Chapter 53

A ten-year-old child’s question, Qi Jiguang was confident he could answer with his forty-four years of life experience, even if the answer wasn’t entirely complete or correct.

Qi Jiguang bowed and said, “Your servant shall clarify Your Majesty’s doubts.”

“I have three doubts. First: when you pacified the Japanese pirates in the south, you executed every captive and left none alive; yet during your twelve years of fierce fighting in Xuanfu and Datong, you often released the northern barbarians. Why?” Zhu Yijun voiced his first doubt.

“Killing captives is inauspicious—but killing Japanese pirates is an exception. The Japanese pirates are utterly ruthless and must be exterminated; otherwise, the Wohuan will never cease.” Qi Jiguang first explained why he executed Japanese pirates captives: though killing captives is generally inauspicious, the Japanese pirates must be wiped out entirely.

Qi Jiguang elaborated further: “Not all Japanese pirates are Japanese. Only one or two in ten are actual Japanese; these Japanese are mostly warriors and ashigaru smuggled in by powerful southeastern merchants who collude with Japan. The Japanese pirates rely on these Japanese as their core, binding together bandits and river pirates. Only by killing these Japanese can the Wohuan be stopped.”

Qi Jiguang had fought countless battles in the southeast to pacify the Japanese pirates ; these Japanese were the backbone of the Japanese pirates , mostly allied with southeastern maritime merchants. Only by exterminating every Japanese who crossed the sea could the Japanese pirates lose their core and cease gathering to rebel.

“Are these Japanese in the Japanese pirates equivalent to our Great Ming’s shubianjiang?” Zhu Yijun pondered carefully before grasping Qi Jiguang’s meaning.

During the Chongzhen era, Li Zicheng suffered repeated defeats yet kept rebelling, losing battle after battle—until the Chongzhen Emperor ordered the disbandment of the Three Borders: Yan sui, Ningxia, and Gansu garrisons. The shubianjiang (lower-ranking officers) of these three border units, with nowhere else to turn, joined Li Zicheng’s ranks, after which Li Zicheng began winning consecutive victories.

The peasant armies and outlaws of the Great Ming all had their limitations—one of which was their lack of organizational capacity from lower-ranking officers.

Clearly, Zhu Yijun understood: these Japanese were essentially lower-ranking officers hired by southeastern merchants. Only by wiping them out entirely could the Wohuan be fully quelled.

“Your Majesty is astute.” Qi Jiguang nodded; the Emperor understood perfectly.

No matter how many times the Japanese pirates were pacified, they never vanished—because these Japanese always caused chaos when the tide was in their favor, and fled early when the tide turned. Even when captured, southeastern merchants and gentry would bribe officials to release them, allowing them to wreak havoc again.

Qi Jiguang gave no opportunity for local gentry and merchants to bribe: if caught on ships, they were tied to stones and drowned at sea; if caught in camps, they were beheaded and displayed; if caught in latrines, they were shoved in and drowned alive to be composted.

In short, complicated matters were simplified: kill every Japanese in the Japanese pirates , and the Wohuan disappears.

This was also why Qi Jiguang had often been disappointed: he refused to collude with local gentry, so the scholar-officials of gentry origin had countless ways to smear him. The Emperor, secluded deep in the palace, how could he know the horrors of war? He could only believe the incessant accusations of the censors.

Hai Rui was demoted and forced into retirement for investigating Xu Jie’s corruption and ordering him to return his seized lands.

Xu Zhen was impeached in successive memorials for carrying bamboo baskets of records into the capital to promote land reclamation; Qi Jiguang and Yu Dayou were impeached for killing Japanese.

“General Qi is truly brilliant!” Zhu Yijun nodded repeatedly, endorsing Qi Jiguang’s actions.

“Then why, in Xuanfu and Datong, did you release the northern barbarians?” Zhu Yijun found this strange—why treat captives differently in northern and southern campaigns?

Qi Jiguang spoke with absolute certainty: “Releasing northern barbarians is itself a form of warfare. When captured barbarians are released, they lose the will to fight—even if coerced into southern raids, they become a source of disruption.”

“Survivors who return north will no longer fight fiercely if forced south again; instead, they incite others in the ranks to shirk duty. Since Jiajing 40, northern barbarian invasions have failed to sustain prolonged campaigns; once battles drag on, desertions multiply. That’s why the battles in Xuanfu and Datong eventually became deadlocked.”

In fact, this was a perfect opportunity to slander the northern army by framing their release of captives as collusion with barbarians by the Jin Party—plausible enough.

But Qi Jiguang did not slander. He did not defame the northern border troops of the Great Ming.

The Ming soldiers were all fine young men; merit was merit, fault was fault. Qi Jiguang acted according to his conscience and refused to deceive the Emperor. This tactic was not uncommon—and its effect was clear: destroying organizational cohesion meant destroying combat effectiveness.

“I see.” Zhu Yijun nodded repeatedly; the doubt long buried in his heart was finally resolved. The treatment of captives was always about organizational cohesion.

Zhu Yijun asked: “My second doubt: southern troops are mostly volunteer militias, while northern troops are mostly garrison soldiers. The southern troops are fierce and brave; the northern troops often lose. Is this because recruited soldiers are superior to hereditary military households?”

“Absolutely not!” Qi Jiguang gave a firm reply, waving his hands vigorously: “Your Majesty, when Emperor Xuanzong abolished the fubing system, the entire military structure collapsed. The weisuo system may be corrupt—but it is still the weisuo system. It must not be lightly discarded.”

“I have no such intention,” Zhu Yijun explained patiently.

He merely asked why the combat effectiveness differed so greatly—not because he planned to abolish the nine border garrisons. Chongzhen abolished the Three Borders and destroyed his own throne. Zhu Yijun had no intention of abolishing the nine garrisons—doing so would be suicide. He might as well bite a fire starter.

Qi Jiguang exhaled in relief; he had overreacted slightly.

Court ministers always looked down on military households. He feared the young Emperor, surrounded by scholar-officials’ slander, might develop the idea of abolishing the weisuo system—that would truly destroy the foundation of everything.

Fortunately, the Great Ming Emperor only asked why combat effectiveness differed so greatly.

Qi Jiguang thought for a moment and said: “When I recruited volunteer militias in the southeast, most were miners—many originally from weisuo units. These volunteers were selected from within the weisuo, trained solely for combat, not farming, and thus more proficient in military affairs. But these are not the main reasons. Southern troops fight well primarily because they receive full rations—even, one might say, they don’t need silver pay; as long as they eat enough, they fight.”

“Rations, rations—the character ‘food’ comes first.”

“Can soldiers fight just by eating enough?” Zhu Yijun was startled, slightly confused.

Qi Jiguang nodded with absolute certainty: “One should say: only when soldiers eat enough can they lift the hook-scythe, wield the bird gun, see the enemy clearly, and kill to win. When the southern troops were first formed, they received no silver pay—but as long as they ate, they could fight and defend.”

“The recent battle at Xifengkou’s four passes was entirely fought by northern troops, not southern main forces. Southern troops mainly held the rear. The northern troops, well-fed, were unstoppable. Only at Xifengkou was the battle slightly perilous—southern troops handled encirclement; the rest was decided by the northern troops!”

Qi Jiguang did not flatter his own southern troops. Credit went where credit was due: northern troops could fight—when they couldn’t, it was because officers stole their rations and left them hungry.

“General Qi truly commands like a god. Under your leadership, northern troops have achieved such glorious victories!” Zhu Yijun understood.

Looking at his own ten acres of land, he felt more certain about his actions—he was not wasting his time. Eating too many sweet potatoes caused acid reflux, but that was only when eaten in excess; first, solve the problem of whether there was food at all.

The idea that eating enough guarantees victory is undoubtedly an extreme statement.

But Qi Jiguang spoke the truth: the northern barbarians beyond the frontier lived in bitter cold, their military equipment worse than the Ming’s, their fighting spirit far from resolute—so why could they repeatedly breach the passes?

Soldiers starving could barely walk, let alone fight. Not mutinying was already a miracle of loyalty.

“I understand. Someone doesn’t want the Great Ming army to win.” Zhu Yijun’s fingers tapped lightly on the armrest; the Baqi Hall fell silent.

Qi Jiguang leads and wins; other northern generals lead and lose.

Control the variables—where is the problem? Who doesn’t want the Great Ming army to win? The answer is obvious.

Qi Jiguang chose caution. Solving the problem of officers stealing rations was a practical issue requiring empirical experience, not empty rhetoric. He answered the Emperor to make him aware of the loyalty and bravery of the Ming soldiers.

More precisely: give the Ming soldiers a meal, and they can secure the nation.

If you give them no meal at all, major problems will arise. The policy of promoting literature and suppressing martial affairs has suppressed martial affairs for too long—it cannot continue.

Zhu Yijun did not delve into specific solutions. He was not yet ruling in person; giving arbitrary orders based on personal whim would be childish, treating state affairs as a game. He smiled and said: “An emperor does not send hungry soldiers to war.”

“My third doubt: southern troops have strict discipline; under your command, northern troops’ discipline has transformed dramatically. Is there a secret to this?” Zhu Yijun asked his third question.

Qi Jiguang spoke with absolute certainty: “It’s actually simple. If generals treat soldiers as their own hands and feet, soldiers treat generals as their heart and core. If generals treat soldiers as dogs and horses, soldiers treat generals as strangers. If generals treat soldiers as dirt and weeds, soldiers treat generals as enemies.”

“When generals treat soldiers as hands and feet, their orders are obeyed; on the battlefield, troops move as if guided by the general’s own limbs. When soldiers regard generals as their heart and core, they naturally obey, and commands are enforced without hesitation.”

Zhu Yijun nodded in sudden understanding: “So that’s why the Xuanfu and Datong garrison troops have lax discipline, soldiers idle and unruly—when northern barbarians come, they hide and let them plunder; when the barbarians leave, they roam freely, flaunting their power. The fault lies with certain people.”

Qi Jiguang preferred not to offend anyone, but what he knew was true. After a moment’s thought, he said: “A single soldier’s weakness is minor; a general’s weakness brings the entire army’s morale to ruin.”

Qi Jiguang was skilled in speech—he did not name names, yet he agreed with the Emperor’s view, effectively condemning a host of generals. As a general himself, Qi Jiguang had every right to criticize others.

In his knowledge, lax discipline was often deliberately cultivated—to maintain the enemy’s strength to preserve one’s own importance.

If you cannot win, border civilians have no choice but to seek protection from generals; only by losing can generals remain in command long-term.

If you win, how do you make money?

This was true in the northwest, southwest, southeast, and northeast. Li Chengliang in the northeast was a classic example of nurturing the enemy to preserve one’s own power, relaxing defenses to appease the foe.

Qi Jiguang had spoken too much already. Further discussion would be beyond the words of a marquis of Qian’an, a hereditary title.

Zhu Yijun’s audience with Qi Jiguang yielded immense insights—he had confirmed many things he had previously doubted.

“General Qi, will you return to Jizhou tonight?” Zhu Yijun rose; the sky was dark, and further delay would cause Qi Jiguang to miss the city gates.

Qi Jiguang bowed: “I bear the duty of defending the border. I have already delayed two days—I cannot delay further.”

“Then I shall not detain you further.” Zhu Yijun said regretfully; he had countless more questions to ask, but Qi Jiguang was a busy man. He would have to wait until Qi Jiguang returned to the capital for further clarification.

“Your servant takes leave.” Qi Jiguang departed the Baqi Hall and headed toward the Military Road.

“General Qi, Master Yuanfu requests your presence.” You Qi had been waiting outside Xuanwu Gate and hurried over the moment he saw Qi Jiguang.

Qi Jiguang handed You Qi the waist token of the Quanchu Association: “I fear I shall no longer be able to visit the Quanchu Association.”

You Qi’s face turned pale.