Chapter 123: When Water Flows, the Channel Forms

"Regional Commander, you must not! You must preserve yourself for greater use!"

"We will fight our way back with you, Regional Commander!"

Ma Chenglie roared: "Let go of me, don't stop me!"

The household soldiers around him naturally refused to comply. Ma Chenglie struggled to no avail, then stood dazed with tears streaming down his face, weeping: "Think of it—I began martial training at five, joined the army at thirteen. When have I ever suffered such a crushing defeat, endured such utter humiliation? I am ashamed before the emperor's grace. What face do I have left to live on? Don't stop me—let go!"

"Regional Commander, the great vengeance is not yet exacted, not yet exacted! We beg you to lead us onto that island!"

"Onto the island?" Ma Chenglie laughed bitterly, tears flowing into the cracks of his split lips, both salty and bitter. "Our ships are all destroyed now—are we to paddle sampans to the island?"

The household soldiers around him racked their brains but could think of no further words of consolation. For a moment they all fell silent, and the scene grew exceedingly awkward.

Fortunately, Ma Chenglie's resolve to die had, after this delay, dissipated like smoke and clouds. He slumped to the ground in dejection, his gaze hollow, speechless for a long while.

Just then, one household soldier pointed into the distance and exclaimed in shock: "Regional Commander, look."

Ma Chenglie followed the direction of the soldier's finger. On the distant sea, a Haicang boat was towing a bird boat toward them.

That bird boat had taken on severe water; more than half of it was submerged in the sea, being dragged forward through the waves by the Haicang boat.

Presumably the sea bandits found the vessel too badly damaged to be worth repairing, did not want to keep it, and had sent it back to the naval forces.

They had—they had actually stolen the food and then complained it was stale! Treating him, the dignified Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, like a beggar to be fobbed off with scraps!

This was going too far—too far!

Ma Chenglie's eyes split at the corners with rage. One hand clutching his chest, the other pointing far off at the Haicang boat, he roared with all the strength in his body: "Send out the troops, send out the troops! Kill the sea bandits on that boat! Send out the troops!"

The household soldiers around him exchanged glances, thinking to themselves: has the Regional Commander been addled by rage? There is nothing left in the naval stockade but sampans—how can troops be sent out?

The household soldiers were formidable fighters and believed they could slaughter the sea bandits in boarding combat. The problem was—would the sea bandits even let them get close?

The guns and cannons of the sea bandits on the night of the twenty-eighth of the twelfth month were still vivid in every household soldier's memory.

If they paddled their sampans forward in confusion, wouldn't they just be making themselves live targets?

And so, for a time, not one of the loyal household soldiers moved.

The crowd on the hillside watched helplessly as the Haicang boat slowly sailed up to the outer edge of the naval stockade, slowly untied the rope connecting it to the bird boat, and then slowly turned about, adjusted its sails, and departed.

Ma Chenglie's head throbbed with pain as he roared in blood-tinged fury: "How dare those rogues humiliate me so! I—"

He got only halfway through his words before he could no longer hold on. His vision went black, and he fainted.

An unknown amount of time later, Ma Chenglie slowly regained consciousness. Finding himself lying in the camp, he opened his mouth with difficulty and asked: "How long was I unconscious?"

The household soldiers gathered around him and said: "The Regional Commander was unconscious for an hour or two. Someone has already been sent to fetch a physician."

"Where am I?" Ma Chenglie's voice was weak.

"Zhelin Stockade."

Ma Chenglie struggled to rise, saying: "No need to fetch a physician."

The household soldiers hurried to help him up. Just as they were about to speak in persuasion, the Regional Commander cut them off: "Send someone—go to Chaozhou Prefecture, retrieve my memorial draft, and—and prepare a ship."

The household soldier looked troubled: "Regional Commander, retrieving the memorial is no problem, but a ship..."

He dared not continue, afraid of provoking Ma Chenglie into fainting again.

Ma Chenglie said: "Just find a merchant vessel capable of crossing the sea. I want to go meet this Five-Clawed Flood Dragon."

"Regional Commander?" The household soldiers around him were greatly alarmed.

"My mind is made up. No more persuasion—go prepare at once."

The household soldiers filed out of the barracks one by one.

Ma Chenglie lay back down on the bed. After that faint, his boiling blood had receded from his head, and his intelligence and cunning had regained the upper hand.

He had thought it through clearly: at this point, the only path left was to throw in his lot with that bandit chieftain.

Zhelin Stockade destroyed, all the naval warships lost, plus the household soldiers lost from the surrounding guard stations—these losses, by himself alone, Ma Chenglie could never cover up no matter what.

And that sea bandit had first sent severed heads and the Capital Gazette, then sent back the leaking bird boat—clearly a gesture of goodwill.

Putting himself in the bandit's shoes, that sea bandit surely did not want to break completely with the imperial court either, and hoped to use him, the Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, to mediate.

If they could join forces, both sides would get what they needed—cooperation for mutual benefit.

And so Ma Chenglie had made the decision to go to the island.

As for the disastrous naval defeat, the utter humiliation, the loss of territory and sovereignty, the emperor's boundless grace—compared to his own life and property, what did any of it matter?

Early the next morning, everything Ma Chenglie needed was prepared.

The household soldiers had found a two-masted Fujian junk. Just as he was about to board, a sobbing call came from afar: "My lord."

Ma Chenglie turned around and saw that it was his most beloved concubine, Runiang, who had followed him here.

Runiang was in the bloom of her twentieth year—in the full flower of youth, with a slender figure, delicate skin, and spring in her pretty eyes. She came from a respectable family, and in earlier years had been an opera performer, raising a voice like silver bells. When making love, her cries were like orioles singing and swallows chirping—merely hearing the sounds could melt a man's bones.

Ever since taking Runiang as his concubine, Ma Chenglie had spent night after night in revelry, sparing no effort in attending to her.

But after suffering this great defeat, with his very life and property in jeopardy, he had no mind for matters between men and women. He had thus been cold toward her all along, causing her standing in the household to plummet.

Now, having heard that her lord was at Zhelin Stockade, Runiang had rushed over as if grasping at a lifeline.

Ma Chenglie was extremely annoyed and was about to drive her away with a stern voice, but seeing her lovely, charming appearance, he changed his mind and said: "You've come? Fine, come along for the trip."

Overjoyed at the news, Runiang lifted her skirts and took quick little steps aboard the ship.

As soon as Ma Chenglie's ship left Zhelin Bay, it was spotted by the Sea Wolf warship that had been ordered to keep watch there.

Facing muskets and Folangji cannons, Ma Chenglie steeled himself and explained his purpose.

That afternoon, Ma Chenglie's two-masted Fujian junk, under the tow of the Sea Wolf warship, came ashore at Houjiang Bay.

Everyone aboard the two-masted Fujian junk was blindfolded, had their hands bound behind their backs, and was brought to the deck of the Santa Ana.

After an extremely thorough search of their persons, Ma Chenglie was led forward several steps and made to stand still.

A voice came: "So you are Ma Chenglie?"

"I am indeed Ma Chenglie, Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao."

In the officers' mess, Lin Qian gave no indication either way, turning his gaze toward Huang Hetai beside him.

Huang Hetai recognized the Regional Commander's voice and nodded to Lin Qian.

Lin Qian then asked, "What business brings you here?"

Ma Chenglie said in a clear voice, "I have come specifically to pledge myself to the Helmsman!"

"Heh..." Lin Qian gave a light laugh, and all the brothers around him burst into laughter together.

When the laughter subsided, Lin Qian teased, "Regional Commander Ma, you, a dignified Vice Regional Commander, come to pledge yourself to me, a sea bandit?"

Ma Chenglie's arrival to pledge himself was an unexpected delight for Lin Qian—he could hardly welcome it fast enough—but first, he wanted to test Ma Chenglie's sincerity, and second, to cut him down a peg, making Ma Chenglie properly understand his place, so that future cooperation would go more smoothly.

Ma Chenglie was worthy of being a high-ranking military officer—even after being mocked by Lin Qian's brothers, he remained calm and composed, speaking as if it were only natural: "The Helmsman's valor is unmatched in this world. Though I have unworthily held the post of Vice Regional Commander, in my heart I hold the deepest admiration for the Helmsman. On this trip I have brought a memorial reporting on the maritime affairs of Nan'ao—it is here in my bosom. Please, Helmsman, examine it."

Lin Qian gave Bailangzai a look, and he stepped forward to take the memorial and hand it to Lin Qian.

Lin Qian opened it and read it carefully, and immediately felt that Ma Chenglie was third-rate at fighting but first-rate at reporting.

What was clearly a disastrous defeat was spun into a strategic retreat—while absolving himself completely, it also faintly carried the flavor of a tragic hero.

Add in a few lines subtly indicting the Donglin Faction, and he might genuinely escape punishment through this.

And the memorial's description of Lin Qian's forces was measured and proper—neither exaggerated nor dismissed as beneath mention.

It sat precisely in a chicken-rib position—useless but not worth discarding.

It made the court feel that they could neither casually dispatch governors to send troops and fight it as a pacification campaign, nor was it worth mobilizing a massive force to encircle and suppress, with excessive expenditure.

In political positioning, fooling the court, and glossing over battle conditions, Ma Chenglie was a past master. Even if Lin Qian had written this memorial himself, he couldn't have written it this well.

To be thorough, Lin Qian also showed the memorial to Scholar Zhou and Huang Hetai, and neither had any objections.

"Well written." Lin Qian said calmly.

Ma Chenglie's spirits soared, and he continued to display his sincerity: "On this trip to the island, I have also brought my family."

"Oh?" Lin Qian looked toward the acting shipmaster who had escorted Ma Chenglie ashore.

"There is a woman." The acting shipmaster replied.

"Her name is Runiang; she is my concubine." Ma Chenglie explained.

Lin Qian's voice turned cold: "This is what you call your family?"

Ma Chenglie hurriedly said, "I came to the island in haste and was ill-prepared. Once I return to shore, I will send the rest of my family over."

Lin Qian leaned back against his chair, silent, one hand idly playing with the edge of his teacup.

In the current situation, Ma Chenglie had no path left but to throw in with him.

The guard station commander's household troops had suffered casualties—silver had to be paid in compensation.

The naval stockade had been destroyed—ships needed to be borrowed to keep up appearances.

After the memorial was submitted to the court, bribes would need to be paid.

Every single matter was something Ma Chenglie could not handle on his own.

He had to bring in Lin Qian as an external ally.

At the same time, Ma Chenglie's collusion with sea bandits and deception of the court was itself a pledge of loyalty—he had already boarded the bandits' ship.

Whenever Ma Chenglie stopped toeing the line, all they needed was to find a Censor and expose the matter, and Ma Chenglie would surely face the court's reckoning.

Having been steeped in the Ming dynasty's factional strife for years, Ma Chenglie's attitude toward pledging himself to Lin Qian was extremely resolute.

After pledging himself to Lin Qian, Ma Chenglie could not only cover up his failures, but also continue serving as Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao—he could even cooperate deeply with Lin Qian, collecting sea bandit heads from him every so often to pass off as military merits.

One move, many gains—cooperation for mutual benefit.

Including sending his family to the island—to some extent, that also benefited himself. After all, this collusion with sea bandits to deceive the emperor was a crime punishable by the extermination of one's entire clan. If the day ever came when it was exposed, he could flee directly to the island and still have a retreat.

Compared to Huang Hetai's hesitant, overcautious attitude when he had pledged himself to Lin Qian, Ma Chenglie's surrender was far more decisive—worthy of someone who could become a high official.

Lin Qian turned the matter over in his mind repeatedly, feeling that accepting Ma Chenglie's allegiance this time was absolutely a profitable deal.

After a long moment, Lin Qian finished his deliberations. Since he had decided to accept the allegiance, he might as well expand the scope of mutual benefit further.

He picked up the memorial on the table and said with amusement, "Since the Regional Commander has such intentions, I think this memorial might as well be revised?"

Ma Chenglie was inwardly unimpressed, thinking to himself that this "Five-Clawed Dragon" might indeed be formidable in naval combat, but wanting to revise his memorial was truly blowing hot air.

Every word in this memorial had been carefully deliberated over for a long time—it both shifted blame and displayed responsibility, with an extremely difficult balance to strike.

He, Ma Chenglie, had crawled and scrambled through the officialdom for over twenty years, pouring his heart and soul into writing this one memorial, and he prided himself that not half a character could be changed.

The Five-Clawed Dragon was nothing but a sea bandit—what qualifications did he have to revise his memorial?

But since he had now pledged allegiance, he needed to show deference. Not a trace of his inner contempt showed on his face, and his attitude was extremely sincere as he clasped his hands and said, "Please, Helmsman, enlighten me."

"Since Garrison Commander Huang is still on the island, how can Nan'ao Island be considered captured by sea bandits? It should be revised to say that the Regional Commander fought a bloody battle and held Nan'ao." Lin Qian said slowly.

Ma Chenglie's brows furrowed into a deep crease. Fortunately, his face covering hid his expression from view. He weighed his words carefully before speaking cautiously: "But the Helmsman led men ashore—everyone in Chaozhou Prefecture knows it. The court is not stupid. Even if I concealed it, in the end, paper cannot wrap fire..."

Lin Qian smiled: "I did come ashore, but who said that those who came ashore must be sea bandits?"

"Ah?" Ma Chenglie was momentarily caught off guard.

Lin Qian guided him step by step: "Let me ask you—on the Ministry of War's books, how many camp soldiers does Nan'ao Island have, and how many warships?"

Ma Chenglie answered honestly: "Nan'ao Island has five thousand camp soldiers and three hundred warships of various sizes; Zhelin Bay has one thousand camp soldiers and one hundred warships of various sizes."

"Setting aside the ghost soldiers on the payroll, how many actual camp soldiers do the two places have, and how many warships?"

"Combined, a little over two thousand camp soldiers, and fewer than two hundred warships."

What Ma Chenglie reported was the data from before the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month—by the latest count, there was probably only one leaking bird boat left. At the same time, a glimmer of understanding began to dawn in his heart.

Lin Qian: "I have over three thousand men under my command and nearly a hundred warships. Add them together, what does that make?"

The number of people and ships on Nan'ao Island was no secret—Ma Chenglie had long since learned it from the merchants who came ashore.

As for the hundred-plus warships Lin Qian mentioned, he was counting the Haicang boats, Cangshan boats, and bird boats that had not yet been fitted with cannons, plus the ships just captured from Zhelin Bay.

Hearing these words, Ma Chenglie felt as if he had been suddenly enlightened. According to the Ministry of War's data, the island should have five thousand men, and there were actually nearly five thousand—wasn't that perfectly reasonable? Didn't it all match up?

The fact that there were men and women on the island was also easy to explain—camp soldiers stationed in one place for a long time naturally had families accompanying them in camp.

As for Nan'ao City, that was even easier to explain—wasn't it built by him, the Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, with real, solid effort?

So saying, a great city suddenly appearing on Nan'ao Island was not only not occupied by sea bandits, but was actually a great political achievement!

Of course, Ma Chenglie wasn't stupid enough to actually report Nan'ao City as a political achievement to the court. For him, as long as he could explain it away when questioned, that was enough.

In the Ming Dynasty, the officials who served as the court's eyes and ears and inspected local regions were mainly of several types.

First were Governors and Governors-General. Nan'ao Island's situation was special—it was jointly administered by Fujian and Guangdong. Nan'ao Island had little profit to squeeze, so basically neither province's Governor nor Governor-General bothered with it.

Second were the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot. In the late Wanli era, these agencies had decayed severely and gradually shifted toward bandit-catching duties. They could barely manage surveillance of capital officials, let alone local oversight.

Third were Circuit Intendants. Guangdong had established the Huizhou-Chaozhou Maritime Defense Circuit Intendant, located at the Fujian-Guangdong border, specifically overseeing coastal defense. After all these years, they were all old acquaintances of Ma Chenglie.

Ma Chenglie abandoned his post and spent an entire year in Chaozhou Prefecture drinking and carousing with the Circuit Intendant, and no one ever said a word about it.

Fourth were Regional Inspectors. These were specially dispatched by the court and replaced every year. Like Governors and Governors-General, Guangdong and Fujian each had one. But Regional Inspectors held high position and great power, and also had to manage civil affairs, criminal litigation, grain and money matters. As long as one made a sincere effort to muddle through, it shouldn't be hard to pass.

As long as the memorial to the court showed that Nan'ao Island was not lost, what did a few more losses matter? Don't forget he still had two hundred severed heads as military merit!

Moreover, this way, the passage in the memorial that subtly shifted blame to the Donglin Faction could be omitted, avoiding the vortex of factional strife and greatly increasing safety.

This memorial only needed to explain two matters: the sea battle on the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month and the naval battle at Zhelin Bay.

With his Ma Chenglie's writing ability, combined with the increasingly fierce factional struggle, he was ten out of ten certain that the memorial would land in the Ministry of War's hands without raising so much as a ripple.

With his thinking opened up, in an instant Ma Chenglie's literary inspiration gushed forth. He felt that everything now made sense—from the Five-Clawed Flood Dragon landing on the island to the Zhelin Bay naval battle, there was nothing that couldn't be explained, no explanation that didn't hold together.

Truly, his literary inspiration gushed forth.

He only wished he could pick up his brush on the spot and revise the memorial.

But in that same instant, Ma Chenglie froze again, secretly thinking—could it be that everything from the Five-Clawed Flood Dragon landing on the island to the Zhelin Bay naval battle had all been arranged long ago by this "helmsman" before him?

Otherwise, why was the number of men under his command exactly three thousand, precisely matching the number of vacancies on Nan'ao Island?

At this thought, from the Five-Clawed Flood Dragon building the city, to executing Li Kuiqi, to the sea battle on the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, to the surprise attack on Zhelin Bay, to sending him severed heads and the Capital Gazette—every single action became unfathomably profound.

Every matter seemed to pave the way for what came after. Everything was natural, handled with effortless ease, water flowing into a channel!

Ma Chenglie was dumbstruck, his mouth dry, his body trembling slightly, fear in his heart. He thought secretly: "Can there truly be someone in this world who can lay plans so deep? Is this really... a human being?"

Because Ma Chenglie wore a mask, Lin Qian did not see his terrified expression and could not guess what he was thinking.

In fact, everything Lin Qian had just said was improvised on the spot. He was no immortal god; he couldn't take one step and see a hundred ahead. Many times when others thought he had planned long in advance, it was only because he reacted quickly.

Lin Qian was pondering how to expand the cooperation further and squeeze the maximum value out of Ma Chenglie.

After thinking for a while, Lin Qian spoke: "When you return to shore, do two things. First, transport all your family members here."

Ma Chenglie rushed to say: "This humble one will do it immediately upon going ashore."

"Second, send people to the capital to make arrangements in advance. In particular, you must win over two people. Write this down."

"This humble one is all ears!"

"One is a eunuch called Wei Zhongxian, also known as Wei Jinzhong or Li Jinzhong. This man is from Beizhili and is the companion of the Emperor's wet nurse, Madame Ke."

"Yes." Ma Chenglie answered in a clear voice, while inwardly shocked to the extreme, secretly thinking—just what kind of immortal was the Five-Clawed Flood Dragon, that he even knew such palace secrets as the Emperor's wet nurse's companion?

And this Wei Zhongxian was unknown and obscure, presumably not a eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

The Five-Clawed Flood Dragon had specifically singled out this man—he must be paving the road for what came next. To lay plans so deep—truly terrifying!

"The other is the Emperor's wet nurse, Madame Ke. She is also from Beizhili. You can start by working on her family members."

Ma Chenglie's voice trembled, his conviction in his thoughts growing ever stronger.

Throughout history, when a new emperor ascended the throne, the targets of sycophancy were mostly old retainers from the prince's residence. Never had anyone heard of currying favor with the Emperor's wet nurse!

This Five-Clawed Flood Dragon's aim was so precise—such insight was probably beyond even the Grand Secretaries. Truly... truly miraculous.

Ma Chenglie's body trembled slightly. At this moment he was wholeheartedly convinced, secretly thinking that his defeat was truly not unjust.

Lin Qian paused, then continued: "I'll allocate you eight thousand taels of silver. Use it to compensate the guard station's soldiers for their dead and wounded, and spend the rest on arrangements in the capital.

As repayment, from now on the vacancy pay of Nan'ao Island is still yours to pocket. I won't take a single coin.

Moreover, I will send people to station at Zhelin Bay to keep up appearances. To ensure my men's safety, you must clear out Zhelin Bay and vacate it for me."

Ma Chenglie gritted his teeth and agreed.

"That's all for now. You may go back. Remember, after you write the new memorial, bring it to me for review first."

"Yes!" Ma Chenglie answered loudly, then paused and added, "Helmsman, this humble one has a request."

"Could this humble one be allowed to see the Helmsman's true face?"

"Next time, when you bring your family to the island, you can take off your hood." Lin Qian chuckled lightly, then rose and walked over, patting Ma Chenglie on the shoulder and saying in a low voice: "Welcome aboard."

After Lin Qian left, the brothers filed out one after another.

Ma Chenglie was pulled along by someone and brought onto the two-masted Fujian junk they had arrived on, where the ropes binding his hands were untied.

The Haicang ship that had brought them was about to tow them out of the harbor.

Ma Chenglie called out: "Hold on."

Then he asked: "Runiang, are you there?"

From the crowd came a coquettish voice: "My lord~"

Immediately after, a gust of fragrant wind swept in, and soft jade entered his embrace. Ma Chenglie pushed the person away and whispered in her ear: "You stay on the island. From today on, you are the Helmsman's woman."

"What?" Runiang was greatly shocked and asked in disbelief, "My lord, you want to give me to the sea bandits?"

"Smack!" Runiang's delicate cheek received a slap.

Ma Chenglie was blindfolded and worried about ruining Runiang's looks, so the slap was not hard. His voice was cold as ice: "Mention those two words again, and I'll beat you to death."

Runiang collapsed to the ground, weeping loudly, begging her lord not to abandon her.

Ma Chenglie hauled her up and scolded angrily: "Stop crying!"

Then he paused and said earnestly: "You're not just staying—you must serve the Helmsman well. Use all your tricks, find every way to make the Helmsman comfortable.

As long as the Helmsman is willing, no matter what he wants to do, you must endure it!

If you do this well, I'll see that your family on shore is clothed in brocade and fed delicacies. Otherwise, heh!"

Runiang ultimately could not defy Ma Chenglie and came down off the ship.

Ma Chenglie explained to the sailors on guard that Runiang was a gift for the helmsman, and the sailors found it hard to refuse on Lin Qian's behalf, so they let Runiang return to the gangplank.

After the two-masted Fujian junk left port, the sailors reported the matter of Runiang to Lin Qian.

Before long, the sailors returned, removed Runiang's hood, and brought her to an empty civilian dwelling.

Runiang, accustomed to the luxurious mansions of the Regional Commander's residence, found this ordinary house with one bright room and two dark ones extremely uncomfortable, and made a fuss demanding to see the helmsman.

However, outside Runiang's door stood two female guards armed with blades, keeping watch day and night without leaving for even a step — even when Runiang went to the latrine, they watched from beside her.

Runiang possessed a full set of skills for serving men, yet had no place to exercise them, feeling much like a hero with no battlefield to prove his worth.

The first month of the new year passed.

Ma Chenglie, as promised, sent all his family members to the island — men and women, old and young, some twenty or thirty people in all.

On the southern part of the island, Lin Qian set aside an entire block of civilian housing for his family to live in.

Ma Chenglie's family, having grown used to a life of fine clothes and rich food in Chaozhou, found the island's harsh living conditions utterly unbearable, and wailed and clamored to go back.

Ma Chenglie put on the airs of a family patriarch to suppress his family's objections.

At the same time, Ma Chenglie also brought the roster of Nan'ao Island's camp soldiers, and issued recruitment certificates and waist tokens to every one of Lin Qian's men.

Unlike the hereditary guard station soldiers —

Nan'ao Island's naval forces belonged to the camp soldier system, which in plain terms was a recruited soldier system: not hereditary, not entering hereditary military households, and compared to guard station soldiers, camp soldiers had a stronger personal attachment to their commanding officers.

For example, the famous "Qi Family Army" was this type of camp soldier.

The camp soldier roster was produced and kept by the Regional Commander's yamen, with a copy filed with the Ministry of War.

Because Ma Chenglie was padding the payroll with ghost soldiers, the recruitment certificates and waist tokens for camp soldiers were all ready-made — no need to make new ones, and certainly no need to report to the Ministry of War; he simply distributed them directly to Lin Qian's men.

From top to bottom across all of Nan'ao Island, everyone received a new identity.

Lin Qian's sworn brothers even received officer status, given Company Commander waist tokens outright.

Lin Qian's own waist token was even that of a Battalion Commander.

So the Ming dynasty's camp soldiers padded their payrolls not only with common soldiers but even with officers — truly terrifying indeed.

With waist tokens, they now had legitimate identities on paper, which would make going ashore and operating on land much more convenient in the future.

Of course, recruitment certificates and waist tokens alone were not enough — if you were going to fake it, you had to fake the whole set, and household registration still needed to be filled in before everything was proper.

That point would have to be accomplished in the future by currying favor with County Magistrates and Prefects.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen