In the city of Bianliang, within the tranquil confines of Tianqing Temple,
a dim chamber lay steeped in silence. A single lamp flickered faintly like a lone bean of light in the dark.
Three time-travelers and a robot sat cross-legged on meditation mats, exchanging awkward glances in a moment of uneasy quiet.
Never in his wildest dreams had Wang Qiu imagined that the very first "newcomer" he was meant to rescue—
would turn out to be none other than his own university professor of Marxist philosophy!
He vividly remembered how Professor Guo had mercilessly scolded him in remedial classes after he failed Marxist theory.
Well, encountering a familiar face in a foreign world might not be such a terrible thing after all—
at least it made communication a bit easier.
Moreover, based on their recent exchange, Wang Qiu began to suspect
that this Professor Guo might possess a rather unusual identity...
"…Now then, we've covered most of what you need to know about the 'Main God' and the Infinite Space system.
Let's turn to the details of your current mission."
Wang Qiu flipped through his Book of Transmigration,
which Nagato Yuki had conveniently converted into an e-reader,
as he explained the context of Guo Jing's arrival in the Northern Song.
"…Originally, your task was designed as a team-based war simulation—
two factions replacing minor historical figures on opposite sides:
the Song Dynasty and the Jin Empire, engaged in a grand strategy match.
Because the Song was disadvantaged, your team was scheduled to arrive first.
In addition to you, a rookie, there were supposed to be six veteran reincarnators.
But they've all been forcibly logged out, leaving you stranded alone."
"As for the Jin side, their team—both veterans and newcomers—
were scripted to arrive seven days later in this timeline.
But before that even happened, the Main God system collapsed,
so we no longer need to worry about their existence..."
"No wonder," Guo Jing murmured in sudden realization,
"when I went out to gather intelligence earlier, I heard rumors that several newly appointed 'rebel' leaders
had mysteriously vanished and were now being accused of desertion by the court—
so they were actually avatars assigned to those missing veterans by the Main God!"
"Well, perhaps it's just as well they're gone," he added dryly.
"Better that than disrupting the defense of the city."
—After Comrade Guo Jing, formerly a Taoist recluse, suddenly "ascended" to fame,
a flood of curious opportunists from every corner of Bianliang came rushing in to pledge themselves.
One of them was a street performer—an acrobat who went bare-chested in winter,
selling liniments while showing off flashy martial arts.
His name was Bo Jian, and Guo hired him as a martial instructor for spear and staff techniques.
Not to be outdone, the capital's Buddhist faction also presented their own miracle-worker:
a monk named Fu Zhenglin, who claimed to have a strategy for repelling the invaders.
He petitioned the court to allow him to raise an army.
Delighted by his confidence and encouraged by the people's enthusiasm,
the emperor gave his full support—
only for Fu the Sage to propose assembling five thousand devotees to chant Amitabha Buddha in unison.
Such a thunderous, deafening prayer, he claimed, would surely break the will of the Jurchen warriors.
Thus, while outside the city the brutal Jurchens pillaged with blood and fire,
within the walls of Bianliang, an absurd theater of delusions unfolded—
an endless parade of self-proclaimed miracle-men emerged,
each more fantastical than the last:
some claimed to be incarnations of the Six Ding Warriors,
others styled themselves Generals of the Big Dipper,
or Grand Marshals of Heaven's Gate.
They babbled endlessly of mystic arts—"Seven Star Fists," "Bean-Sowing Soldiers," "Demonic Heaven Fists"—
until it seemed the entire city had descended into mad prophecy.
As the saying goes: When a nation is about to fall, monsters are born in droves.
Then, on the very day of Guo Jing's arrival, six of these so-called sages vanished mysteriously,
casting a chill over the city's hearts—
but conveniently sweeping aside Guo's competitors.
Not that this meant anything worth celebrating in a city teetering on the brink of collapse.
"Ever since those 'immortals' disappeared, I became the people's last straw of hope…"
Guo Jing smiled bitterly at Wang Qiu.
"All their so-called 'divine soldiers' have now been assigned under my command,
and it looks like I'll soon be fielding a grand force of 7,777 'Six Jia Divine Warriors.'
But how can such an undisciplined mob be expected to face the enemy in battle?"
—According to Guo's fabricated "Six Jia Immortal Formation,"
he claimed to require exactly 7,777 soldiers,
chosen not by skill or class but by astrology and the Eight Characters of birth.
In just a single day, nearly three thousand recruits had already signed up—
mostly idle drifters and loafers from the markets.
They flocked in, thrilled by the promise of easy wealth:
all they were expected to do was collect enemy heads—no fighting involved.
Since Jurchen warriors all wore golden earrings,
these "divine soldiers" were told they could loot at will.
Food, drink, silver, and even side profits awaited them.
Who wouldn't jump at such an opportunity?
And the so-called enlistment requirements were a joke—
as long as you nodded to Guo's nonsense,
no one bothered checking your identity or birth certificate.
Now, with the disappearance of rival sages,
their own troops flocked to Guo for food and pay.
To make matters worse, Prime Minister He Li formalized their enlistment—
handing them rations and payroll,
transforming a ragtag band of street performers into a regiment of state-sponsored "special forces."
Guo Jing had originally hoped to maintain stricter standards,
but it was far too late for that now.
As he gazed upon the 7,000-strong "Six Jia Army,"
soon to march into battle,
the newly reborn Commissar Guo Jing felt an overwhelming urge to weep—
How could these idle good-for-nothings possibly withstand the Jurchen cavalry?
Was this madness? Or suicide? Or simply a fool's death wish?
"…Well, we've got a rough grasp of your situation now,"
Doraemon muttered while rummaging through his pouch.
"Never mind earning those 50,000 reward points to get you out of this world—
first, we have to keep this city from falling!
But don't worry, we've got your back."
"Aha! Found it!" he exclaimed. "The Acceptance Button!
No matter how bizarre someone looks, once this button is pressed,
everyone around will perceive them as completely normal!
Come on—everyone, place your hand on it!"
Doraemon, Wang Qiu, and Nobita pressed the button together.
A burst of brilliant white light erupted,
seeming to engulf the entire world.
When it faded, Wang Qiu glanced at his hands—nothing had changed.
He turned to Doraemon and asked, "Hey… what exactly was that thing?"
"A gadget that helps us blend in," Doraemon replied, blinking.
"You and Nobita look close enough to the locals,
so a change of clothes is all you need.
But someone like me—a robotic cat from the future—
if discovered, would cause mass panic.
That button makes people perceive me as just another normal citizen."
"Ahh, I see…" Wang Qiu nodded in realization,
lightly clapping a fist into his palm.
No wonder Doraemon's neighbors always treated a walking, talking machine cat so calmly…
…
Doraemon then produced a Costume Camera,
dressing the trio in Song-era Taoist robes.
To the outside world, they were now Guo Jing's newly appointed apprentices.
Given the chaos of recruitment, no one would question a few unfamiliar faces.
At last, after some hesitation, Wang Qiu awkwardly made a request:
"Um… Professor Guo, we'll do everything we can to help you escape this world.
But truth be told, we're a bit strapped for cash right now—especially Doraemon.
So… could you perhaps spare some of that gold and silk the emperor rewarded you?"
"…You want money?"
Guo Jing blinked, then laughed heartily.
"Take anything you want from my quarters. Don't be shy!
If we fail in the end, it'll just end up in Jurchen hands anyway."
And so, a most unholy act of historical vandalism began in the hallowed halls of Tianqing Temple.
…
At dawn, the ground trembled with a deafening crash.
As the 7,000 "Six Jia Troops" stumbled out of their beds,
still groggy and half-dressed,
they were greeted by the sight of Guo Jing's sanctum reduced to a smoking pile of rubble.
Even more shocking were the soot-covered figures who danced atop the ruins, laughing in ecstasy.
"Jackpot!" cried Nobita, leaping for joy.
"Who would've guessed the rafters were made of golden nanmu wood,
the furniture out of huanghuali,
the bedding hand-embroidered silk,
the porcelain imperial-crafted,
the jade from the Tang dynasty,
the paintings from the Eastern Jin—
every piece worth a fortune!
Just now, I pawned them all for thirty million yen!"
Standing in the smoke and ash, he turned to Guo with a hopeful grin:
"Say, Professor, think you could talk the emperor into giving us the imperial palace as payment?
If we dismantle it and toss it into the auto-pawn machine,
we might just be able to pay off Doraemon's 300 billion yen debt!"
In response, Guo Jing collapsed onto a pile of rubble,
his face contorted in pain, his stomach twisting in knots.
What have I done to deserve these chaos-bringing brats?