Chapter 204: Ten Years

Sun Chengzong stayed at Wang Yan's place for two days and encountered Wei Zhongxian twice while visiting his beloved grandson; the two of them traded insults.

Sun Chengzong cursed Wei Zhongxian as a piece of trash, claiming Great Ming's current state was entirely due to his corruption.

Wei Zhongxian naturally denied it, insisting he had rendered great service, and cursed Sun Chengzong to die soon and be reborn.

Their feud was simple: Sun Chengzong resented Wei Zhongxian, and that old Wang Ba had silenced him with a chicken-killing-to-scare-the-monkeys move. He dared not truly kill Sun Chengzong—after all, Sun was the Emperor's tutor, a Grand Secretary of the Eastern Pavilion, and the leader of a major faction, holding high rank and immense power. Had Wei Zhongxian killed Sun Chengzong back then, a host of civil officials would have immediately petitioned the throne; not even Wei Zhongxian, let alone Zhu Youxiao, could have saved himself.

Sun Chengzong resented Wei Zhongxian for ignoring the bigger picture—he had been doing fine in Liaodong, only to be pushed out, wasting countless opportunities. For starters, under his command, there would never have been an opportunity for a rebel like Wang Yan to rise; the impact on Great Ming's overall strategy goes without saying.

Wang Yan did not know Sun Chengzong held this view; in fact, had Wang Yan served under Sun, he might have risen even faster—but Sun was mature and prudent, and he controlled his subordinates tightly, making mutinies more likely to erupt and requiring longer to resolve.

After Sun Chengzong left, Wang Yan had nothing to do again and returned to his usual leisure.

A year had passed; his control over his subordinates had returned to its peak. The original men were either relinquishing their military authority to retire or had been found guilty of offenses and executed under military law. The civil officials remained untouched—Wang Yan would settle accounts with them later.

In past winters, nearly all projects in Liaodong would halt, but this year, due to the capture of many Later Jin banner men and Korean men, these men were forced to perform the most deadly labor.

Thus, when December arrived, it became a historic month.

That day, Wang Yan was doting on the neglected Er Ya, holding her in his arms, when a maid came to report that Wang Ming was seeking him. He pinched Er Ya's tiny nose—she stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes—and handed her to the nurse beside him.

He went to the front courtyard study, sat down, and said: "Speak. What's the matter?"

"My lord, word has come from the front: eight days ago, the Ganzhou Garrison in Shaanxi (modern-day Ganzhou, Gansu) mutinied. A man named Li Zicheng killed the officers and rebelled. He gathered troops and marched south, seemingly aiming to join Wang Zuogua in Hanzhong."

Wang Yan knew Wang Zuogua—he had raised the banner of rebellion in Shaanxi during Chongzhen's first year, gaining considerable momentum. But his good days ended next year; he couldn't defeat Great Ming's regular troops and surrendered. Then this brat wasn't content—he wanted to rebel again, but his plans were too careless, and he was beheaded.

"Over pay?"

"Yes. They claimed four months' wages were owed." Wang Ming grinned with malicious delight: "And the deputy commander had been embezzling heavily—he was killed outright this time."

Everything is about comparison. Since Wang Yan rose to power, he's eaten well and drunk well, and his soldiers' pay has been paid in full every month, with extra bonuses besides. Look elsewhere—people barely have their next meal. We're all border troops; it's hard not to feel smug.

Wang Yan nodded. "Alright, I know. Go."

"Your subordinate takes his leave."

Wang Yan sat alone in his chair, one hand propping his cheek, the other idly tapping the table.

Originally, Li Zicheng rebelled because his unit was dispatched to reinforce Jingcheng as Later Jin forces approached the capital; halfway there, pay arrears triggered the mutiny.

Now, Wang Yan had blocked Later Jin's southern advance, but that wasn't the real cause. Money was still scarce, embezzlement still rampant. Even if Wang Yan's tiny wings had blown Li Zicheng away, Zhang Zicheng or Liu Zicheng would have emerged.

In fact, since Tianqi Seven, mutinies and uprisings had become commonplace. The north suffered widespread drought; too many people could no longer survive. Yet, both central and local authorities still plundered silver relentlessly—how could things be any better?

At the outset of the late Ming peasant rebellions, farmers couldn't match regular troops. Even the most decayed, pathetic Beijing garrison units crushed them like children's play.

For a time, they did suppress these peasant uprisings. But since the root cause remained unsolved, suppression was futile—so many desperate farmers kept joining. Those who survived battles against regular troops gained combat experience, and some regular soldiers defected to the rebels, boosting their strength—gradually growing stronger.

The greatest trait of these peasant armies was their mobility. If they lost here, they moved elsewhere, always preserving their core forces.

Figures like Hong Chengchou, Lu Xiangsheng, and Sun Chuanting crushed these peasant armies like grandchildren, chasing and beating them. But once they left their own territories, they stopped pursuing, leaving others to deal with the problem. Great Ming wasn't full of men like those three—there were always weaklings. The peasant armies, chased everywhere, struck here and there, until finally they marched all the way to Jingcheng and toppled Great Ming.

Li Zicheng's rebellion was not without Wang Yan's influence. Wang Yan's deeds couldn't be hidden—even if concealed, some ministers inevitably leaked the truth. Without exaggeration, except for farmers who stayed home and knew nothing beyond five li, Wang Yan's name was known to all—even the southernmost people and neighboring powers knew him; calling him legendary wasn't an overstatement.

Similarly, Wang Yan's success revealed Great Ming's weakness to many. After all, no one would willingly tolerate a domestic traitor thriving—if capable, they'd have struck him already. This gave many new ideas: could they become the next Wang Yan?

Thus, compared to history, current civil and military officials treated Great Ming with even less regard, especially in the army, where mutinies and rebellions were far more frequent than before.

Of course, none of this mattered much to Wang Yan—no one dared provoke him. He simply focused on developing the north in peace. His greatest contribution to Great Ming was staying firmly in the lands beyond the pass and not meddling in internal affairs.

Thus, while the interior burned in chaos, with historical figures constantly emerging, the exterior experienced miraculous rapid development.

Population was most vital. Wang Yan had been systematically importing people, and as resources increased, the numbers grew year by year. Though slightly disrespectful to himself, he had to admit: population was a crucial resource. Children were future resources, adults were current resources, the elderly who could no longer work were useless resources.

Of course, whether Wang Yan came from four hundred years in the future or was an ancient monarch, none ignored the elderly. But now, with natural disasters and turmoil, the elderly died first—poor survival ability and weak will to live, choosing to leave hope for their descendants.

So on Wang Yan's territory, the elderly were exceedingly few. Most were men and children; women were fewer still. One grim reality: in great disasters, men's vitality far surpassed women's.

Thus, even in the military, Wang Yan had many bachelors or single fathers with children. To boost population and promote ethnic integration, Wang Yan forcibly paired captured Mongol, Korean, and a few banner women with his men—no refusal allowed.

His frontline soldiers were even worse off. Since Wang Yan seized Liaodong, the few brothels that existed vanished entirely. Plus, no one knew Wang Yan's rules—no one dared test them in the short term. After all, influence from the interior didn't work here; if you misjudged, you might vanish yourself.

So this group of energetic killers suffered greatly, but Wang Yan's capacity was limited—he could only resolve marriage for some, urging them to have children. The rest would just endure hardship until more captives were brought back.

Though no exact statistics existed, Great Ming's population was surely over a hundred million. After this decade of turmoil, even if twenty million died, over a hundred million would remain. Wang Yan's goal was simple: within his lifetime, he wanted population to reach five or six hundred million. Land seized must be held—without enough people, he'd seize it only to lose it again. Population fusion was essential to take root.

With more population, the number of frontline troops and reserves must also increase.

Since capturing Liaodong and streamlining his forces, Wang Yan raised recruitment standards—those lacking personal quality couldn't even qualify. Even so, the number of applicants each year was countless.

Though military casualties were high, benefits were excellent. Soldiers received the highest pay in the entire territory, surpassed only by master craftsmen and physicians.

Let alone other perks—the high pay alone drew many. Low-rank soldiers ate meat daily; mid- and high-rank soldiers ate meat every meal, not to mention other benefits like family privileges. Even if they died, generous pensions ensured their parents, wives, and children were cared for—rights were absolutely guaranteed. Whoever dared mistreat a soldier's family, once verified, faced only one outcome: misery.

Conversely, if a soldier's family abused others, the punishment was equally miserable—once verified, the soldier was demoted; if he was at the lowest rank, he was immediately discharged.

Though loopholes existed, Wang Yan had done his best: guaranteeing soldiers' status and family rights while minimizing family arrogance. This wasn't visible yet, but as living conditions improved, conflicts would inevitably arise—then they'd be dealt with later.

Since capturing Liaodong, Wang Yan's army had been divided into three tiers: first-tier frontline troops, second-tier military households, third-tier the original forty thousand, with gradual promotion through screening. The challenge system remained—after all, without combat, the army lacked passion.

Regarding military organization, Wang Yan made only minor changes, clearly defining the maximum troop numbers per level and nothing more. One banner: ten men, led by a Squad Leader; ten banners: one hundred men, led by a Company Commander; ten companies: one thousand men, led by a Battalion Commander; ten battalions: ten thousand men, led by a Regional Military Commissioner. Above that, nothing—Wang Yan's forces were limited, and higher ranks could be added later. Other positions existed too—deputy roles managing troops, and honorary titles and merit awards to determine internal soldier status.

For master craftsmen and physicians, Wang Yan had no control: one could only buy them with money; the other required sending emissaries to recruit—those willing came; those unwilling were judged by ability—good ones had their families kidnapped, bad ones ignored.

For the next generation, Wang Yan had considered it: short-term, these men must find talented workers and their descendants themselves; long-term, once his own children grew and received basic education, they'd be directed into specialized studies. These children had already, under Wang Yan's orders, begun compiling foundational introductory textbooks.

The most pressing issue—shipbuilding—still lacked usable talent. Even building coastal vessels was a challenge. But to prosper, he needed seafaring—whether for trade or raiding, he had to go out.

Fortunately, the interior was chaotic. Wang Yan directly dispatched his personal guards, coordinating with Wang Ming's covert agents, to roam Jiang-Zhe, massacring several families and bringing back a group of master shipwrights. With their arrival, progress surged immediately—they already possessed mature techniques; here, they simply began production. Wang Yan also ordered them to research ironclad warships, then, alongside other master craftsmen, develop ironclads powered by steam engines.

Once the ships were built, the previously dedicated naval troops were nearly trained. Wang Yan's first move: on a sunny summer day, he dispatched three thousand frontline troops, seven thousand military households, and some craftsmen, physicians, and veteran farmers to the Outer Khingan Mountains—to execute the old strategy of trapping Hong Taiji in a cage, while subduing locals to cut trees and mine coal.

In fact, Han Chinese had migrated here since the Tang Dynasty; under Great Ming, it was part of the Nuerkan Regional Military Commissioner's territory. But after Ming retreated to Liaodong, Nuerkan became autonomous, and Ming's rule there became nominal. No matter—Wang Yan was here now. Not just Outer Khingan, even Eastern Siberia—he'd take it once he was strong enough. For now, strength was insufficient; taking land he couldn't hold was pointless.

Second: he dispatched troops to land on the Japanese islands, currently in the Tokugawa shogunate era. The era didn't matter—what mattered was he wanted to capture people to mine gold and silver. Due to Great Ming's currency system, silver and copper were extremely valuable, so some had been imported via maritime trade, accumulating considerable reserves.

Third: he sent scouts ahead, then dispatched ten thousand troops to Taiwan, wiping out local forces and seizing it outright as a supply port.

Fourth: after consolidating Taiwan for a time, he used it as a springboard to reach Luzon, Champa, and other regions.

Some places he fought, some he traded with, some he both fought and traded. As for pirates and vessels sent by domestic powers along the way, Wang Yan showed zero mercy—saw a ship, seized it. These bastards weren't clean; Wang Yan seized ships and cargo without guilt. Even if they were innocent, don't expect someone who'd taken countless lives to feel remorse.

Overseas expansion ended here—he simply didn't have enough troops.

As time passed and population grew, second-tier military households and lowest-tier troops no longer farmed—they transitioned to a professional soldier system. Even the worst troops, when deployed, weren't far behind the world's best.

Thus, the resources consumed to maintain his army were enormous. While ensuring stability in the northern region and readiness to crush Hong Taiji in one decisive battle, while also being able to directly suppress and assimilate conquered territories, the number of Wangwai Sect troops could never be excessive—this was his greatest constraint.

As for Hong Taiji, having been steadily eroded by Wang Yan, he had been pushed back to his white mountains and black waters; Shengjing had long since fallen into Wang Yan's hands. Wang Yan renamed it Shenyang, for the Yuan Dynasty had once called it "Shenyang Road," and during the Hongwu era of the Ming, it had been renamed "Shenyang Zhongwei"—so reverting to the old name was fitting.

This land had always been home to many banner people who now lived within Wang Yan's territory and took great pride in it. Those who cooperated were welcomed by Wang Yan; those who stubbornly resisted alongside Hong Taiji would become the primary labor force in the future.

The situation on the Mongol side was much the same. Over several years, Wang Yan's battle troops, guided by Mongol herders, had swept clean across the entire steppe; Chahar had long since been crushed. Now, nearly all the cattle, sheep, and horses grazing on the steppe were raised for Wang Yan.

In this context, Sun Chengzong truly owed his fortune to Wang Yan, remaining stationed in Yongping Prefecture. Perhaps he had come to understand the situation—he merely absorbed as many refugees as possible into Yongping, ignoring the useless remnants. After years of devastation, apart from Jiang Nan, where the Ming court still indulged in music, dance, and drunken oblivion, Yongping Prefecture was the only place that remained tolerable. Because Sun Chengzong continuously absorbed refugees, his finances looked poor—otherwise he would have been replaced long ago by someone sent to plunder silver.

In these years of development, Wang Yan's military equipment, through multiple rounds of iteration and upgrade, had long since adopted standardized ammunition, rifled barrels, and more. Though he had not yet produced machine guns—each weapon still fired one round at a time—its ease of use, range, and penetration had all reached nineteenth-century standards. As for artillery, it was even more advanced; in time, once his industry progressed further and materials improved, he would equip his troops with hand grenades.

Another critical development: paper notes. As time passed and Wang Yan grew ever more powerful, his paper notes became widely accepted among the Mongol tribes under his rule, used by some Later Jin merchants, functional in Yongping Prefecture, recognized by most Ming merchants for their purchasing power, and even circulated among some rebel peasant armies.

Regarding the Wang family, after so much time, Wang Yan had taken several concubines: daughters of high-ranking officers under him, the pearl of Mongol steppe tribes… He had added seven new sons and six daughters…

As for his children's education, Wang Yan did not hold private lessons; instead, he sent them to study separately among several nearby academies. He did not summon the children of civil and military officials to accompany them—what would that be but a display of factional alignment, not learning?

Understand this: as Wang Yan's power grew ever stronger, the situation had become increasingly clear, and the petty ambitions of his subordinates and harem women had begun to surface. Especially Wei Yan, incited by the old immortal Wei Zhongxian, was particularly restless.

Wei Zhongxian truly was no fool—no wonder he was the greatest eunuch. Put it this way: among Wang Yan's children, the one who got along best with the children of other civil and military officials was the third son, Wang Junli. Among the girls, the one with the highest authority was the second daughter, who had barely gotten enough milk as a baby, Wang Jinxiu…

As for the others, each had their own traits, clearly inherited from their mothers. The eldest rarely spoke but loved to fight, especially beating up the third son. The second son seemed cheerful on the surface but was secretly cunning, with many hidden schemes. The eldest daughter resembled Zhou Miao Xuan—quiet, well-behaved, fond of writing and painting…

In the blink of an eye, ten years passed; the year was Chongzhen Thirteenth.

That year, Wang Yan was twenty-nine; across his overseas territories, his population exceeded ten million, including dozens of thousands of forced laborers and slaves, an army of four hundred thousand, one hundred thousand retired soldiers now serving as peacekeeping police, dozens of overseas ports, hundreds of ocean-going ships built and seized, and one first-generation ironclad warship just launched for sea trials…