Chapter 628

Not only that — to show loyalty and curry favor with their master, the Korean kingdom sent over ten thousand troops to the Liaodong campaign. Not only were they nearly annihilated, but the Right State Councilor, Kim Ja-jeom, was burned alive by Wang Dou.

When word reached Korea, the court and public erupted in uproar. The pro-Ming faction swiftly gained the upper hand. From ruler to subject, the entire Korean court trembled with fear, dreading that the Great Ming would dispatch troops to punish them.

Later, though the Great Ming lacked the strength to launch a punitive expedition, the pro-Ming faction grew restless. Meanwhile, after Duoergun returned to Shengjing, the shortage of grain at home and the need to pacify the Mongols led him to intensify the squeeze on Korea, further stoking discontent throughout the country.

Yet because the Qing army’s threat loomed right before their eyes and the Great Ming was powerless to rescue them by land or sea, the Korean court, after deliberation, continued to serve the Qing as their overlord. Still, they no longer showed the deference of former days and secretly dispatched envoys to the Great Ming, appearing rather two-faced.

At the same time, undercurrents surged within Korea. Some whispered that King Yi Jong had lost virtue, groveled before the barbarian slaves, and oppressed his people — unworthy to be ruler — and quite a few harbored thoughts of replacing him.

Duoergun had only Korea as a fat pig to squeeze, and he dared not press too hard. Besides, Korea was small and weak; how much could he really wring out of it?

But with large numbers of Mongols gathered around, needing Qing aid, they could not help but grow angry when their own desires went unmet.

In the eleventh month of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, several khans of the Outer Jasagh Mongols suddenly departed without taking leave.

As if triggering a chain reaction, right after that, the Jasagh leaders of the Outer Tumed Left and Right Banners, Ombu Chuhur and Shanba, dissatisfied with the rewards they had received, likewise planned to leave without notice.

The two conferred in private: after returning to their encampments, they would simply go over to Wang Dou. Their pasturelands and forests were not far from Wang Dou’s sphere of influence at Mantaoer, and they would surely become Wang Dou’s primary targets in the future.

After the Liaodong battle, many Mongols had already lost their nerve. Shanba and the other were no different — if they could not win, they would switch sides. For how many years had the Mongol tribes been thoroughly adept at this routine?

However, with the precedent of the Outer Jasagh khans, Duoergun had grown vigilant about Mongol movements. Before Shanba and the other could even act, the Two White Banner armies had already struck, capturing those two unlucky wretches on the spot.

Before the assembled Manchu and Mongol ministers, Duoergun ordered Ombu Chuhur and Shanba executed and appointed new Jasagh leaders for the Tumed Left and Right Banners.

Yet after this, though the Outer Mongol Jasagh leaders said nothing openly, in their hearts they grew ever more estranged from the Qing state.

Duoergun, of course, knew this. Deeply worried, he was forced to devote the bulk of his energy to domestic affairs, and only by the first month of the new year did he finally breathe a little easier.

The current situation: Korea was too small to squeeze much oil from. The Manchu Qing had suffered grievous damage and needed to recuperate — and even more, needed outside resources to make good its losses.

The route through the Shanxi merchants had already been cut off by Wang Dou. And yet, those secretly trading with the Manchus were not limited to the Shanxi merchants of the three garrisons of Xuan-Da. All along the Nine Frontier Garrisons — Ji Garrison, Miyun, Shanhai Pass, Liaodong, and even the capital, Shandong, Jiangnan, and elsewhere — there were plenty of people colluding with the slaves.

Duoergun was confident that, lured by rich profits, smugglers would still come in an endless stream.

The Great Qing might lack many things, but silver was plentiful, and ginseng and medicinal herbs were also highly attractive.

Only, this would take years of sustained effort; it was not something that could yield results overnight.

To truly make up the losses, the most important method was still to breach the passes and plunder. Although the Qing state had suffered considerable losses in the Jinzhou campaign, Duoergun was confident that in overall fighting strength, the Great Qing was still mightier than the Ming army — provided, of course, that the Jingbian Army was excluded.

Yet to plunder the Great Ming, Wang Dou was a threshold that could not be bypassed.

Wang Dou had carried out massive property confiscations in Xuan-Da and reaped bountiful rewards. Duoergun had already received that intelligence; it was entirely within his expectations and came as no surprise at all.

Perhaps the one who understands you best is often your enemy — that saying is not without reason.

Wang Dou had grown even stronger, and Duoergun was filled with profound anxiety.

Moreover, during this period when the Great Qing needed to recuperate, how to keep the Great Ming from taking up arms was another matter that troubled Duoergun greatly.

Seated upon the dragon throne, after his initial surge of satisfaction, what followed was endless pressure. Being an emperor was not easy — no wonder his fourth brother had grown fatter year by year.

He gave a cough and commanded with authority: “Summon the Grand Secretary of the Academy for the Advancement of Literature, Ning Wanwo!”

After ascending the throne, Duoergun discovered that, like Huang Taiji before him, he still could not do without the assistance of Han civil officials. Though the Manchu and Mongol banner lords were fierce in battle, in the handling of government affairs they were far inferior to the Han.

And the governance of a state could not be separated from its literati. Thus, continuing to place Han ministers in important posts became one of Duoergun’s subsequent policies.

As for the Han Eight Banners, after the Liaodong campaign, even the Manchu and Mongol banner lords had to admit in private that the greatest casualties inflicted on the Jingbian Army had been caused by those Han troops. They were vast, high-quality cannon fodder. Therefore, the reestablishment of the Han Army Eight Banners was also placed on Duoergun’s agenda.

Only, rebuilding the Han Eight Banners was easy enough — but to forge matchlocks and cannons anew, where would the iron come from?

Before long, summoned by Duoergun’s decree, the Grand Secretary of the Academy for the Advancement of Literature, Ning Wanwo, arrived in haste.

In his fifties, gaunt and withered, with two wispy rat-like whiskers and a pair of gloomy eyes, Ning Wanwo had once been a core figure in Huang Taiji’s brain trust.

After Huang Taiji established the Academy for the Advancement of Literature, he became its head, working alongside Gao Hongzhong, Bao Chengxian, Fan Wencheng, and others to translate and compile the Hongwu Precious Instructions, the Great Ming Collected Statutes, and other Ming codes, perfecting institutions and playing a vital role in the state-building of the Qing.

When the Qing army suffered its great defeat, the Han Eight Banners were destroyed, and Huang Taiji died, Ning Wanwo and his fellow Han ministers had been inwardly terrified. But after Duoergun made clear that he would continue the policy of placing Han ministers in important posts, Ning Wanwo and the others were moved to tears of gratitude and exerted every effort to offer counsel and stratagems to the Shunzhi Emperor.

Ning Wanwo hurried over, knocked his head on the floor with a resounding thud, and after Duoergun granted him a small stool, he perched cautiously on half a buttock.

After listening to Duoergun’s query — how to let the Great Qing recuperate in peace and keep the Great Ming from taking up arms — he pondered at length and then declared decisively: “To answer His Majesty, there is only one path: peace negotiations!”

“Peace negotiations?”

Duoergun mused.

Duoergun had no psychological barrier against peace negotiations. The various northern barbarians beyond the frontier had, for thousands of years, played the grandson when weak and the wolf when strong. It was just as Wei Zheng had said: “When strong, such creatures are sure to plunder; when weak, they grovel — they are beasts.”

Given the Qing state’s present circumstances, peace negotiations were necessary. The key question was: would the Great Ming agree?

To the outside world, they had always preferred broken jade to whole tiles — unyieldingly tough.

Ning Wanwo declared with full confidence: “In this humble minister’s view, the Ming state will certainly agree.”

He analyzed: “After the great Jinzhou campaign, though our Great Qing has suffered a setback, the Southern Court is hardly better off. Their various armies have sustained heavy losses; internally, they face natural disasters, pestilence, and an endless stream of refugees. According to intelligence, in Henan and other parts of the Ming state, bandit forces are once again surging — they have even killed a Prince of the Blood. The Southern Court’s emperor is desperate to extinguish the roving bandits and will surely have no leisure to look north. So long as our words are humble and deferential, even if we cannot achieve an open peace accord, they will at least tacitly consent to both sides refraining from hostilities.”

“Seizing this excellent opportunity, our Great Qing can recuperate and bide its time!”

Duoergun set his mind at ease. So long as the peace negotiations succeeded, what did a few humble words matter?

He thought to himself: “These Han people truly are full of twists and turns — but their understanding of the Great Ming’s internal affairs makes them fine aids to the Great Qing.”

He rose and paced, then sneered: “Not only that — the Great Ming’s internal chaos — the more chaos, the better!”

He said: “Those roving bandits fight among themselves, local rebels rise in swarms — some a million strong, some three or four hundred thousand — seizing cities and sweeping through lands, unstoppable. Our Great Qing should keep adding fuel to the fire, ensuring their internal chaos never ceases, so that we may reap the fisherman’s profit...”

Though he did not specify how to add fuel to the fire, Ning Wanwo still hastened to say: “His Majesty is sagely wise.”

A chill crept into his heart. Compared to the Taizong Wen Emperor, the man before him lacked somewhat in grand vision but possessed a few more strains of venom, with a greater fondness for sinister schemes — yet they were highly effective.

He fawned: “This humble minister believes the Ming bears the unmistakable signs of inevitable ruin. The Ming’s generals and troops not only cannot oppose us — they plunder on their own, butcher their own people, bribe court officials, and falsely claim merit. The court officials, for their part, devote themselves to slander and treachery, blind their sovereign’s eyes and ears, privately accept bribes, punish the innocent, and reward the undeserving. Judging by this, the Ming’s doom is certain — the Mandate of Heaven rests with us.”

Duoergun nodded with satisfaction, sat back on the dragon throne, and said: “Tell me — how do we deal with Wang Dou?”

He felt a headache coming on. As long as Wang Dou existed, the Great Qing could not breach the passes to plunder, make up its losses, and strengthen itself. How could they remove this mountain called Wang Dou?

A flash of icy malice flickered through Ning Wanwo’s eyes as he said: “This minister requests the use of a stratagem of sowing discord!”

Duoergun mused: “A stratagem of sowing discord?” (To be continued.)