Chapter 131

After one night, the Jin state was like a giant stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring unprecedented turmoil. The Jin Emperor, Jin Zhangzong Wanyan Jing, had suddenly issued an edict proclaiming the throne would pass to the Sixth Prince, Wanyan Honglie. This prince had once been the subject of idle gossip among common folk, mocked as "the prince who raises other men's sons."

Now, he had suddenly become the new ruler of Jin, and this abrupt shift stunned the entire nation.

The news spread like a gale, sweeping through every street and alley of Jin. People buzzed with speculation about the origins of this new emperor.

Soon, the fact that this prince had launched a coup in Zhongdu and slaughtered all his brothers spread like wildfire.

This left the gentry who had planned to whitewash Wanyan Honglie utterly bewildered—they had just been preparing to spread tales of how virtuous and humble he was, their noble representative.

Now, his three crimes—killing his brothers, imprisoning his father, and rebelling—struck hard at the core Confucian values the gentry preached daily: loyalty and filial piety. How could they, who spent their days extolling these virtues, now support a man who violated them? And if Wanyan Honglie now issued an edict ordering the gentry to raise militia forces to crush Zhang Chu'an's revolutionary base?

Then everyone would see clearly what the gentry truly were: they had backed an unloyal, unfilial man to power for their own gain, yet now demanded he uphold loyalty and filial piety—wasn't that hypocrisy?

Of course, even this could be spun positively—after all, wasn't there the precedent of Tang Taizong Li Shimin? Wanyan Honglie, too, claimed he acted solely for the sake of the people.

But to elevate Wanyan Honglie to the same stature as Li Shimin tested the gentry's audacity and their skill at deception. Yet their audacity and deception had always withstood scrutiny.

Even under these circumstances, they could still praise Wanyan Honglie as supremely virtuous, claiming his coup was entirely justified because his brother Wanyan Hongxi had ruthlessly purged dissenters, plunging the Great Jin into chaos.

Only when he could endure no longer had Wanyan Honglie resolutely launched his military revolt to restore clarity and order to the realm.

For a time, tales of Wanyan Honglie's childhood brilliance and his later humility toward scholars spread through every lane and alley. In their praise, Wanyan Honglie was elevated to rival Emperor Wen of Han and Tang Taizong.

To suppress this negative public sentiment, they spent four full months and vast wealth. To make up for this massive loss, they raised land rents by another twenty percent.

Only after quelling the public outcry did Wanyan Honglie dare to release the edict he had prepared.

The edict's content was simple: first, it listed the crimes of Zhang Chu'an and Zhang Xiaofan—corrupting Wanyan Hongxi, destabilizing the court, purging loyal officials, and under the guise of the Jin, seizing the common people's farmland and ancestral homes while persecuting the upright.

Secretly hoarding private troops with intent to rebel, these two outlaws were now fleeing the capital; the court immediately ordered its armies to capture them and authorized local prominent families to raise militia forces to assist in suppressing the rebels.

When this edict was announced across Jin, countless gentry erupted in jubilation—finally, the court's armies were moving to punish the rebels, and moreover, they themselves could now raise their own troops to crush these insurgents.

Their hearts stirred with restless ambition. Hadn't such an edict been issued only once before—in the late Eastern Han, when Emperor Ling issued it to suppress the Yellow Turban Rebellion?

It was during the late Eastern Han that the great aristocratic clans truly rose to power, for at that time, they possessed wealth, grain, influence—and most crucially, armies.

The Jingkang Disaster had taught the gentry that this world ultimately belonged to men of arms. After all, the Jurchens had emerged from the snowy mountains and black waters with no wealth, no influence, no culture—so how had they seized the Central Plains? Wasn't it simply because they could fight?

But if they were now permitted to raise their own armies, then with wealth, grain, and troops, they might rise from mere gentry to powerful aristocratic clans; at best, they could become families with three generations of prime ministers, their students and former subordinates spread across the land, even challenging for the throne itself.

This edict ignited the gentry's deepest desires—and simultaneously ignited the fury of the revolutionary zones.

The Second Revolutionary Zone, stationed in the Dabie Mountains, erupted in uproar. From the very beginning of Zhang Chu'an's establishment of the revolutionary base, they had adopted the strategy of encircling the cities from the countryside, quietly building strength without drawing enemy attention.

Thus, stationing troops in mountainous regions was ideal. Mount Taixing, with its towering peaks and treacherous terrain, had been a coveted strategic stronghold since ancient times. Its sheer cliffs and layered ridges formed a natural military barrier, offering unparalleled defensive advantages. Throughout history, Mount Taixing had repeatedly served as a critical battlefield—whether controlling its southern passes or holding its northern chokepoints, it granted immense strategic advantage.

Moreover, Mount Taixing had played a pivotal strategic role in every historical era. Before the Song Dynasty, the southern region—particularly the Four Southern Passes (Ruan Pass, Taixing Pass, Bai Pass, and Fuku Pass)—commanded high ground, allowing those who held it to overlook the Central Plains and exert powerful control. After the Yuan Dynasty, as the political center shifted northward, warfare in the northern and central regions of Mount Taixing intensified. These areas became vital corridors for attacking or flanking the capital, their strategic importance growing ever greater, making them a must-contest battleground.

Thus, this was the second major revolutionary zone after the Shandong Zone established in the Shandong Hills—and though second in establishment, it was the largest of the three zones.

It fielded a full 200,000 regular troops, while the first-established Shandong Zone had only 70,000, and the newly formed Dabie Mountain Zone had just 30,000.

At this moment, the Dabie Mountain Zone, upon seeing Wanyan Honglie's edict, could not remain calm. After months of literacy campaigns, they could all read its contents.

The newly installed Jin emperor was ordering the capture of their leader and listing a series of crimes against them.

For example, "harming loyal officials"—but were those fat, oil-stained old men, in their fifties still raping twelve- or thirteen-year-old girls and selling their male relatives into Jurchen slavery, truly loyal officials?

And the edict accused the two Zhangs of seizing private farmland—but they had redistributed all that land to the people; they themselves had taken nothing. And it accused them of corrupting the court—yet every official appointed in the prefectures and counties had been chosen by them.

And once they held office, the bailiffs and gentry no longer dared to bully the poor as before. Whenever they found such cruel landlords, they overthrew them and distributed their wealth to the poor. Now, the poor could eat, wear clothes, attend school, and meet their masters without kneeling or kowtowing.

Such officials—the court wanted to remove them and kill them?

Is this the court that constantly claims to put the people first?