Chapter 51: The Fat Man's Army is Going to "Generate Revenue"

Inside the commander's tent of the Beiping Grand Camp, the glow of oil lamps made a massive sand table flicker between light and shadow.

More than a dozen high-ranking Ming military officers sat in two rows, all clad in armor with swords at their waists. The tent was so quiet that the only sound was the cracking and popping of the lampwicks.

In the corner, closest to the tent curtain, Fan Tong’s bulky frame made a small camp stool creak in protest. He had rarely bothered to put on a brand-new chiliarch’s official uniform, and the tight fabric made his whole body uncomfortable. Lowering his head, he pretended to study the mud spots on his boots, while his right hand stealthily slipped a piece of air-dried jerky out of his sleeve and quickly shoved it into his mouth. His cheeks bulged rhythmically as he chewed with practiced stealth.

"Gentlemen!"

At the head of the table, Xu Da’s voice was as steady as a mountain, instantly drawing everyone's attention to him.

Holding a long pole, he pointed to a spot in the center of the sand table marked with a small red flag.

"In this campaign, our Great Ming has mobilized an army of one hundred and fifty thousand, divided into three routes in a pincer formation, to strike directly at Karakorum!"

"The central army will be led personally by me, marching out of Yanmen Pass to advance head-on!"

"The western army, commanded by General Feng Sheng, will march out of Jinlan to cut off their western escape route!"

"The eastern army, commanded by General Li Wenzhong, will march out of Juyong Pass to outflank them from the flank!"

With every word Xu Da spoke, the long pole in his hand struck heavily against the sand table with a dull thud, sounding like the prelude to a war drum that beat against everyone's heart.

"This campaign is not about seizing territory, but about annihilating the enemy! Our goal is to completely snap Koke Temur's spine!"

Dead silence filled the tent, broken only by the heavy breathing of the gathered men.

Right at that moment, a slightly arrogant voice rang out.

"General Xu!"

Lan Yu, the deputy general, stood up. He was tall with a heroic countenance. First, he cupped his fists toward Xu Da, and then his gaze shifted, landing precisely on the fat man in the corner who was trying hard to minimize his presence.

"This subordinate has a request!" Lan Yu’s voice was full of vigor. "Chiliarch Fan’s vanguard battalion is brave and unafraid of death, equipped with the finest gear, and during the last battle in the grasslands, they truly displayed the might of our Great Ming military! As I command the vanguard forces, I earnestly request General Xu to temporarily assign Chiliarch Fan’s vanguard battalion to the vanguard sequence of the Eastern Route Army, to clear the thorny path ahead for the main force!"

As soon as these words were spoken, all eyes snapped instantly onto Fan Tong.

Veteran generals like Fu Youde held complex and unreadable expressions in their eyes. They still vividly remembered the endless barrage of vicious and shady tricks that unit had displayed during the inspection days ago. To let this "ancestor-grave-digging" unit act as the vanguard—that boy Lan Yu truly had no fear of poking a hole in the sky.

Xu Da’s expression remained unchanged as his profound gaze also settled upon Fan Tong. He spoke slowly,

"Fan Tong, what do you have to say?"

"Mhm... cough, cough!"

Fan Tong had just swallowed the last bit of jerky when this sudden question nearly choked him. He sprang abruptly to his feet, the excess flesh on his belly jiggling three times over due to the haste.

"Reporting to General Xu!" He instinctively puffed out his chest, his mouth still smelling faintly of beef. "This subordinate... this subordinate obeys the commander's orders!"

He hadn't heard a single word of what was said beforehand, but in occasions like this, nodding was always the correct answer.

Looking at his foolish demeanor, the corners of Xu Da’s mouth twitched imperceptibly before he waved his hand. "Very well, let it be settled thus. Go back and prepare yourselves; in three days, the army sets out!"

"Understood!"

The generals chorused their assent and filed out one by one.

Upon returning to his own tent, Fan Tong finally learned the situation from Wu Mang.

"Chief, you've really made it big this time! General Lan Yu personally requested our unit to serve as his vanguard! That is an immense honor!" Wu Mang exclaimed with excitement, gesturing wildly.

"Honor? Can honor be eaten as a meal?"

Fan Tong dropped heavily onto his seat, making the ground of the tent practically vibrate. He snatched up his waterskin, gulped down several large mouthfuls, and let out a long breath.

"Bao Nianfeng, Zhu Hu, what do the two of you think?"

Bao Nianfeng was carefully polishing his prized giant axe with an oily cloth. Hearing the question, he replied in a muffled, rumbling voice, "However the chief wants us to fight, that's how we'll fight. Following the chief always means eating meat anyway."

Zhu Ji, on the other hand, had remained silent all along. Standing before a crude map, his gaze was deep. Hearing Fan Tong’s inquiry, he spoke slowly, his voice low and powerful: "An army of one hundred and fifty thousand, advancing along three routes—it looks imposing, but in reality, it is fraught with danger."

"Oh?" Fan Tong’s small eyes lit up, his interest piqued. "Do tell."

"The grasslands are too vast." Zhu Ji's finger traced across the map. "The movement of our main force is too large, acting like a torch in the dark night. With supply lines stretching for hundreds of miles, weaknesses are everywhere. As long as the Northern Yuan avoids our vanguard and uses small bands of cavalry to continuously harass our grain routes, within half a month, our army of one hundred and fifty thousand will collapse without a fight."

He paused and looked at Fan Tong. "Just like how we dealt with Orug Temur last time."

Fan Tong nodded in satisfaction. As expected of the fellow he had taken a fancy to, the boy’s mind was truly sharp.

"Well said!" Fan Tong slapped his thigh. "Following the main force around means we won't even get to eat the hot broth, let alone the meat! We have to figure out our own way to generate revenue!"

"Generate revenue?" Bao Nianfeng and Wu Mang both blinked in bewilderment.

"Idiots! It means going on a raid!" Fan Tong scolded, looking exasperated. "The main army takes the highway; we'll slip through the woods and take the back paths! They can fight for Karakorum while we loot cattle and sheep! When the main force draws the firepower in front, we'll gut their nests from behind—now that's a profitable business!"

The corners of Zhu Ji’s eyes twitched slightly.

He had originally expected Fan Tong to analyze how to cooperate with the main force from a higher strategic level, but after circling all the way around, they had landed right back on the theme of "banditry and pillaging."

Yet, strangely enough, he actually felt... Fan Tong made a lot of sense.

"But Chief," Wu Mang scratched his head with some worry, "can we just run around however we please while following General Lan Yu's Eastern Route Army?"

Fan Tong chuckled, a crafty gleam flashing in his small eyes. "When a general is away from home, he may disobey the sovereign's orders. The battlefield changes in the blink of an eye. Isn't it perfectly normal if we accidentally 'get lost'?"

And thus, the matter was settled.

The operation guidelines of the vanguard battalion were happily modified by Fan Tong from "Northern Expedition Vanguard" to "Grassland Armed Procurement and Logistics Brigade."

Late in the night, Fan Tong lay on his camp bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Raiding sounded easy, but this time they were facing the entire strength of the Northern Yuan, and the risks were extremely high. Although his troops could fight, their numbers were too small; once surrounded, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Especially when it came to plundered goods—cattle and sheep could walk on their own, but what about gold, silver, and jewels? They couldn't possibly make the soldiers carry treasures while fighting!

"Damn it, logistics are a fatal flaw..."

He muttered irritably, then suddenly remembered something.

"System, System! Are you asleep? Come out and chat for five cents!"

[Ding! The Ogre Cub Rearing Auxiliary System is at your service. Detecting that the host is feeling anxious about the upcoming 'zero-dollar purchase' event, how may I assist you?]

The system's voice was as snarky as ever.

"This Northern Expedition is too big of a commotion, and I'm planning to do some side hustles. But stolen goods are hard to transport; do you have any good treasures to solve this problem?"

[Oh? Has the host finally realized that a qualified ogre not only needs to be able to fight, but also needs a food pouch large enough to hold everything?]

"Speak human!"

[Ding! Detecting the host's strong 'storage' demand, a special wartime supply exchange option is now available!]

A virtual light screen, visible only to Fan Tong, unfolded before his eyes. On the screen, there was only a single, lonely item.

It was a gray cloth pouch that looked thoroughly unremarkable, about the size of a palm, with the Chinese character for "Food" crudely stitched onto it in crooked thread.

[Item Name: The Bottomless Food Pouch]

[Item Description: Sewn from the stomach lining of the Ogre God, it contains an independent spatial dimension capable of storing a massive amount of supplies. Friendly reminder: Do not place living creatures inside, or bear the consequences yourself. Additionally, this pouch has a special affinity for fine food and may secretly swallow a portion of the spoils of war (specifically edible ones) without the host's knowledge.]

"This thing even charges a handling fee? Is this your own stomach pouch, you bastard?" Fan Tong spotted the catch.

The system's impatient voice rang out: [You brat! Just say whether you want it or not!]

"Want it! Want it! Want it! What are the terms?"

[Thirty hearty dishes! Truly hearty dishes!]

"Hiss! Deal!" Fan Tong gritted his teeth and agreed.

Over the next few days, smoke billowed continuously from Fan Tong’s small field kitchen. Braised pork intestines, stewed meats, nine-turn intestines, stir-fried pork kidneys... the rich, heavy aromas of various savory dishes drifted far enough for half the camp to smell them.

[Yosh! That's the exact flavor!]

[Ding! Exchange successful! Wishing the host... a full house of riches!]

With a flash of light, the palm-sized gray pouch appeared out of thin air in Fan Tong's hand. It felt warm to the touch, with a peculiar texture.

Hesitantly, Fan Tong reached his hand into it.

The very next second, his eyes widened into perfect circles!

His entire arm had vanished inside that tiny pouch! And the inside of the pouch was completely empty, resembling a bottomless black hole of unfathomable depth!

"Holy shit!"

A suppressed gasp of shock broke the silence of the tent.

Clutching this small "food pouch," Fan Tong felt his heart pound frantically. Looking at the map and the marked, immensely wealthy Northern Yuan tribes, drool was practically dripping from his mouth.

The imperial army's Northern Expedition was meant to expand territory and showcase national prestige beyond the borders.

As for him, Fan Tong, he was going to write his very own legend of getting rich in the midst of this magnificent epic of war!

This hunt was getting more and more interesting.