Chapter 161: Disposition

The "Military Merit Ledger" system had just spread among the various battalions of the Imperial Guards in Kaifeng, like a spark falling into a powder keg, instantly exploding the pot.

In the camp grounds, beside the drill field, and even by the kitchen stove, everywhere were the sounds of soldiers whispering to each other; even the footsteps of night watch were more lively than usual.

The reaction of the lower-ranking soldiers was almost ecstatic. Most of them were miserable wretches who had fled the disaster-stricken lands along both banks of the Yellow River, or farmers forced into desperation by excessive taxes and levies; they enlisted simply to be able to eat a full meal.

If luck was good, they might even manage to earn a minor post, so their families would no longer suffer poverty. Before, those two words "prospect" had nothing to do with these privates; they were the exclusive privilege of military offspring and officials' descendants.

Just like last year's battle in Huainan, Zhang San risked being pierced in the arm by enemy spears to save a scattered squad; Li Si was the first to climb the city wall during the siege, only to have the platoon leader behind him snatch the credit.

When it came time to award merits, they didn't even get a word of praise; all the credit was recorded by superiors under their own or their cronies' names, and the good fortune of promotion and rewards never fell to them.

Now hearing that the "Military Merit Ledger" would record each person's merit item by item, with no one able to steal it anymore, the soldiers gripped their spears, feeling even the shafts heavier than before; this time, their fate could finally be hooked to the word "prospect".

Now, Prince Jin, hand in hand with Lord Wang, has actually pointed out a concrete, clear path for these low-ranking privates.

No longer an empty promise written on paper, it is an ironclad rule written in the Military Merit Ledger: as long as one is willing to fight hard on the battlefield, daring to risk one's life against the enemy, each enemy killed adds a record to the ledger, and one can immediately exchange that record for silver coins—enough to buy two bolts of cloth for one's mother back home and add several pecks of rice for one's child.

If one could accumulate enough genuine military merit, there would be no need to look at superiors' faces or envy those of military lineage; relying on one's own ability, one could rise in rank, from private to platoon leader, from platoon leader to deputy general, step by step, truly realizing the ambition of "promotion and wealth".

When this news spread to the battalions, the soldiers clenched their fists, their eyes brightening, only hoping for the next campaign so they could rely on their own abilities to carve out a future.

To them, this wasn't just a new regulation—it was practically taking the good things they never dared dream of and delivering them straight to their doorstep!

"Have you heard? In the West Camp, Er Gouzi, after discovering a Khitan spy, fought desperately, cut off an enemy head and brought it back, and on the spot received ten taels of silver as reward!"

"Good heavens! Ten taels of silver! That's enough for me, back in the countryside, to marry a wife who can bear children!"

"What's more! He also earned ten points of military merit! He said himself, if he accumulates another forty, he'll be promoted to squad leader!"

"No way! Next time there's a mission, I'll be the first to go—no one better try to beat me to it!"

In the camp, the former lazy, slack atmosphere was completely swept away.

The soldiers were all fired up like they'd been injected with chicken blood; every day before dawn they rose to drill. After drilling, they gathered around their unit leaders to inquire about any recent tasks that could earn military merit.

The entire army's spirit and energy were visibly improving at a noticeable pace.

However, the happier the lower-ranking soldiers were, the more miserable the middle- and upper-ranking officers felt.

Especially those old-school officers who lived off empty salaries and sold commissions, grown rich as oil.

The "Military Merit Ledger" system was tantamount to cutting off their source of income.

Previously, for a unit's official strength of one "du", they would falsely report twenty extra, allowing them to embezzle the pay of twenty more men each month. A commander with twenty-five such units under him would, over a month, amass a huge sum.

The "accountants" sent by Wang Hao were each as sharp as fiery-eyed golden pupils. They stationed themselves directly in the camp, taking roll call every day, verifying headcount. One person per name, one radish per hole.

No one should dare to pocket even a single copper coin anymore, nor should anyone, as before, lightly record the hard-earned merit of the privates who traded their lives on the battlefield under their own name, then go collect reward money and reap benefits.

Moreover, those superiors who once held a bit of power, besides embezzling military merit, could also quietly amass a fortune by buying and selling their official posts.

In the camp, their positions had long been marked with clear price tags: a squad leader overseeing a dozen or so men could be bought for ten or eight taels of silver, no need to look at ability; a unit leader commanding a hundred men cost even more—one had to produce one hundred eighty taels to obtain it.

Many who lacked talent but had family wealth could simply buy an official post with silver, while those soldiers who fought and killed on the battlefield, even if they lived until their hair turned white, might never attain even a minor post.

But now that the Military Merit Ledger has been implemented, all promotions are based solely on genuine military merit—how many enemies killed, how much achievement earned—clearly recorded in the ledger; it is no longer a matter of who has money or connections to decide.

The "power" those superiors held by selling offices and gathering wealth was thus outright stripped away, leaving no room for compromise.

As the old saying goes, "To cut off someone's source of wealth is like killing their parents"; this regulation is tantamount to directly strangling their income, felling the "money tree" they depended on for survival.

These people dared not resist on the surface, but in secret their glances toward Prince Jin and Lord Wang had long lost their former obedience, now mixed with irrepressible resentment and unwillingness.

For a time, memorials impeaching Wang Hao piled up before the gate of Prince Jin's mansion, high as a small hill.

"Your Highness! That Wang Hao is merely a pale-faced scholar; what does he know about military affairs? He's just meddling! He's undermining army morale!"

"That's right, Your Highness! Since ancient times, military affairs have been decided by us martial men. When did it become the turn of a bunch of abacus beads to point fingers at us?"

"Please, Your Highness, immediately abolish that so-called Military Merit Accounting Office and drive Wang Hao out of the camp!"

A man with a beard covering his cheeks, named Zhao Heihu, a Palace Front Commander, even knelt before Guo Rong, tears and voice streaming down.

"Your Highness! This subordinate has followed you and Your Majesty for over ten years! Climbing out of piles of corpses how many times! No merit, but there's been hardship, right? Now you actually let a greenhorn kid ride on our necks and defecate! If you keep favoring him like this, we… we old brothers feel chilled to the bone!"

His words were extremely incendiary.

The dozen or so generals kneeling behind him also wiped away tears, looking as if they had suffered a tremendous injustice; this was a move to force the palace.

They thought Guo Rong was young and thin-skinned. As long as these old generals united, leveraging their seniority to cause a ruckus, Guo Rong would likely make concessions to appease morale.

However, they were all mistaken.

Guo Rong looked at those kneeling below, his face showing not the slightest flicker of emotion.

His gaze was as if he were looking at fools.

"Have you finished?" he asked lightly.

Zhao Heihu and the others were all stunned.

"Having said that, it's now my turn to speak." Guo Rong rose from his seat and stepped toward them.

"You say Wang Hao has undermined morale?" Guo Rong snorted coldly, "What I see is morale greatly boosted! The soldiers' enthusiasm for drilling has reached an unprecedented high! Those who used to steal chickens and dogs, who gathered to gamble, are now nowhere to be seen! Is that undermining morale?"

"You say I let an outsider manage you insiders?"

"Then let me ask you, you so-called 'insiders', what have you been doing all these years?!"

Guo Rong's voice suddenly rose by an octave.

"You've withheld military pay, sold off weapons! You've falsified headcounts, lined your own pockets! You've treated the court's army as your own family's bank! You've turned every hot-blooded youth into a stepping stone for your promotion and wealth!"

"What about your faces? Your consciences? Have they been eaten by dogs?!"

Each of Guo Rong's words struck like a heavy hammer, slamming hard into these officers' hearts.

Their faces turned ashen, cold sweat pouring, they dared not even lift their heads.

"Zhao Heihu!" Guo Rong's gaze fell upon the leading commander.

"I… I am here!" Zhao Heihu's voice trembled.

"You've followed me for over ten years, that's true." Guo Rong's tone eased slightly but remained icy, "So I have always cherished our old bond, leaving you some face."

"Do you think I don't know about the rotten things you've done?"

Guo Rong pulled a ledger from his bosom and slammed it hard before Zhao Heihu.

"This is Mr. Wang Hao, the account he has calculated for you!"

"You were in the Hall Front Office, serving as a Commanding Officer for five years. In those five years, the five units under your command were perpetually understaffed, each lacking at least a hundred men. By merely drawing a salary, you have embezzled the Court nearly thirty thousand strings of cash!"

"Of the ten unit leaders under you, eight were officials you purchased with money! Your earnings from selling offices exceed five thousand strings!"

"You even installed your wife's maternal family's nephew, a clueless fool who couldn't even hold a sword steady, into the army as a quartermaster. Consequently, he embezzled the supplies, secretly selling all three thousand shi of grain!"

"These accounts—am I right or not?!"

Zhao Heihu stared at the ledger, the black ink on white paper listing the amounts clearly, and felt his vision go black, nearly fainting on the spot.

He couldn't understand how that scholar Wang Hao managed to uncover the things he thought were flawless.

"Your Highness… Your Highness, spare me! Your servant… I was momentarily confused!" Zhao Heihu knelt on the ground, pounding his head desperately, crying out.

"Too late." A flash of murderous intent passed through Guo Rong's eyes.

"I, the king, have already given you a chance."

"Men!"

"Here!" Two guards from the Wang manor, fierce as wolves and tigers, rushed in.

"Drag Zhao Heihu and those ringleaders behind him out! Decapitate them on the spot! Hang their heads in front of the army tents, so you are constantly reminded of what you should and shouldn't do!"

The others behind dared not plead; their own behinds were already dirty, fearing Guo Rong would cut them all down, they quickly begged forgiveness, then shakily retreated, salvaging a dog‑thin life.