The Aesthetics of Divergence - 2
Zhuge Liang immediately set to work fortifying Soyang's defenses.
The household registry caught his eye first. It was meticulously detailed, almost like a ledger of souls. Records showed whether someone had lived by farming or fishing, down to the smallest details.
Incorporating the populace into registries for taxes and conscription was standard practice, but Soyang's administration surpassed that benchmark entirely. Its hallmark was the hyper-detailed classification of non-combatants and wartime essential personnel by occupation. This level of administrative prowess had undoubtedly laid the foundation for turning Soyang into a major city.
As Zhuge Liang pored over the registry, one section drew his gaze.
"Ma Jian, gather the craftsmen for me."
Ma Jian bolted off without a word of protest, wondering what new scheme Kongming had cooked up.
Once Ma Jian left the office, Zhuge Liang began sifting through Soyang's records one by one. The sheer volume made it impossible to cover in a single day.
His eyes returned to the registry.
With records this precise, we can align everything perfectly with the timeline.
It made it easy to grasp who could do what, speeding up all calculations.
Zhuge Liang's plan was to mass-produce repeating crossbowmen to counter cavalry in short order.
Soyang's administrative backbone allowed him to pinpoint and conscript skilled artisans for production processes without a hitch.
Soon, the craftsmen Ma Jian had summoned began assembling.
Once everyone gathered, Zhuge Liang cautiously unrolled a blueprint.
"Can you craft this design? We need a thousand within the deadline."
The item that had earned his wife's highest praise.
The blueprint for the Zhuge Crossbow—the progenitor of the repeating crossbow from the Yuanrong model.
His intent was clear.
Wei forces were mostly cavalry-heavy; direct confrontation would spell disaster.
Thus, countermeasures against mounted troops were paramount.
Even archers loosing arrows might not halt a cavalry charge behind small shields.
But this Zhuge Crossbow was different.
"One bolt, nineteen shots. I've named it the Zhuge Crossbow."
Ten arrows fired simultaneously from a single crossbow.
Each unit equaling the output of ten men.
The craftsmen eyed the blueprint, unable to hide their curiosity.
"We'll give it a shot."
"I'm a carpenter. I'll handle the frame."
"This part needs smoothing. Can you round up those skilled with planes? I'm in charge of woodworking. Never seen anything like this."
Zhuge Liang pointed to the most enthusiastic man.
"You take command and see it done. What's your name?"
"Ma Gyun, sir."
"Then, Ma Gyun—can you manage it?"
"...It won't be easy."
Ma Gyun scrutinized the blueprint, then dismantled the prototype Zhuge Liang held, piece by piece.
Unlike standard repeating crossbows, the body was grotesquely wide. Above it, fan-shaped grooves were intricately carved to hold ten arrows.
"Even a hair's deviation, and the arrows tangle—won't fly true. The surface must be silk-smooth."
An old blacksmith peering over his shoulder bellowed.
"How do you expect human strength to launch this? To push ten heavy iron-tipped bolts at once, the bow's curve must be like a Southern Barbarian's horn bow!"
Zhuge Liang nodded lightly.
"Precisely. Human power alone can't draw it, so we've fitted a rear wheel to wind the string via mechanical force. It must be firmly fixed to withstand launch recoil."
The craftsmen gasped in awe.
A machine surpassing human strength drawing the bowstring.
Ma Gyun grasped the Zhuge Crossbow's mechanics, but obstacles remained.
"Even if we meet the deadline, it'll guzzle iron-tipped bolts. Where do we source that many?"
As Ma Gyun voiced concerns, Shi Dao stepped forward.
"We have plenty of arrows."
Zhuge Liang, caught off guard, turned to him in surprise.
"How many spares?"
"A hundred thousand. Lady Soyoung ordered it so."
Preparation as if she'd foreseen this exact scenario.
He clicked his tongue in admiration at his daughter's foresight.
As everyone discussed the Zhuge Crossbow, Ma Jian's booming voice rang out.
"This is a real wartime drill! Assemble!!!"
Ma Jian lit the beacon at Soyang's center, and fighting-ready folk swarmed in moments.
Chen Soyoung's unique beacon system for rapid reserve mobilization within the city.
"We've never slacked on drills for wartime readiness. Dry leaves over the beacon produce thick black smoke by day, firelight by night—to rally the citizens."
"Citizens?"
"A catch-all for Soyang's residents."
Zhuge Liang was speechless at the instant influx.
If conscription were this straightforward, unifying the realm would be like lying down for rice cakes.
There was good reason for his awe.
Chen Soyoung had transplanted modern civil defense straight into Soyang.
Tun soldiers farming for rations switched to personal arms and units at the signal.
The citizens responded in kind, swelling numbers past ten thousand.
Soyang's administrative might shone, mobilizing trained elites in a flash.
"This... exceeds expectations."
Zhuge Liang wore the look of one beholding something novel.
The assembled forces far outstripped projections.
Vast numbers—even including tun troops.
With preparations this solid, it was time for stratagems.
"The dug river will deter enemy cavalry. When they underestimate and cross, ambushed archers strike decisively. If they swarm uncontrollably, we use this."
Zhuge Liang loaded iron bolts into the prototype Zhuge Crossbow.
"Can you bury these?"
Ma Gyun frowned.
"Bury them for use?"
"Fired handheld, it'd shatter your joints."
At Zhuge Liang's words, the craftsmen dove into work.
"Stand clear—I'll test-fire."
No target in sight, but an empty rice cart nearby.
With two sturdy men's aid, he cranked it taut. The bolt hurtled toward the cart.
Piiiing—!
The wind howled like it sliced flesh.
Arrows spread shotgun-wide, claiming six hits across a broad kill zone.
Destructive power was terrifying.
Surpassing human draw weight, some pierced the wooden cart clean through.
Shi Dao froze.
...A thousand of these. A thousand simultaneous volleys equal ten thousand arrows—a calamity.
He had to concede: Zhuge Liang's invention lived up to "Kongming."
"A game-changer in war, Kongming."
Amid Shi Dao's shock, Zhuge Liang replied coolly. It had limits.
"As you see, accuracy's low. Designed for cavalry, so timing's critical."
Ma Jian gaped at the performance.
"When'd you craft this? Unbelievable..."
"Helping my wife's hobby sparked my interest."
Ma Jian found Zhuge Liang's casual tone chilling.
"Can it pierce shields?"
"No. It's for killing horses."
Future iterations might breach shields, but not yet.
Even now, the ultimate anti-cavalry weapon.
Not for annihilating riders, but cracking dense formations.
Halt the charge, let fallen front ranks doom the rear.
"Was this your plan from the start, Kongming?"
Zhuge Liang answered Shi Dao honestly.
"Truth be told, I didn't think it feasible."
Normally, no base for mass-producing such war engines.
Soyang's viability stemmed from elite talent lingering here, plus unusual wealth.
It had near-monopolized Jingzhou's finances, blooming as a prosperous newcomer.
But the enemy was vast: a hundred thousand strong.
"Call it old-man worry, but even fortifying, two months is the limit."
Zhuge Liang finished his sums.
Rations stocked for ten thousand half a year—always ready.
Best siege-breakers: starve them, spread plague, spark revolt. He knew it well.
Soyang could self-sustain two months sans external supply.
One drawback: no forests to conceal crossbows.
Offset by leveraging the crossbow's power for a wider encirclement than foes expected.
"Kongming, with these, can't we hold off a hundred thousand?"
Zhuge Liang shook his head at Ma Jian.
Cavalry halted or not, if they advanced over corpses with shields, melee was inevitable.
"We must watch enemy moves. If black plays a hand, white waits for its chance."
With a sigh, he murmured low.
"Those unfit for battle, to Yangyang. Cart-pullers, move the grain."
No looting for the foe.
Zhuge Liang planned scorched earth.
*
At his command, formations took shape.
Soyang's riverfront projects left open expanses teeming with folk.
"Leave spots where foes might bridge."
Per orders, defenders didn't seal every bank.
They left one path open.
A grotesque semicircular formation layered around it like a noose.
U-shaped ranks of Zhuge Crossbows in sequence.
Once bridged and funneled, even shielded infantry faced flank, cross-, and rear fire.
"Drive mounts deep—secure against recoil! Loose base means no follow-up shot!"
Ma Gyun bellowed on-site; carpenters hammered frames into earth relentlessly.
Kigigig—!
Wheels whirred in unison. Two men strained, bones creaking, to wind.
Ten bolts loaded atop.
Foes must cross the river into this throat.
A thousand crossbows would vomit iron at emerging troops in a semicircle.
"Cavalry can't bypass bald peaks. Anti-mount defenses set. Well done, Ma Gyun. I'd use you heavily—thoughts?"
Ma Gyun replied instantly.
"Gladly, General!"
To him, Zhuge Liang's encirclement was ruthlessly perfect.
This man was no ordinary player.
Cavalry charges shredded infantry like paper.
No human matched a horse's might alone. The crossbow bridged that gap.
Its firepower transcended human limits.
To Ma Gyun, Zhuge Liang seemed godlike.
"Now, we watch the enemy's play."
Zhuge Liang shook his feather fan, surveying the lines.
Now, await their bridgehead here.