Chapter 1794: Anxi's Request

Another moment of silence. Liu Yang once again gestured for Murong Defeng to sit, pondered for a while, then said, "Last winter, the memorial submitted by Sixth Brother is still under discussion at court, with no final decision reached. What do you think of it?"

Murong Defeng was taken aback by the sudden question, thought for a moment, and only then realized what Liu Yang was referring to. A flash of brightness passed through his eyes. Clearly, the Crown Prince had a clear grasp of all matters. Seen in this light, the concerns of people like them seemed rather like worrying about the sky falling—unnecessary and superfluous.

Last year, after Liu Min's second western expedition concluded and Suiye was recovered, after much agonizing, he ultimately suppressed his martial ambitions and chose to halt hostilities and rest, focusing his main energy on recuperating the troops and on post-war governance.

In this process, Anxi likewise had many matters requiring assistance from the court. When facing difficulties, Liu Min did not hesitate to open his golden mouth, just as he had when the lands south of the Tianshan Mountains were first recovered, requesting aid from the court.

This time, Liu Min's demands were the same old routine—troops, people, grain, pay, and weapons—but what differed from before was the request for a large number of administrative talents, especially low-level officials.

Anxi was certainly vast and sparsely populated, but to govern such a huge territory, there was a massive shortfall in the grassroots public-security and administrative officials needed. Over the past years, the Anxi Protectorate had, frankly speaking, been a military government. It was sufficient for marching to war and overcoming difficulties, but when it came to governing the people and maintaining rule, it was an extremely obvious shortcoming.

This was a completely different situation from Andong. Of course, different environments and circumstances bring different developments. Anxi was no longer what it once was—no longer the small corner of the Qocho Uyghur kingdom, but a vast region encompassing most of the lands north and south of the Tianshan. If it relied solely on military conquest, though it had not yet reached its limit, without timely adjustments, it could not last long.

Therefore, this time, Liu Min once again requested that the court dispatch officials westward to Anxi to assist in governance, establish a complete and formal social administration system, and bring it fully under the rule of the Great Han. And the number of people Liu Min wanted was indeed considerable—from the Protectorate down through all levels of official posts, Liu Min requested more than seven hundred people at once.

This truly put the court in a difficult position. Even though the Great Han had a surplus of officials, and the Ministry of Personnel was even troubled by the placement of some personnel, actually coming up with so many people at once to fill Anxi's vacancies was no easy task.

The selection and appointment of officials was, after all, not like planting radishes—just dividing people up and sending them over. Whether they were suitable, what their abilities were, what their moral character was, whether they met the requirements of the Anxi Protectorate, and their own willingness—all of these fell within the scope of consideration.

And the most critical point was whether to agree to Anxi's request and give such a large degree of support. On this, the court still held two opposing attitudes, and the dispute was fierce.

Those in support believed that the early phase of the western expedition had involved enormous investment and great sacrifice—even during the Yulin rebellion, they had not relaxed—and now that results had finally been achieved, it was only natural to consolidate them well, lest what was gained be lost again and the soldiers' blood-soaked achievements come to naught.

Moreover, Anxi's request was not excessive; the court was not incapable of fulfilling it. Besides, the Prince of Wei's request showed far-sighted vision, was fundamentally about reducing the court's burden, and was about enhancing Anxi's ability to sustain itself—not simply demanding from the court.

Those opposed likewise considered the enormous cost already paid for the western expedition, believing it not worth further transfusion. The court's own difficulties were also a reality. Now that the western expedition had just concluded and post-war matters were not yet settled, Anxi's eagerness to spread out such a large operation seemed overly hasty—it needed to be more measured.

Of course, these were all nonsense. The fundamental reason was that some court officials were reluctant to invest strength in Anxi, thousands of li away, believing it not worth the cost. Add to that the notion that continuously supplying Anxi was draining the court and fattening Anxi, which was not conducive to the court's control over Anxi, and so on. It was just that these needed to be expressed in a more veiled, more clever manner—but the gist was exactly that.

Another matter that made court officials rather sensitive was that Liu Min, besides requesting officials, troops, and settlers to fill Anxi and consolidate rule, also hoped to have the families of the western expedition soldiers all relocated to Anxi so they could be reunited, while the soldiers themselves would settle down and establish households on the spot.

It had to be said that this was a relatively convenient approach, and it could, in a short time, bring Anxi a large batch of reliable population, solidifying its foundation and consolidating rule. Liu Min had raised this request before, and the court had not agreed. Even though Emperor Liu had shown slight support, in the end it was left to the will of the western expedition soldiers, adhering to the basic principle of "those willing may stay," with Bureau of Military Affairs personnel supervising.

And on the basis of the voluntary principle, the results were not good either. Even though the Protectorate offered large amounts of land, pastures, and even women as enticements, the number of people who actually settled in Anxi remained small. Because of the continuous warfare, the Anxi Protectorate, unlike Andong, did not have sufficient time and financial resources to attract population.

The Han people's attachment to their native soil was extremely strong, almost engraved in their blood and marrow. Having them leave their homeland and travel far to Anxi to fight, even to be buried in the green mountains and have their souls return to a foreign land—that was not much of a problem. But having them stay there permanently to settle down and establish households—most people were unwilling to do that. They would rather take their merits, honors, and rewards and return in glory to their hometowns.

Of course, for many court officials, and even Emperor Liu himself, their real concern was the issue of court control. This was not about whether an imperial prince guarded the frontier—Emperor Liu had no need to worry about that kind of problem.

The crux lay in the series of strict centralization policies the court had implemented over the years to weaken the military provinces and consolidate military power. If Liu Min's proposal were truly followed, it would fundamentally undermine the foundation of the court's decades-old military system.

In the past, how did the court control the army? First, through control of military supplies, logistics, and pay; second, through the rotation system, supplemented by ideological control measures such as loyalty-to-the-sovereign and love-of-country education. But the first two were the most fundamental.

The distribution of soldiers' pay, clothing, weapons, and rewards had always been directly controlled by the Ministry of War, with dedicated departmental offices responsible, with detailed division of authority and clear accountability. This was the most basic and most important manifestation of the court's control over the military.

As for the rotation system, it was a fundamental policy in the Great Han's national defense construction. Over the years, no matter how the military changed, the rotation system had always been upheld, and had even become more refined and perfected.

For external armies—whether the frontier troops of old or the militia of today—the court, in implementing the rotation system, had always insisted on service away from one's native place. The core lay in using hometown and family to restrain the soldiers. As long as a person had attachments, they would have reservations in their actions and would not dare to act without restraint.

Through this method, supplemented by relatively generous treatment, the court had always maintained a high degree of control over both internal and external armies. Over the decades, popular unrest and rebellions had occurred from time to time, but the military had always been as steady as Mount Tai, obeying orders and prohibitions without fail. Of course, such a situation was the result of many factors combined, but the court's control over the military was the most fundamental factor.

Even in remote places like Andong and Anxi, the rotation policy was carried out without exception. No matter how much power the two Protectorates had, their subordinate garrison troops, from generals to soldiers, were always rotated according to a certain rhythm.

Of course, over the past two years, due to the war, the court had been continuously replenishing Anxi, but this did not affect the substance of rotation—it was even more thorough.

If Liu Min's request were granted, not to mention the personal wishes of those tens of thousands of western expedition soldiers, the impact would be significant, even fatal. It would mean that the soldiers' attachments and burdens at the frontier would be eliminated, and the Protectorate would be able to control those soldiers more effectively and directly. Conversely, the court's ability to restrain them would only decline with the passage of time. This was a way of nurturing military-province warlords.

And on this point, Emperor Liu was especially sensitive. It had nothing to do with who served as the Protector—on such matters of principle, his mind was very clear. Therefore, he did not take a stance, but instead let the court officials debate.

From this, it could also be seen that Emperor Liu himself was a complex and contradictory person. On one hand, he had ideas of enfeoffment, not hesitating to grant remote corners as fiefs; on the other hand, he forcefully maintained court authority and insisted on bottom lines on sensitive issues.

The court had the court's concerns, and Anxi had Anxi's considerations. At the very least, some of the policies the court currently insisted on were quite costly. It could not fully delegate power, which would inevitably increase the cost. But if it relaxed, that would be unfavorable to the overall situation and breed other hidden dangers. The balancing act was indeed not easy, and this was the reason why, after all this discussion, no final conclusion had been reached on the question of Anxi's future governance and positioning.

At this moment, the Crown Prince suddenly brought up this matter for inquiry. Murong Defeng thought for a moment, then said with a firm expression, "Your Highness, in your servant's view, the Prince of Wei's requests for officials, grain and pay, and immigrants can all be appropriately accommodated. But the soldiers settling down and their families being relocated—that absolutely cannot be permitted. The military system is the guarantee of the Great Han's security and must never be shaken or altered!"