Chapter 1441: Fengshan Debate, Military Academy

Strolling through the imperial garden, struck by a chill wind, Emperor Liu couldn't help but shiver. Seeing this, Yan Tuo hurried forward and considerately draped a brocade fur robe over his shoulders.

An uncontrollable sneeze escaped him. Taking the silk handkerchief, he wiped the mucus from his nose, tucked it into his sleeve, then turned to Yang Ye and said, "You see, these days—can't bear the heat, can't withstand the cold. In the past, when I governed, I could rise at dawn and sleep late, even work day and night without distinction. Now, if I focus on matters even slightly, I feel my energy flagging, my eyes growing dim..."

Hearing this, what showed on Yang Ye's aged face seemed to be a kind of emotion. He said, "Your Majesty has governed with vigor, enriched the state and strengthened the army, pouring out heart and soul for decades, exhausting every ounce of thought. Were it not so, how could the Great Han be as powerful as it is today?"

"Though this still smacks of flattery, I accept it—take it in stride!" Emperor Liu smiled, showing no false modesty. As early as ten years ago, Emperor Liu had already begun to speak and act with self-congratulation. Now, he would hardly pretend humility and deny his magnificent achievements, deny his role in the Great Han's rise to power. There was no need for that.

"But it's you civil and military ministers who are always chanting in my ears. You serve the court, you are my limbs and bones—ruler and ministers are one body, so naturally you speak in my favor!" Emperor Liu said with deep meaning: "I just wonder what the common people under heaven truly think..."

Yang Ye displayed the broad vision and keen thinking he had cultivated, responding at once: "In my office, I too have heard that recently the common folk within and outside the capital have gathered in droves, vying to submit petitions, begging Your Majesty to journey east to Mount Tai for the Fengshan sacrifices. The people are so excited and eager, their enthusiasm running high—this fully shows their reverence for Your Majesty!"

Lately, whether in court or among the populace, everyone was discussing the matter of the Fengshan sacrifices. Officials of every rank vied to submit memorials, the various offices of the capital jointly submitted memorials in unprecedented unison, even local bureaucrats actively petitioned, and the common people joined in the excitement—it was the most sensational and largest-scale uproar in years.

The fervor of the Great Han's subjects could almost move heaven and earth, with the look of not letting up unless Emperor Liu agreed. Amid this tide of a thousand voices speaking as one, what Emperor Liu saw was of course not unity of purpose, but rather he sensed something amiss.

Among the officials submitting memorials, each likely harbored his own thoughts. Perhaps some truly considered the state—the court needed the Fengshan sacrifices to rally hearts and lift morale, and Emperor Liu was certainly qualified to make the journey to Mount Tai—but most, I fear, were going along with the tide to curry favor with Emperor Liu.

Perhaps Emperor Liu would not remember all those who fervently petitioned and pleaded, but those who were not enthusiastic would inevitably stand out in such circumstances, and this could easily become grounds for others to attack and accuse them. In a word: do you dare question His Majesty's civil and martial achievements, refuse to acknowledge the Great Han's prosperity and strength? This could become a pretext for exploitation, a matter affecting one's official career—all had to be treated with caution.

As for those commoners who petitioned with their ten-thousand-name letters, Emperor Liu took them even less seriously. What did these ordinary folk understand? In the past, Emperor Liu himself had been a master of manipulating public opinion.

Back then, before the court pacified the south, there were Lingnan commoners who came to the capital to beg the court to send troops, and the people of the Eastern Capital also actively expressed support for the court dispatching forces to conquer Jiangnan—all of this had official guidance behind it.

Emperor Liu had always maintained the persona of one who loved the people and was close to them, but as for his true attitude toward the black-haired masses—heh heh.

"What do the common people understand? They follow the crowd, echo what others say!" With the corners of his mouth slightly raised, Emperor Liu said calmly: "This matter has stirred up a storm, agitating people's hearts, putting me in a difficult position. I hear some people aren't even keeping their minds on their duties..."

"What difficulty is there in this?" Yang Ye said at once: "Ten thousand voices pleading shows where hearts lie; such fervor is hard to refuse. Your Majesty need only follow good counsel, and once the matter is settled, ministers and people alike will naturally be at ease!"

"This matter still awaits deliberation. No hurry, no hurry!" Emperor Liu shook his head, yet his face wore an expression of reserved, almost hypocritical composure. He waved his hand: "It is already late autumn now; there's no need to rush this moment!"

What the Emperor's attitude truly was—in fact, both high and low already knew it in their hearts. The reason for all this commotion was simply that everyone up and down had automatically slipped into their roles, putting on a grand play.

Indeed, this play was still some distance from its climax. For instance, auspicious signs from various regions, omens of blessing—those heavenly portents that answered the mandate—also needed to make an appearance to assert their existence and manifest their sanctity.

Emperor Liu did not believe in such things, nor did the leading ministers of the court, but those who were ruled needed to believe in them, to worship them.

The Fengshan sacrifices were naturally a sacred matter of great political significance, but if only the ruling class represented by Emperor Liu participated, wouldn't that be the exploiting class amusing itself?

One still needed to create some atmosphere. Popular sentiment was both important and unimportant, but in the matter of the Fengshan sacrifices, it was indeed important—at the very least, through this act, one could strengthen the Great Han Empire's legitimacy and consolidate the common people's sense of identification with the Liu family's realm. This was clearly beneficial for prolonging the dynasty's mandate.

When the people's sense of identification with the Great Han Empire rose to a certain level, the Liu family's hold on the realm would be more stable, last longer, and better withstand upheaval.

"This is still only late autumn—if we wait until winter sets in, these legs of mine will likely suffer again!" Saying this, Emperor Liu changed the subject again, pointing at his legs with a bitter smile: "I still remember when Li Gu led troops to pacify Jiangnan, he took the field while ill. It was winter then, and his wind-damp arthritis was severe—they say he could barely walk.

At the time, I only felt he was disregarding his own body and was moved by his loyalty. In the past two years, I too have experienced it myself, and only now do I truly sympathize. The torment of it is truly hard to endure, and I appreciate Li Gu's worth all the more!"

Emperor Liu's tone remained quite light as he said this. Though his cold legs were difficult to cure completely, he had the most skilled imperial physicians and enjoyed the most thorough recuperative care—on the whole, there had been improvement. It was not as severe as he made it sound.

Yang Ye naturally did not know this, and only said respectfully: "Your Majesty must take care of your dragon body!"

"You all urge me to take care of my health—would I not cherish my own person?" Emperor Liu said: "It's just that old is old. These past two years, I feel the twilight approaching day by day, like these desolate leaves in the wind—there comes a moment when they drift down and return to the earth..."

Hearing this, Yang Ye did not even offer consolation, but instead emphasized the sacredness of Emperor Liu's heavenly mandate. As for what Emperor Liu called "old age," he dared not take it seriously.

On the battlefield, Yang Ye was a hunter who had encountered fierce tigers and bears. A fierce tiger, though old, was still a fierce tiger—even if its claws and fangs were no longer as sharp as before, it could still wound and devour.

And Emperor Liu—he was a true dragon, one who could summon wind and rain, whose mere sneeze could drown a man. How could a minister dare to follow along and sigh about old age and twilight...

Whoever took such words seriously, even acknowledged them, might as well prepare for the end of his official career. Even if he were Yang Ye, there was no exception.

Emperor Liu's posturing was perhaps merely to sheathe his fangs, to hide his cold side, to appear as benevolent as possible—and incidentally, to test the attitudes of these military and political ministers.

Clearly, those who could be tested by Emperor Liu were all clever, and could handle such tests. At Yang Ye's level, still at the center of power holding heavy office—who didn't carry a label like "old fox"?

"I summoned you to attend me today because there is a matter I wish to entrust to you!" Emperor Liu said again.

Hearing this, Yang Ye unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. In the current Great Han court, there were probably many civil and military officials who would rather kneel to receive imperial instructions and then carry out their duties than engage in even seemingly leisurely, cordial conversation with Emperor Liu.

This had not been the case in the past. One could only say that as Emperor Liu's years advanced, his authority grew stronger, and he became more fearsome, less approachable.

Take the chief palace eunuch Yan Tuo, for example—if one were to diagnose him, one would certainly find he had a severe psychological condition. Not only because he was a castrated eunuch, but because he had been frightened by Emperor Liu.

Before others, Yan Tuo loved power, loved luxury, loved basking in others' envious and awed gazes, and might even put on the face of a treacherous eunuch. But before Emperor Liu, he would very naturally slip into the role of a loyal servant and earnest minister, daring not to harbor any stray thought—as if serving Emperor Liu well were the greatest value of his entire life.

"Please give your command, Your Majesty!"

"I have recently weighed the matter over and over, and I have decided to establish a military officers' academy!" Emperor Liu said.

Yang Ye was briefly taken aback, then his expression turned serious as the matter became official: "A military officers' academy?"

Emperor Liu nodded: "Leading troops in battle is not something one can do just by reading basic military manuals and strategy texts. In the past, I have always insisted that generals and commanders must rise from the ranks—this is a principle tempered by life and death, experience forged through actual combat.

Even now, I still believe this insistence is correct. However, this remains merely a system of advancement, the court's attitude toward promoting officers and soldiers.

On this foundation, selecting talented young men and providing them with targeted, formal, comprehensive military skills training—cultivating grassroots officers for the Great Han and supplying command talent for the army—this too can be carried out, and it does not conflict with the court's personnel system.

In the past, when I established the Fengchen Camp, I had this intention. Even after it was later reorganized, many capable officers emerged from it, active in frontier defense and the northern expeditions.

Originally, when I opened the military examinations, I also wished to promote promising youth and cultivate successor talent for the Great Han army, lest our generation grow old and the military face a gap between generations.

But upon careful reflection, there are still shortcomings—the scope is too narrow, the selection of talent not broad enough. Previously, I had dedicated personnel, based on the development of the Great Han army and the experience of you battle-tested generals in leading troops, compile it all into volumes to serve as teaching materials.

Establishing a military officers' academy is precisely to pass down this experience and skill, letting the younger generation learn and grow more comprehensively and efficiently, providing the Great Han with an unending stream of military talent!

The officers trained by this academy will become the foundational strength of the Great Han army. Only thus can the Great Han army flourish without decline, always maintaining vigorous vitality!

This matter, I entrust to you to arrange!"