces Wuzhu and Wuzhu's first impression. It's kind of striking. What does he think? He sees Kang Weng as young and beautiful as a jade crown. Interesting description. Yeah. And apparently this makes Wuzhu really happy, brings him great joy, the text does. Huh. And then comes the offer. Oh, the offer. It's completely unexpected. Wuzhu says to Kang Weng, essentially, if you bow to me as a father. Bow to him as a father. Yeah. If I conquer the empire, I will return it to you as emperor. Whoa, that's huge. Conquer the empire, then just hand it back. Stunning, isn't it? What a proposition. How does Kang Weng react? I mean, does he just bow? Well, the text says he was originally unwilling, you can imagine. But then he hears the promise of the empire. The ultimate prize. Exactly. So he makes this, I guess, chillingly rational choice. Survival now, maybe power later. So he does it. He does. He reluctantly stepped forward and bowed, calling Wuzhu, father king, and himself humble son. Wow, that's a moment. It's not just giving in. It's a strategic sacrifice of dignity for a potential future gain. Real politic at its most brutal, maybe. It really shows you the kind of pragmatism needed to survive those games. But wait, then there's Li Ruxuey, the loyal minister. He doesn't just stand by quietly, does he? No, he absolutely does not. What happens? Wuzhu asks him who he is, and Li Ruxuey, with incredible nerve, just shoots back, what concern is it of yours? He said that to Wuzhu. Yep. And then he tries to just walk away with Kang Weng, completely ignoring Wuzhu's authority. That's unbelievably bold. Wuzhu just got his prize hostage, and this guy openly defies him. How does Wuzhu handle that? OK, this is where it gets really fascinating. Wuzhu sees this stubborn behavior, right? And he asks Hamichi, his advisor, who is this guy? And Hamichi. Hamichi identifies him. Says he's the great loyal official of the Song Dynasty. OK. So does Wuzhu get angry, punish him? No. And this is the surprising part. Despite the defiance, Wuzhu actually shows, well, a kind of respect. Respect for the guy who just dissed him. Yeah. He even invites Li Ruoshui to stay the night in Hamichi's own camp. It's like Wuzhu recognizes genuine character, true loyalty, even in an enemy. Or maybe he wants to look magnanimous. Show he can appreciate honor. That could be part of it, too. Bit of political theater, perhaps. Showing respect for virtue. But still, pretty remarkable reaction. OK, so that's day one. But the story's not over. Zhang Bangchang is still scheming. Of course he is. The next day, Wuzhu asks him, all right, what else can we do? What more can we get? And Zhang Bangchang comes up with something even worse. Oh, much worse. His suggestion. Deliver the two emperors. Emperor Dazhen and the other one probably can song directly to Wuzhu. Hand over the emperors themselves. I mean, that's the ultimate betrayal, isn't it? Hard to imagine anything worse. So how does he plan to pull that off? The emperors aren't just going to walk into the Jin camp. Right. This is where his deception gets really elaborate. He goes back to the Song court, to the two emperors. And tells them what? A complete lie. A total fabrication. He says Wuzhu has a new demand now. Which is? He claims Wuzhu wants the ancestral tablets of the five generations of previous kings. The ancestral tablets, why? The Zhang Bangchang spins the story that it's because Kang Wang is a prince. So it's like a symbolic exchange needed for reasons. It's pure manipulation. Using their reverence for ancestors against them. Exactly. It's a pretext. A way to lure them out from behind the city walls. Playing on cultural sensitivities. And does he sweeten the deal? Offer false hope. Absolutely. He assures them, look, just hand over the tablets temporarily. I'll make the Jin retreat. We can get them back later when our armies arrive. Classic manipulation tactic. Prey on their desperation. Get them to agree without realizing it's a trap. And the emperors. How do they react to this demand for the tablets? Oh, it's devastating for them. The text says they were just weeping bitterly. Lamenting that they couldn't even protect their ancestors' legacy. Profound humiliation. Deeply. It says they actually went to the ancestral temple just to cry. It shows how broken they were, how powerless they felt. It's not just military defeat. It's spiritual. A really gut-wrenching scene. So heartbroken and desperate, they agree. They'll give Zhang Bangchang the tablets. But that's not the end of the trick, is it? No. Zhang Bangchang insists on one last detail. A seemingly small thing. What is it? He says they must personally escort the tablets. Just a short distance out of the city gates. Ah, there it is. The final piece of the snare. Exactly. Seems innocent, but it's fatal. So they escort the tablets out. They cross the drawbridge. And the trap springs. Instantly. Ambushed. Jin soldiers grab them, capture them both. And Zhang Bangchang. Having orchestrated the whole thing. He just turns around and goes back into the city. Job done. Guards the city now. Wow. The absolute culmination of his betrayal. Yeah. And the total collapse of the Song court's power right there. Delivered not just by armies, but by this calculated inside treachery. Devastating. The immediate aftermath of the Song emperor's capture is swift and chilling. Right away. Emperors Huizong and Qinsong are brought directly to the Jin camp. The Jin leader, Wuzhu. He wastes absolutely no time. He immediately orders his strategist, Haramichi, to assign 100 horsemen. Just like that. Yep. To escort the two emperors north, deep into Jin territory. And right there, I mean, at the very beginning of this terrible journey, you see this extraordinary act of defiance. Li Ruxue. Yeah, this is an official Li Ruxue. He'd been protecting the princess, right? Yeah. First he shouts to Jin Hui, tells him to make sure the heirs are safe. Then, in this almost unbelievable display of courage, he steps forward, furiously curses Wuzhu to his face, and insists on going with the emperors to protect them. It's just pure, unyielding loyalty, even when everything is lost. But Wuzhu's reaction to that, you expect, well, immediate execution, maybe, for that kind of defiance. You absolutely would. But the text says Wuzhu just thinks to himself, this man is arrogant, talking about Li Ruxue, and then tells Haramichi to control him well, but do not harm his life. It's fascinating, isn't it? It really is. Is it grudging respect? No. Or is it, like you said, something more strategic? Maybe Wuzhu sees how dangerous a truly loyal, defiant man could be, even as a captive. That's a great point. It hints at Wuzhu's pragmatism, and you see that pragmatism again right away in Haramichi's advice. Ah, the strategic council. Exactly. Haramichi tells Wuzhu not to enter the Song Capital just then. He warns him about the nine provinces' armies. Meaning the combined Song forces. Right, the whole empire's military. Yeah. So Haramichi suggests Wuzhu should head back to Jin now, and launch a bigger, decisive campaign next spring. Aiming to sweep clean the Song dynasty. Precisely. A full conquest plan. And Wuzhu agrees. He takes this long-term view, leaves a loyalist named Beng Chang to guard the captured city, and even orders the relocation of Qin Hui's family. It really shows that Jin were thinking strategically, practically. Okay, so the captive emperors, along with the incredibly defiant Li Ruoshui, begin this agonizing journey north. You can just imagine the silence, the dust, the crushing weight of shame. Terrible. As they're escorted further and further from home, they eventually reach Hejian Prefecture. It must have been a journey filled with just immense sorrow and uncertainty. And then something truly unexpected happens. Yeah. They run into General Zhang Shui. He immediately throws himself on the ground, prostrates himself before the emperors. Even in these circumstances. Yes. And they all just weep together when they meet. It's this raw emotional moment between captured rulers and one of their generals. But Li Ruoshui, he's not having it initially, is he? No, not at all. His first reaction is fury. He calls Zhang Shui a traitor. I mean, it looks like he surrendered to the Jin. Which is understandable. But Zhang Shui quickly explains. He says his surrender wasn't real. It was a Zha Jiang, a feigned surrender. A trick. He says he did it at a sheer desperation. He'd seen General Liu Dang sacrifice himself. General Shi Zong defeated. He was hoping to buy time. Time for what? Time for the Song court to finally mobilize those nine provinces' armies and cut off the Jin retreat. He gambled everything on this desperate hope that the court would act decisively. But here's where the story delivers a really stinging insight. A harsh critique of the emperor's own leadership. Okay. Zhang Shui directly blames them for the disaster. He says they listened to traitors and dismissed loyal officials. Mentioning Zhang Xi and Li Gang specifically. Wow. So he lays it right at their feet. He does. It's this stark moment where the consequences of their own bad decisions, their misguided leadership, are just laid bare. This is why they're here. This is why the empire is ruined. And the climax of this encounter, it's just heartbreaking. Utterly. Zhang Shui, just consumed by grief and despair, cries out that he can't serve the country anymore. That there's no point in stealing life. Just living on in disgrace. Right. And then he pulls out a sword. And right there in front of everyone, the emperors, the Jin guards, he kills himself. Such a tragic, defiant end. It's quite a statement. And the emperor's reaction. Well, it's tragic recognition, isn't it? Maybe too late, but still. They break down crying and they actually admit it. We did listen to the words of traitors. They finally see it. Interestingly, despite having just called Zhang Shui a traitor, he tells Haramichi to bury the body. Showing respect for that ultimate sacrifice. Exactly. And Haramichi agrees. It shows that even among the captors, that kind of profound loyalty and despair couldn't be completely ignored. So the grim procession carries on north. Li Rishu, still unbroken, asks Haramichi how much further. And Haramichi's reply is just chillingly brief. Not far. Yeah. Gives you a shiver. It does. And then Haramichi offers Li Rishu this stark warning. He basically says, look, when you get to the Jin capital, the other Jin princes, well, they're not like Wuzhu in their fondness for loyal officials. Implying Wuzhu had some kind of odd respect, but others won't. Precisely. He's telling Li Rishu, be very careful what you say. It's a clear signal that his outspokenness could cost him his life once they're out of Wuzhu's direct influence. But Li Rishu, his response is just pure steel, isn't it? Absolutely. Consistent to the end. He says, I came here only to fight for death. Nothing else concerns me. He's just resolved, ready for whatever comes. No compromise. None. And so not long after, they finally arrive. Huanglong Prefecture. The Jin heartland. Yeah. And as they're led through the city, crowds gather. Imagine that spectacle. Watching the southern dynasty emperors brought in like trophies. Their humiliation is now a public show. And Haramichi quickly goes to report to the old wolf lord. That's the Jin emperor. He explains Wuzhu's campaign, the strategic retreat, the plan to come back later for the full conquest. And the old wolf lord is naturally overjoyed. Happy with the results so far. Ecstatic. He immediately orders a celebratory banquet and demands the two emperors be brought before him. Now. This is where the story takes that truly shocking, deeply disturbing turn we hinted at earlier. Yeah, this part is quite something. The two emperors are brought in, but even as captives, they refuse to kneel. A final shred of defiance. Maybe. But the old wolf lord is furious. He accuses them of repeatedly harming his soldiers, causing trouble. And then the humiliation begins. And it's elaborate. Incredibly cruel. The Jin emperor orders his officials to prepare the Silver Anne Hall. How? By heating the ground until it's literally red hot. Red hot. You mean like burning coals? That's the implication. Unbearably hot. Then he commands his men to strip the emperors of their clothes, their hats, everything. They're forced to wear dogskin hats on their heads. They're dressed in simple blue clothes. And a dog's tail is attached to their rear. A dog's tail? You're kidding. Kidding. It's in the text. Total dehumanization. Around their waist, they hang a copper drum. Six large bells are tied to their belts. Their hands are bound with thin willow branches. And their shoes and socks. Removed. Barefoot. It's systematic. It's designed to utterly break them, isn't it? Completely. And once the ground in the Silver Anne Hall is scorching. Don't tell me. Djinn soldiers carry the emperors and place them directly onto that burning floor. Oh, that's horrific. They're in unbearable pain, obviously. Forced to jump wildly just to cope with the agony. And as they jump, the bells and drums clang. Making this horrible rhythm out of their torture. My god. Just try to visualize that scene. The depravity. The public spectacle of it. Agonizing. Public torture. And the final detail. Maybe the most horrifying. What? The djinn, monarchs, and subjects. The old wolf lord and his entire court. They burst into laughter. Yeah. They drink. They celebrate. They watch the emperors torment as if it's like entertainment. A performance. That's monstrous. The text itself says, they were like performers in a play. This was their retribution for listening to traitors and dismissing loyal officials. Wow. So the narrative itself delivers this stark moral judgment. There. Connecting their suffering directly back to their failed leadership. Wow. Li Roshui. Our source calls him the great loyal minister. And his first action is just incredibly telling, isn't it? He doesn't just stand by. No, not at all. He immediately intervenes. He physically takes the old and young emperors away from the scene. It's almost like this protective paternal gesture. Wow. It's an immediate display of his loyalty, his courage. A clear message. Yeah. This indignity won't stand unchallenged. So that first nugget right there is about action. Precisely. True loyalty isn't just a feeling. It's immediate, decisive action, no matter the personal risk. What kind of conviction drives that? And here's where it gets really interesting. Even the enemy seems to recognize his worth somehow. The golden king, the old wolf lord. Yeah, that's the fascinating part. The old wolf lord asks his advisor, this guy Hamichi, who is this Li Roshui? And Hamichi vouches for him, even though they're enemies. He does. Hamichi explicitly tells the old wolf lord that Li Roshui is a highly valued loyal minister. So valued, in fact, that the fourth prince holds Hamichi personally responsible for his life. Responsible for his life. Wow. Yeah. And this intercession, it leads the old wolf lord to initially grant Li Roshui leniency. So what kind of man commands that much respect, even from his captors? Exactly. That's our second insight, right? Even between adversaries, genuine integrity, unwavering loyalty, it can command this grudging respect. Sometimes even leads to a moment of grace. But despite being spared, Li Roshui doesn't hold back. Not at all. His outrage just erupts. It creates this incredibly graphic, memorable scene. What does he do next? Okay, so Li Roshui, he's still just seating, right? He steps forward and unleashes this torrent of abuse directly at the old wolf lord and his people. What does he say? He repeatedly calls them captives, which is like the ultimate insult. You captives, ignorant of heavenly principles. Soon heaven's soldiers will arrive and wipe you clean. Things like that. He just curses them relentlessly, like a man possessed by righteous fury. Okay, wow. And the old wolf lord's reaction to that must have been brutal. But Li Roshui's persistence, that's even more shocking. Oh, absolutely. Enraged, the old wolf lord orders Li Roshui's fingers chopped off. Oh god. But Li Roshui refuses to be silenced. When one finger is cut, he just uses another finger, on the other hand maybe, to continue his tirade, pointing, cursing. He's going. He keeps going. This happens repeatedly until all five fingers of his left hand are gone. Then he switches to his right hand and keeps cursing, unyielding. All 10 fingers are eventually severed. All 10 fingers, and he's still defying them. Still defying this extreme resilience, enduring unimaginable pain, while still cursing his captors. It exemplifies the very essence of unbreakable conviction. It's hard to even comprehend. It really is. It's a profound demonstration that true defiance can transcend physical capacity. For Li Roshui, his voice wasn't just words. It was his very being. His last bit of agency. So what happens after losing all his fingers? Surely he has to stop that. Even then, no. The source tells us the old wolf lord just pushed to his absolute limit, orders his tongue cut out. His tongue. Yes, and astonishingly, even with his tongue severed, blood flowing everywhere, he still tries to curse. How? Well, the words are unclear, obviously. He's described as just jumping around this raw embodiment of his will to resist. Just jumping around trying to curse without a tongue. Yeah. It teaches us, I think, that defiance can become almost an instinct. A primal refusal to yield, even when the means of expression are physically removed. And the reaction from the Golden Kingdom's people watching this horrific display. That's chilling too, isn't it? It is. It paints a really disturbing picture. They observe him calmly eating and drinking, finding his agony and defiance amusing and entertaining. Amusing. It's vile. It really highlights this stark, dehumanizing difference in values. A disturbing level of cruelty. Li Ruoshui's raw human agony against their casual indifference. It's a powerful contrast. So Li Ruoshui's final act, it's truly the stuff of legend, right? Taking his defiance to this physical, visceral level. How does that shocking moment unfold? During a moment of maybe relaxed complacency, wine is being served. Things seem calmer for a second. Li Ruoshui sees his chance. What does he do? He lunges forward. With what must have been his absolute last reserves of strength, he grabs the Old Wolf Lord, embraces him almost, and bites off his ear, refusing to let go. Bites. Bites his ear off. Good heavens. The chaos. Oh, absolutely. The Old Wolf Lord is screaming in excruciating pain. His princes, officials, everyone rushes forward trying to pull Li Ruoshui away. In the struggle? In the struggle, the Old Wolf Lord's ear is completely torn off. It's this powerful, almost unbelievable act of vengeance. A final, unyielding blow. Wow. The nugget there. Even when everything seems lost. Exactly. The human spirit, fueled by that unbreakable conviction, can find some way for impactful defiance, choosing a visceral, personal act over just silent defeat. So what becomes of Li Ruoshui after that, after carrying off the king's ear? He's immediately pushed down. Yeah. And then brutally hacked into meat paste by countless knives. Oh, man. A tragic end, yes, but undeniably triumphant in its own way. For a man who simply refused to break. The source includes some poetry about him, right? Reflections on his sacrifice. What did those verses tell us? They really solidify his legacy. One poem says something like, Loyal minister who cursed the bandits, his body shattered, who will pity him for thousands of years. He sought not wealth, but righteousness, leaving his loyal heart to shine in history. Leaving his loyal heart to shine. Exactly. Another says his spirit would invigorate the Song Dynasty. These poems, they elevate his actions beyond just defiance. He becomes this timeless symbol of loyalty, integrity, the enduring power of moral conviction. So his sacrifice resonated. It became a beacon. It definitely seems so. They tell us that his sacrifice was seen as something deeply meaningful for generations. And it's fascinating that even across enemy lines, there's this acknowledgement of his unique character. You mentioned Hamichi earlier. He does something quiet after Li Ruxue's death. Yes, that grudging respect again. Hamichi secretly collects Li Ruxue's remains, what's left of them. Really? Yeah, places them respectfully in a gold lacquered box and hides it. It's a very poignant gesture, isn't it? It really is. It makes you wonder about that universal, maybe human appreciation for such unwavering loyalty, even from an enemy. It's a testament, I think, to the fact that profound character can sometimes transcend the boundaries of conflict. Okay, so in stark contrast to Li Ruxue's fiery, defiant death, what becomes of the emperors he was trying so fiercely to protect? Is their end as well-dignified or defiant? Ah, no. It's a very different fate. The old wolf lord, after his ear is treated, orders emperors Hui and Qin, the captured song emperors sent away, to Wugo City. Which is where? A remote, desolate place. Basically a permanent prison. Yeah. And they are imprisoned in a pit, made to sit in a well and watch the sky. Wuzu. Ah, Wuzu. He arrives victorious from a campaign down in the central plains, and he proclaims his success was kate, like splitting bamboo. Yeah. Basically an overwhelming, easy victory. Yeah, total confidence. Wuzu's report of sweeping success, well, it would have boosted morale immensely, that's clear. But what's truly fascinating here, I think, is that despite this huge military triumph, his very first act is to offer comfort to his father, about the lost ear. It paints a picture of a powerful personal dynamic, right in the middle of all these grand military affairs. It shows a human side, you know? Even among these fierce adversaries. That familial connection, even with, you know, an ear missing, definitely adds a layer. Right. And the success, well, as you can imagine, it fuels even further ambition. The old wolf lord, despite his injury, he's energized. He's not letting it slow him down. Not at all. He immediately orders his officials to borrow troops from other nations, and he's planning a second invasion of the central plains for the coming spring. But the pressure's back on. Oh yeah. The threat to the Song Dynasty, for you listening, it's very real and very immediate. Enter Cui Shao, the unsung hero. Okay. But amidst this growing threat, our story introduces a character whose loyalty, well, it almost defies belief. This is where it gets really interesting. Our focus shifts to a remarkable individual named Cui Shao. He was a general from the Song Dynasty's Daizu Yanmen Pass, but he's been held captive in the northern regions for a staggering 18 years. 18 years. Wow. Think about that. Can you imagine? Almost two decades away from home, yet his loyalty, it's clear, hasn't wavered one bit. 18 years in captivity is, I mean, it's an eternity. It raises that immediate question, how does someone maintain such profound loyalty over that long, especially when you're living among the very people who captured you? Exactly. But Cui Shao isn't just any captive, though. He possesses a rather unique skill for a general. He's exceptionally good at fierce horse medicine. Horse medicine. Really? Yeah. And this skill, it's given him an unusual degree of freedom. He moves among the enemy camps, and apparently he's become well-suited or sort of accepted by their soldiers and generals, almost like one of them in a way. That's what's truly fascinating here, isn't it? His horse-whispering skills. Yeah. How does that become his superpower in this situation? It feels completely out of left field for a military general. It absolutely does, and that's the brilliance of it. His captors, they probably just saw him as a useful, maybe even harmless old man. Right, not a threat. Exactly. They didn't see him as a general anymore, but as this skilled veterinarian, kind of indispensable for their cavalry, this perceived utility was his ultimate camouflage. Oh, yeah. It allowed him basically unparalleled freedom within their camps, turning what seemed like a, well, a mundane skill into the key to critical intelligence and ultimately this incredible mission we're about to hear about. It's a real insight into how often the most unexpected abilities become the key to extraordinary impact, turning a captor's perceived utility into a loyalist's greatest weapon, the daring mission to Five Kingdoms City. And this unique access, well, it provides him with a critical opportunity. Huizhou, using his freedom to move about, overhears truly distressing news. Yeah, the worst kind of news. The two emperors of the Song Dynasty are being held captive in a place called Five Kingdoms City. Five Kingdoms City. Driven by this unwavering loyalty, he just decides he must see them. His decision is incredibly bold. I mean, this isn't some casual visit he's planning. No way. It's an act of profound courage, really defiance. He's risking everything. He's not just trying to escape. He's attempting to penetrate the heart of the enemy's security to reach his former masters. So he prepares for this secret mission and the items he gathers are quite humble, but very practical. Two old sheepskin coats, several tens of gin that's a measure of weight of dried beef and mutton, and some leather strips. These aren't weapons, they're provisions. Basic survival stuff. And the choice of items, it really highlights his thoughtfulness, doesn't it? And his deep empathy. Yeah. This isn't about grand gestures. It's about basic sustenance and warmth for people in truly dire straits. It's such a poignant detail, I think. It adds this human element to his mission, a very real, tangible act of kindness. So upon reaching Five Kingdoms City, he doesn't sneak in, which is surprising. Right. He just walks up. He approaches the Pingzhang, the officials there, and appeals to their sense of humanity and his own loyalty to his former masters, asking for permission to visit the emperors. It's an extraordinary plea. And remarkably, maybe because of his reputation, they grant him entry, but with a chilling warning. There's the catch. Yeah. They explicitly state they'd never let anyone else in, but because they often had use for him, there it is again. His utility as a horse doctor, they'll allow it, but he must leave quickly. So it's conditional trust. Exactly. Which makes his mission incredibly precarious. The balance of trust and suspicion is, like, razor thin. He's really walking a tightrope here. The heart-wrenching encounter. Inside the city, Hu Shao begins his search. He walks for hours, apparently from morning until noon, just calling out, Your Majesty! Just calling into the air. Yeah. And he's an old man, remember? The exertion leads to fatigue and back pain, forcing him to actually squat down and rest. You can almost feel his weariness, can't you? Oh, absolutely. That detail really emphasizes his age and the sheer physical toll of this long journey and, well, this desperate search. It makes his perseverance even more moving. Highlights the immense personal cost of what he's doing. And then, a breakthrough? Yeah. He suddenly hears voices coming from a well. From a well. Yes. My son and son is here. He realizes with a jolt that the emperors are confined within these earth wells. Wow, what an image. Emperors living in a well is a truly stark and, well, devastating image. The emperors, who once commanded an entire empire, now trapped in these confined, dark spaces. Unbelievable. It paints such a vivid picture of their abject imprisonment and suffering. A brutal contrast to their former majesty and power. The psychological impact alone must have been just crushing. So he finds them, identifies himself General Cui Jiao from Yanmen past, and proceeds to lower the provisions he brought. The meat, the coats. Exactly. The dried meat and the coats, down into the well using those leather strips he carried. And the emperors gratefully receive them. You know, that simple act of delivering sustenance, it's just profoundly powerful in this context. It really is. It's a moment of direct personal connection and relief for the imprisoned rulers. An act of pure humanity cutting right through the bleakness of their situation. Then comes the grim update. The party he probably wasn't looking forward to. Cui Jiao asks about the situation back home, in the Central Plains. And the news is bad. Really bad. The emperors share devastating news. They reveal that Zheng Bangchang has betrayed the country. This led to Prince Zhao being driven into Jin territory and dying. So, one hope gone. Gone. And now, the only remaining hope, the ninth prince, Kong Wang, is actually a hostage there too. Their despair is just palpable as they lament there's no one left in Central Plains. Wow. I mean, how profound is that despair for emperors who once ruled such a vast empire? It is the absolute low point. A complete collapse of their world, you have to assume. Their rulers are imprisoned. One prince is dead. The last heir is a hostage. Those words, there's no one left. They convey this utter sense of abandonment and hopelessness. A complete void where their dynasty once stood. It's not just political. It's existential. A profound personal tragedy playing out on the national stage. But despite this bleakest of news, Cui Jiao, ever the loyalist, proposes a desperate, truly audacious plan. He refuses to give up. He suggests the emperors write an edict for Kang Wang, instructing him to escape, return to China, raise an army, and rescue them. This proposal is incredibly bold. It's a real measure of Cui Jiao's commitment to finding some solution, no matter how slim the chances seem. It's just a refusal to accept this hopeless reality. But the emperors are in despair again. They lament, you know, we have no paper, no brush down here. Of course, how could they? And that's when Cui Jiao makes this astonishing suggestion, the one that would cement his place in history, really. He says, I deserve 10,000 deaths, but your majesty could issue a blood edict. A blood edict. Yeah. For our listeners, what exactly does that mean in this context? It sounds dramatic. It is dramatic because it's not a metaphor. It's a literal sacrifice, a physical manifestation of a truly desperate plea. So using actual blood. Yes. To write a blood edict means to use one's own blood as ink. It symbolizes the absolute ultimate act of will, the profound importance and urgency of the message, and just the depth of the despair that drives such an act. It's a truly chilling, powerful image that immediately conveys the stakes involved. And so the emperors overcome with emotion. They begin to weep. They tear off a piece of white cloth from their own garments, bite their fingertips, and with their own blood, write a few characters. The message is clear. Kang Wang is to escape back to the central plains, assume the throne, reorganize the nation, and ensure the continuation of the ancestral sacrifices. It's more than just help us. Much more. They then tie this precious blood-stained edict to the leather strip. Cui Xiao carefully pulls it up. The content of that edict is so vital, isn't it? It's not just a plea for personal rescue. It's a mandate for restoration. Right, for the dynasty itself. For the very survival of the dynasty, the continuation of their ancestral line, the weight of this fragile piece of blood-soaked cloth, and the immense responsibility it places on Kang Wang. It's just immeasurable. It represents the absolute last flicker of hope for the entire Song dynasty. The perilous exit and cliffhanger. So with the blood edict now hidden safely in his inner clothing, Cui Xiao cries a final farewell to the emperors down in the well. Must have been incredibly emotional. They in turn are heartbroken. They call him Zha, which means something like a closest relative. Wow. Because he's the only one who's shown them such kindness and loyalty in their captivity. Cui Xiao promises to visit often. A promise made knowing the immense personal risk involved each time. The emotional depth of that farewell is just palpable, isn't it? It underscores this profound human connection forged under the most desperate circumstances imaginable. A bond that transcends their former roles as emperor and general. It's a reminder that even in the bleakest times, these fundamental human relationships can endure. But his perilous mission isn't quite over yet. Ah, of course not. It's never that easy. As he leaves, the very same pings hang. The officials who initially let him in, they suddenly shout, Cui Xiao, you've did a good deed. Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good. No, it's clearly sarcastic. It indicates they know, or at least they strongly suspect, what he's done. They were watching him? Seems like it. And then the immediate order, tie him up and kill him. Oh, just like that. Just like that. The sudden terrifying turn of events highlights the constant, immediate danger Cui Xiao was facing the whole time. His brief moment of relief turns into utter terror. The text uses that phrase, legitopia. Literally, he's utterly terrified, losing his very essence, his soul practically leaving his body. I must have been petrified. Absolutely. The officials were clearly not as trusting as they pretended to be. And Cui Xiao's life, and that priceless, irreplaceable blood edict, are now in immediate mortal peril. And that's where our source material leaves us. Right there, on a breathtaking cliffhanger. Wow. With Cui Xiao's fate, and the fate of the crucial blood edict, hanging entirely in the balance.