The silence in the wake of Generalissimo Yue's departure was deeper and more profound than any battle's cacophony.
The vast parade ground was empty save for Lin Wei and his small team. The air, which had moments before been thick with the tension of judgment, was now cold and still. The endorsement of a legend was not a crown; it was a yoke.
Commander Xin was the first to move. He walked to Lin Wei, his face unreadable. He did not offer congratulations.
Instead, he placed a heavy object in Lin Wei's hand. It was a seal, carved from a dark, polished jade, its surface cool and unnervingly smooth. The characters for "Surgeon-General, Imperial Army" were cut deep into its face.
"This is not a reward," Xin said, his voice low. "It is a key. It will open storehouses and command clerks. It will also draw every ounce of envy, skepticism, and sabotage from here to the capital. The battle you just won was the easiest one. The war of administration begins now."
He gestured to an aide, who brought forward a wooden chest. When opened, it revealed not gold or silk, but scrolls. Dozens of them.
"The muster rolls for the four central armies under the Generalissimo's direct command," Xin stated. "Quartermaster reports. Supply inventories. Your authority is now real. Your first task is to inventory what you have to work with. Your second is to determine what you need. Your third is to not get strangled by the paperwork." He gave a curt nod, a gesture that held more meaning than any flowery speech, and left Lin Wei standing alone with his new empire of parchment.
The scale of the task was paralyzing. Lin Wei's world, which had shrunk to the focused intensity of the demonstration, now exploded outward to encompass the entire Song war machine.
He was no longer just responsible for his band of convicts and volunteers; he was responsible for the health of tens of thousands of the empire's best soldiers.
He retreated to the quarters he had been assigned—a proper tent, spacious and empty save for a table and a bed. He laid the seal on the table. It seemed to absorb the dim light of the lamp. The system in his mind, usually a stream of active data, was silent, as if overwhelmed by the shift in scope. The directive
"[Win the War]" was too vast, too abstract. It offered no next step.
The first challenge was the silence itself. He was isolated. Ox Li, Sly Liu, and Scholar Zhang had been billeted elsewhere. He was alone with the symbol of his authority, and it felt more like a prison.
The knock on the tent pole was tentative. Scholar Zhang entered, his arms laden with yet more scrolls, his face pale but alight with a scholar's fervor for a new puzzle. "Surgeon-General," he said, bowing slightly. "The clerks from the headquarters scriptorium sent these. They are the logistical codes for large-scale requisitions. The forms are... complex."
Lin Wei almost smiled. Zhang's arrival was a lifeline. "Forget the forms for a moment," Lin Wei said, gesturing to the scrolls from Xin. "First, I need to know what we have. And what we lack."
As Zhang unrolled the first muster roll, the sheer numbers were dizzying. Thousands of men. Hundreds of horses. The inventory lists were a catalogue of empire: salt, grain, leather, iron, arrows by the tens of thousands.
But as Zhang read aloud, Lin Wei's medical mind began to cross-reference, and a chilling picture emerged. The lists were abundant in things that killed, and barren in things that healed.
"Linen bandages?" Lin Wei asked.
"Two hundred bolts allocated for the entire army for the season," Zhang read. "Primarily for officer's tents and banner repair."
"Alcohol? Strong wine?"
"Reserved for the officer's mess and victory toasts."
"Medicinal herbs? Honey? Bone needles?"
"Available by special requisition from the imperial apothecary, with a lead time of three months, pending approval from the Board of Physicians."
The system, reacting to the data, finally issued a new, grim alert:
"[Logistical Analysis: Current medical supply levels insufficient for projected casualty rates. Deficit: Critical. Priority: Establish independent supply chain.]"
This was the true battlefield. Not the one of blood and steel, but of ink and quotas. He was being given command of a fortress with empty granaries.
The tent flap opened again, this time without a knock. Sly Liu slipped inside, his eyes gleaming with a different kind of intelligence. He took in the scene—the scrolls, the seal, Lin Wei's grim expression.
"The clerks are already talking, Doc," Liu said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "They say the old physicians are furious. They're calling your demonstration 'a circus of butchery.' The quartermaster's chief clerk is Physician An's cousin. They're saying the Surgeon-General will get his supplies... eventually. After the proper channels are observed." Liu's smile was razor-thin. "Proper channels' is bureaucrat for 'never.'"
The message was clear. The political war Xin had warned him about had begun before he'd even issued his first order. They would starve him of resources, bog him down in procedure, and wait for him to fail.
Lin Wei looked from the earnest Scholar Zhang to the cunning Sly Liu, then down at the jade seal. The weight of it felt different now. It was no longer a burden; it was a tool. The paralysis broke. The scale of the problem was immense, but he had faced impossible odds before.
"Zhang," he said, his voice finding its focus. "I need a new kind of list. Not what the army has. What we need to build a medical corps for twenty thousand men. Calculate it. Bandages, antiseptic, splints. Everything."
He turned to Liu. "Find Ox. Then, I need you to find the 'improper' channels. I need to know where the real supplies are. The ones that don't appear on these scrolls."
The directive in his mind shifted, adapting to the new war.
"[Win the War]" was too grand. The system refined it, breaking the monolith into a actionable command.
"[New Sub-Directive: Build the System.]"
The battle for the future of the Song army would not be won on a parade ground. It would be won in storerooms, in ledgers, and in the dark alleys of the camp's shadow economy. Lin Wei picked up the jade seal. It was time to go to work.