Chapter 156: Arranging a Fight Outside the South Wall (4,000-Character Chapter)

The big shots at court had already been utterly floored by Chongzhen's sheer shamelessness!

You could say that these court officials, having climbed step by step from the provincial exams, through practical training in official posts, all the way to the highest halls of state — what kind of person had they not seen?

Yet they had truly never seen a figure as brazen as the Chongzhen Emperor! Never mind the entire Great Ming — even if you went back hundreds or thousands of years, aside from that old rogue who started out as a village head, there had never been an emperor like Chongzhen!

As for the court officials' feelings, however, Chongzhen made it clear he did not care in the slightest. So long as it didn't provoke a mass walkout by the entire court or immediately plunge the realm into chaos, he could simply ignore their feelings entirely — anyway, I have no shame!

As the man whom the last Yanshenggong, Kong Zhenyun, had memorialized the throne to honor as "Grand Master of Confucian Learning," Chongzhen was perfectly qualified to produce annotations on the Four Books and Five Classics.

After all, even though the last Yanshenggong was now gone, the memorial had been submitted while he was still enfeoffed. What could the court officials do?

They were in despair too.

Yet despair was not confined to the civil officials at court. The little boss of the Capital Camps, Zhang Zhiji, was also in despair.

When his own father had been dispatched by the Emperor to overhaul the Capital Camps, he had come along as well.

Unwilling to simply drift through life waiting to die, Zhang Zhiji felt that he finally had a chance to personally lead troops into battle and revive the glory of his ancestor, the first Duke of Ying, Zhang Fu.

But reality, that fickle mistress, was far too unfriendly — she slapped the young duke Zhang Zhiji right across the face with a resounding smack. The troops he led had actually, goddamn it, been beaten up by a bunch of barbarians!

This did not sit well with the young duke at all. Damn it, my own soldiers — I can beat them however I like, but what the hell does it mean when barbarians beat them up?

Still, even nearly mad with rage, the young duke kept a measure of reason. He knew full well what kind of crime it was to lead troops in an assault on a friendly camp.

So after giving those beaten-up bastards another savage thrashing, the young duke Zhang Zhiji set his mind to recovering his face. A real man doesn't cry out in pain even when his head is lopped off, but he absolutely cannot lose face!

Otherwise, how would all the old-timers and young bloods in the capital view the Duke of Ying's line? He could not afford that disgrace!

Of course, the young duke had a fair idea of what his own soldiers were made of. When it came to mounted combat, they probably couldn't beat those barbarians — as the escort guards who had accompanied an imperial consort all the way from Liaodong to the capital, those men likely had some real skill.

So after thinking it over, the young duke simply pulled in Liu Xingzuo. This fellow had led troops back when he was mixed up with the Jianzhou barbarians, so he definitely knew more about cavalry than the young duke himself.

The men he had brought back — just change their clothes and weren't they my Capital Camps soldiers? Anyway, this guy had already poached plenty of men from the Capital Camps, so he owed the young duke's family a favor.

Liu Xingzuo, however, found it both infuriating and amusing. Damn it, it was perfectly normal for a few grunts to go sightseeing in the capital on their day off.

After all, they said they were guarding the Son of Heaven, but they were hardly likely to see the Son of Heaven's face. Wasn't it perfectly normal to catch a distant glimpse of where the Son of Heaven lived and have a good stroll around the capital?

Besides, in a huge, shabby military camp like this, there was no fun to be had. On rest days, they ought to have a chance to go out and get some air.

But that one stroll turned out to be trouble — they ran straight into those dozen or so Xibe cavalrymen who had only recently arrived in the capital, men who were practically part of Consort Wan's dowry.

To be fair, this really wasn't the fault of Consort Wan's dowry cavalry. They too had finally gotten a rest day to go out, see the sights, and take in the novelty. They were minding their own business, provoking no one and bothering no one, right?

But the young duke's soldiers? Some of those old barracks rats from the Capital Camps weren't nearly so well-behaved.

Watching those dozen-odd Xibe cavalrymen on leave, gawking at everything like country bumpkins in the city, one foul-mouthed soldier laughed on the spot: "Hey, fellas, get a load of this — where'd these yokels come from, wandering into the city?"

When the dozen-odd Xibe cavalrymen heard this, they were not pleased. Damn it, we escorted Consort Wan all the way from Liaodong to the capital.

We're personal guards of the Son of Heaven too, pretty much the same as that whatchamacallit — the Embroidered Uniform Guard, right? And you dare laugh at us?

The leader, Wanyan Cheng, was not a man of good temper to begin with. But his usual bosom buddy, Xiong Sen, had gone home to see his wife and kids and wasn't with him this time.

Without knowing exactly what background those men — clearly Great Ming soldiers themselves — came from, Wanyan Cheng figured it was best to avoid stirring up trouble.

Guided by the principle of "better to let things slide," Wanyan Cheng immediately stepped forward and said to the foul-mouthed Capital Camps soldier: "Hey, friend, we're no barbarians. We're Xibe — we escorted Consort Wan into the capital, and we're here to guard the Son of Heaven too."

Originally, if both sides had just spoken civilly, it would have been nothing. They might even have become friends through a fight. Both were guards of the Son of Heaven, both counted as imperial guards — they might even have become good buddies.

But the whole thing went wrong over one mouth. The foul-mouthed Capital Camps soldier deliberately covered his nose and stepped back two paces, muttering in a muffled voice: "Hey, you, stay away from me. How many days has it been since you washed?"

At this, Wanyan Cheng exploded with rage. Fine! I speak to you civilly, and you goddamn well come back and mock me. You really think no one dares to deal with you? Even if this matter goes before the Son of Heaven today, I'm in the right!

Feeling thoroughly insulted, Wanyan Cheng immediately bellowed, "You're asking for it!" and swung his fist.

The Xibe cavalrymen, who had been seething with anger all along, saw that their leader was no longer holding back. What more was there to say? Just fight!

Then things got lively. The gang of old barracks rats from the Capital Camps saw the Xibe men charging at them, let out a collective roar, and surged forward all at once.

For a moment, fists and boots flew together, howls of pain mingled with groans — it was quite the eye-opener for the common folk on the capital's streets.

Since both groups had tacitly avoided the bystanders, the onlooking commoners were not afraid. In the parlance of later generations, spectators always want the drama to escalate.

At that moment, these capital commoners all wished they could find somewhere to grab a little stool and sit down to watch the show!

While the commoners enjoyed the spectacle, the two groups doing the fighting were experiencing rather different feelings.

The Xibe cavalrymen were all hot-tempered to begin with — if you had a good temper, you couldn't get by in that dog-eat-dog hellhole of Liaodong. Ever since arriving in the Ming capital, they had all been on their best behavior.

After all, as outsiders, it was best not to stir up trouble lightly. So every one of them had been pent-up and miserable.

Now that the fight was on, they might as well cut loose and have a good brawl, and get some real satisfaction out of it.

But the old barracks rats of the Capital Camps were not feeling nearly so good. Their group had a good twenty-five or twenty-six men altogether, more than half again as many as the barbarians opposite them. Yet even with the advantage of numbers, they had still gotten beaten up by those barbarians!

The Capital Camps old-timers were unhappy, but the Prefect of Shuntian was already cursing up a storm in his heart. Those street-patrolling runners — couldn't they just do their patrols properly?

When they saw soldiers brawling, couldn't they just keep their distance and be done with it? Why the hell did they have to come running back to report to me?

What do you expect me to do about it?

While sending someone to inform the Five Wards Military Command, he also led the duty runners to the scene of the brawl, which was near the Desheng Gate. He had no idea what madness had seized these two groups to make them both run off to such a godforsaken place for a fight.

Fortunately, the men from the Five Wards Military Command arrived on the scene even earlier than he, the Prefect of Shuntian, did.

Following the principle of passing the buck whenever possible, the Prefect briskly briefed the Five Wards Military Command on the situation and then promptly made himself scarce.

The Commander of the West Ward Military Command within the Five Wards had an even bigger headache. The Prefect was right — this was, goddamn it, the grunts' own affair, and it fell to him to handle it.

The civil officials had no jurisdiction.

Damn it, if this had happened before His Majesty ascended the throne, or even before His Majesty personally led troops to pursue the Jianzhou barbarians, it would have been a miracle if the Prefect hadn't ordered these soldiers seized and punished on the spot!

But no matter how much he cursed the Shuntian Prefect inwardly for being a bastard, the matter had ultimately landed on his own head. Yet after bringing the two brawling groups back to the West Ward Military Command, the Commander's headache only grew worse.

On one side were the men of the young duke Zhang Zhiji of the Duke of Ying's household.

On the other side were the dowry escort guards of Consort Wan, who had escorted her a thousand miles from Liaodong into the capital, and who were reportedly on good terms with the Embroidered Uniform Guard within the Embroidered Uniform Guard — that bunch led by Xiong Sen.

This made both sides difficult to deal with. Whichever side he treated too harshly or too lightly, someone would surely come looking for trouble with him later. He was a military man himself — did he not know the grunts' damnable instinct to protect their own?

If he reported it to his superiors in the Ministry of War, he would inevitably leave an impression of incompetence. If he did nothing, once those mad-dog Censors got wind of it, he would inevitably face an impeachment, and then his impression with His Majesty would also be ruined.

Since he had no choice but to handle it, and also had to leave behind a reputation for fairness and justice, the West Ward Commander made a crisp decision: the Capital Camps men had foul mouths and had provoked the incident first; the Xibe cavalrymen had thrown the first punch.

The conclusion: both sides were at fault. He would simply give each side fifty strokes of the board, then send word to their superior officers.

Done.

The two groups, having taken their beatings, limped out of the Military Command, exchanged a cold snort, and went their separate ways — no more to be said. Among the various parties who received the news, however, reactions varied.

The young duke Zhang Zhiji felt he had lost face. No matter how you put it, the fact was that his men had lost the fight. They deserved a beating for that — but he also had to get his face back!

As for the Xibe cavalrymen, they had taken the caning because their side had thrown the first punch. And those foul-mouthed bastards had already been taught a harsh enough lesson.

Both were imperial guards protecting the Son of Heaven, so when they fought each other, they had all aimed for the face. No one had grabbed weapons, and no one had used lethal techniques like groin kicks or throat locks.

Xiong Sen, however, thought it was no big deal. So what if they were the young duke's soldiers?

They hadn't beaten up the young duke himself. These Xibe cavalrymen were treasures — he still intended to sweet-talk them into the Embroidered Uniform Guard as drill instructors.

Getting into a fight with some old barracks rats from the Capital Camps was a fart-sized matter!

As for the Chongzhen Emperor, who got the news last of all, he held the memorial in his hand and didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "A brawl between two groups is one thing, but this Zhang Zhiji is actually arranging another fight with them!"

Had it been anyone else, Chongzhen would inevitably have issued an edict of reprimand. In serious cases, the consequences were anyone's guess — dismissal from office was not out of the question.

But Zhang Zhiji was someone Chongzhen could not bear to dismiss. The Chongzhen Emperor had not even considered issuing an edict of reprimand.

Information from sources like later-era forums and message boards told the Chongzhen Emperor that the Duke of Ying's line was pretty much the most reliable of the ennobled houses at this time.

When other ennobled houses were racing to surrender to the rebel Li Zicheng, only that last Duke of Ying — whatever his name was — led his army to fight Li Zicheng to the death.

Although that last Duke of Ying had also dropped the ball, possessing not even half the ability of his ancestors Zhang Yu and Zhang Fu, he was just as loyal as Zhang Yu, and in the end Li Zicheng cut him down.

For this reason alone, Chongzhen figured, let them fight if they want. Anyway, he didn't understand military camp affairs, but he could guide them toward healthy competition — for instance, by counting Jianzhou barbarian heads to decide who won.

Didn't later generations say that one of the "four iron bonds" was having carried a rifle together?

But when his thoughts turned to those Xibe cavalrymen, Chongzhen got another headache. These men were the dowry escort guards of that little minx Wanyan Yuzhuo.

Although in theory they were now his own household's people, it was obvious that in their hearts they were loyal to Wanyan Yuzhuo, or rather to Wanyan Hong's Xibe tribe.

Still, as the old saying goes, if you've thoroughly read three hundred Tang poems, even if you can't compose one, you can at least recite one.

As a code monkey who had been trained at the later-era Qidian Transmigrator Training Base, the Chongzhen Emperor immediately came up with a pretty good solution.

Meanwhile, outside the southern wall of the city at that moment, Zhang Zhiji and Liu Xingzuo had brought a squad — ten handpicked, relatively elite soldiers — and together with Liu Xingzuo, they were facing off against Wanyan Cheng opposite them, eyes locked in a tense standoff: "Hey, what's this?

You're afraid you can't win, so you dragged the Embroidered Uniform Guard in to back you up?"

Before Wanyan Cheng could speak, Xiong Sen glared with his ox-like eyes and said in a gruff voice: "Young duke, you shouldn't say things like that carelessly. Old Xiong here is just watching the excitement. Whether you fight or not is your business. Old Xiong here is just watching, not talking."

Zhang Zhiji gave a dry laugh and said, "That's fine, then. Though I'm not afraid of your Embroidered Uniform Guard, I'd rather not tangle with you either. We go our separate ways — that's best, best."

With that, he paid Xiong Sen no more attention. Zhang Zhiji sneered at Wanyan Cheng and said, "Today we settle this matter first! You're a guest army, so you set the terms. If I so much as furrow my brow, count it as my loss!"

But his words had barely faded when the sound of urgent hoofbeats came from the distance. Zhang Zhiji and the others raised their eyes to look, and their faces all turned uniformly grim.

On Third Brother's domestic production capability. This really isn't mocking India's Third Brother — everyone understands, from the half-hidden Arjun, to the car-transported LCA, to the stealth ship that can achieve three-dimensional invisibility. Everyone understands, everyone understands.

Third Brother once unveiled a domestically produced assault rifle. When they brought it out, Big Hairy panicked — holy crap, isn't that our AK?

Third Brother, you've got some nerve — do you have a production license or not? Right, that rifle was a copy of the AK, from the same lineage as Rabbit's Type 56.

But while Rabbit's Type 56 was selling far overseas, Third Brother's rifle was riddled with problems. Parts prone to cracking and breaking, the fire selector, carry handle, and receiver-end screw also easily damaged, the barrel prone to expansion.

What's funnier is that it used NATO-standard 5.56mm ammunition, but Third Brother's enterprises didn't have the corresponding production capability.

Adou — no, Third Brother.

(End of chapter)