Chapter 2072: Taizong Chronicles 14: Left or Right

It can be said with certainty that Liu Yang did not particularly fear the various princes. Those younger brothers and nephews were all of a younger generation now—whether they were distinguished by outstanding merit, known for maturity and prudence, or marked by arrogance and aggression—none of them possessed the qualifications or strength to challenge him.

Even the secret meeting at Taihe Tower was not of great concern; even if the princes made a fuss, they could not turn the capital upside down. At the same time, although the princes were currently united in their "common hatred," their actual interests and demands were not the same—indeed, one could say there were fundamental differences among them.

Take, for example, Andong, Raole, and Linyi, which had long been enfeoffed as kingdoms; Anxi, Kangju, and Beiting, which had been enfeoffed not long ago and possessed a certain military and administrative foundation; and the Linhai Kingdom in the South Seas, which was still in its infancy—barely holding a nominal title without even completing the basic work of conquest. What they urgently needed was completely different.

Anxi, Andong, and even the Linyi Kingdom could be considered well-fed. No matter how the court adjusted its policies toward the vassal kingdoms, as long as it did not directly cut flesh from their bodies, the impact on them would not be too great. Relying on their shared origins and the preferential policy foundation laid down by Emperor Shizu, they had plenty of ways to extract benefits from the state—it was merely a matter of changing their table manners. Unless the court disregarded appearances, tore off all pretense, and completely severed relations, it could never fundamentally change the situation of these nearby vassal kingdoms parasitizing the empire and bleeding it dry.

As for the three kingdoms of Raole, Kangju, and Beiting, they were in a half-starved state. They all had over a decade of the court's management and accumulation, possessing the foundation to be vassal kingdoms.

Although they instinctively hoped to continue receiving blood transfusions from the court and wished to obtain benefits from the empire, if the court truly cut off supply, they could still get by. And if they faced a genuine crisis of life and death, the court would hardly sit by and do nothing.

Moreover, as early as the end of Emperor Shizu's reign, similar adjustments to reduce the court's expenditures had already been made, which was not difficult to understand. Anxi and Andong, for instance, had long begun self-adjustment. Prince Wei Liu Min's religious suppression and garrison system reform in Anxi was precisely a response to the court's policy changes.

By comparison, it was the newly enfeoffed South Seas kingdoms that could least accept Lü Duan's proposal. Separated by vast oceans and natural moats, if the court were to reduce national expenditure through the vassal kingdoms, the South Seas campaign would be the first target.

By the first year of Yongxi, the South Seas war had completely become a burden on the Great Han's external expansion—tens of thousands of army and naval troops engaged in wars of annihilation on barbarian islands thousands of li away.

Such an unprecedented undertaking in history also meant an unimaginable and unbearable cost—namely, after Anxi, it had become another bleeding wound on the empire's massive body.

Speaking of it, the Kaibao era was, for the Great Han Empire, a great era of expansion. Driven by the imperial court centered on Emperor Shizu, countless sons of the Great Han donned armor and took up arms, carrying out conquests in all directions across the four seas.

Looking at the results, most were losses—especially in the Anxi region, where a hundred thousand households had bled! As for the Tibetans and the southwestern region, thanks to the implementation and advancement of the native chieftain system, the court's fiscal expenditure had been greatly reduced under realistic conditions. Basically, with the central government and Jiannan Circuit each paying half, the situation could be maintained.

The Shanyang and Mobei directions represented the Central Plains Empire's fixed investment in northern border defense—this was something that could not be saved. At the same time, with the continued development of animal husbandry in Monan and the deepening influence over the Khitan in Mobei, the court was beginning to see returns from the north.

After all, livestock from the grasslands—cattle, sheep, horses, camels—were extremely popular in the Great Han, especially mutton, which was beloved from high-ranking officials and nobles down to peddlers and common laborers. Meanwhile, wool provided abundant and stable raw materials for the Great Han's thriving wool textile industry...

In the northeast, there was the great residual benefit of the Kaibao northern expedition. Back then, to destroy Liao, the court had prepared massive military resources, nearly exhausting the national treasury, and even after Andong was established as a kingdom, it still enjoyed that legacy. More importantly, Andong had a Prince of Qin with a resilient character who was willing to lower himself and painstakingly manage that bitter, cold land for twenty years. Through his efforts, Andong's dependence on the court had actually greatly decreased over the years—though of course, when benefits could be obtained from the court, they would still fight desperately to get them.

By comparison, despite overseas trade having flourished for thirty years and the slogan "go south to the seas" having been shouted for over a decade, the court had always remained reserved and cautious in its management of the South Seas.

To be sure, the navy had sailed far, captured Liangping Island... the court had genuinely done some things. But one point could not be ignored: in overseas colonization, the Central Plains Empire was truly a novice. It was not until recent years, when Emperor Shizu decided to enfeoff kingdoms in the South Seas, that the court began investing without regard for cost.

Although the South Seas war had been generally smooth, by now the Great Han's control over the three islands of the South Seas was still only a state of barely managing and basically ruling. Compared to the three kingdoms of Anxi, the South Seas vassal kingdoms could hardly claim any deep foundation. The enfeoffment edict issued before Emperor Shizu's death had basically remained words on paper.

Under such circumstances, if the court were to withdraw, stop playing, and recall the South Seas army, how could the vassal kings of the South Seas accept it! Although in attitude and form they would still guarantee the execution of Emperor Shizu's edict, there was a tremendous gap between executing it with discounts and executing it to the letter. The key point was—without sufficient military strength, how could the normal establishment and operation of their kingdoms be guaranteed?

The most pitiable was naturally King Linhai, Liu Wenhai. His Linhai Kingdom truly existed only on paper, for the Myanmar region was also occupied—the Kingdom of Pagan was still in a period of ascendancy. And Liu Wenhai had nothing except Emperor Shizu's enfeoffment edict and three thousand armored soldiers trained in Yunnan. Even with his self-assessed talent, he was not arrogant enough to think those three thousand armored warriors could sweep through Pagan, Zhitong, and the other large and small states of Myanmar.

Of course, after inheriting the legacy of the Prince of Jin, Liu Wenhai's strength had multiplied. The three thousand guards who had once accompanied Liu Xi in Tibet were also bestowed upon Liu Wenhai, along with the human and material resources Liu Xi had accumulated over decades. With these, Liu Wenhai had enough to stir up trouble in Myanmar.

But to increase the success rate, he still needed firm and sufficient support from the court. Therefore, compared to the other princes, King Linhai Liu Wenhai was the most dissatisfied with Lü Duan's proposal—though of course, he was also the easiest to satisfy. It was precisely because of the differences among the princes, making them easy to divide, that Emperor Liu Yang could remain as steady as Mount Tai and respond with composure. However, Murong Defeng's counsel tonight had still brought him some new thoughts. Newly ascended to the throne, with great power in hand, it was inevitable to feel complacent, causing him to be less vigilant in certain decisions, even overlooking primary and secondary contradictions.

The princes naturally could not challenge his imperial throne, but united, they could shake his authority. In the current moment, shortly after his ascension, the court naturally prioritized stability. Once this transitional period was completely passed, whatever problems arose could be faced with greater composure.

Regardless of what he thought of Lü Duan, this old Kaibao minister, he was ultimately the Chief Chancellor and Director of State Affairs of the Great Han whom Liu Yang himself had elevated. In the short term, he had to be supported and protected; otherwise, what authority would the "new emperor's edicts and decrees" have? His structure of power over the Great Han's upper echelons would suffer a powerful shock before it was even stabilized—unfavorable both publicly and privately.

Analyzing from this angle, Liu Yang even felt some remorse. Although since his succession he had been reminding himself to be restrained and cautious, to maintain his usual composure and calm, the boundless glory of the supreme throne had still caused a certain psychological laxity in him.

Fortunately, tonight counted as a timely awakening. Whether for the state or for himself, stability was the foremost priority. How to digest the inherited imperial power was what he should put into action, rather than rashly reforming the previous emperor's policies—even if those policies were not entirely reasonable or favorable to the authority of the Central Empire.

With his mindset corrected, Liu Yang's thinking became calmer and clearer. After pondering for about a quarter of an hour, he spoke again: "Summon the Prince of Zhao to the palace!"

"Yes!"

Although he did not know why the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang, had not attended the meeting at Taihe Tower, and even harbored some suspicion, looking at the results, Liu Yang felt quite gratified. The lively Fourth Young Master Liu of his childhood had become increasingly steady, capable, and law-abiding.

And to resolve the princes' commotion with relative ease, aside from the emperor himself stepping in personally, looking across the court, only the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang, had the ability and prestige to do so. Moreover, he was also one of the vassal kings himself.

The arrangement inside Chuigong Hall had not changed much from Emperor Shizu's time. What always drew the eye was the great map of the Great Han hung in the hall. After Liu Yang ascended the throne, it went even further—besides that "Complete Imperial Map," dozens of detailed prefecture and circuit maps marked with key officials and high-ranking administrators had been added, with nearly half of the right side of the side hall used for hanging maps.

And when it came to looking at maps, Liu Yang seemed even more interested than Emperor Shizu. Habitually entering the side hall and lighting the lamp himself, Liu Yang found the "Complete Map of the South Seas" and silently studied it, fully concentrated, while his mind raced with thoughts.

In his ears, Murong Defeng's words seemed to echo again: at the very least, Emperor Shizu's posthumous edict should be fulfilled as much as possible—one must not give others ammunition. As a traditional heir to the throne, Liu Yang also held an almost paranoid adherence to legitimacy, and absolutely could not be criticized on that account.

In fact, from the moment Lü Duan made his proposal, Liu Yang knew it would inevitably trigger a dispute. And not just among the princes—looking purely at the chain of interests, it also included a large number of meritorious nobles, military and political officials, merchants, and commoners who had benefited from the vassal kingdoms or expansion policies.

In the court, there were those who had been promoted and advanced through the "expansion doctrine"; outside the court, there were countless bureaucrats and armies personally involved in expansion; and whether in Andong, Anxi, or the South Seas, over the past two or three decades, a considerable number of sons of the powerful and noble had participated.

Even the lower-class merchants and commoners swept up in the tide of colonization might not genuinely support the vassal kingdoms, but they would instinctively oppose the court's contraction and abandonment, because that would infringe upon their immediate interests.

As for the waves of opposition that repeatedly arose within the court, at its root it was still the centralizing consciousness of the Central Empire at work. At the same time, whether it was complete annexation or cutting off a limb to enfeoff a kingdom, both were simply too costly in grain, money, and national strength.

To be fair, it was precisely the formation of these "colonization interest groups" that ensured Emperor Shizu's decades of effort had not been in vain. Otherwise, shaking or destroying it would have been merely a matter of one edict.

Through decades of accumulated colonization experience, Emperor Shizu had only truly realized in the late period of his reign that expansion relying entirely on state-invested resources was neither sustainable nor solid. That was why he thought of enfeoffment, of cultivating a group of expansionists with real strength, and at the same time decided to distribute the benefits of expansion layer by layer.

One could even say that Emperor Shizu's decades of effort were merely cultivating a consciousness—and had achieved certain results.

By the time Liu Yang came to power, he had some awareness and understanding of this, but what he felt more was doubt. As for the interests and dangers involved, what he saw more was the "harmful" side.

It could be said that where the Great Han's vassal kingdoms and overseas colonization would ultimately go was already at a crossroads in Liu Yang's hands.

However, looking at the current situation, Liu Yang leaned toward "compromise," the fundamental reason being Emperor Shizu's profound influence. Yet, as Liu Yang's position stabilized, that influence would eventually dissipate. When that time came, what choice Emperor Liu Yang would make—perhaps even he himself had no definite answer.