Chapter 1196: The Prelude to Shifting Court Dynamics

Spending his first winter in Luoyang, Emperor Liu seemed quite well adapted—perhaps it was psychological, but he even felt it was much more comfortable than Kaifeng. In the winter of the sixth year of Kaibao, it seemed a few degrees colder than in past years, and during the coldest stretch of the season, several snowfalls came in succession. The snow was not heavy, yet it still added a touch of softness to this bleak and desolate winter.

The power structure of the Great Han court had also grown increasingly stable—not only through the division and checks on power, but also because, after all these years, everyone from top to bottom had grown accustomed to it.

The Hall of State Affairs was, without question, the highest authority in the current court, receiving the Emperor's commands above and overseeing all ministries and circuits below. And with Emperor Liu delegating power and the Crown Prince's participation, its position as the center of power had become even more firmly entrenched.

In the past, at the Eastern Capital, there had also been the Chongzheng Hall—not enough to contend with it, but it always provided some measure of counterbalance. After moving to the Western Capital, this situation underwent considerable change. The posts and personnel of the Chongzheng Hall remained, but it was left out in the cold, rendered a hollow institution—at the very least, there was no palace called Chongzheng Hall in the Western Capital.

However, given Emperor Liu's habitual nature, it wasn't that he had truly let go and allowed power to return entirely to the chancellors' hall. Rather, he had studied the Great Han's current official system and institutions, and found that in limiting the chancellor's power, there was already further division and checks compared to the Three Departments and Six Ministries of the Tang era.

And as for the "Chongzheng Hall"—from its embryonic form, to its establishment, to its growth and expansion over twenty years, its counterbalancing effect on the Hall of State Affairs had actually been unremarkable. On the contrary, to a certain extent, it had caused bloat in the power structure and slowed administrative efficiency.

As the Emperor's secretarial institution, the Chongzheng Hall was qualified and played a positive role, but to expand its influence and inevitably come into conflict with the Hall of State Affairs was only natural. It was with these considerations in mind that, in the past, Emperor Liu had never granted the Chongzheng Hall real power, drawing a clear line between the two.

The westward move to Luoyang had a tremendous impact on the court—some effects were visible, while others changed imperceptibly. For instance, Emperor Liu's thinking on and division of power—now he was preparing to make adjustments again.

It wasn't just a matter of personnel changes; the most important thing was the balance between imperial power and ministerial power. After deliberating for nearly half a year, discussing with many people, and synthesizing suggestions from all sides, Emperor Liu had basically made up his mind.

His initial idea was to establish a Grand Secretariat, and this Grand Secretariat would naturally be born from the old Chongzheng Hall, but with a difference from the past: its powers and responsibilities would be more clearly defined.

While undertaking secretarial work at the Emperor's side, it would also serve as the brain of the state, offering counsel and deciding on major policies. To put it plainly, it meant completely stripping the decision-making power from the Hall of State Affairs and vesting it in the Grand Secretariat, while the Hall of State Affairs' main power henceforth would be deliberation and execution.

One could also say it was putting the old Secretariat into a new "Grand Secretariat" shell—except that this shell was meant more to embody the Emperor's will. No matter how it changed, this was the fundamental point; this was still Emperor Liu's move to strengthen imperial authority.

Although it had not yet been implemented, Emperor Liu had already silently settled on the first Grand Academician of the Grand Secretariat—not Shi Xizai, who had served as "Secretary-General" for several years, but Chancellor Wei Renpu.

Speaking of which, Wei Renpu had served as Chief Chancellor for over ten years now. He was getting old; it was time to reduce his pressure and lighten his physical burden—reviewing documents and handling government affairs was also physical labor.

Of course, the most important factor lay in Emperor Liu's suspicious nature. Toward Wei Renpu, this veteran minister, Emperor Liu felt trust, respect, and admiration—but these had their limits.

Even to this day, he had not developed feelings of suspicion toward Wei Renpu, who had remained diligent and always maintained the bearing of a chancellor. However, when one person stays too long in the chancellor's seat, problems are bound to arise.

For everyone's sake, what needed to change had to change, and what needed to move had to move.

Emperor Liu had been delegating power for quite a long time, yet the moment his thinking shifted, the clever people at court sensed it immediately. Many knew that by the coming year, the court would undergo another major upheaval.

Therefore, in this winter of the sixth year of Kaibao, besides the cold, there was also an added restlessness within the Great Han court.

Among the various ministries and bureaus under the Hall of State Affairs, the most conspicuous was the Finance Bureau, while the one with greater independence was the Bureau of Military Affairs. Having pursued the separation of military and civil affairs for so many years, the general direction ran from the center to the localities—though achieving it completely was impossible, and unrealistic in the current era.

All along, although the Bureau of Military Affairs was nominally under the leadership of the Hall of State Affairs, it basically managed its own affairs, and the Hall of State Affairs rarely interfered in specific military matters.

Of course, the normal operation of the Bureau of Military Affairs could not do without the support of the Hall of State Affairs. Its exchanges with the Finance Bureau, the Ministry of War, and the Ministry of Personnel were quite frequent—especially with the Ministry of War.

Therefore, when there were influential changes at court, the Bureau of Military Affairs could hardly remain unaffected. And Li Chuyun, as the head of the Bureau of Military Affairs, was influenced by that prevailing mood as well.

Behind the official desk in the Bureau of Military Affairs, which exuded an aura of power, Commissioner of Military Affairs Li Chuyun was buried in reviewing military intelligence reports submitted from various regions. His expression was extremely grave, his face as if frozen by the cold weather.

The reason was that he too sensed that his time at the Bureau of Military Affairs was running out...

He had assumed the post of Commissioner of Military Affairs at the same time as Zhao Kuangyin—both after the northern expedition. If Emperor Liu would replace Zhao Kuangyin over managing the Ministry of War, then how much more so for the Bureau of Military Affairs, which oversaw the nation's military affairs?

Li Chuyun's tenure as Commissioner of Military Affairs was the longest of any in the position's history, and on that account alone, he was worthy of being remembered in the annals. During his nearly ten years in office, he had been diligent and conscientious, handling the nation's military affairs in an orderly manner with few errors.

Moreover, beyond his daily duties, his achievements were also remarkable—the unification, Hexi, Annam, Liuqiu, and Dali could all be said to have been carried out under his direction.

For Li Chuyun personally, he was reluctant to leave his post—on the one hand, the high position and great power; on the other, the desire to continue displaying his talents through it. However, this was not up to him.

The change in his mood showed on Li Chuyun's face, which bore an even more serious expression than usual. Still, when it came to work, Li Chuyun remained meticulous, not daring any negligence. Even with his departure imminent, he wanted to stand firm at his post to the last—that was probably his thinking...

Finally, a trace of a smile appeared on his stern face. The report in his hand came from Hexi: Chief General Yang Tingzhang had submitted a memorial stating that the last resisting force of the Yellow-Head Uyghurs had been crushed, and the Uyghur threat was settled.

These Yellow-Head Uyghurs were naturally remnants of the Ganzhou Uyghurs. When the court had taken Hexi back then, a portion of the Uyghur tribes had escaped—not many in number—and migrated to the southwestern region of Gua and Sha.

In fact, if they had been content to graze and recuperate, the court might not have pursued them relentlessly. The problem was that they were restless, allying with the surrounding Tibetans to repeatedly harass Hexi, killing and plundering Han territory. At the height of their strength, they had even mustered a force of nearly four thousand mounted archers.

Naturally, this was something the Great Han could not tolerate. Hexi Chief Commander Yang Tingzhang's main task in recent years had been to wipe them out. Over time, he had launched more than a dozen campaigns, killing and capturing many, but never achieving complete success.

However, these Yellow-Head Uyghurs, bent solely on raiding and plundering without seeking to recuperate, could gain the upper hand temporarily but could not last. Under the Han army's successive blows, they gradually declined and waned. By the autumn of the sixth year of Kaibao, of the original five main resisting tribes, only one remained.

So Yang Tingzhang launched another long-range surprise attack, slaughtering them to the last, and incidentally subdued some unsubmissive Tibetan tribes on the plateau as well. With this, another threat in Hexi was eliminated—which was naturally a gratifying matter for Li Chuyun.

With a joyful mood, he drafted the approval document to transfer the matter to the Ministry of War, handing over the merits and rewards. Originally, Li Chuyun had planned to go to the palace to personally report the good news to Emperor Liu, but before he could set out, he received another piece of good news—one far weightier than the memorial in his hands.

As could be anticipated, the southwest reported that the kingdom of Dali had completely given up and surrendered.