Chapter 1799: The Blood Auction

In the Great Han court, some matters moved at an abysmally slow pace—mere discussion could consume months—while others were always handled with lightning speed, where all difficulties and obstacles ultimately proved to be non-issues. The key lay in whether Emperor Liu was involved, and how great his resolve was.

What Emperor Liu and his son discussed that night was quickly translated into action at the executive level of the central government. The very next day, Liu Min had barely awakened from his hangover when he received a report from a trusted subordinate that the court had already issued an imperial edict.

Because it was issued on the dingwei day, it was named the "Dingwei Edict." The edict's contents basically followed what Emperor Liu and his son had discussed, with no major discrepancies, fully reflecting Emperor Liu's will.

Anxi was split in two—though not along the Kucha border as Liu Min had proposed, but with the Tianshan mountain range as the dividing line. Lands north of the range remained under Anxi, while those to the south belonged to the newly established Gaochang Circuit.

The Gaochang Circuit, true to its name, essentially encompassed the former territory of the Gaochang Uyghur Kingdom, and even expanded westward, incorporating the vast region south of the Tianshan including prosperous places like Shule. Even though Gaochang was the foremost great city of the Western Regions, the new circuit's administrative seat was moved west to the city of Karasahr, so as to govern the four directions from a central position.

As for the new Anxi Protectorate-General, it was established upon the former territory of the Qarakhanid state, with most of the region north of the Tianshan falling under its jurisdiction, using Suyab as its political and military center—this was the traditional "Anxi." In Emperor Liu's words, this way the Anxi Protectorate-General would be more streamlined, allowing Liu Min to shed the "burden" of the Gaochang Circuit and concentrate his energy wholeheartedly on development and expansion.

As for the series of political, military, and economic supports for Anxi, these were likewise explicitly stipulated in the Dingwei Edict, with that trust and expectation expressed to the fullest. The last time such support had been given was when the great development of the Northeast was decided upon, supporting the development of Andong.

This east and west pair—two great protectorates, two imperial princes, two Princes—represented the greatest investment Emperor Liu had made to consolidate the Great Han's borders. And with the issuance of the Dingwei Edict, the months-long discussion about Anxi finally came to a close. The dust had settled; even those who still harbored doubts dared not speak further.

Shortly thereafter, news spread that Emperor Liu, to raise funds for the migration and development efforts, had dismantled the "Dragon Boat" and "Phoenix Hall" to sell them off. This matter likewise drew nationwide attention. Officials reacted differently to Emperor Liu's move—some praised it endlessly, while others felt greatly troubled. The reason for their trouble was simple: if His Majesty was willing to put up even his own personal vessel, how could they not show some gesture of their own?

Thus, after only two days of preparation, an unprecedented auction was held at the Luoyang Prefectural Office. To put it bluntly, this was yet another money-raising exercise, but it nonetheless caused a sensation throughout Luoyang.

On the day of the auction, the Western Capital's upper-class dignitaries and social luminaries gathered at the Luoyang Prefectural Office, bidding enthusiastically. The reason for such an effect was twofold: pleasing Emperor Liu through bidding was one aspect, and watching the spectacle was another. After all, for Emperor Liu to put royal possessions up for sale—such condescension was quite a marvel in the Great Han.

Even more enthusiastic were the "ordinary" merchants. For them, obtaining an invitation to participate in such a grand event was a mark of status and standing—nothing could be more respectable.

In the more than twenty years of the Great Han's economic prosperity, a large number of wealthy merchants had emerged across the realm. In a social environment of booming commodity economy development, this was not something the court could curb by reaping a few rounds of "leeks."

But likewise, constrained by national conditions and perceptions, while their wealth had increased, their social status had not correspondingly risen—or at least not noticeably. For many merchants, how to attain higher social standing was something they actively pursued after successfully amassing their fortunes.

Some chose the traditional path of purchasing land, entering the landlord class, cultivating their sons for the civil service examinations. Others delved deep into the great cities, expanding their industries while desperately trying to squeeze into the circles of the powerful, hoping to win the appreciation and patronage of nobles, thereby crossing class barriers.

But the circles of the powerful were not something ordinary people could simply barge into. Most of the time, you couldn't even qualify to be their beast of burden. The auction held at the Luoyang Prefectural Office was, without question, eagerly anticipated by most merchants—a rare opportunity. Paying a five-thousand-string deposit to buy a ticket to attend, purchasing a chance to directly interact with the powerful, was simply too worthwhile.

And the auction's proceedings indeed surprised many. Both the Court of the Imperial Treasury and the Luoyang Prefectural Office that organized it, as well as the assembled dignitaries, seemed to have underestimated the merchants' enthusiasm.

At the auction, it was they who made the highest bids and shouted the fiercest prices. An ordinary eastern pearl worth two hundred strings could be bid up to ten times that price, and the largest, finest-quality pearl was hammered down at ten thousand strings. And the "Dragon Boat" and "Phoenix Hall" alone were decorated with over a thousand pearls of various kinds.

Not to mention the other items. For those merchants, it was a chance to flaunt their strength and wealth without restraint—in such a setting, money seemed to have lost its value.

The items perhaps weren't worth those prices, but ask any of the bidders, and there was only one word: worth it. Opportunities, influence, and such things aside—just for those four characters, "imperial-use articles," it was worth it.

Since those "despised merchants" were putting in such effort, how could the assembled dignitaries be willing to lag behind? Otherwise, if word got out, where would they put their faces? And if it reached the Emperor's ears, wouldn't he think that those who enjoyed the nation's salaries and blessings were less enthusiastic than a bunch of merchants?

After a full three days of feverish auctioning, all ten thousand-plus items found buyers. The total proceeds, once tallied, were enough to shock everyone's eyes—a full twenty-one million-plus strings of cash.

When this figure reached Emperor Liu's ears, even he was shaken, and he repeatedly confirmed it with Lü Mengzheng and others. Only after receiving an affirmative answer did he click his tongue in amazement: "Are these people mad, or are they fools? I don't know the actual value of those items, but the premium is indeed too high—so high it's terrifying! But it's clear that a great many people in the Great Han have indeed grown rich. This too is a manifestation of national strength!"

This affair genuinely made Emperor Liu consider holding more such auctions, but he quickly restrained himself. One still had to mind appearances. Such a spectacle would be difficult to replicate, and those people's enthusiasm had been largely spent this time. Small-scale ones were fine, but ten thousand items at once—no one could withstand that. Even bloodsucking had its limits.

Of course, such revenue vastly exceeding expectations surprised many. When word spread, even the Finance Commission set its sights on this money, wanting to borrow and divert it again. However, Emperor Liu had stated in advance that this was earmarked funds for the Great Han's migration and development efforts, so he turned them away most decisively.

After the auction concluded, the next matter was payment. In this regard, the terms were quite humane—a full fifteen days was given. Of course, there was never any question of whether the money could be collected. This was the Great Han's most authoritative "judicial auction." Defaulting would not be a matter of sanctions or penalties, but a crime warranting confiscation of property and execution. No one dared to defy imperial authority or offend the majesty of Heaven.

As for this sum of money, Emperor Liu had already made his allocation. Anxi would receive its share, Andong would not be left out, and there were even other directions—nor would it be given all at once. With such funds in hand, for at least the next ten years, the court's expenditures on migration and development would proceed with far greater ease, and it would encounter less resistance.