Chapter 420: A New Way to Deal with the Northern Barbarians

Not investing means burying yourself alive—not Yao Yao Zhangzhen exaggerating, but reality itself: even in the Southern Court, the Jiangnan region that had long resented the Ming court's overreach since the dynasty's founding, it was no different.

The Ming emperor was extremely authoritarian—a necessity under imperial rule. Led by the corrupt minister Wang Wang Chonggu, the state-run factories built through the resettlement of ruffians had gradually become representatives of Ming's advanced productive forces, possessing more skilled artisans, broader and cheaper raw material sources, higher-value goods, and an extraordinarily formidable cohesion.

Even without resorting to class-based suppression, the emperor's commercial maneuvers alone had already transformed the Ming; these changes demanded that everyone keep pace with the emperor, or else the so-called millennia-old aristocratic families were nothing but past winds and turned pages.

Kelp indeed yields thin profits, because from the outset the kelp trade has subsidized farmers and fishermen; growing kelp is profitable, or no one would bother, but subsidizing farmers and fishermen means reduced margins—this was precisely why Yao Yao Zhangzhen initially refused to join.

But the ancillary marine goods trade—fish oil, palm oil, refined gold, silver, copper, iron, sulfur, sugarcane, white sugar, redwood dye, spices, and more—brings thick profits.

The kelp trade is the entry ticket; if you won't do kelp, how dare you expect to get rich? The emperor would never permit it—he needn't do more than withhold your goods; what marine trade could you possibly run? Seven out of ten Ming marine goods are controlled by the five major oceanic trading houses.

Under brutal competition, some wealthy households in Xitucheng abandoned their resentment toward the emperor and chose to surrender their assets.

Yao Yao Zhangzhen was one such person: like individuals, a family's first priority is survival before seeking more.

The negotiations between Wang Qian, Yao Xu Guangqi, Yao Yao Zhangzhen, and Yao Yao Changxing were far from smooth, but ultimately each got what they wanted: Yao Xu Guangqi needed the Yao clan's commercial routes and connections in Huguang, while Yao Yao Zhangzhen needed profit; throughout, Yao Yao Zhangzhen never fully severed ties—whether during Yao Xu Guangqi's humiliating departure from Beijing with two hundred taels as resettlement money, or his shabby return, Yao Yao Zhangzhen still regarded him as his son.

Leave a thread of room when doing business; you'll meet again someday.

A mutually beneficial deal was finally struck after fierce verbal combat.

Wang Qian didn't get drunk, but Yao Xu Guangqi did—wine doesn't intoxicate, people intoxicate themselves; Yao Xu Guangqi was merely moved by the scene—he was no longer the Yao clan's young master, but an imperial official.

After escorting Yao Xu Guangqi home, Wang Qian opened the carriage window, letting the still-chilly spring wind blow across him; his slight drunkenness vanished instantly. He carefully calculated: kelp yields thin profits but in massive volume and doesn't spoil easily—like salt trade—if this business is done well, the Wang family will be a household of bells and cauldrons, though of course, they already were.

"Father, I'm back—the deal is settled." Wang Qian returned home, walked into Tingyu Pavilion, the Wang family's private study, where his father, after returning from the Southern Yamen, received core members of the Jin Party, read miscellaneous reports and court bulletins, and pondered matters.

Wang Qian clutched a large teapot and guzzled down bowl after bowl of tea—the favorite drink of the poor laborers outside Zhaoyang Gate, especially when iced.

"Settled?" Wang Wang Chonggu opened his eyes, studying Wang Qian's furrowed brow—he sent Wang Qian precisely because of his arrogance and bluster; Wang Wang Chonggu never intended to close this deal!

That mouth of Wang Qian's would never be polite—how could that old Yao sit down and negotiate seriously instead of storming out in rage?!

Wang Qian recounted every detail of the negotiations, utterly astonished by his father's reaction—hadn't he succeeded? Was he now to be scolded?

"You've ruined me! Your kelp trade has already spread to Shandong, the Northern Metropolitan Region, Shaanxi, Shanxi, and now Henan and Huguang—you're afraid we'll die too slowly!" Wang Wang Chonggu looked worn out; his son had never given him peace, couldn't even properly play the role of a wastrel, yet somehow managed to seal the deal.

Wang Qian bristled at once: "Father, what do you mean? What do you mean?! According to you, I should've accomplished nothing? So you sent me out hoping I'd wreck the deal? Now that I've succeeded, I'm the one in the wrong?!"

"Yes." Wang Wang Chonggu replied succinctly.

Wang Qian was instantly furious—was there no justice or law left?!

"Your primary duty is to squander." Wang Wang Chonggu leaned back in his chair, glancing sideways at Wang Qian: "The more you squander, the better."

Wang Qian, slightly drunk and stirred by Yao Xu Guangqi's current devotion to country and people, felt his long-suppressed ambition to achieve glory ignite—he slammed the table in fury: "This is utterly unreasonable!"

"Who doesn't hope their son becomes a dragon? I went to Sichuan, through mountains and rivers, killed and burned there, traveled to Dujiangyan to inspect firsthand, finalized the first phase of the Jimin Canal, even watched the first lime factory's construction—why am I only fit to be a wastrel? Father, I'm telling you!"

"Your son isn't a useless lump—he can still become accomplished!"

Wang Wang Chonggu tossed Wang Qian a copy of "On Class," which Wang Qian, a filial son, initially refused to read—until he saw the author's name: Zhang Zhang Juzheng. He forced himself to finish part of it, then immediately understood why his father spoke this way.

"Fine, you're the only one with talent!" Wang Qian muttered, sullenly stowing away the "On Class" text—he'd read it thoroughly later. After all, who could deny his father's brilliance? He'd amassed a fortune beyond imagining; Wang Qian's true duty was indeed to squander—sooner the Wang family's wealth grew, the sooner the emperor's blade would fall.

There was a better solution: Wang Wang Chonggu retire, retreat from the system of official selection + aristocracy + monopoly class, returning to aristocracy + monopoly class alone—this would drastically reduce the threat to the emperor, and Wang Qian would have a bright future.

But Wang Wang Chonggu didn't want to leave; as long as Zhang Zhang Juzheng remained, he wouldn't leave. Zhang Zhang Juzheng had the Examination System and land surveys—you, Wang Wang Chonggu, have the resettlement of ruffians and state factories. Who wouldn't want to be remembered as a sage minister for eternity?

Can't I, Wang Wang Chonggu, do what Zhang Zhang Juzheng does?

Wang Qian pondered long and hard—this was fine too; being a wealthy youth in the capital suited him. He now understood why Zhang Zhang Juzheng's sons refused to leave the Imperial Academy of Natural Philosophy—such a formidable father made it hard to be a son.

"The emperor assigned you a task: go beyond the frontier to escort Tu Tu Manhan Baotu to the capital." Wang Wang Chonggu sat upright, his expression grave as he looked at Wang Qian.

Wang Qian beamed, rubbing his hands: "Here's my chance to achieve glory!"

"I declined. I sent Xiao Xiao Chongye instead. It's truly a chance for glory, but we can't get too involved." Wang Wang Chonggu explained his refusal—should Wang Qian not understand, he could read the books; the reasons were there.

"Are the Northern Barbarians strong or weak?" Wang Qian, knowing this glory was no longer his, voiced his doubt.

"Very weak." Wang Wang Chonggu spoke with absolute certainty: "Simple example: today's Northern Barbarians, especially those in the Southern Steppe, can't even write Mongolian script—their state letters are all in Chinese. Do you understand? Emperor Emperor Chengzu's five campaigns across the steppe didn't just take away iron pots—they shattered their backbone."

It was true: even Tu Tu Manhan, the paramount khan, couldn't write Mongolian; every state letter was penned by his son Buyan in Chinese.

"The steppe has always been this way: when the Xiongnu were strong, everyone called themselves Xiongnu; when the Xianbei were strong, they called themselves Xianbei; when the Turks were strong, they called themselves Turks; when the Khitans were strong, they called themselves Khitans; when the Jurchens were strong, they called themselves Jurchens; when the Mongols were strong, they called themselves Mongols—it's just a label. Their lives are miserable, their strength insignificant; otherwise, Altan Khan wouldn't have raided the capital region only once."

"He doesn't want to? He can't." Wang Wang Chonggu expressed his judgment on the Northern Barbarians' strength with even greater certainty.

This wasn't Wang Wang Chonggu looking down on them; after Altan Khan's invasion in Emperor Jiajing 29, he could never break through again. At that time, Ming border troops lacked even adequate pay, yet a few thousand mercenaries could match the Northern Barbarians in battle. Ming couldn't defeat them not because they lost, but because victory couldn't be expanded.

Wildfire burns but doesn't consume; spring wind blows and grass grows again.

That was the real problem. Over two centuries of conflict, the Northern Barbarians sought nothing more than better surrender terms—lifting trade embargoes on the frontier to make life easier.

In essence, the Northern Barbarians were bandits; the Ming capital troops were professional soldiers, full-time mercenaries. The Northern Barbarians' strength corresponded to Ming frontier military colonies.

Felipe had also wondered: why did Ming favor literature over martial arts, as if cutting off its own descendants? Civilization, order, peace—these were merely compromises when power lacked absolute advantage to break the balance. This was the West's universal values and bandit logic.

Forget today's capital troops—even during During Zhengde's reign, at the Battle of Yingzhou, Emperor Wu Zong led the capital troops and fought the Little Prince to a standstill for a day; after the Little Prince retreated, he never again dared to raid south for thirty years, securing the Ming northwest frontier for three decades.

Are the Northern Barbarians strong? Strength is always relative.

So Wang Qian's question—whether the Northern Barbarians are strong or weak—is easily answered: compared to today's Ming capital troops, they're nothing but clay chickens and broken dogs. From a historical perspective, whenever annual steppe rainfall exceeds twelve inches, there would be no Northern Barbarians.

Wang Wang Chonggu and Wang Qian spoke at length, mostly about Tu Tu Manhan's arrival in the capital. The Jin Party had long cultivated the steppe, lending usury everywhere.

"Actually, there's a good solution. Don't blame us Jin people for being ruthless—it's Altan Khan who invited the wolf into his house." Wang Wang Chonggu's expression was calm, yet tinged with a cruel amusement.

"What solution?" Wang Qian asked, puzzled.

"Reduce the males."

"During the Northern Song, the Khitans founded the Liao Dynasty. After the Chanyuan Treaty, the Northern Song let horses graze on the southern hills, shouting loudly about reclaiming Yan and Yun but taking no action. The Liao were similar—they became fond of Buddhism. Temples sprouted everywhere, producing nothing, merely hoarding wealth. For faith, every Liao household had to send one adult male to become a monk." Wang Wang Chonggu recounted the past.

Liao Buddhist temples: golden Buddhas don't save those without karmic connection—karma meant wealth, land, grain, livestock.

"Believers and monks are different. Believers merely believe—burning incense is enough. But monks, once ordained, cannot marry; yet they enjoy good food and drink. Over time, men became monks, women couldn't marry—each temple surpassed ten thousand soldiers. Indeed." Wang Wang Chonggu wasn't speaking idly; after embracing Buddhism, Liao's national strength collapsed rapidly. When Wanyan Aguda captured the Eagle Officer and rebelled, Liao collapsed entirely.

Wang Wang Chonggu knew this method; Wan Wan Shihe knew it; Zhu Zhu Yijun knew it too—Zhu Zhu Yijun called this tactic: "Buddha-head Le."

"Do the Northern Barbarians believe in it themselves?" Wang Qian frowned—this method's biggest problem was how to trick the Northern Barbarians into believing in Buddhism.

"Didn't Altan Khan, bored out of his mind, invite that monk to Biansheng?" Wang Wang Chonggu answered. Ming didn't need to do more—no need to push or stir; just watch quietly. Wang Wang Chonggu sighed: "Altan Khan brought Tibetan Buddhism to the steppe. Believers will prostrate themselves, journeying step by step to deliver their entire life's wealth to the lamaseries—how could the lamas refuse?"

Sometimes, good and bad, right and wrong—stomach knows better than mind. Hungry believers gradually become monks—this is far more insidious and effective than direct warfare with sword and arrow.

"Father, you… you…" Wang Qian stared blankly: "Father ought to be childless! So cruel! So cruel!"

Wang Qian was immensely relieved he was still alive and had two sons; according to karmic principles, Wang Wang Chonggu's genocidal scheme deserved eternal childlessness.

Wang Wang Chonggu stared, incredulous: "I've seen much in my life, but never heard such a direct insult aimed at oneself."

"Scholars' cunning isn't cunning—it's strategy."

Compared to Liao's Buddha-head Le, Northern Song's preference for literature over martial arts was no less severe.

Tu Tu Manhan wasn't weak; in Emperor Longqing 1, he even breached Xifengkou and raided the capital region.

In original history, Tu Tu Manhan fought Li Li Chengliang five times: first in Emperor Wanli 3, leading 100,000 men (claimed 500,000) to raid Jinzhou; second in Emperor Wanli 6, attacking Liaoyang with Subahei, who was shot dead by Li Li Chengliang; third in Emperor Wanli 7, attacking Guangning; fourth in Emperor Wanli 8, attacking Tie Ling; fifth in Emperor Wanli 9, plundering Liaodong, repelled by Li Li Chengliang.

Li Li Chengliang won all five battles decisively, chasing them for dozens of miles. In Emperor Wanli 9, Tu Tu Manhan came roaring with 500,000 troops, planning to first crush Liaodong then attack the capital. News reached Beijing—countless fled from Anding Gate; people trampled to death daily.

Yet even then, Tu Tu Manhan gained nothing from Li Li Chengliang—not even a glimpse of Liaoyang's walls.

Tu Tu Manhan wasn't weak—but not strong enough.

On February 17, Emperor Wanli 9, Xiao Xiao Chongye, as envoy, led Ministry of Rites officials to the frontier. Tu Tu Manhan had already assembled his forces outside Xuanfu's Xinghe Garrison, awaiting the Ming envoys. Accompanying Xiao Xiao Chongye was the Viceroy of Xuanfu and Datong, Wu Wu Baipeng; Xiao Xiao Chongye would escort Tu Tu Manhan, Wu Wu Baipeng would take control of Tu Tu Manhan's entire territory.

Tu Tu Manhan's surrender was no secret on the steppe. Last year, the emperor had lent him cotton garments; after losing Kaiping Wei, Tu Tu Manhan had no means to repay—except surrender himself to the emperor.

The surrender news had spread across the steppe; those unwilling to submit naturally fled to Altan Khan—few in number, but all diehard fanatics.

Xiao Xiao Chongye received Tu Tu Manhan and began the return journey. The envoy was ambushed three times—undoubtedly by diehards. Tu Tu Manhan was poisoned twice, nearly dying on the steppe, forever barred from entering Ming.

On the steppe, many were willing to sacrifice Tu Tu Manhan for the glory of the Great Yuan, to keep the paramount khan forever on the steppe, to deepen Ming-Northern Barbarian conflict and trap both in endless war.

Xiao Xiao Chongye was prepared. Assassination, arson, ambush, poisoning—all were thwarted. Tu Tu Manhan safely reached Xuanfu; here, he was secure. The next day, he crossed Juyong Pass into Ming; three days later, he arrived outside Deshengmen.

Dong Dong Huazi once asked Tu Tu Manhan: as a descendant of the Golden Clan, as paramount khan, isn't surrendering to Ming shameful? If truly cornered, draw your ancestral saber and end it swiftly—this would be honorable.

Tu Tu Manhan found Dong Dong Huazi's words reasonable. The golden saber Altan Khan prayed to the Eternal Heaven still rested in his hands—but after long deliberation, he refused to end it. He didn't want to die—not merely out of fear, but because both Ming and the Northern Barbarians needed this moment.

As paramount khan, Tu Tu Manhan's life wasn't his alone—it belonged to all steppe people. After Altan's tribute, Ming lifted frontier trade restrictions; Altan's right wing rapidly stabilized, even building Biansheng and Guihua cities.

Tu Tu Manhan saw hope for reconciliation. His journey to Beijing was desperation—but perhaps, he could offer the steppe people another choice.

We've fought for over two centuries, back and forth, neither side gaining advantage. Must we turn the emperor's gaze from the vast ocean back to land, toward the already suffering Northern Barbarians?

Upon hearing Tu Tu Manhan's words, Dong Dong Huazi sneered: "Cowards always find excuses for their cowardice."

Dong Dong Huazi abandoned Tu Tu Manhan, heading to Biansheng to join Altan Khan. At Tu Tu Manhan's age, right and wrong, good and bad, had no standard—life was merely about choices.

Tu Tu Manhan was enfeoffed by the Ming emperor as Prince Huaiyi Wang, a barbarian king. His entry into the capital followed a specific protocol—he should have entered through Zhaoyang Gate, the route for princes. The Ministry of Rites debated fiercely, but the emperor ultimately approved: enter via Deshengmen, the military gate.

Wan Wan Shihe advocated Deshengmen because barbarian kings weren't imperial relatives, not Ming princes or commandery princes. Their legitimacy stemmed from Ming's military tributary system—like Ming-appointed vice-commanders and commanders. As military tributaries, they must enter via the military route.

If Tu Tu Manhan entered through Zhaoyang Gate, it would signify victory of civil virtue and gentle persuasion; entering through Deshengmen signified victory over barbarians with wolfish faces and beastly hearts—fearing power but not virtue. Wan Wan Shihe persuaded the emperor and suppressed the civil virtue faction within the Ministry of Rites, securing this outcome.

Similar struggles persisted. Some radicals argued Tu Tu Manhan should meet an "accident" en route—die, allowing Ming to better govern the newly opened steppe lands. This radical faction, led by Tan Lun, gained considerable support.

Tu Tu Manhan's invasion in Emperor Longqing 1 left Tan Lun without rest for seven straight days, nearly dying on the spot. Tu Tu Manhan's raid had shaken the capital region profoundly; finding him on the frontier was hard, but once he entered the pass, his life was no longer his own.

The radicals' stance gained wide support; the conservatives, led by Wang Wang Chonggu, advocated reconciliation, also gaining considerable support. Each side claimed righteousness: one side demanded vengeance, naturally just; the other warned that reopening war would irreversibly shift Ming's strategic focus inland, forcing the emperor to fixate on the steppe.

The Age of Navigation had arrived; technology and trade routes shifted from land to sea. Ming was transitioning from a traditional land power to a land-sea power, from agrarian economy to commercial economy. Focusing more on the Northern Barbarians was like picking up sesame seeds while losing watermelons—misjudging priorities.

Amidst the deadlock, Wang Wang Chonggu unveiled the Buddha-head Le strategy.

How to judge this method? Wang Qian had already voiced his view: the man who devised it deserved childlessness. Yet Buddha-head Le was brilliant—military conquest demanded too high a cost. Killing Tu Tu Manhan brought momentary satisfaction but endless consequences.

But Wang Wang Chonggu's method even made Tan Lun, the radical leader, exclaim: "Wang Wang Chonggu is truly a Ming scholar!"

Had Wang Wang Chonggu not proposed Buddha-head Le, radicals might have clashed with conservatives. But with Buddha-head Le, even radicals found conservatives too cunning—this method gained partial radical support, and Tu Tu Manhan finally reached Deshengmen.

The Ming official assigned to receive Tu Tu Manhan was the Director of the Grand Honglu Temple, Chen Chen Xuehui.

After elaborate rituals, Tu Tu Manhan, trembling with fear, entered Deshengmen, heading toward the palace. The emperor would receive him in Zhao Wenhua Hall, not Huangji Hall. Tu Tu Manhan received no respect—no grand court assembly was held.

When the loyal and obedient Lady San Niang first entered the capital, the emperor received her in Huangji Hall! Though at that time, the hall had only a foundation.

Clearly, a defeated dog earns no respect. Tu Tu Manhan wasn't at his peak, with tens of thousands of cavalry and hundreds of thousands of followers. Had he sought reconciliation then, before Ming attacked Danning, Quanning, Song Yingchang, and Kaiping, Zhu Zhu Yijun would have received him in Huangji Hall.

But Tu Tu Manhan lost. Lost means lost—he must accept the status of a captive.

"Your subject Prince Huaiyi Wang Baotu bows before Your Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years." Tu Tu Manhan did not call himself Borjigin Chahar Tumen—he called himself Baotu; "Bao" was the emperor's bestowed surname.

"I hear the Imperial Seal of State is in your possession. Is this true?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked curiously.

The great-grandson of the Tuman Khan, Lin Lin Danhan, distrusted his ministers and concentrated all military authority from the various myriarchies into his own hands—this was unsurprising—but when Lin Lin Danhan handed the hard-won military power over to his five consorts, he was utterly powerless when Nurhaci and Huang Huang Taiji advanced; he could only flee westward.

Lin Lin Danhan's consorts rushed to surrender their followers to Huang Huang Taiji; among them, the Third Consort Sutai and her son Eje surrendered to Huang Huang Taiji and presented the Imperial Seal of the Realm.

Once the Tartar-Qing consolidated their rule, Lin Lin Danhan's lineage quickly became extinct.

Zhu Zhu Yijun was curious: did this Imperial Seal of the Realm truly exist?

"Your Majesty, I do not possess the Imperial Seal of the Realm. During the late Yuan, Chancellor Toghto greatly enjoyed collecting seals and insignia, grinding them all down to replace their inscriptions with his own name. I truly do not know which one Your Majesty seeks. If needed, I can personally carve one." The Tuman Khan answered with gritted teeth—he dared not deceive His Majesty, so he spoke the truth.

"I do have a golden knife, passed down through generations, left by the Yuan Founder." The Tuman Khan knelt, head bowed, speaking humbly.

"A golden knife!" Zhu Zhu Yijun fell silent. Even an ordinary iron knife, he would have gladly accepted—but this golden knife prophecy was taken very seriously by the Great Ming. He could not fathom how Genghis Khan had conceived of forging such a blade.

Zhu Zhu Yijun thought for a moment and said: "Bring it forward for me to see."

It was indeed an ancient artifact; Zhu Zhu Yijun immediately recognized its patina.

The golden knife was no larger than a palm, more like a dagger. He did not draw it; after careful consideration, he said to Feng Bao: "Send the Duke of Ying with this knife to the Changling Mausoleum to offer sacrifices to Emperor Emperor Chengzu the Civil Emperor, then seal it away."

Zhu Zhu Yijun ultimately chose not to destroy this relic—it symbolized the submission of the Northern Barbarians' Supreme Khan. With this knife in Zhu Zhu Yijun's hands, the Northern Yuan was formally declared extinct.

"I have prepared a Prince's Mansion for the Prince of Prince Huaiyi, where he may devote himself to study and earnestly practice Buddhism." Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at the Tuman Khan and spoke calmly.

"Practice Buddhism?" The Tuman Khan involuntarily trembled. Before entering the capital, he had submitted a memorial detailing the Northern Barbarians' many hardships: leather pots, Shanxi usurers, Taiyuan courtesans, and Buddhist temples—but it seemed His Majesty had no intention of resolving these issues, not even in the short term; indeed, he intended to intensify them, even compelling him to embrace Buddhism.

Zhu Zhu Yijun frowned and asked: "You refuse to practice Buddhism?"

Zhu Zhu Yijun did not believe in Buddhism; the Prince of Prince Huaiyi's Mansion was merely a monument he had constructed. If the Tuman Khan practiced Buddhism, the Northern Barbarians would perceive it as acceptable, facilitating the implementation of the "Buddhist Head's Joy" policy.

"I do not believe in Buddhism," the Tuman Khan still tried to hold firm.

Zhu Zhu Yijun waved his hand: "Then forget it. There was an annual allowance of five thousand taels for Buddhist offerings—do not take it if you do not want it."

The Prince of Prince Huaiyi's Mansion received only five thousand taels annually in expenditure, for he was a defeated captive who had suffered repeated defeats and was forced to come to the capital; thus, his mansion's budget was insufficient.

"If that is the case, perhaps I may as well practice Buddhism," the Tuman Khan pondered for a moment, then gritted his teeth and agreed.

"Hmm, the Prince of Prince Huaiyi shows sincere obedience," Zhu Zhu Yijun said with considerable satisfaction.

(End of Chapter)