Chapter 49: The Prodigy of the Court, Northern Campaign?

The morning court was as usual—crowded and noisy before Li Chen arrived.

The court officials greeted each other, chatting in small groups about trivial matters.

Many officials praised Li Chen’s move yesterday of making the Imperial Tutor kneel and submit, saying it brought honor to them all.

Those who had gone along yesterday began boasting about how formidable His Majesty had been, making others who hadn’t gone envious.

Yet among the officials were a few disciples of the Imperial Tutor, their expressions grim, though none dared speak up.

In short, these court officials were well-informed; every morning and evening court was filled with discussions of current hot topics.

Some were talking about the banquet hosted last night by the Minister of Justice, Feng Huai, their glances occasionally drifting toward him.

Those bold enough to discuss Feng Huai were mostly officials of ministerial rank.

It seemed they’d heard rumors, but no one knew exactly what had happened at the Minister of Justice’s residence last night—Feng Huai had kept things tightly sealed.

Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan stood as impassive as ever; no one knew what he was thinking, and no one dared approach him.

Guo Zhenwei, leading the military officers, remained under house arrest and did not appear.

“His Majesty arrives!”

At the eunuch’s announcement, the officials returned to their places, knelt, and chanted in unison to welcome Li Chen.

Li Chen’s demeanor at court grew increasingly lax, yet his authority only grew stronger.

Today, the first to report was the Minister of Revenue, Liu Minghan.

The position of Minister of Revenue was not only a key imperial post but also the core of national finance and household registration management.

He was responsible for managing state finances, ensuring the treasury remained full and expenditures balanced.

This required not only mastery of arithmetic but also strategic foresight to handle emergencies and national development needs.

He also oversaw household registration, ensuring accurate and complete population data to support manpower allocation and tax collection.

Liu Minghan was no ordinary man; the late emperor had always praised him highly.

As a child, he was known as a prodigy and unquestionably entered court as Top Graduate.

It was said that in that examination cohort, all candidates aimed for second place—no one dared compete with him for the top spot.

Liu Minghan’s rapid promotions after taking office were astonishing.

But the problem was, he was purely competent in his duties.

Other officials had some connections or favors; this man had nothing but raw ability—no one could criticize him.

With a man of this caliber in charge of the Ministry of Revenue, the ministry had never fallen into chaos.

One could say, Tian Ce Dynasty’s stability owed him a share of credit.

Honestly, when Liu Minghan spoke, Li Chen listened attentively.

Liu Minghan immediately raised the issue of military expenditures: to maintain stability and suppress warlords with private armies, each of Tian Ce’s army groups had increased their budgets.

Added to that, tensions along the northern border had also driven up military spending.

If this continued, the treasury would inevitably run a deficit, so Liu Minghan advised Li Chen to disband some idle troops to cut costs.

His words sparked uproar in the court.

The military officers immediately accused Liu Minghan of ulterior motives—how could stability be maintained without armies?

Especially those officers tied to the units slated for disbandment bluntly asked: “If the Northern Wangting invades, will you, Liu Minghan, stand and hold the line?”

Though some troops were idle, they were crucial in actual combat. Some officers even accused him outright: “His Majesty plans to confront the Northern Wangting—your actions are meant to embarrass him.”

Li Chen couldn’t help but think: You’re really stretching it—you’ve dragged me into this too.

Clearly, the military officers wanted to use Li Chen to pressure Liu Minghan; Li Chen constantly spoke of confronting the Northern Wangting, so cutting troops now would make him look weak.

Liu Minghan fired back: If military spending keeps rising like this, the Northern Wangting won’t even need to attack—the treasury will run dry, soldiers won’t get paid, and they’ll turn to looting, plunging the realm into chaos.

Each side had its own logic, and neither would yield.

Li Chen said nothing—this was just the court’s “routine.” When they finished shouting, he turned to Zhao Wenyuan and asked: “What does the Chancellor think?”

Zhao Wenyuan was speechless: Your Majesty, you’re brilliant—now you’re kicking the ball to me. Do you really want me to anger so many people?

But he was Chancellor—he couldn’t avoid giving his opinion.

If he stayed silent, he’d look like a useless fool.

Before he even spoke, he felt dozens of eyes fixed on him; if his answer displeased them, he’d be torn apart.

Li Chen was clearly passing the buck—you’re here to take the blame, and you have no choice.

!

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Wenyuan stepped forward and said: “Your Majesty, in my view, we should launch a northern campaign!”

When in doubt, just launch a northern campaign!

Most of the troops slated for disbandment are stationed in the north; over recent years, northern garrisons have increased spending to deter the Wangting—better to let them fight outright.

Besides, His Majesty already issued that ultimatum—there’s no room for compromise.

If we win, all problems vanish—and we can seize plunder besides.

Li Chen nodded, thinking the idea was sound, and said: “Agreed. Set a date for the northern campaign.”

Instantly, Liu Minghan and the military officers stopped arguing—the issue was perfectly resolved.

The military officers even volunteered eagerly, vowing to capture the Northern Wangting’s Khan and present him to His Majesty.

This made Li Chen’s face twist in disgust.

I don’t fancy men—why are you bringing me the Khan?

These generals can’t even flatter properly.

If you’d just said you’d capture a few beautiful women for me, I’d have let you go.

The most bewildered, however, was the Khan of the Northern Wangting.

These past days, he’d just received the insult of Tian Ce’s new emperor proposing marriage—before he could even rage or protest—he received a declaration of war from the Tian Ce emperor.

In major-state warfare, especially with a power like Tian Ce, you always notify the enemy first: “I’m going to attack you,” then you kill them.

The Khan was utterly baffled: Didn’t you promise me six months to prepare? How did you declare war in two days?

Are you really that desperate?

What did I do? Why are you attacking me now?

Normally, faced with such provocation and a declaration of war, the Khan would immediately mobilize.

But the Tian Ce emperor’s behavior was so abnormal, he began to suspect: Is the enemy already prepared?

Is there a traitor in my camp? Have the tribal chieftains truly pledged loyalty to him?

If the enemy isn’t ready, launching war out of nowhere would be sheer madness.

Tian Ce’s people are always shrewd—he didn’t believe Li Chen would fight without preparation.

When this intelligence reached the ears of the Third Prince on the northern frontier, it sent shockwaves through him.

“Could the Sixth Prince have discovered my intentions?”

In the court, as the military budget dispute settled, the Censor-in-Chief Zhang Ancang immediately impeached Minister of Justice Feng Huai!

(End of Chapter)