Chapter 2104: Taizong Chronicles 46: Arms Sales and the Shake-Up in the Bureau of Military Affairs

As winter set in, the north wind carried the chill southward, and Emperor Liu Yang once again donned that mink coat that had been patched and mended for over twenty years.

Inside Chuigong Hall, Commissioner of Military Affairs Cao Bin and Minister of War Xiang Deming were summoned for an audience, and the three—sovereign and ministers—discussed matters concerning overseas vassal states.

The discussion inevitably revolved around aid matters, clearly military-related. Specifically, King Liu Shu of Linyi had submitted a report to the court, requesting a batch of weapons and horses to repel enemy invaders.

This could be considered a continuation of the Peninsular War. Although Zhenla had made peace with the court, its disputes with Linyi and Linhai had not ceased. On the contrary, once Zhenla had somewhat recovered its strength, the conflicts grew even fiercer.

Compared to the losses of troops and territory in the north, Linyi, which had occupied the Hezhou region, was the true threat at the bedside—a fishbone stuck in the throat.

Therefore, after securing a ceasefire with the Great Han central government and confirming the large-scale withdrawal of the Han army, large numbers of Zhenla soldiers began moving south. This included not only the central army dispatched from the capital "Angkor" but also a great many private troops of nobles and tribes that had suffered heavy losses under Han army harassment, as well as Zhenla commoners.

It must be said that after that war with the Great Han Empire, while Zhenla was thoroughly beaten, the Khmer people, as the ruling entity, also awakened a certain national consciousness (for lack of a better term, let us call it national consciousness).

In fact, from Zhenla's contention with Linyi to its evolution into an active attack on the Great Han's Annam, these were all almost instinctive reactions of the peninsula's native states when facing existential crisis.

And today's scene was perhaps already destined over thirty years ago, when Great Han merchants and civilians set sail southward and the navy fleet struck out across the seas. After the South Seas states closely connected to Zhenla were eliminated one by one by the Great Han, the crisis and shadow of national extinction descended fully upon Zhenla's head.

Although regarded by the central empire as barbarians, the Khmer people, who had lived on the peninsula for generations, were also a mature civilization with their own beliefs and a system of state governance. They could not simply sit idly and be bound.

Unconsciously, Zhenla no longer viewed the central empire as a heavenly dynasty to be revered; instead, it was a greedy, cruel flood beast that required strict vigilance and defense.

Thus, conflicts with Linyi multiplied, incidents of expelling and killing Han merchants increased, and eventually this war that directly challenged the Great Han Empire's system broke out. There was a trace of tragedy in it—before absolute power, the Khmer people failed, but at least they had struggled.

Once they discovered that the central empire was not so easily bullied, Zhenla had no choice but to admit defeat and soften, turning to consider some practical problems. And in the second half of the sixth year of Yongxi, the greatest practical concern for Zhenla was how to resist and even counterattack the invasions of the two "fierce tiger and wolf states," Linyi and Linhai.

When Zhenla organized its counterattack and large numbers of troops and civilians moved south, the pressure on Linyi naturally surged. When it came to fighting, the Han army and Han civilians were not afraid. In a head-on confrontation, relying on superior equipment, organization, and command, they had confidence in fighting one against five, if not one against ten.

But through prolonged skirmishing with the Zhenla people, the latter had gained experience and lessons, no longer recklessly clashing head-on with the Han army. Instead, they fully leveraged their advantages: fighting on home turf and superior population.

These two points happened to be precisely Linyi's weaknesses at present. As the commanding general, Liu Gong led three sorties, repelling and routing the invaders each time, achieving a tally of over twenty thousand enemies killed. But looking at the overall battle situation, the Zhenla people were continuously advancing south, retaking many towns, strongholds, and territories, and even driving the Han out of the Tonlé Sap river basin.

At root, the problem was that during the Peninsular War, Linyi had stretched its steps too wide, eaten too much, and overstuffed itself. With its manpower and resources, it simply could not, on the basis of defending its territory and suppressing the disloyal, additionally bear the full brunt of the Khmer counterattack.

But even if it could not resist, resist it must—only with proper methods and strategy. After much deliberation, the great general Liu Gong proposed a set of defensive measures, the core of which could be summed up in eight characters: stand firm on defense, strike out on offense.

Liu Gong believed that if it came to a contest of manpower, even migrating another two hundred thousand people from the homeland would not necessarily outmatch Zhenla, and that was not something achievable in a short time anyway.

Moreover, the Zhenla troops and civilians continuously harassing the garrison, killing Han immigrants, and inciting tribal rebellions within the country struck precisely at Linyi's vital point—after all, their grip on domestic control could hardly be called strong.

Thus, synthesizing the problems exposed over several months of countering Zhenla's counteroffensive, Liu Gong proposed his defensive strategy. It was to rely on the fortress line of Bashan, Banan, Chaling, and Xinshi in the lower Mekong basin to defend against Zhenla harassment and attacks, protect the immigrants, and suppress the tribes. On this basis, he would form cavalry, enhance mobility, and dispatch elite forces to continuously raid northward into Zhenla territory in counter-harassment.

In this way, they could not only seize population and supplies through plunder but also disrupt the Zhenla people's rhythm. In short, they had to seize the initiative in defense; passive defense could only lead to being stretched thin. By standing firm on war and carrying the flames of battle into enemy territory, they could protect the border, secure the people, and restore production.

To accomplish these two things in a short time, the support of the court was indispensable. First, to ensure a solid defensive system, Linyi thought first of cannons; second, to build a highly mobile strike force, the peninsula's shortage of horses naturally led them to think of importing from the mother country.

And so, a plaintive and moving plea for aid was ultimately submitted to the halls of Luoyang, placed upon the desk of Emperor Liu Yang.

On this matter, Liu Yang temporarily made no statement, instead wishing to hear the opinions of Cao Bin and Xiang Deming. The result: Xiang Deming offered qualified support, while Cao Bin cautiously opposed.

Xiang Deming had spent ten years in Anxi and knew well the hardships of expansion. Linyi's request was not excessive either—cannons, as a sharp weapon of the state, could provide considerable assistance whether in offense or defense.

Cao Bin's opposition was based on the central empire's prudence regarding security. Cannons were, after all, a sharp weapon of the state. If the vassal states were armed too heavily, even though they shared the same origin, if they became a menace in the future, they might be difficult to control.

Xiang Deming argued that, all told, the court had already provided the three Anxi states with over two hundred cannons, and Andong had received over a dozen as well. To refuse the South Seas vassal states when they made requests would be showing favoritism.

Cao Bin felt that times had changed. The Anxi cannons had been experimental in nature; when the great Western Expedition began, the late emperor had not yet established vassal states. The arrangements and deployments of that time did not apply to today. Moreover, whether cannons or warhorses, their value was considerable. Providing them in large quantities would inevitably harm the national strength and drain the people's wealth, which contradicted the original purpose of establishing vassal states to reduce burdens, and also ran counter to the policies of the Yongxi era, and so on.

Xiang Deming clearly could not agree with Cao Bin's argument. He directly pointed out that the Great Han's vassal states were not completely severed from contact with the various states; the bonds of shared blood needed maintenance, and some investment was necessary—not a simple one-way expenditure.

At the very least, with the Great Han's commerce growing increasingly prosperous, especially as overseas trade expanded and the court's tax revenues rose year after year, if the vassal states had not steadfastly and firmly shielded the Great Han and protected Han merchants' operations and expansion, how could the court have reaped all those benefits?

Clearly, as a typical "pioneering talent" of the mid-to-late Kaibao era, Xiang Deming's knowledge and horizons were thoroughly broadened. He might not be able to foresee the future like Emperor Shizu, nor had he ever been to the South Seas, but having tasted the hardships of expansion, his thinking and understanding regarding vassal states and foreign affairs were at least not constrained, and his recommendations and decisions were more practical and flexible.

In response to Cao Bin's concerns, Xiang Deming put forward another proposal: the Great Han's more mature and more powerful second-generation cannons had already been deployed in the various armies, passes, and fortresses. If the vassal states wanted cannons, the existing first-generation ones could be transferred to them. Even if they had some defects, they were still usable.

The vassal states had no room to be picky. At the same time, a certain fee could be charged to the vassal states, thereby promoting the Great Han's cannon upgrade cycle. Xiang Deming even suggested that if the court did not provide them, the various states would find ways to develop their own. Cannon technology—hard as it was—could yield results with dedicated effort. Moreover, the vassal states had plenty of means to obtain some support from within the empire. Unless the Great Han sealed its borders to them, it could only slow the pace. Therefore, there was no great need to place obstacles before the vassal states on advanced weapons like cannons and gunpowder.

Xiang Deming's suggestion clearly opened a new line of thinking for Liu Yang, and the more he thought about it, the more brilliant it seemed. After careful consideration, Liu Yang made his decision.

From the armories and the armies, one hundred "Type I" cannons would be drawn, complete with ammunition, to aid Linyi. The ammunition would be given free of charge, but each cannon would cost 500 strings of cash. Transport would be arranged by the Bureau of Military Affairs, incorporating a long-distance voyage into the navy's training plan, bringing the cannons along in the process.

As for the warhorses Liu Shu had requested, that was even easier to solve. The Great Han did not prohibit horse trading domestically; Linyi could simply purchase them with money. Only, the transaction would be organized by the government—collecting and selling horses—ensuring quantity and offering a favorable price. Liu Yang planned to entrust this task to Kou Zhun, having him gather horses locally in the Annam Circuit and resell them to Linyi. The climate there, presumably, was more suited to southern horses.

In comparison, Liu Shu's request for gunpowder technology assistance warranted some hesitation. However, after consideration, Liu Yang decided that the Ministry of War would dispatch craftsmen and technical personnel to travel far to Linyi to help Liu Shu establish a gunpowder factory.

And Linyi's military technology aid request also set an example for the other states. Subsequently, when the other states heard of this matter, they followed suit and petitioned the court. The court's attitude was: for the South Seas vassal states, arrangements would follow the Linyi precedent without any problem. Even the three Anxi states, after some minor complications, were ultimately approved.

Only for Andong did the court provide limited support—transferring a few cannons and nothing more. The reason was simple: Andong had few external threats and no great enemies. What would it do with such powerful military force? With its current strength, it was more than enough to defend the state and protect its people.

Of course, the fundamental reason lay in the fact that in the eyes of many military and political ministers, if Andong became too powerful, the threat would not be to the northern barbarian tribes, but to the Liaodong Circuit—to the Great Han court itself.

And the court's differential treatment once again wounded the King of Andong, while that resentment and unwillingness continued to accumulate.

"Your Majesty, your servant begs to return his bones, retire from court, and return to the fields to live out his years. I humbly request your gracious approval!" In the final month of the sixth year of Yongxi, when everyone was anticipating the end of winter and the arrival of spring, awaiting the revival of all things, Commissioner of Military Affairs Cao Bin sought an audience with Emperor Liu Yang and made this request.

Hearing this plea, Liu Yang was momentarily stunned. He set down his vermilion brush, looked up and fixed his gaze on Cao Bin, his face showing displeasure, and said: "If Duke Cao wishes to resign over the Linyi matter because his advice was not heeded, I absolutely will not permit it!"

"Your Majesty misunderstands!" Hearing this, Cao Bin immediately prostrated himself and explained in a sincere tone: "Your servant is advanced in years and plagued by illness; I truly cannot bear the duties of Commissioner of Military Affairs. A muddled old minister such as I dare not continue to occupy a place in the court, holding a post without doing anything."

"Moreover, the court is now full of talented people—those in their prime, capable of shouldering the responsibility, are too numerous to count. This old pedant of a man, if I remain any longer, I will only feel ashamed."

As he said this, Cao Bin could not help but cough a few times, as if trying to prove that his body truly could not hold out.

Hearing his plea, Liu Yang's expression softened somewhat, and he took a careful look at Cao Bin. The old minister before him was already sixty-eight years old, approaching seventy, with a head of white hair and a face full of the marks of time.

After silently weighing Cao Bin's plea, Liu Yang felt both reluctance and relief, and reluctantly agreed to his retirement. To show his regard, Liu Yang also conferred upon him the title of Grand Commandant.

Cao Bin's retirement had a significant impact on the Great Han's political landscape. Besides another veteran minister of Emperor Shizu's era stepping down, more importantly, the heavy post of Commissioner of Military Affairs was left vacant.

In the upper structure of the Great Han's power, any vacancy would attract countless vultures coveting and fighting over it—let alone the post of Commissioner of Military Affairs, a heavy responsibility that controlled all military affairs of the state.

Of course, as in the past, the contenders for the position of Commissioner of Military Affairs this time were primarily the military ministers and meritorious nobles. For decades, every Commissioner of Military Affairs of the Great Han had risen from the ranks of the army, and essentially all came from the meritorious noble class.

This time was no exception. The only thing that surprised people was that Liu Yang, after weighing multiple candidates, chose the sixty-three-year-old veteran minister Gao Qiong to succeed as Commissioner of Military Affairs. One should know that Gao Qiong was a true commoner by birth.

Back when Gao Qiong was promoted to Minister of War, it had already sparked considerable discussion. But at that time, it was Emperor Shizu's decision, and no one dared to object. Gao Qiong's qualifications were also sufficient, yet in many people's eyes, Minister of War was his ceiling.

But no one could have imagined that over a decade later, Gao Qiong would take the post of Commissioner of Military Affairs at such an advanced age. This was truly eye-popping and greatly dissatisfied the group of meritorious nobles who had actively competed for the position.

Only, this was no longer the first year of Yongxi. Even if they were dissatisfied, aside from a few complaints, there were truly few who dared to make trouble. The current emperor was, after all, a sovereign with full power over their lives and deaths.

And behind Gao Qiong's succession as Commissioner of Military Affairs, one more point must be mentioned. In the past years, the Great Han's military had been dominated by the meritorious noble group of veteran ministers and old generals. But at the same time, a large number of "commoner generals" had been continuously promoted, especially after Liu Yang began vigorously rectifying military conduct and discipline, further intensifying the promotion efforts.

Gao Qiong was precisely the pinnacle that a "commoner general" could reach—a matter of great significance.

At the same time as Gao Qiong assumed the post of Commissioner of Military Affairs, another important personnel change occurred in the Bureau of Military Affairs: the Marquis of Zhiyuan, Guo Liangping, was transferred to the capital to serve as Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs—the "First Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs," second only to Gao Qiong.

This was already Guo Liangping's second time serving as Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs. But unlike the previous time, this time Guo Liangping had more confidence and a fiercer bearing—returning with glory, a triumphant return bearing the merit of destroying a state and completing Emperor Shizu's enfeoffment plan.

At the same time, this time around, the navy's status was no longer what it had been. Thus, when Guo Liangping returned to court for the second time, no one in the court dared to attack him over seniority, merits, or the like—he had truly earned his position.

Of course, behind Guo Liangping's reassignment lay another reason: after nearly thirty years of struggle, the strength and influence of Guo Liangping and even the Guo clan in the South Seas navy and the South Seas region had grown somewhat inflated. Especially after leading the army to destroy the state of Srivijaya, it had reached the point of upsetting the regional balance.

Therefore, he had to be moved to a new position. From now on, the Guo clan's influence in the navy and the South Seas would continue to be felt, but Guo Liangping himself would never have the chance to return to the South Seas again.

As for Guo Liangping's promotion, none were happier than the navy generals and those meritorious nobles of the naval forces.

From Gao Qiong to Guo Liangping, the changes in postings also revealed—at least during the Yongxi era—some subtle shifts taking place within the Great Han army. Naturally, such changes were top-down in nature.