Chapter 1822: The Brakes: War Drums Sound at the Banks of the Suyab River

Perhaps winter was inherently a season for recuperation and enjoying the harvest, or perhaps other factors were at play. After the onset of winter in the twenty-third year of Kaibao, Emperor Liu, responding to the abuses and chaos that had arisen during the year's campaign to rectify official governance, issued another edict known as the "Gengxu Edict," also called the "Double Ninth Edict" because it was issued on the ninth day of the ninth month.

In the edict, Emperor Liu unflinchingly acknowledged the wrongful cases that had emerged in the process of anti-corruption and eliminating evil, as well as the excessive and even overreaching measures employed by special envoys and other law enforcement personnel during investigations. He sternly rebuked those officials who had deviated from the court's good intentions, issued severe warnings to those among them who had violated discipline and committed grave crimes, and indicated that the possibility of holding them accountable was not excluded.

While "reflecting," he made it clear that the rectification of official governance was a fundamental national policy the court would forever uphold, and that the court's determination to fight corruption and eliminate evil was not to be shaken. However, in the time ahead, investigations and judgments were to be based on national law, without implicating the innocent, and were to be conducted under conditions that ensured the normal order of officials and commoners alike.

The entire "Gengxu Edict" may have been somewhat understated in its expression, but anyone with even a modicum of political acumen could sense the spirit of compromise within it. After the edict was promulgated, leaving aside reactions beyond the capital, at least in Luoyang, the nobles and high ministers of the court all breathed a great sigh of relief.

Though this "catastrophe" was not yet over, at least a favorable trend could be seen—His Majesty the Emperor had finally come to his senses. For the bureaucrats of the realm, even if they could not yet relax, the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads had at least been temporarily moved away from their necks.

At the same time, this Gengxu Edict would become the foundation of confidence for facing those hawkish and cruel officials in the future. Cases of punishing the innocent, imposing heavy sentences for minor offenses, and indiscriminate implication of family members would be alleviated.

And in fact, this proved to be the case. The promulgation of the Gengxu Edict may not have had an immediate effect in soothing officials and commoners—after all, restoring order after chaos takes time—but the restlessness that had enveloped the entire nation gradually eased with the passage of time. The overheated rectification of official governance, as if doused with a ladle of cold water, regained its rationality and slowly returned to the proper track.

Of course, if it were merely a single edict, it would not have had such great power. The key lay in the subsequent actions and measures—Emperor Liu produced some tangible things.

For example, those personnel in the rectification teams who had acted excessively or even outright illegally were severely dealt with. Taking Liaodong as an example, the Duke of Chu, Liu Shu, stumbled there and was placed under house arrest by Emperor Liu as punishment, but the Liaodong case-handling personnel he had mentioned were subsequently purged as exemplars—some dismissed, some executed—serving as sacrifices to the flag for the court's policy adjustment.

At the same time, the focus of this comprehensive rectification campaign gradually shifted away from the bureaucracy and onto the suppression of local tyrannical and powerful forces. Though the rectification of official governance continued, it was no longer the priority.

No matter how forceful and extreme he appeared on the surface, Emperor Liu knew all too well in his heart that to maintain the rule of the Great Han, he must first and foremost rely on the bureaucracy. He could not endlessly torment his officials.

Likewise, powerful landlords were also an important component of the Great Han Empire's ruling foundation—they could not truly be cleansed completely, nor could the government directly manage those common folk and laborers. Cleansing and purification were merely means; the fundamental purpose lay in alleviating and releasing the social contradictions accumulated over the past two or three decades.

Forcefulness and arrogance had become rather distinctive traits of Emperor Liu's character, but there were some matters for which he could not but compromise—in the end, it was only a question of to what degree. To oppose the entire world with the strength of one man—Emperor Liu had long since abandoned that beautiful dream.

In Emperor Liu's empire, under the current court system, his authority was almost infinitely great—speaking with the mandate of heaven was no empty phrase—but in the end, he still had to respect the fundamental laws. Having been forceful his entire life, he ultimately discovered that he was powerless in the face of too many things. The older he grew, the clearer he saw.

And while domestic policy was being adjusted, war unexpectedly erupted once again in Anxi. After nearly a year of preparation, the Eastern Expeditionary Army, composed of various Central Asian states and Muslim believers, finally bared its fangs, advancing eastward past Talas to join the Kara-Khanids' war against the Great Han.

This was a war of vengeance, and also a religious war—a collision between Muslim theocracy and Eastern imperial authority. This war, which broke out in late autumn of the twenty-third year, was not small in scale. The Muslim holy warriors and the Kara-Khanid allied forces totaled more than fifty thousand, surging eastward, breaking through Anxi's blocking and delaying forces in succession, and reaching Suyab directly.

The Han army in Anxi numbered fewer than thirty thousand, of which less than three-tenths were veterans of the Western Expedition; the rest were sturdy northwestern warriors that Emperor Liu had reassigned to Liu Min over the past year.

Facing the ferocious Muslim allied forces, Anxi's preparations were clearly insufficient—whether in terms of ideological preparation or military preparation. After all, from the very beginning, Anxi had anticipated its direct opponent to be only the remnants of the Kara-Khanids.

Even if some attention had been paid to the so-called Muslim doctrines and faith, it was still never imagined that the backlash could be so violent. And Anxi was currently in a period of adjustment—building the foundations of governance, implementing Han institutions, arranging immigrants, opening wasteland for farming, restoring production—all of these required continuous time before results could be seen.

Meanwhile, the support preparations from the court in the Western Capital were ultimately lagging behind. Although the Bureau of Military Affairs had mobilized and prepared a batch of troops and weapons, before they could even set out, news of the outbreak of war in Anxi had already arrived. Even with subsequent accelerated arrangements and deployments, it was difficult to catch up with the war—after all, nearby water cannot quench a distant fire.

Under such circumstances, facing the large-scale invasion from the western enemy, Anxi was somewhat caught off guard. Being driven to the walls of Suyab was the most direct manifestation of this.

The allied forces were many, the Han army few, but while offense was lacking, defense was more than sufficient. Relying on their impregnable city walls, the Muslim allied forces, upon arrival, could not gain an inch of ground—they could not even touch the edges of Suyab before being intimidated by the cannons the Great Han had mounted atop the city walls.

At the same time, the Muslim allied forces also suffered from the common problem of all allied armies since ancient times—divided command and uncoordinated orders. Though those religious soldiers marched east with great fervor, religious zeal was merely an ideological boost and a morale inspiration; for marching and fighting, one still had to rely on organization and command.

After stabilizing their position, Liu Min seized the opportunity to send troops out for an attack, fighting a small battle that once again blunted the enemy's edge. However, that was all—the results were mediocre, merely slightly checking the enemy's momentum.

After suffering some losses, the Muslim allied forces withdrew slightly to regroup. Though the religious soldiers were hot-headed with zeal in battle, the commanding generals were not all reckless men—especially the new Kara-Khanid khan, Hasan, who possessed some military talent and, having fought against the Han army before, was more familiar with them.

A direct assault on Suyab was inadvisable; after simple probing, they completely abandoned that idea. They preferred to lure the Han army out for a decisive battle in the open field. However, this was precisely what the Anxi Han army tried to avoid in the early stages of the war.

Thus, after brief deliberation, the allied forces changed their tactics, shifting their operational objectives. They dispatched detachments to scatter across various areas, burning, killing, and looting. The great khan of the Kara-Khanids, Hasan, personally led troops northward on the offensive, intending to bring those Turkic tribes that had submitted to the Great Han back into the embrace of Allah.

As for those Turkic people, they had long been under Kara-Khanid rule in the past, and their defection to the Great Han had been a product of the circumstances at the time. Now that the new khan had returned, bringing with him the Muslim army in great force, many tribal powers decisively switched their allegiance once again. The fragile rule that the Anxi Protectorate had initially established over the northern tribes rapidly collapsed.

Of course, the Anxi high command did not place much importance on those Turkic people—whether they rebelled or submitted was not the most critical issue. Nevertheless, the tribes' betrayal and the loss of the northeast did indeed have some impact on Suyab's defenses.

Moreover, those enemy troops who bypassed Suyab and penetrated deep into the Zhuhai Basin to harass and destroy were what truly grated on the Anxi Han army's sensitive nerves.

The newly established Anxi Protectorate was centered on Suyab, but its truly vital region was the area around Zhuhai. If these regions were allowed to be destroyed, even if Suyab were preserved, it would be an irrecoverable loss for the entire Anxi Protectorate.

Furthermore, Liu Min had been promoting domestic immigration, and with the court's support, some results had been achieved. Though the number of people was still under ten thousand, it had made a good start.

Having brought people over, if they could not be protected in the face of foreign invasion, then who would be willing to come to Anxi in the future? Merely holding Suyab was well within the Anxi army's capabilities, but for the sake of Anxi's future development, Liu Min could not afford to be too conservative.

After consulting with the civil and military officials of the Protectorate, Liu Min finally steeled his resolve and decided to take a risk—even at the cost of certain sacrifices, he would drive back the invading Muslim allied forces and prevent them from wreaking havoc within Anxi's borders.

On the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month of the twenty-third year of Kaibao, Liu Min personally led twenty-five thousand infantry and cavalry out of Suyab, seeking a decisive battle with the Muslim allied forces. The two sides fought at the banks of the Suyab River. Due to the earlier division of forces, only slightly more than thirty thousand allied troops were watching Suyab, so the Han army's numerical disadvantage in this battle was not great.

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After several consecutive clashes like thunder meeting fire, the battle ended with the allied forces unable to hold on and the Han army winning a pyrrhic victory. The Han army suffered nearly five thousand casualties, while the allied forces lost over ten thousand. Had it not been for the prolonged battle and concern for Hasan's army in the north, Liu Min would not have given up the opportunity to expand his gains.

This was the first fierce collision between China and Central Asia in two hundred years, ending with corpses strewn across the fields. The Muslim allied forces collapsed in a rout of a hundred li, while the Han army collected their dead and returned to Suyab—and this was clearly only the beginning.