Chapter 2044: The Final Journey 12

To put it bluntly, when the old Emperor first gained a rough understanding of the formation and development of these scholarly circles and schools in the Hunan Circuit, as well as their influence over the officials and commoners of Hunan, what grew in his heart was nothing but wariness—so much so that it even sparked thoughts of destruction.

The reason was simple: in the eyes of the old Emperor, whose desire for control had never waned, these so-called Hunan scholars were forming factions and cliques. Though not as conspicuous as the powerful landlords stirring up repeated trouble across the realm, they were doing something similar—quietly seizing administrative power from the government, subtly threatening imperial authority at its roots, and shaking the prestige of the central court. Scholarly cliques were more hidden and more cunning than aristocratic clans, yet no less dangerous.

The killing intent was genuine—how dare these petty Hunan scholars try to overturn heaven? But after hearing Liao Mingyong's full account, the old Emperor calmed down and began to think more deeply. And once he started thinking, his attitude quietly began to shift.

Of course, the old Emperor was not a man easily persuaded. As a self-assured and forceful monarch, he held a natural contempt and prejudice toward persuaders. It was just that these Hunan men's Xiangjiang School did have points in its various propositions that struck a chord with the old Emperor.

Naturally, the old Emperor did not accept all of the Hunan School's doctrines and ideas wholesale, but for him there were still some merits to be found. Beyond the core philosophy of practical statecraft, the school put forth clear positions on balancing noble and commoner power, valuing both civil and military affairs, grain strategy, border policy, land policy, and more—positions framed from the perspective of the old Emperor's decision-making.

In the most recent decade, they had also begun advocating for overseas vassal states, maritime expansion, and East-West trade. Clearly, the Hunan School was continuously developing and evolving, and its propositions and scholarly content were constantly being enriched.

It even bordered on "poaching." As an inland circuit and prefecture, advocating overseas colonization and trade—that had always been the purview of certain literati from the Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Fujian, and Guangdong regions.

Those people were influenced by geography and had vested interests, so it was perfectly understandable. But you lot—a bunch of Changsha "earth diggers" who had likely never even seen the sea—what did you know about navigation, and why were you shouting slogans of "colonization and trade"?

Clearly, the crux of the matter was not what their propositions were, but why they were raising these slogans and propositions in the first place. To put it plainly, they were closely following current affairs and keenly watching the imperial will.

For the old Emperor, this produced an extremely comfortable feeling. These Hunan scholars were almost providing theoretical support for his national policies and systems—one policy, one treatise, evolving in real time, innovating and refreshing. Such attentiveness made it not too surprising that they could dispel the old Emperor's killing intent.

Of course, all was not entirely harmonious within the Hunan School. How could scholarship and debate proceed without conflict? Take the tax reform that had been underway for several years: some people continued as always, searching for and inventing theories to support it, but others hesitated, even opposed it—after all, this touched upon their own vital interests.

Some theories did not touch the soul or wound the bone, so naturally one could speak loftily about them without any cost. Thus, signs of internal pulling and division within the Hunan School had long been emerging, but they were harmless. With such an active and flexible philosophy of engagement with the world, the Hunan School at least during the current reign of the Great Han had broad prospects for development—it fit the supreme ruler's needs all too perfectly.

All that was lacking was the right opportunity. Once the moment arrived, it could soar into the sky. Liao Mingyong's audience with the old Emperor, personally expounding his ideas and propositions, was as good an opportunity as any.

From the old Emperor's perspective, not everything advocated by Liao Mingyong and his associates matched his wishes, nor was it necessarily entirely beneficial to imperial rule, but on many specific propositions, they genuinely followed his policy will, supporting, consolidating, and perpetuating his political philosophy.

All along, regarding the various policies he had formulated over these decades, the rules he had established, and the long-term plans he had made for the Great Han Empire—how long they could endure—the old Emperor had grown increasingly uncertain as time passed. Even empires and dynasties could be overthrown, let alone systems and rules that restricted and oppressed people.

But with the support of ideology, their vitality might be somewhat stronger. Of course, given the Xiangjiang School's current strength and influence, it clearly could not bear such a heavy responsibility and mission. Moreover, naming itself after "Xiang" carried a high degree of regional limitation. To reach such heights, there was still a long road ahead.

Recognition and acceptance were the old Emperor's attitude toward the Hunan School, but to say he placed much hope in this school would not be quite accurate. It was merely an occasional thought, a casual move placed on the board. As for what the outcome would be, or how far it would ultimately develop, that was not for the old Emperor to consider—nor would he live to see that day.

As for such a school's discursive power in ideology, its right to interpret national policies and laws, and all the other things the old Emperor had once feared and wanted to destroy—upon careful reflection, they really were not such a big deal.

He could tolerate meritorious officials and nobles, so why not some so-called scholarly cliques, especially pedants who seemed to understand the times? The world did not have only one Xiangjiang School, and the Xiangjiang School did not hold only one set of ideas and propositions.

"Your subject Guo Xin, reporting for audience by imperial decree!"

An autumn wind blew through the cold pavilion; the water was clear and the mist thick. Upon the stone platform was neatly laid a spread of food and wine. The dishes were simple, but the mellow fragrance of the brew permeated the air. The cool breeze could stir one's hair, yet it could not blow away the intoxicating aroma.

After a sound of liquid dripping, the old Emperor pushed the cup he had personally filled to the side. Steam rose from the cup, curling hazily before the old Emperor's eyes, adding further obscurity to his aged gaze.

"Sit!" The old Emperor extended his hand forward, lowered his gaze to fix Guo Xin with a look, and said softly.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Hearing this, Guo Xin slowly rose, then sat down with his head slightly bowed, his buttocks barely touching a small corner of the stone stool, displaying his reverence for the Emperor through a restrained posture.

"I have never invited you to drink alone before!" the old Emperor said with a note of emotion.

Following the old Emperor's gaze, Guo Xin hastily raised his cup with both hands and said with utmost respect: "To have Your Majesty personally pour the wine is this subject's greatest fortune!"

The old Emperor smiled faintly, took a sip at his leisure, and said: "Consider this meal a make-up for that!"

Seeing this, Guo Xin immediately followed suit, downing the wine in his cup in one gulp. He drank hastily, yet his face showed not the slightest change, displaying excellent tolerance for alcohol. Of course, at this moment, Guo Xin's heart was in turmoil.

At any other time, being granted wine by the old Emperor would naturally be an honor—nothing but gratitude and devotion in his heart. But now, whether it was the political impact of the old Emperor's imperial tour on the southern circuits and prefectures, or the very fact that the old Emperor was personally inviting him to drink, Guo Xin could not help but think more deeply.

At his level of position, if one did not think more carefully when encountering matters, disaster might come flying out of nowhere. What Guo Xin worried about now was that the old Emperor's southern tour clearly carried a strong purpose—to put it bluntly, he had come to find fault.

Over in Jiangling, nearly a hundred people had been executed in one stroke, and several thousand exiled. Even now, the two imperial grandsons were still diligently handling the aftermath—confiscating properties and carrying out rectifications.

Jiangling was one thing—what about Changsha? Could it hope to be spared? Guo Xin found it hard to maintain optimism about this. He had even mentally prepared himself for political turmoil to erupt in Changsha as well, yet these past few days had passed and the old Emperor still held back, making no move.

Aside from showing some interest in the educational administration of the Hunan Circuit and the Xiangjiang School, he spent most of his time in his temporary residence, putting on the appearance of one "cultivating purity and receiving blessings."

Guo Xin certainly would not therefore think that the old Emperor was unaware of the situation in Hunan and Changsha. The claws and fangs of the Palace City Office and the Wude Office were not idle. The old Emperor's questioning on the day of his welcome reception could already be seen as striking the mountain to frighten the tiger—the old Emperor was clearly dissatisfied with him, this Administration Commissioner.

With such concerns weighing on him, how could Guo Xin's heart find peace? In his view, the longer the Emperor held back, the more serious the problem and the greater the matter. Over in Jiangling, they had already killed a maternal uncle of the Emperor. He, Guo Xin, was also a maternal uncle. The old Emperor wouldn't take him as the target, would he? Surely not.

Guo Xin's anxiety was not unwarranted—this was likely the prevailing mentality among the upper nobility of the Great Han at present. Apart from a few individuals, most had lost any space of mutual trust in their relationship with the old Emperor. The old Emperor of today could not tolerate outsiders, or even close relatives, drawing near.

Though nervous inside, Guo Xin maintained excellent control over his bearing—including the restrained movements and the composed expression—all appearing perfectly natural.

The old Emperor held his wine cup and observed him for a long while before sighing leisurely: "Everyone says the Second Son of the Guo family is honest and simple, and I have always thought so as well. But looking at it now, I was blinded by a single leaf, unable to see Mount Tai.

Think about it carefully—if a man had no depth at all, how could he reach the position of a circuit's chief official? Merely because he is a descendant of meritorious nobles, a relative of mine?"

Hearing the old Emperor say this, Guo Xin's expression shifted somewhat, but he made no verbal response, only slowly lowering his head.

Staring intently at Guo Xin with a half-smiling expression, the old Emperor continued: "To be truthful, I am very dissatisfied with your governance in Hunan. You have been going in the opposite direction, wasting the nation's strength—three years on, and you are still standing in place.

But what I find curious is that throughout the entire Hunan Circuit, there are not many who speak ill of you. Even the common folk, when they curse, curse their local officials. Is this because you are too honest, or because your methods are too skillful?"

Hearing the old Emperor get to this point, Guo Xin could no longer remain seated. He abruptly rose and prostrated himself directly on the ground, saying in a deep voice: "Your Majesty's words fill this subject with utmost fear!"

Seeing this, the old Emperor smiled leisurely: "Generally speaking, those who say they are 'filled with fear' before me are either people I have hit the mark on, or those who are just echoing my words to fob me off! Which kind are you?"

"Your subject has always been dull-witted, poor at governance, and has failed Your Majesty's grace. I beg Your Majesty to punish me!" Guo Xin rose, his face full of solemnity, and clasped his fists.

Staring straight down at Guo Xin, the old Emperor sneered: "I have already killed one brother-in-law in Jiangling. If I were to deal with you, another brother-in-law, I fear the whole world would accuse me of disregarding all family ties!"

Before Guo Xin could reply, the old Emperor quickly added: "However, you are no longer fit to serve as Administration Commissioner of the Hunan Circuit. I originally intended to let you retire and return home, but upon further reflection, I felt you still had uses left!"

"I have recently come to understand the 'Hunan School' of Changsha. I am quite interested in their ideas and propositions—there is much worth adopting!" At this point, the old Emperor's gaze grew somewhat distant, and his tone was filled with sighs:

"I intend to appoint you as Pacification Commissioner. Return to the capital. In the past, I repeatedly emphasized the importance of propaganda, public opinion, and the ideological sphere, but in the end, there were still shortcomings. Even a theory as positive and promising as the Hunan School was ignored by me!

Once you take up your post, you may vigorously seek out and promote these ideas and propositions that benefit the nation."

Hearing this, Guo Xin's face was full of astonishment, and his eyes were momentarily filled with bewilderment.